Howl About Love?

“This is a terrible idea.” Luna Ashwood stared at herself in the mirror of the grimy coffee shop bathroom. The wig Saffy had shoved onto her head was sliding sideways like it had given up on life, and the red lipstick made her look less “mysterious seductress” and more “raccoon with a cherry Popsicle addiction.” She adjusted the crooked blonde bob. It made her look like a discount Marilyn Monroe. A deeply anxious Marilyn Monroe. Who happened to be a werewolf. “Saffy,” Luna muttered into her phone, “if I get arrested tonight, you’re legally required to bail me out and bake me a cake.” On the other end of the line, Saffy “Disaster” Delgado cackled. “Relax! He’s hot, single, probably only mildly emotionally repressed, and—this is key—not allergic to dogs. Win-win!” “Saffy. I’m a wolf. That’s not the same as a dog.” “Details, darling. You’re gonna charm him with your sparkling wit, mystery aura, and teeth that can literally rip through steel. Now get in there and make awkward eye contact like your life depends on it.” Luna groaned, exited the bathroom, and walked toward her blind date. He was sitting in the back corner of the café, head bowed, reading something thick and serious. He looked… tall. Broad shoulders. Black button-down. Silver watch. And the air around him practically screamed Alpha. Her heart dropped into her stomach and did a somersault. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered. The scent hit her—intense, sharp pine and smoke. No. Nope. Nuh-uh. She turned on her heel. Abort mission. But Saffy, who had somehow materialized out of thin air with her iced latte and zero boundaries, shoved her forward with the force of a linebacker on a mission. “Too late! Go flirt! Or snarl. Whatever works!” Luna stumbled, landed next to the table with an awkward laugh, and the man looked up. Sweet Moon. He was gorgeous. Piercing silver eyes. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He had a look that said I have seen things and also possibly bench press trucks for fun. His expression was unreadable… but his wolf recognized her the second she stepped close. His nostrils flared. His head tilted. His voice rumbled low and smooth. “You’re not human.” Luna’s panic kicked in. “Well neither are you, Sherlock.” There was a beat of silence. Then his eyebrow quirked. “Are you always this confrontational on first dates?” “I usually prefer to bite them first,” she blurted. Too honest. TOO HONEST. His lips curled into the faintest, amused smirk. “Is that an offer?” Luna’s face went nuclear red. --- Five minutes later... They were seated awkwardly across from each other. The candle between them flickered with ominous tension. “You’re wearing a wig,” he said bluntly. “You’re wearing disappointment,” she shot back, nodding at his unenthusiastic black-on-black outfit. “Do you ever wear colors or just exclusively collect brooding garments?” Knox—he’d finally introduced himself in a voice so deep it vibrated her soul—snorted. “You’re not what I expected.” “I get that a lot. Usually right before people run away screaming or ask for a refund.” He studied her, unreadable. “You’re not part of a pack.” She froze. “No.” “That’s rare.” “Being allergic to commitment usually is.” Knox tilted his head. “That’s not all you’re allergic to. You smell like—” He paused. “Lavender and... goat cheese?” She slapped the table. “Saffy made me wear lavender body spray! She said it ‘enhances romantic vibes.’ And she’s obsessed with cheese boards.” Knox blinked. “Are you on a date... or at a fondue tasting?” “Honestly, I no longer know.” --- Ten minutes later… Luna was enjoying herself far more than she wanted to admit. Knox was annoyingly fascinating. Cold, grumpy, Alpha-y—but in a reading Tolstoy and pretending he’s not romantic kind of way. Until— “I can tell you’re trying to hide your wolf,” he said suddenly. “But it’s close to the surface. You’re… rattled.” “Oh, so now you’re a wolf whisperer?” “No,” he said. “But I am an Alpha.” She rolled her eyes so hard they nearly left orbit. “So I’ve noticed. Is there a neon sign above your head, or is it just the aura of doom?” Knox leaned forward, his eyes glowing just faintly. “Why are you alone, Luna?” Her breath hitched. That question shouldn’t have felt so personal. She stood abruptly. “Because I bite.” Before he could answer, she turned too quickly—and knocked into a waiter carrying a full tray of drinks. Seltzer, hot coffee, and something suspiciously sticky rained down. Luna gasped. The wolf inside her surged. And without thinking—without pausing—she did what instinct demanded. She bit the nearest threat. Knox. Specifically: his shoulder. --- A hush fell over the cafe. Luna pulled back in horror, hand over her mouth. “I—I didn’t mean to—!” Knox blinked slowly. Then touched the spot she’d bitten. Then—he grinned. Not a smirk. Not an amused twitch. A full, teeth-baring, wolfish grin. “You bit me,” he said, like she’d just proposed marriage. “I was panicking!” He stood. Tall. Towering. The scent of alpha power practically oozing from his pores. “Do you know what that means?” “I’m going to jail for werewolf assault?” He stepped closer. “You claimed me.” Luna's eyes bulged. “I what now?!” “You initiated the mate bond.” “No, I panicked and bit a man because I was covered in goat cheese and rage!” “It still counts.” Saffy, from the corner where she’d been live-texting the whole thing to her cousin group chat, let out a shriek. “OH MY GOSH, SHE MATED HIM?! I TOLD YOU TO FLIRT, NOT MARK HIM LIKE TERRITORIAL ROADKILL.” Luna bolted out the door. Knox didn’t chase. But he called after her: “You can run, Luna Ashwood. But you’re mine now.” --- Later that night… Luna crashed into her apartment, threw her wig across the room, and buried her face in her hands. Saffy, already sitting cross-legged on her couch with snacks, raised a brow. “So… how’d the date go?” Luna groaned. “You bit him, didn’t you.” “I BIT THE ALPHA, SAFFY. THE ALPHA. I AM DOOMED.” Saffy cackled. “I told you goat cheese solves everything.”