Ava's POV
The mask hid my identity, and the fitted dress left little to imagination. Clarke’s eyes gleamed like a starving wolf spotting prey.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it eagerly.
“Since you’ve been so good to me,” he said, his voice thick with anticipation, “I should return the favor.”
He pulled me toward a nearby couch, barely able to hide his excitement.
“I can’t hold back anymore,” he said, leaning closer. “How about we just—”
I pressed my palm firmly over Clarke’s mouth before he could finish whatever filthy thought was forming.
My eyes narrowed behind the mask.
My wolf was already irritated by his scent that had spiked with greed, sweat, cheap liquor, and the sickly sweetness of a male who thought he’d found easy prey.
“Don’t rush,” I said coolly.
My voice carried a
