A/N: Trigger warning of sexual misconduct
Tingling with excitement, Ethan stepped through the wide doors of the summer lounge, followed by Brent and Eri... and sputtered to a halt.
"Is this it?" He asked, an eyebrow arching up in disbelief.
When Brent mentioned the party, Ethan had imagined a wild frat-house fete with red plastic cups, loudspeakers, and disco lights, at the very least. But this so-called party had no loud music, no gyrating bodies, and absolutely no disco lights. There was barely any illumination as it was. Coming from the bright hallway, he had to squint to make out the motion in this room until his pupils adjusted.
The guy and three girls, all human, gathered around the fireplace lifted their heads to stare at the new arrivals. But, most glaringly, neither Jan nor Louie sat among them.
"Bruh, look! Booze!" Eri said in a hushed whisper, eyes twinkling at the chilled buckets of ice and bottles of wine, champagne, and spirits spread on a long table next to them.
"Forget that. Do you see the gorgeous Mamacita right there?" Brent answered, eyes fixed on a curvy girl with flowing wet locks.
"She's practically got nothing on," Ethan gasped. He could see straight through the sheer draped around her to her bouncy boobs.
"I know, right." Gaze devouring her like steak after a long fast, Brent licked his lips. "I think she needs some furry help to keep warm."
"Guys, I don't think we should..." Ethan started, but his friends took off, dismissing his words of caution to flutter in the wind. Brent made a beeline to his bronzed-skin girl while Eri diverted to grab a bottle before joining them.
Exasperated, Ethan rolled his eyes at the two, only for his gaze to fall on a figure sauntering into the room from the other end of the lounge. The new guy meandered through the furniture towards the gathering, which was starting to look lively thanks to Brent and Eri's boisterous introductions.
With his bare chest puffed out in exaggerated confidence, ruffled hair swept to the side, and ripped jeans riding low on his hips, he swaggered by like a typical sports jock. And as he walked by, the French vampire's familiar woodsy scent wafted off him.
Ethan sprang forward, tapping his arm. "Hey! Where's Louie?"
The guy graced Ethan with a miffed frown, but as his eyes traveled upwards over the Lycan's broader shoulders and taller stature, a slow smile grew on his face.
"Louie, huh? So you're a top?" he asked, licking his lips - not unlike Brent. "I don't usually bottom, but... with a body like that, I could be persuaded to change my mind."
Ethan had no idea what the idiot was talking about. The jock straightened up, squaring himself as if to offer a better view of his rippled torso. But it wasn't his muscles that caused Ethan's heart to nearly seize up.
There. In the curve of his neck were two distinct pinpricks and a short trail of glistening blood.
Don't even think about it, he warned himself. It can't be Jan. He promised me. I'm his only chicken.
Slowly forcing a bated breath out his mouth, Ethan tore his gaze away from the vampire bite.
"Louie?" He insisted.
The jock's face fell, and he pouted, pointing to one of the partitioned spaces at the end of the room. "Your loss. I left him with my brother."
Ethan marched off in the direction indicated without another word. An inexplicable urgency nipped at his heels, and he drew in long breaths, clenching his fist and tamping down the temptation to break into a dead run. His thighs bumped into a heavy wicker chair, but the pain barely registered, and he barreled on.
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Blooded Mate
Fantasy[[MATURE CONTENT]] Pack, family, mate. Loyalty, respect, honor. These are the words that form the foundation of the wolf society. At six years old, Ethan had to choose between his Alpha title and his survival on the night of his father's death. As a...
