POV Syrena
The taxi dropped us at the corner of Fifth and Madison, where neon signs promised cheap drinks and anonymity. The Silver Owl squatted between a laundromat and a pawn shop, its windows fogged with condensation and poor decisions.
"A human bar?" I stared at the grimy entrance. "Nina, are you serious?"
"Completely safe to be ordinary people here." Nina linked her arm through mine, pulling me toward the door. "No pack politics, no rank, no one who knows what you are."
Pleasant music drifted through the entrance—classic rock mixed with contemporary pop. Laughter and conversation created a warm hum that felt nothing like the calculated interactions at pack gatherings.
"Wait." I paused at the threshold. "You said I could scream and break things if I wanted."
Nina laughed, gesturing toward the back. "Well, maybe in the backyard if someone gets really drunk and starts a fight. Happens most weekends."
"And the alcohol?"
"They stock enough to knock out even wolves who need ten times what humans drink."
The bar's interior was exactly what I expected—scarred wooden floors, mismatched chairs, a bartender who looked like he'd seen everything twice. We claimed two stools and Nina ordered.
"Four shots of whiskey each, to start."
The bartender's eyebrows rose. "Having a party?"
"Having a life," Nina replied, sliding cash across the bar.
Two hours later, we'd gathered an audience. Empty shot glasses lined the bar like soldiers, and neither of us showed signs of slowing.
"How are you still standing?" one gaped.
"Good genetics," I said, downing another whiskey.
A drunk leaned too close. "Let me buy the next round, beautiful."
"Not interested." Nina pushed his hand away.
"Bitch, I was being nice—"
I stood to face him, weeks of rage finally finding a target, but someone stepped between us.
"The ladies said no." A calm voice cut through the tension. A man stepped between us—сasual but clearly expensive clothes, dark eyes, radiating controlled power. "I suggest you find another bar."
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Someone you don't want to test." The stranger didn't raise his voice, didn't posture, but something in his bearing made the drunk stumble backward.
"Whatever. This place sucks anyway."
As the troublemaker retreated, the stranger turned to us. My breath caught. Dark hair, darker eyes. Everything about him screamed power and control.
"Are you alright?"
"Perfect timing," Nina said, then clutched her stomach. "Oh god, I need the restroom. Now."
She vanished with a wink that wasn't subtle, leaving me alone with him.
"Thank you," I managed.
"May I?" He gestured to Nina's abandoned stool.
I nodded, studying him as he sat. My wolf surged suddenly, violently, wanting to knock him to the ground right there in the bar. The primal reaction shocked me—I clenched my fists, forcing her back down, but the intensity of it left me intrigued.
What was it about this stranger that made my wolf react like a creature unleashed?
"You're not a regular here," I observed.
"Neither are you." His smile was knowing. "You move like someone used to better places."
"Maybe I like slumming it occasionally."
"Maybe you're running from something."
We talked for about an hour—books we'd recently read, movies we loved, carefully skirting anything personal. He was intelligent, witty, and his attention never wavered from my face.
My phone buzzed: Going home. Make sure you leave with him. Have fun! – N
"Something wrong?" he noticed my expression.
"My friend just ditched me."
He smiled. Silence stretched between us, charged with possibility.
"My hotel is three blocks away," he said finally. "We could continue our conversation somewhere quieter."
"Just conversation?"
"That's all I'm offering." His eyes held mine. "Unless you want something different."
The memory of Devon surrounded by those girls flashed through my mind—his hunger, his want, his complete abandonment of our vows. Vengeful heat rose in my chest.
"What if I do want something different?"
"Then we negotiate like adults." He stood, offering his hand. "Your terms, your rules."
"No names. No questions about our real lives. No promises beyond tonight."
"Agreed."
I took his hand. "Let's go."
The taxi ride was torture. He sat close enough that I felt his heat, smelled him. My wolf stirred again, interested in him.
This was what Devon felt, I realized. This consuming need when he looked at those girls. The thought should have made me angrier, but instead it made me understand. This desire was primal, overwhelming. I didn't want to control it.
His hotel room was elegant, understated, expensive. Nothing like the bar we'd left behind.
"Drink?" He moved to the mini bar.
"I think I've had enough." I stepped closer to him. "I don't want to be drunk for this."
"For what?"
"For remembering what it feels like." I reached up, tracing his jaw. "To be wanted."
His hands settled on my waist. And I thought about stopping. For exactly one heartbeat, I considered walking away. Then I remembered that scene with Devon, who was unable to resist, unwilling to try. Why should I be different? Why should I deny myself what he so eagerly claimed?
Maybe it was petty, but I wanted the same opportunity—to taste someone else, to explore what existed beyond the cage of monogamy we'd built.
My wolf prowled beneath my skin, completely supporting my choice of victim. This stranger was a perfect human—charming from beginning to end, dangerous in all the right ways.
The kiss ignited something I'd thought was dying. My wolf sang as I pulled him deeper into the room, toward forgetting.
We fell onto the bed, still kissing. He began to undress me, savoring every inch of me. Then he quickly undressed himself. He looked like a god.
When his fingers traced along my collarbone, he paused at the small mark there—a crescent moon with a star-point notch that had been mine since birth.
"Beautiful," he murmured against my skin.
The word shattered something in me.
Devon hasn't seen that mark in a long time.
His fingers diving straight into my soaked panties, his thumb circling my clit with a precision that had me grinding against him.
“You’re drenched,” he growled, his voice thick with lust.
He shoved my panties aside, his tongue replacing his fingers, lapping at my slit like he was dying of thirst. I cried out, my hips bucking uncontrollably, my hands fisting in his hair as he ate me out like I was his last meal.
This isn't betrayal, I told myself as his touches erased the memory of rejection. Devon will have three new wives soon. Polygamy is our way.
I barely had time to breathe before he flipped me onto my stomach, his cock slapping against my ass as he lined himself up. “Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice rough, and his hands gripping my hips so hard. “Tell me.”
“Fuck me,” I begged, my voice trembling. “Please.”
He slammed into me in one brutal thrust, my walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.
I screamed, my nails digging into the mattress as he pounded into me with a ferocity that left me breathless.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, his hands roaming over my body, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. “You’re so fucking tight.”
He reached around, his fingers finding my clit again, rubbing it in frantic circles as he fucked me harder, deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me over and over.
Perhaps this is my compensation, I thought, arching beneath unfamiliar hands. Three wives for him, one night for me.
My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, my pussy clamping down on him as I came with a cry that echoed through the room. He wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside me, his release hot and thick, filling me up.
We collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap, his cock still pulsing inside me. He kissed me softly, his hands gentle now, tracing the crescent moon on my collarbone.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was more than just a Luna, more than just a wife. I felt like a woman. And for tonight, that was enough.