"Let's go dancing."
I nearly choked on my morning tea when Kaelen dropped this bombshell at breakfast, his green eyes alight with mischief.
"Dancing?" I repeated, wondering if pregnancy hormones were making me hallucinate. "As in... at a club?"
"Exactly." He leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. "A human nightclub downtown. No pack politics, no solstice preparations—just you, me, and loud music."
Now, hours later, I'm standing in a pulsing nightclub, my body swaying to the rhythm of bass that I can feel in my bones. The lights flash in hypnotic patterns across the dance floor, and for the first time in weeks, I feel almost... normal. Human.
Kaelen stands beside me, drawing appreciative glances from women around us. I can't blame them. In dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders, he looks dangerously delicious—and utterly out of place in his perfect composure.
