He throws his head back and laughs a deep belly laugh before tossing his arm over my shoulder and motioning for me to take a selfie. I snap a few of us together, and he humors me further by doing a couple of different poses before heading back to make our drinks.

I flip through the pics on my phone, noting how the lighting has made my freckles more pronounced. I've never exactly hated my features, but the smattering of dots across the bridge of my nose and tops of my cheeks has always been a thorn in my side. I was, however, gifted with well—behaved hair, and tonight my long ginger locks are rocking that perfect beach wave. My new favorite bartender, however, looks flawless. My followers are going to eat him up.

"Damn, girl! Look at you working that sexy bookworm thing! Make sure you ask him if he has a safe word. Everybody knows that werewolves like it a little rough," Talia says while pantomiming spanking.

"You girls could make a preacher cuss," Anna mumbles, and I notice the tips of her ears starting to turn pink, too.

"I've got a final project due, and sexy Travis over there is gonna help me score an A," I say with a shrug before swiping through my pictures. I pause on a black and white shot of my laptop, its Boys In Books Are Better sticker on full display, and smile before continuing my perusal. I'm surprised to see how many keepers I have from tonight.

"Ladies, I come bearing libations," Travis says before handing Talia then Anna their drinks. When he turns to hand me mine, he slides an extra napkin my way. "Just in case you want to tag me or something," he says with a wink. "It's on the house, ladies," he adds before heading back to the bar.

Talia whistles. "Cheers to that."

I smile and reach for the napkin, surprised to see his name, phone number, and social media handle scribbled messily across the front. I slip it into my bag and lift my drink as Talia shouts, "To bookworms!"

I clink glasses with them both, adding, "To werewolves!"

Two drinks later, I'm a little dizzy and a lot exhausted. Between school stress and work stuff, my head has begun to pulse to the beat of Meet Virginia that's blaring through the speakers.

Anna and Talia are not so inclined to end the night.

"We should head over to Club Majestic," Talia says. "I want to dance off these drink—carbs."

"Guys, seriously. I have a million things to do before bed," I say.

Talia shakes her head. "Anna and I worked her dessert truck until midnight last night. I had powdered sugar in unmentionable areas and still got up early enough to make it to the sorority meeting before our morning class today."

That small reminder has guilt bubbling up inside me. Talia and Anna have given up a lot for me, including leaving their sorority house and moving into my apartment halfway through freshman year so I wouldn't be alone.

"Listen." I hold up my hands. "In a competition of badassery, you win, Tal."

Talia smirks. "You're not tired. You just don't want to people anymore. Admit it," she demands, tossing back the rest of her drink.

"Fine! I'm lame and would rather read a book than hang out at a bar. Are you happy?"

Her mean girl facade crumbles, and she snorts at my honesty. "Whatever, nerd. Go home before midnight, but you're responsible for buying the supplies for our next Midnight Kisses."

I hold up what I think is a Girl Scout symbol. "Done! I love you guys, and I'll see you at home, okay?" I hug them both before they can change their minds.

"Be careful," Anna says. "I hate it when you walk around by yourself at night." She frowns with worry, and I smile at her concern before assuring them I'll be vigilant.

I push my way through the too small bar and breathe a sigh of relief as I step outside into the blissfully cool autumn air. My skin is overheated from the alcohol and crowded bodies. The slight breeze feels like heaven to my skin.

Valkyrie is in an area of Reverence known as Bricktown because all of the streets are paved with, you guessed it, bricks. As I concentrate on walking and not getting a heel caught in the cracks, I curse the idiot who thought paving a road frequented by drunk college students with uneven bricks was a good idea. It doesn't help that Valkyrie is one of the oldest bars set at the farthest end of a narrow street off the main road. This time of night, the alley is deserted. Everyone who's out is already tucked inside the bar until closing.

"Fine. You want a name? It was me!"

I jump at the raised voice and almost lose my footing thanks to the impractical road. I look around, trying to find the man who yelled.

A drunk frat guy, maybe? Wouldn't be the first time.

"In that case, allow me to personally congratulate you. And dole out your retribution accordingly."

I creep closer, swearing under my breath when my heel gets caught between two uneven bricks. I bend down and slip off the sparkly gold shoes, determined to pry it free without breaking the heel. A low growl echoes from nearby, and I jerk up in surprise. The heel snaps off my shoe, and I curse the drunken idiots whose brawl just cost me my favorite heels. The low growl echoes again from nearby. It sounds absolutely feral, and I shiver as I peer into the alley on my left for some sign of a four—legged animal.

The streetlight only illuminates a few feet into the alley before the darkness swallows the light, making it impossible for me to make out anything clearly.

I think of the two drunk idiots I've overheard and dig through my purse before I remember I left the mace at home to make space for my books. Cursing myself, I grab my phone instead. I have no intention of being that heroine every reader yells, "Look behind you, idiot," at. A quick swipe turns on the flashlight feature. With the narrow beam aimed forward, I let my thumb hover over the emergency call button. I toss my broken heel into the bottom of my bag, keeping the good one out in case I need a weapon.

"Hey, guys," I call into the darkness. "I'm pretty sure there's a dog on the loose, so you guys should probably measure your dicks some other time and just go back inside before you get rabies or something."

No one answers me.

I inch forward, shining the flashlight on the way ahead. On a hunch that I can't even explain, I hit the button to start recording and then point the camera toward the alley. The moment I hit record, the flashlight flickers off.

Damn.

It's one or the other. I've made my choice.

My eyes trained on the screen, I watch as the scene ahead comes into view. The moment it comes into focus on the small screen, the haze of alcohol leaves my mind in an instant.

I realize with absolute certainty that I've made a mistake. Because the guys are obviously long gone. At the end of the alley are two of the biggest dogs I've ever seen. A brown one lies pinned to the ground by a monstrous black dog, its massive jaws clenched around its victim's neck.

In a moment of panic, I throw my shoe at it.

"Hey! Get! Bad dog," I yell as my heel bounces harmlessly off the black dog's rear before landing nearby with a pathetic clatter.

The black dog abandons its kill and stalks towards me.

Shit.

Nice, Romy. You just annoyed the thing. And now you're weaponless.

My gaze shifts to the dead dog behind it. But it's not a dog anymore. A scream lodges in my throat as my brain tries to compute what my eyes are telling it. The naked body is still and lifeless–all except for the steady stream of blood still leaking from his torn throat.

Holy. Shit.

My phone slips from my limp hands and clatters to the bricks at my feet. I turn and run, only looking over my shoulder once I've reached the street.

My jaw falls open, and I skid to a stop, my bag falling down my arm and spilling some of its contents onto the road.

The giant dog is gone. Vanished.

In its place, in the middle of the alley stands the sexiest man I've ever seen—completely naked and dripping in blood. He starts toward me then stiffens suddenly and stops. The violent look is gone, replaced by an intensity I can feel low in my belly. He opens his mouth like he might speak but then quickly shuts it again, his interest turning to confusion.

Behind him, the bloody human corpse remains a very dead man.

Every sane and rational thought slides out of my mind as I struggle to compute what just happened. There was a dog. Then it was gone.

No.

That isn't right.

There were two dogs. Now the dogs are both dudes.

One of them is dead. The other is staring me down like I'm next.

Shifters.

Holy. . .

Werewolves are real.

And this one looks ready to eat me.

Rather than wait around for my turn to come, I turn and run like my life depends on it since, apparently, it actually does.