After what felt like an hour of sitting at the bar, Layla had nearly melted into the stool. She sipped slowly—at first. But somewhere between watching Janet flirt shamelessly with the bartender and listening to the bass-heavy music throb through the floor, she lost track.
The glass in her hand was her fourth. Or maybe fifth. Either way, the room had started to sway just a little too easily, and her body felt warm, loose, untethered.
Janet, already tipsy and radiant, finally turned toward her with a gleam in her eyes. "Enough sulking. Come on," she said, grabbing Layla's hand and pulling her from the stool.
Layla stumbled a bit, laughing, nearly colliding with a couple on their way to the bathroom. "Wait—wait," she protested weakly, but Janet wasn't having it.
They made it to the dance floor, swallowed whole by a blur of colored lights and moving bodies. The music pounded through Layla's chest, through her limbs, through her skin. And then… she let go.
She danced.
Drunk and alive, she forgot who she was supposed to be. She forgot the ache in her muscles and the shadows behind her thoughts. For a few dizzy moments, she just was. Laughing. Spinning. Moving.
Then she felt it—a hand creeping up her waist.
She turned quickly, half-expecting Janet, but instead found herself face-to-face with a guy.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Decently attractive.
And smiling at her like they'd already shared secrets.
Before she could decide what to do, Janet appeared—just like that—slipping between them like liquid shadow. Her smile was polite, but her energy wasn't.
"She's with me," Janet said, arm sliding easily around Layla's waist as she pulled her close.
The guy hesitated, eyebrows raised in surprise. He chuckled awkwardly, hands lifted in surrender, and melted back into the crowd.
Layla blinked, still catching her breath, heart thudding for a different reason now.
Janet looked down at her, eyes playful but protective. "You okay?"
Layla nodded, dizzy and flushed. "Yeah. Just… surprised."
"You should've seen your face." Janet grinned, twirling her once before pulling her back in. "Come on. Let's keep dancing."
And so they did.
Layla, spinning in the lights, felt like she was floating. Nothing made sense. Nothing had to.
For once, she didn't mind.
************
They finally left the club at 2 a.m.
The air outside was sharp and cold, slicing through the warmth of Layla's skin like reality trying to sneak back in. Her head swam, the ground tilting just slightly beneath her feet. She tried to walk straight but found herself leaning heavily on Janet, who didn't seem to mind at all.
Her heels dangled uselessly from her fingers, long forgotten. The pavement felt freezing under her bare feet, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her body was light, buzzing, every sound slightly delayed like she was underwater. Even her thoughts were soft and slippery, refusing to hold still.
Janet wrapped an arm around her, steadying her as they stumbled toward the car.
"God," Layla mumbled, her words slurring a little, "I think my soul left my body back there... on the dance floor."
Janet snorted. "Your soul had a great time."
Layla giggled—giggled—a sound so rare even she blinked in surprise after hearing it. "Why is everything funny right now?"
"Because you're drunk, baby wolf."
"I'm not—drunk," Layla said, waving a hand dismissively, missing the air entirely. "I'm... relaxed. Super relaxed. Like my bones are made of noodles."
Janet laughed, helping her into the passenger seat. "Okay, noodle girl. Let's get you home before you melt into the sidewalk."
Layla melted into the seat instead, head falling back, eyes half-lidded. The cool leather against her skin felt amazing. She sighed like she'd been carrying the world and finally set it down.
The drive was a blur. Lights. Motion. Music still ringing faintly in her ears.
By the time they pulled into the pack house driveway, Layla was somewhere between sleep and speechlessness, her body swaying as Janet helped her out of the car.
"I feel like... I can hear my heartbeat in my knees," she whispered, blinking slowly.
"Uh-huh," Janet said, holding back laughter. "Definitely your last drink for the night."
They had just stepped into the hallway when a door opened ahead of them.
Out walked Alpha Dorian and Beta Cael—tall, imposing, every inch of them radiating authority. Dorian's presence hit like a wall of stillness, and Cael walked beside him with that ever-serious look etched into his face.
Layla and Janet froze mid-step.
Their laughter died in their throats, like a switch had been flipped.
But then Layla swayed forward, clearly too drunk to grasp the gravity of the moment. Her heels dangled from her fingers, her eyes glassy with mischief and alcohol.
"Oh, Janet," she said, voice thick and dreamy, "who are these handsome men?"
Before Janet could grab her, Layla stumbled right up to Cael, reaching out to gently press a hand against his cheek.
"You're so... symmetrical," she murmured in awe.
Janet, just as drunk and equally clueless, gasped behind her. "I don't know who they are, but they're hot."
Cael's jaw clenched. He didn't move, though his entire posture screamed discomfort. Layla blinked up at him with drunken reverence, then turned slightly, eyes catching Dorian's unmoving figure.
"And you..." she whispered, staring at the Alpha, her voice dipping low like she was discovering a forbidden truth. "You don't talk, do you? It's fine, I like men that are quiet"
Dorian said nothing. He didn't blink. He didn't even look at her directly, just stood there, still as stone, expression unreadable.
Layla's smile faltered for a second, but the alcohol was louder than her instincts tonight.
"I like the mysterious ones, he looks so hot, in a i-will-rock-your-world-while keeping a straight type" she added, nodding solemnly like she was passing a sacred judgment.
Janet giggled beside her. "Layla. We should keep them. Like... statues. Very sexy statues."
Cael slowly turned to Dorian, waiting for some kind of reaction.
None came.
Realization hit Layla all at once, like a slap of cold air.
Her hand dropped, eyes widening. She stared between them, horror slowly blooming across her flushed face.
Janet squinted. "Wait... wait, aren't you—?"
Layla took a shaky step back. "No. Oh no."
Janet's eyes blew wide. "No."
They both turned to each other.
"The Alpha and the Beta," Layla said in a hushed, trembling voice.
"We flirted with the Alpha and touched the Beta," Janet whispered.
Then, like they shared one single brain cell, they spun around and bolted, barefoot, breathless, limbs flailing as they stumbled down the hallway, squeaking out apologies between bursts of horrified laughter.
Behind them, Dorian remained still as ever.
Cael let out a long, exhausted breath. "They were drunk, right?"
Still no response, not like he was expecting one.
Cael muttered under his breath, "I really hope so."