NICHOLAS
I nursed my bottle of whiskey, ignoring the stinging of my cheek.
The bartender rushed over when he heard the slap. I could see the confusion in his eyes, but before he spoke, I barked at him to get me a bottle. I sat in the same booth that Alex had just vacated and drank straight from the bottle, relishing in the burning sensation it sent down my throat.
“Would you like something to eat, sir?” the bartender asked and I shot him a dark look.
He scurried off, but not before making a sound that reminded me of a squealing rat.
This place brought out the worst in me and I f*****g hated it.
My shoulder burned as I lifted the bottle to my lips once more. The VIP section was cold, and with that chill brought the familiar heaviness in my bones.
Werewolves didn’t hurt easy, and eve
