Cronan is angry. Angry that after years of waiting, he's mated to the one wolf he never wanted.
Fen is stuck. Stuck in a state of purgatory that he doesn't know how to escape from.
After learning of his mate's crimes, Cronan never expected to see h...
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The human concept of drinking away pain was a tale as old as time. For the majority of people, whenever a situation took a turn for the worst, they retreated into their safe haven. For some that was home or family. For others, that was clubs and bars.
Now, I'd never been much of a drinker. There were little types of alcohol that could get a werewolf drunk enough to forget their problems and I didn't have the desire to smell like an alcoholic by the end of the night. However, I did enjoy frequenting bars and clubs not because of the alcohol, but for the people who entered. There was something about being in a space where everyone felt like just as much, if not more, of a piece of shit as you did. Something about it made me feel better about the shitty situation I was in. I was aware that this wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, but it worked.
Seeing as Oakwood was a small town, there was only one club that people visited and I'd become quite familiar with the regular crowd during the time I stayed in Oakwood.
Cronan was not a part of the regular crowd.
He was sitting in the corner with a glass in hand, swirling the small amount of liquid when I entered. His eyes were glued to the counter and I could tell by his rigid posture that something was plaguing his mind. Curiosity ebbed away at me. I wanted to know what had brought him here, but I knew better than to go up toward him. He hadn't noticed me yet, likely due to the perpetual stuffiness and overbearing alcoholic scent that never seemed to leave the bar. I took a seat in the corner, but my eyes never left his figure.
I took the time to admire him. Even I had to admit that Cronan was rather handsome. Soft, dark curls; captivating, deep blue eyes; and a strong figure. He was the opposite of what I typically would have gone for in the past and yet, there was something alluring about him—addicting, even.
His attitude on the other hand not so much. In the short time I'd known him, I'd come to realize what a fireball he was. His life motto seemed to be, "act first, think later" and it drove me up the walls. He was rash, reckless, and severely in need of a filter. Fortunately, there were ways to combat his attitude.
I could still remember it. The feeling of his lips against mine. I'd never suffered from addiction before, but that kiss alone was enough to make me rethink that statement. I enjoyed it until everything went to hell.
"Fen!" Penelope's voice rang through the air.
My eyes drifted to where the human girl stood and I sighed. "Stop yelling. I can hear you perfectly fine."
She shrugged as she took a seat beside me. "I just had to make sure you could hear me over all the shitty music and depressing conversations," she glanced around the club and her nose scrunched up. "I don't get why you like this place."
"I don't get why you won't leave me alone, but some things are just beyond understanding I guess."
She rolled her eyes, but that didn't stop a smirk from overtaking her face. "There goes your famous attitude again."
