Emma almost doesn’t hear it over the noise of the music and the sound of chatter around her, but she turns and there he is, standing by Dorothy’s empty bar stool and looking just as surprised to see her as she is of him. “What?” she asks, raising her voice to be heard over the din.
Unnecessarily so.
A few others turn to look, some of them seeming to wonder how a human got into a wolf bar, but the Camden wolf has a look on his face like he’s trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube. Then his nostrils flare and his eyes widen, eyebrow raising just a little as the answer comes to him. He takes Dorothy’s seat and makes a motion to the bartender that he’ll have whatever she’s having, then leans in close so Emma can hear him better. “Pretty bit of magic you’ve got there, love. Hell of a hangover though, isn’t it?”
She grins and raises her glass. “No worse than this.”
As she downs the rest of it, the Camden wolf makes another motion – this time, the bartender brings Emma water. She pouts a little (God, she’s definitely drunk if she’s pouting, even at a handsome stranger) but takes a large sip of it anyway. He leans in, close enough to her ear that she feels the warm puffs of air tickle across her skin. “Trying things out the human way? Why not try a human bar?”
Emma rolls her eyes, then winces, having forgotten how well that doesn’t work while even mildly intoxicated. “I’d’ve gotten cut off ages ago for one thing,” she points out, “but I’m not. Friends just took me out to get me out of the apartment for a while. Going kinda nuts.”
This close, even with her dulled senses, she can smell the leather of his jacket and his own unique musk. It’s doing everything short of driving her insane and she squirms a little in her seat to quell the fire building between her legs. If the wolf notices, he doesn’t say anything, just sticks out his hand. “Killian Jones.”
It All Starts With a Dance 