KILLIAN'S POV
The bar is dark. The smell of alcohol is thick in the air. I sit alone in the far corner with my glass in hand. I stare at my drink as if it could burn the thoughts right out of me. I've already had more than I usually allow myself, but tonight, I don't care.
My wolf paces inside me. He's growling and feels restless. He's demanding release. He wants her.
Layla.
Her face won't leave my mind. The shape of her lips, the stubbornness in her eyes, the way her voice echoes long after she's gone. I tell myself she means nothing. She's a complication. She's a distraction I don't need. Worst of all, she's a pathetic little omega who means nothing. But each sip I take only worsens the ache inside my chest. I'm lying to myself, and I know it.
The chair across from me scrapes against the floor. I don't bother looking up.
"Well, well. Killian. Drinking yourself into oblivion? That's a first."
