the damn cookie.
So yeah, I relented and I changed my outfit. Now, I’m in a black minidress and cobalt heels that are decidedly not comfortable like the sneakers with my previous outfit. Plus, my dress keeps riding up, so I’m worried that at some point in the evening, my vagina is going to make an accidental debut. The shoes are killing my feet too, but they do make my legs and butt look good, so there’s that at least.
It didn’t escape my notice that Zoey left the house in a fake skirt. You know the kind—the shorts that have lace wrapped around them to make it look like a skirt. She totally cheated, and there will be hell to pay about it later. If she makes me suffer like this, the least she could do was suffer with me. But no, she’s sitting there with her legs uncrossed, looking comfy as hell with her heeled boots as she swings her legs without a care for her vagina making a surprise appearance. Traitor.
I eye Mario’s tan slacks and white button up shirt. It’s a nice contrast to his darker skin, and he looks nice in it, even if it’s not the normal look I go for. I usually gravitate to the dudes in jeans and obscure t-shirts, maybe messy hair and some scruff, but it’s not like I have guys lining up at my door, so who am I to be choosey?
“So, Addie, you mentioned you were at the bank robbery the other day,” Mario says, leaning over slightly.
“That’s right.”
The band starts playing again, making it harder to hear, and Zoey waves over the waitress to order some dessert. “Did you recognize the guys?” Mario asks, raising his voice a bit.
I shake my head and run a finger over the rim of my empty glass. “Nope, never seen them before. I would’ve remembered that aura of stupidity that hovered around them.”
Mario laughed lightly. “Is it true you actually hit one of them?” he asks, leaning in even closer.
For some reason, his human scent washes over me and makes my nose burn. I have to discreetly itch it to get the feeling to go away. “Hit is a strong word,” I say, trying really hard not to sneeze.
“So you didn’t hit him?”
“Oh, no, I hit him. I was just pointing out that the word choice was strong.”
He doesn’t seem to know what to do about my dry sense of humor, so the bad joke just shrivels up and flakes away.
“Right,” he finally says, and I’m grateful as hell when the waitress comes back and brings up a round of chocolate cake shots.
“Ooh I love this song!” Zoey says, practically bouncing in her seat.
I look over my shoulder at the band and back to her. “Have you ever heard it before?” I ask her.
“Nope, but I decided I love it right now!”
Matt smiles and shakes his head at her. Zoey is definitely a little tipsy, which isn’t surprising considering how much alcohol she’s consumed. Female shifters don’t seem to have iron stomachs like male shifters do for some reason.
Mario leans in again to talk to me when I suddenly feel something. Something bad.
My body flushes from head to toe, and I know I’m in deep shit as the telltale wave of my heat crashes over me.
Uh fricken oh.
Zoey’s eyes go wide, and she kicks me under the table. I try to kick her back, only I kick Matt instead. He jolts in his seat a little. “Sorry,” I mouth. Poor Matt, always bearing the brunt of my retaliation.
I shift in my seat, hoping that the feeling was just a fluke, but then it happens again. I stifle a groan as another wave of heat washes over me. They call it a heatwave for a reason. Female heatwaves are intense, and aside from becoming ridiculously fertile, we also literally start heating up, so that we release crazy pheromones. Which means that right now, every shifter within my vicinity will soon be able to smell it.
I look around discreetly, hoping none of the shifters besides Zoey and Matt are scenting anything. The last thing I need is an aggressive shifter fight to break out right now, which can sometimes happen. A female in heat is hard to resist, no matter the breed, and males and females have been known to fight over the promise of hooking up with a female riding her wave. We can’t help it. Our animals take over.
Soon, I’ll be out of