Luna Queen

12 - Disobedient

12 - Disobedient

Salt Lake City, Utah
USA - North America
The Lynx Night Club - Streets of Utah's District

Unknown
I was entranced with the way that her body was moving in an almost engraving manner to me.

"Yours."

I feel my Wolf brewing with joy as she mouths the same word that I do; and at the same time, making the moment more entrancing than thought to be possible.

I watched her, her wild red locks bouncing in tune with her body which was in tune with the beat of the pounding music. She had my undivided attention - and she knew what she had.

I smiled, and so did she.

Her bright green eyes alight with a hidden eventfulness that I couldn't wait to uncover. I didn't dance, and I wanted to tell her that as she motioned me to the crowded, flashing dance-floor. I wanted to tell her that I would look like an idiot if I tried at all to dance.

But, I didn't.

I simply shook my head, looking away as her face falls dramatically. I will my cheeks to rid its light color of red. Coming to a club full of sweaty dancers had been the last thing on my mind - but, as a Warrior, I was obliged to my Alpha. I went wherever he chose to go - it was part of my lifetime job.

I raise my head as a small hand touches the sleeve of my suit jacket. Even through the thick material, I could feel the sparking flames. I am momentarily distressed by her actions, but I proved to be in control.

"I don't want to dance," I murmur, gently releasing my hand from her apt grip.

"Why not?" Her little frown made me wince. It almost hurt to see that expression.

"I don't dance," I pull the ends of lips down, my lips idly morphing into a frown.

"Yes, you do."

It was the only answer I got as she strictly pulled to the direction of the dance-floor, my heart pounding in my chest at the mere prospect of dancing passed my mind. I mentally let out a relieved smile as she passes the dance-floor, now heading in the direction of the little bar.

I turn her and cock a brow.

"A little bit of shots will speed you up," she giggles happily, a smile on her face.

From the way she stumbled from time to time, and the way she barely poured the alcohol into the small glasses, I reached the conclusion that she was drunk. I watched her giggle again as the alcohol bottle crashed to the floor, the sexually occupied bartender barely glancing up from his lively activities with a busty, drunk, half-naked brunette.

I deftly pull her small hands back as they reach eagerly for the broken shards of glass that littered the floor.

I wince at the intensity of the sparks, almost contemplating the thought of pulling away, but the mere idea that she could get hurt made me continue to pull her back against her will. Yes, I mentally tell myself, definitely drunk.

"Let me go!" Her small hands scrape up and down her arm. She was small, about five-foot-one. My taller six-foot-four frame a contrasting height to behold.

Her tight, black dress clung to her hourglass figure like clothing on a person that has just come out of the rain. Her full, pink lips opening and closing repeatedly as I am unable to decipher any of her words.

I could tell by her bare feet, that her shoes had disappeared along the way.

I could see that the bartender was becoming interested in her barely put out screams for help. The man was human, and he would not understand anything of our sort of life.