Chapter 16

Isabella

The restaurant hummed with gentle conversation and clinking silverware. Couples and friends filled the tables around us, oblivious to the werewolf conversation happening in their midst.

Since moving to Silver Moon City, Julian had been my only real friend. Our shifts at Twilight Café had overlapped for nearly three years, yet how many times had I actually accepted his invitations to socialize outside work? Barely a handful.

"I've invited you to at least twenty parties in the past three years," Julian said, as if reading my thoughts. "And you always said no because of studying, or your second job, or being too tired."

I've spent way too much time alone in my apartment with textbooks, I realized, a pang of regret hitting me. How much had I missed by prioritizing academics above everything?

"Maybe I've been approaching life all wrong," I admitted. "I've been so focused on graduating, on breaking my family's cycle, that I've forgotten to actually live."

Julian raised his glass of wine. "Welcome to the realization the rest of us had years ago."

I laughed and clinked my water glass against his. "Better late than never, right?"

"So, this club visit—is it just curiosity about werewolf culture, or are you hoping to meet someone?" Julian wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Heat bloomed across my cheeks. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in meeting other wolves my age." My fingers unconsciously touched my neck—the place where a mate might someday leave their mark. "I'm eighteen now. I should at least explore what that means."

"That's my girl," Julian grinned. "Just promise me you'll be careful. And tell me everything afterward."

"Promise," I said, realizing how much I valued this friendship I'd neglected for too long.

That weekend, I stood outside Erotic Paradise, staring up at the imposing black doors with their silver wolf emblem. My new black dress hugged my curves, the hem hitting mid-thigh—shorter than anything I'd normally wear. The neckline dipped low enough to draw attention while still being tasteful. My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

I was so sure I'd never come back here. Being here again feels strange.

The night I'd fled this place in humiliation felt both distant and painfully recent. The memory of those three powerful men staring at me from across the bar still made my skin prickle with heat. Would they be here tonight? The thought sent a shiver down my spine that was equal parts fear and anticipation.

I'm trying not to think about the fact that they're still such powerful wolves, and I'm about to become a charity-case Omega member.

Moonlight bathed the entrance in silver, highlighting the intricate carvings on the obsidian doors. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and approached the entrance. The same expressionless doorman from my first visit stood guard, his posture rigid and intimidating.

His eyes widened slightly as I approached. "Miss Hart," he said, surprising me by remembering my name. "Welcome back."

"Good evening," I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.

"No need to verify your wolf scent this time," he said with a slight nod. "We've been informed you're Mr. Morgan's personal guest."

My wolf stirred again, more insistently this time. Being acknowledged as someone important enough to be personally invited by the club owner felt strange—like wearing clothes that didn't quite fit.

"Thank you," I managed, as he opened the heavy door for me.

Inside, Erotic Paradise's atmosphere enveloped me—that intoxicating blend of luxury, ancient wolf energy, and primal desire. The silver-blue lighting created an eternal twilight, and the scent of expensive cologne mingled with the natural musk of werewolves.

As I approached the reception desk, my heart sank. Diana sat there, her perfect makeup emphasizing her sharp features, her dark eyes cold as they landed on me. Recognition flashed across her face, followed by something uglier—contempt.

"This low-grade Omega is back?" she asked, not bothering to lower her voice. Her lips curled into a sneer as she looked me up and down.

I forced myself to keep my voice steady. "Yes, I'm here to see Allen."

"Really?" Diana's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched in disbelief, her gaze dripping with skepticism.

"Yes. Mr. Morgan personally invited me." The moment I said his name, something flickered in her eyes—jealousy, perhaps, or disbelief.

"I'll call him," she said, her tone clipped. "Meanwhile, you need to sign the pack confidentiality oath." She slid a document across the counter with obvious reluctance. "Hang your coat over there, and try not to spread your low-grade stench everywhere."

My hands clenched into fists as her words hit their mark. My wolf snarled inside me, pushing against my control. I took a deep breath, focusing on keeping her contained. Getting into a confrontation with the receptionist on my first official visit wouldn't exactly make a good impression.

As I signed the document, the entrance doors swung open again, admitting a couple—both clearly high-ranking wolves based on their confident stride and expensive clothing. Diana's demeanor transformed instantly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Thompson! How lovely to see you both again," she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. "Your usual table in the bar is ready, and Chef has prepared that special appetizer you enjoyed last time."

The contrast in her treatment wasn't subtle. My neck burned with humiliation as I finished signing the oath and slid it back across the counter. Diana took it without acknowledging me, continuing to fawn over the newcomers.

I stepped away from the reception desk, my skin feeling too tight. The wolf inside me paced restlessly, responding to the slight. She's baiting you. Don't react, I told myself.

"You must be Isabella Hart?"

I turned to find a well-groomed man with an athletic build approaching. He wore a tailored gray suit that highlighted his broad shoulders, and his eyes held the characteristic glow of a werewolf—intense enough to make me instinctively lower my gaze for a moment.

Damn, he's definitely high-ranking, but I have no fucking idea where he falls in the hierarchy.

"Yes, that's me," I replied, relieved to escape Diana's hostile presence, but still on edge around this clearly powerful wolf.

"Hello, I'm Allen, Mr. Morgan's membership coordinator." He extended his hand with a warm smile that reached his eyes. "Pleased to meet you, Isabella."

"Likewise," I said, shaking his hand, trying not to flinch at the wave of dominance that flowed through the brief contact. My wolf stirred curiously, neither submitting nor challenging, just... interested.

"Let's head to my office to chat, shall we? Did you bring your ID as requested?"

"Yes, I have it with me," I nodded, following him as he led me away from the reception area.

"Excellent. We'll get your membership registration completed right away."

As we walked through Erotic Paradise, my senses heightened, taking in every detail. The corridors were adorned with artistic photographs in silver-blue tones, the images mysterious yet elegant.

Below us, the bar wasn't as crowded as during my previous visit, but several wolves conversed in intimate groups. The scent of desire and anticipation hung in the air, much stronger to my now-awakened wolf senses.

Fuck, I can actually smell their arousal. Is this what being an adult wolf is like? My nostrils flared involuntarily, my body responding with a flush of heat between my thighs that made me press them together as we walked.

We ascended to the second floor, where half-moon shaped doors lined the hallway, each marked with a different lunar phase symbol. Private bonding rooms, I realized, feeling a blush creep up my neck.

I can imagine coming here for pleasure would be nice, I thought, surprised by my own boldness.

Allen's office was spacious yet minimalist in design. The walls were painted a silver-gray, the floor deep black. Two chairs with wolf emblems faced a large desk, and a comfortable sitting area occupied one corner, centered around a table carved with a moon pattern. The wall behind his desk was lined with cabinets, presumably containing wolf-clan records and documents.

"Please, have a seat," Allen gestured to one of the chairs. "We can begin your membership registration process."

I sat, crossing my legs nervously, the dress riding up slightly on my thighs. Allen's gaze briefly lingered on the exposed skin before professionally returning to my face, but that momentary attention was enough to make my pulse quicken.

Damn it, Isabella, pull yourself together. He's just doing his job.

"These are the same terms Mr. Morgan sent to your email," he explained, opening the folder to reveal the familiar wolf emblem letterhead. "All members must agree to our core principles of respect, consent, and discretion."

I nodded, scanning the documents.

"By signing, you'll become an official member of Erotic Paradise," Allen continued, offering me a pen engraved with the silver moon emblem.

My heart raced as I took the pen, the weight of this moment not lost on me. With this signature, I was stepping fully into the adult world I'd only glimpsed from the outside. I was accepting my nature, embracing the changes in my body rather than fearing them.

I signed my name with a surprisingly steady hand, officially becoming a member of Erotic Paradise—Silver Moon City's most unique werewolf establishment.

Maybe I'll finally understand what these strange heat reactions are all about. God, at least I might finally stop feeling like such a freak.

Whatever awaited me in this lavish den of wolves, I was finally ready to face it head-on.