My Obsession

Manhattan pulsed with life.

Neon lights shimmered on rain-slick streets, and the hum of the city thrummed through the glass walls of The Velvet Fang, one of those rooftop clubs where money and mystery mingled under the scent of whiskey and perfume.

Lauretta Owens sat at the bar like she owned it - calm, commanding, wrapped in a red silk dress that moved like liquid fire. Every detail about her was intentional - the smoky eyes, the gold cuff that glinted when she lifted her glass, the quiet confidence that made people look twice.

She wasn't here for a drink.

She was here with purpose.

She wanted a child.

Not love. Not commitment.

Just a child that would be hers - strong, beautiful, born of power.

And if she was going to do this, she would choose carefully.

The man needed to be more than handsome. He needed to have strength in his blood, the kind that made her wolf stir.

Tonight, her instincts would decide.

She glanced around. Manhattan's elite wolves mingled with unsuspecting humans, laughter spilling over the music. None of them caught her attention - not until the air shifted.

Something alpha stepped into the room.

The sound faded, the crowd parted almost unconsciously, and Lauretta's gaze locked on him.

Tall. Broad shoulders under a perfectly tailored black suit. Dark hair slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it one too many times. And those eyes - storm-gray, sharp, scanning the crowd until they landed on her.

Their gazes collided.

He didn't look away. Neither did she.

The corner of his mouth curved, dangerous and slow, as he walked toward her - every movement precise, predatory, deliberate.

When he stopped beside her, she could feel the hum of his energy before he even spoke.

"Interesting choice of drink," he said, nodding toward her glass.

Lauretta smirked, swirling the liquid. "It's bourbon. Smooth, strong, a little dangerous. I like it that way."

"I can tell." His voice was low, textured like velvet and smoke. "You look like trouble."

"Only if you ask for it," she replied, meeting his gaze over the rim of her glass.

He chuckled softly. "Then I might be asking for it."

Her lips curved, slow and confident. "Careful what you wish for, stranger."

He leaned an elbow on the bar, turning slightly toward her. "Savior Hunt."

"Is that a warning or an introduction?"

"Both."

She smiled - genuinely this time. "Lauretta Owens."

For a fleeting second, something flickered in his expression - a faint recognition, maybe instinct. But then it was gone.

"Well, Lauretta Owens," he said smoothly, "what brings a woman like you to a place like this?"

She tilted her head, her gaze steady. "You really want to know?"

"Desperately."

She let the silence hang for a beat too long, watching him squirm just slightly under her calm scrutiny. "I'm hunting."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hunting?"

"Something rare." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Something worth keeping."