The Wolf's Forbidden Baby: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance by Ellie Valentina

CHAPTER ONE
     
     
     
    Dim lighting and rock-n-roll music barely audible over the many conversations and laughter from the patrons greeted Devan Kemper the moment he entered the bar. Normally, he wasn’t one for crowds, having been a loner for five years now, but tonight, Friday night, he needed to get out of his apartment. A drink or two, that’s all.
    A stumbling couple almost plowed into him on their way out, so he walked in farther and claimed the first empty seat at the bar. It took the harassed and worn-looking bartender a good twenty minutes to make her way over to him, but he didn’t mind. Out of habit, he had been observing the place, noting the loners lurking in separate corners, the group of guys trying to act like macho men, and a young crowd of early twenty-somethings, one of which wearing a tiara. Bachelorette party, if he had to guess.
    “What do you want?” the bartender asked as she wiped the counter in front of him.
    “Whatever’s on special.” Beer, liquor, anything. His poison didn’t matter as long as it had alcohol in it.
    She nodded and rushed to fill his order.
    Warmth brushed against his side as a newcomer squeezed forward to place her order. He barely glanced at her.
    “Oh, that looks good.” Her voice sounded nice, like a song even, unlike the deeper, smoker-raspiness of the bartender.
    The woman beside him was right. His drink—a purple concoction the likes of which he never had before—did look good.
    “What is it?” he asked the bartender as he handed her a ten.
    She grinned, revealing yellow teeth. “My specialty. Only eight apiece, but I doubt anyone can drink more than three without being on the floor.”
    He waved away his change and swallowed a large gulp. Smooth. Sweet but not too much. Maybe some vodka, maybe not. The overall taste of alcohol wasn’t strong, and he had to fight the urge to chug it, given her warning. He could handle alcohol, but it had been ages since he last imbibed, so he might want to take it a little slow.
    “Good?” the newcomer asked.
    Devan glanced up at her. She was tall, maybe five foot nine, but he would still tower her by a half foot. Toned, sleek, she put those party girls to shame. Maybe twenty-five, his own age.
    He nudged the drink toward her. “Taste for yourself.”
    She brushed her long blond hair back, but the move didn’t seem practiced to him. Her long fingers curled around the glass, and he found himself eyeing her as she took a sip, the slender slope of her neck, her curved jawline.
    “I’ll have one,” she announced. She held out the drink for him to reclaim.
    His fingers brushed against hers as he took it. He needed to adjust himself, but with her so close, he couldn’t risk it, not with those sweet baby blues fixed on him. Just because I’ve been by myself for so long. The animal inside hated that he was alone and he could feel the tugging, the pulling, the desire to cut loose and be free, to give in and take as he wanted. Not here. Not now.
    Abruptly, she moved to the right, but it was only to claim the seat beside him, now vacated, the previously occupant staggering toward the door.
    The bartender laughed as she placed another purple drink on the counter. “He only had one and a half,” she crowed.
    “What a softie.” The woman took a deep swallow. Her dress clung to her curves, but in a sexy, not slutty, way. Not low cut either, he noted. Minimal makeup. She didn’t need more.
    For whatever reason, he shifted toward her. “Sounds like someone might be up to the challenge.”
    She lifted her glass toward him. “Someone might be.”
    They clinked glasses and both drank. Out of habit, he found himself glancing around again.
    “Waiting for someone?” Something flashed in her eyes.
    “No.” One of the lurkers was hunched over, passed out maybe. The other one was digging into some wings and didn’t seem that important anymore. His paranoia had to end at some point. It’s been five years. They wouldn’t send