Chapter 133 Ava: The Party (IV)

"Ava," an unfamiliar voice coos, and I cringe at its overly saccharine tone.

Turning, I see Chloe sauntering toward me, hips swaying in a way that catches the eye of every male she passes. For a moment, I'm startled by her revealing clothes—a tight, low-cut top that leaves little to the imagination and a skirt so short it barely covers anything at all.

Like Lisa, her auburn hair flows in messy waves over her shoulders, but her eyes are slathered in fancy eyeliner and shadows that belong on one of those make-up artists from online videos. Fancy stuff. A little too much for me, but I can appreciate the talent behind it.

She reaches me and greets me with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek, her lips lingering just a bit too long for comfort. "You look amazing," she gushes, her eyes raking over my body in a way that makes me want to squirm. "So much better than your training clothes."

I force a smile, trying to ignore the way her compliments feel insincere, like she's just saying what she thinks I want to hear. "Thanks, Chloe."

Her hand reaches out, fingers grazing gently over my breast as she leans in close. "They suit you," she purrs, and I fight the urge to recoil from her touch. "Don't they?"

The question's tossed to someone behind her, but I can't tell who. There are too many wolves around watching us.

A whistle from one of the nearby male shifters makes my cheeks burn, and I step back, putting some distance between Chloe and myself. She just laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. "Oh, you're adorable," she coos, like I'm some sort of skittish animal she finds amusing.

Before I can respond, she's pressing a cup of pink punch into my hand, not even bothering to ask if I want it. I stare down at the liquid, suddenly feeling out of my depth. Is this what life in the Westwood pack will be like? Overly familiar touches, suggestive comments, and a complete lack of personal boundaries?

It doesn't feel right.

That weird, not-right feeling is back, my stomach churning and my skin prickling with unease.

Here, it seems like everyone is in everyone else's business, touching and flirting and acting like it's all just normal. Now I see why Selene was amused by that girl staring at me earlier.

This isn't something I enjoy, and won't ever be something I'm used to. I'm not even sure this is what's normal here. If I'm reading Chloe right—and I think I am, paranoia be damned—she's done this all on purpose.

me feel like

Why?

watching me, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She knows she's made

in the world. He's never

I navigate these shark-infested waters on my own. I can't rely on him

I need

Correct, Selene whispers.

a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I meet Chloe's gaze head-on. "Thanks for the drink," I say, my voice steady despite the

she plasters it back on. "Of course," she

the kitchen to find

I wrong? Is this normal? Because it doesn't feel very

always be those jealous of

the bottom tier of our training group's skills. I can't shift. I'm not even a

Just a hot mess of a shifter with way too many secrets. Secrets I can't even share with the man who's supposed to be my other

There will always be jealous wolves, but there are also good ones

about Mia and Chloe.

outgoing enough to introduce myself to random

Lisa and Bren

Hmm.

Missing.

doing

Or dancing, Selene offers.

I cast an inexperienced eye over all the gyrating, twisting bodies, noticing a quick pattern. Mostly men and

like clothed

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