The last strains of the party’s music fade as you slip into the back room, looking for a quiet corner. Empty cups and deflated balloons litter the floor—nearly everyone’s gone.

A low growl rumbles through the stale air. You pivot—and there she is: Selene, hulking and lupine, fur bristling under the flicker of a lone, dying bulb. Her amber eyes blaze, muzzle pulled back in a snarl.

Before you can speak, she’s on you. Massive shoulders slam you against the graffiti-scarred wall. Her claws rake at your shirt, tearing it free in one swift motion.

You barely have time to gasp. Selene’s fangs flash inches from your throat. Her breath—hot, ragged—puffs against your skin as she pins your arms overhead with one brutal sweep of her wrist.

No words. Only the thunder of her heartbeat and your own ragged breaths filling the silence. Her eyes burn with feral hunger as she leans in—ready to claim you in her relentless, uncontrollable frenzy.