The city of Neon never slept. By seven p.m, businesses close and the residents of the city make merry in the busiest nightclubs in the heart of the city. There, people of different backgrounds, races, professions and social statuses mingled.
Alyssa Dawson sported a pair of oversized framed spectacles as she alighted from the taxi, making her way towards the busy Mysterious Club. It was a club where there were no rules. Just like Alyssa herself. At twenty-four, she was already the CEO of a multinational company, living the luxurious life of a billionaire. A life with no commitments. She answered to no one.
In fact, she led a huge team of expatriates and had over five hundred employees all over the country. Like the name of the club, she was Neon’s greatest mystery. She donned a dark black jacket every day to the office, covered her bright crimson hair with a black wig and on her nose, sat an oversized, framed spectacles that hid her beauty. None knew who she was like outside the office.
But aside from being the wealthiest woman in the city, envied by men and women alike, there is a part of her that nobody knows. That side of her, with a crimson red crest and a furry tail, and golden-yellow eyes. She can never forget that day when a rival pack exterminated the Crimsoncrown pack, and her father’s last words to her when they died.
She was the last of the Crimsoncrown pack and its sole survivor. Her father had been the pack’s Alpha.
His last words to her were for her to survive and avenge their pack. Luck was on her side after that; an unsuspecting childless couple had found her passed out at the roadside, rescued and then adopted her. She had been fourteen then when she became Alyssa Dawson. At twenty years old, she inherited a fortune from her adoptive parents and became the richest female entrepreneur in Neon.
Ten years later today, she was standing outside the bar in a dark alley, disregarding the rules that a werewolf should have a mate and seeking a night of fun. It was the fourteenth of February, what the humans called Valentine’s Day. Her goal that night was to find a mate, and it was just for that night. She wasn’t ready to commit to a relationship, nor to change anything about herself. A one-night-stand seemed perfect: a night of passion, with no regrets or responsibility. But she had other plans than to approach a man herself.
She reached up to her wig and removed it, following with her spectacles. It was time for her to let herself loose. A bed of curly crimson hair spilled from the wig, tumbling down her waist. Then she took off her serious-looking designer work jacket. Underneath the jacket, she wore a stylish black dress, which stressed her curvy hips and boasted her impeccable figure. Being a werewolf had its perks.
She dumped the items she had taken off in a dustbin nearby. Without them, she was unrecognisable. Her eyes glittered with excitement as she thought about the deal she had made with the owner of the club: that she would have a gigolo accompany her for the rest of the night. Just one night!
That night, she would let the games begin. Whatever happened in the Mysterious Club stayed in the Mysterious Club, she thought with a wide smile across her face. By no way was she ever going to allow some male stranger from the club to make a claim over her and ruin the equilibrium of her perfect life?
But that night, she was in for a big surprise.
