Lessons in Love

Chapter — Lessons in Love

He was leaning on the bar when I found him — or maybe he found me. The air between us was electric in that slow, smoky way that jazz makes possible. The hemp bar had never looked so alive, so dangerous, so… sexy.

He spoke like he was tuning an instrument, each word low and deliberate. He called it lessons in love. I didn’t know if he meant the kind you remember or the kind you survive.

Later, his room was wood — nothing but wood, warm and infinite. Mahogany deep as midnight, teak glowing like captured sunlight, grain lines running like rivers that had been there long before either of us were born. His bed was carved, heavy, and breathing with its own history.

I loved that wood.
The way it felt under my hands, the way it seemed to lean closer when I did.

Somewhere between the smoke and the shadows, something inside me began to shift. My pulse climbed. My thoughts blurred until all I could hear was the wolf, the one I carry in my chest, pacing.

He touched me, and my edges dissolved. The moon outside swelled fat and hungry, biting at me through the window. My body answered without asking my permission.

I got higher — stranger — until my breath came in growls. The wolf wanted more. Always more. And when I finally gave in, the music broke apart into teeth and hands and the wreckage of two people who had almost loved each other right.

When it was over, I didn’t know if I had been blessed or cursed.