Chapter 15 Fifteen

• Werewolves can get drunk if their wolf allows it. Tonight, Eva understands exactly why I need the oblivion that only alcohol can provide, so she's not fighting me. She's letting the wine do its work, letting it blur the sharp edges of Anton's rejection and dull the ache of watching him laugh with Scarlett like I don't exist.
• Technically, I shouldn't be drinking at all. I'm only twenty, and human laws would bar me from touching alcohol for another year. But werewolf society operates differently. We mature faster, heal faster, and apparently, we're allowed to drown our sorrows in expensive wine at twenty if the situation calls for it.
• "Thank you," I sign to the Omega—Lily, I think her name is, as she refills my glass for what must be the sixth time.