The Bloody Blind Date
eyes narrowing in pure annoyance. The damn thing had been buzzing non-stop for the last two days with notifications from some weird app she'd never downloaded. "Unleash Your Inner Alpha" – what kind of motivational bullshit was this? It looked like one of those cringy self-help games for gym bros trying to "level up" their confidence. But somehow, it had installed itself after that late-night scroll through Instagram reels, and now it kept sending her push notifications like "Claim your destiny tonight" and "Your true power awaits under the full moon."
"Oye bhenchod," she muttered under her breath, swiping it away for the tenth time. Being a civil engineer on this godforsaken remote construction site in the middle of nowhere Odisha meant spotty network, endless dust, and zero entertainment. The nearest town was a two-hour bumpy jeep ride away, and her social life? Non-existent. That's why when her old college friend Simran had messaged her last week – "Yaar Priya, I've set you up on a blind date! Hot guy, good job, Punjabi like you. Come to the city this weekend!" – she'd actually said yes.
Priya was pure Punjabi fire – born and raised in Ludhiana, with that sharp tongue that could cut glass and a laugh that filled rooms. At 26, she was independent as hell, the only woman supervising a team of fifty rowdy laborers on this massive high-rise project for Rathore Constructions. She wore her safety helmet like a crown, barked orders in a mix of Hindi, English, and Punjabi gaaliyan when needed, and didn't take shit from anyone. Men on site called her "Madam Ji" to her face and whispered about how she was "too hot to be so strict" behind her back.
But dates? It had been ages. The last guy she'd gone out with was some NRI from Canada who spent the whole dinner talking about his gym routine. Bore-fest.
So here she was, Friday evening, fresh off a 14-hour shift, showered and changed into her favorite red kurti with jeans – simple but sexy, showing off her curves without trying too hard. Her long black hair was loose, kohl-lined eyes popping, and a touch of lipstick that said "kiss me if you dare."
The restaurant was fancy – some rooftop place in Bhubaneswar called The Moonlight Terrace. Simran had booked it, saying the guy was "loaded" and wanted to impress. Priya arrived a bit late (traffic, duh), scanned the dimly lit tables under string lights, and spotted a man sitting alone at a corner booth. Tall, broad-shouldered, in a crisp black shirt that hugged his muscles like it was custom-made. Dark beard, sharp jawline, and eyes that... wait, were they glowing a little in the candlelight?
No, Priya, you're tired. Hallucinating already.
She walked over, plastering on her confident smile. "Hi, you must be...?"
The man stood up – God, he was tall, at least 6'3" – and extended a hand. His voice was deep, gravelly, like thunder rolling in from the hills. "Veer. Veer Rathore."
Priya froze. Rathore? As in Rathore Constructions? Her boss? The CEO who'd been visiting the site every week, barking orders at the project manager, and staring at her a little too intensely during meetings?
"Oye hoye, Simran di toh... bhenchod!" she thought, but outwardly she kept it cool, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, warm – too warm – and a weird spark shot up her arm. She pulled back quickly. "Priya Sharma. Wait... you're the blind date?"
Veer's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. More like a predator sizing up prey. "Seems so. Your friend Simran works in my HR department. She thought we'd... hit it off."
Priya sat down, heart pounding a bit. This was awkward as hell. Veer Rathore was legendary – ruthless businessman, took no nonsense, built the company from scratch. Rumors said he was from some old Rajasthani family, loaded with ancestral land, but he kept to himself. No wife, no girlfriend sightings. And now here he was, on a blind date with his own site engineer?
The waiter came, and Priya ordered a virgin mojito – no alcohol tonight, she needed her wits. Veer got whiskey on the rocks. Straight.
"So, Mr. Rathore—"
"Veer," he corrected, eyes locked on hers. Intense. Too intense.
"Veer," she said, rolling her eyes inwardly. "How's a big CEO like you ending up on a blind date? No time for Tinder swipes between board meetings?"
He chuckled – low, rumbling. It sent a shiver down her spine. "I don't do apps. But Simran insisted. Said you were... interesting."
Interesting? Priya raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how? Because I yell at laborers in Punjabi when they slack off?"
"That, and you're the only one on site who doesn't flinch when I visit."
Because you're scary as hell, she thought. But hot. Annoyingly hot.
Conversation flowed surprisingly easy after that. He asked about her family – typical Punjabi parents back in Ludhiana pressuring for marriage, younger brother studying engineering ("Following didi's footsteps," she joked). She asked about his – vague answers, no siblings, parents gone. Workaholic, obviously.
Food came – butter chicken, naan, paneer tikka. Punjabi comfort. Priya dug in, forgetting formality, tearing naan with her hands like at home.
"You eat like you mean it," Veer said, watching her with that predatory gaze again.
"Oye, ghar ka khana feel aunda hai," she replied with a grin, mouth half-full. "Fancy places are good, but nothing beats maa ke haath."
He smiled – real this time. Damn, it transformed his face. Made him look less like a brooding villain and more like... dangerous temptation.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She ignored it at first, but it kept going. Finally, she pulled it out – that stupid app again.
Notification: "Your Alpha awaits. Unleash tonight under the full moon. Match confirmed."
What the—? She glanced up at the sky. Full moon, bright and huge.
Veer stiffened across the table. His eyes... definitely glowing now. Golden flecks.
"Priya," he said, voice strained. "Turn that off."
"How do you know it's on?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned forward, nostrils flaring like he was... smelling her?
This was weird. Comedy-weird or creepy-weird?
"Oye Veer ji, tu theek hai? You look like you've seen a bhoot."
He gripped the table edge, knuckles white. "We need to leave. Now."
But before she could protest, another notification popped: "Possession in progress. Claim your mate or lose him to the pack."
Priya laughed nervously. "This app is crazy. Some prank Simran set up?"
Veer's face darkened. "It's no prank."
Suddenly, the air felt heavier. Wind picked up, though they were indoors-ish. Shadows in the corner seemed to move – wolf shapes?
Priya's heart raced. "Kya bakchodi hai yeh?"
Veer stood, grabbing her hand. His touch burned. "Priya, listen to me. That app... it's not what you think. And neither am I."
She yanked back, but he held firm. "Let go, bhenchod! You're scaring me."
"I'm trying to protect you," he growled – literally growled. "You're my—"
A howl echoed from outside. Not a dog. Deeper. Primal.
Priya's eyes widened. "Veer... what the fuck are you?"
He pulled her close, breath hot on her ear. "Your mate. And if we don't get out of here, the ghosts will take me... and come for you next."
The restaurant lights flickered. Shadows lengthened into claws.
Priya Sharma, tough Punjabi engineer, suddenly felt like she'd swiped right into a nightmare.
Or the hottest danger of her life..
