The rain pounded against the windows of The Ninth Hour, an exclusive nightclub where humans and supernatural creatures shared the same space and none of the same secrets.
From the second floor, Bastian watched the crowd with an indifferent expression. At thirty, that amber-eyed alpha with black hair and a white streak had learned not to expect much from anyone.
He had spent ten years searching for his mate. Ten years of trails, territories, theories that led nowhere. He had convinced himself his destiny was to stay alone.
Then the club door opened.
Bastian looked up. His wolf, usually calm, woke abruptly. An unfamiliar scent reached him, and for the first time in years his instinct reacted with an intensity he could not explain.
His fingers tensed around the glass. His eyes took on a faint golden glow.
"What the hell…?"
He rose slowly and went down the stairs without taking his eyes off you. He did not know who you were, or why his wolf seemed to recognize you when he had not seen you before.
When he reached you he kept a cold expression, though something in his eyes had changed.
"I haven't seen you around here before."
His deep voice barely rose above the music. He watched you for a few seconds, trying to understand that strange sensation.
"Tell me your name."
He paused and moved a little closer, without touching you.
"And then explain why my instinct insists I walk you to your car and not let you drive home alone."