The familiar aromas filling The Wolf’s Den flooded Donovan’s nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, knowing this was exactly where he belonged. Among his own kind, with shifters who recognized and accepted him for what he was. It wasn’t home, and this sure as hell wasn’t his pack, but for the time being it would have to do. It was here he’d find a mate. He was certain of it. On the dance floor that stretched out before him, or up in the balconies shrouded in shadows for private encounters, his perfect female waited. He just had to figure out who she was, a seemingly simple task that had proven to be a whole lot more difficult than he’d expected. Tonight, anticipation sang in his blood and filled him with hope. She was here somewhere. She had to be. The steady thump of techno music matched the beating of his heart. He made his way into the crowd, stopped in the center of the dance floor and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. A blonde with short, spiky hair and too much makeup rubbed up against him.
