That didn’t mean he had to agree to seek out a potential mate himself.
They reached a door guarded by a human male with dark skin and muscular biceps that strained the sleeves of his black shirt. While Grayson handled the financial transaction, Damon read the sign mounted on the door:
“Abandon hope all ye who enter here.”
The creepy decor is a little over the top, he communicated telepathically to Rafe.
What did you expect from a club that attracts supes—rainbows and unicorns?
The bouncer let them enter. Before Damon even stepped across the threshold, a remix of a familiar song with a sinister vibe slithered under his skin. He rolled his neck to ease the returning discomfort. Still, he walked inside.
His senses were assaulted at once—not only by the music that seemed to fuse inside his body and echo in his ears, but by the bright lights and the scents. It was human perspiration mixed with desire.
As his vision adjusted to the red, purple, and white lights that traveled overhead, he scanned from one end of the club to the other. Gargoyle statues were mounted like stone sentries from perches both near the ceiling and down at ground level. They were the only things standing still. People moved constantly, from those walking to those dancing, moving like serpents under strobe lights.
Damon blew out a rough breath. “I need a drink.”
Grayson nodded and motioned to the bar with rows of bottles lit under crimson lights. “Come on.”
Once they ordered drinks from a pink-haired bartender, Rafe led the trio as they walked single file along the edge of the dance floor. They stood at least half a head above most of the men nearby. Rafe scoped out the dancers, likely eying the women in black outfits that revealed plenty of skin. Damon forced himself to take deep, slow breaths to ward off the claustrophobic vibe.
He gulped his mojito. “I’m not going to dance.”
Grayson chuckled. “Won’t or can’t?”
Damon scowled.
“I don’t care if you stand as still as one of the gargoyles,” Rafe added. “It’s good for you to experience something different. Besides, you know why we’re here.”
Right. Alpha’s call: find mates.
Rafe had been growing increasingly restless as the years passed. Being a billionaire in his thirties and owning a successful ski resort in the White Mountains wasn’t enough for him. He wanted a mate at his side.
Not Damon.
Mates could make you lose reason. Lose everything.
Lose your mind.
He wouldn’t permit himself to suffer the same fate as his father, no matter how his wolf urged otherwise.
“Good luck.” Rafe raised his glass and then walked into the crowd of dancers.
Grayson motioned to Damon. “You’re not coming?”
Damon shook his head. “I’ll stay back and keep watch.”
Grayson grinned. “Your reluctance to mate will turn you into a grumpy old wolf living alone in your cabin.”
“Sounds like heaven.” Damon smiled and raised his drink. “Enjoy the hunt.”
Grayson nodded and joined Rafe on the prowl for female companionship.
Damon meandered toward the shadows at the back of the club. How long would he have to suffer through this ordeal before they could head back home?
A white spotlight cascaded over a woman on the dance floor, who captured his attention. Once the light passed by, he blinked, continuing to stare at her. She was shorter than those around her and had long dark hair and bangs that glowed with a reddish hue under the club lights. Her eyes were half-closed as she danced, appearing to lose herself in the beat of the music. His gaze traveled down. Through brief glimpses in the movements of dancers blocking her, he noted that she was curvy. Her low cut-black dress revealed more than a hint of her full cleavage, which captivated him as she swayed.
His skin felt hot and tight. He couldn’t take his eyes off this woman. He dragged his gaze to scan her companions. Was she there with someone?
A taller woman with dirty blond hair danced beside her. Every few seconds, men nearby would shoot the women a glance. Damon wagered it would only be moments before one made his move.
His wolf yipped at him, urging him to get closer.
Despite Damon’s declaration not to step foot on the dance floor earlier, he wanted to see more of this woman. Too many people obscured the view.
As he watched her dance, he reconsidered his mindset. Was he being too rash in wanting to rush out of there? After all, female companionship for the night wouldn’t be a hardship. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. Why not enjoy the night?
Although he worked as ski patrol on the mountain where many single women had propositioned him for a getaway fling, he’d lost interest in that pursuit a few years ago. An empty encounter provided no long-term satisfaction. He found more pleasure in skiing and hunting. Something about this woman intrigued him.
Damon took another gulp of his mojito, emptying half the glass. He placed it on the bar and moved closer to the dance floor. And then, as if sensing him approach, she glanced out and caught his eyes.
He sucked in a breath. The already claustrophobic club lacked oxygen, but this time it was different. He felt dazed.
Entranced.
Drawn to her, he wedged his large body through tightly packed dancers until he infiltrated the dance floor. Sweaty men and women appraised him, many with an appreciative glint, but his focus was on the brunette.
Only two more feet remained when a male pushed his way in front of Damon and into her dance space.
Damon stepped behind the human and released a low growl, which came out louder than he’d intended—more of a possessive declaration than an initial warning. The guy turned with a perplexed expression. Damon gave a sharp nod to the side of the dance floor, indicating for the man to beat it. The man rushed away.
The woman fixed a wide-eyed stare
