Wulfric

It was several hours into our outing, and I was sure I had seen everything this town had to offer. It was a little disappointing, how quickly we were able to go through all the nightlife.

Or, I thought that until Griffin revealed that we had one more stop: a night club. I was delighted at the thought. First, because clubbers made for the easiest meals and I was getting hungry. Second, because there was something alluring about a place so different from everything I once knew. It was wholly unlike anything I ever saw during my time as a human, and I'd had few opportunities to indulge in recent years as I lived as a recluse.

The parking lot behind the club was laughably small given the size of the venue. It featured only a couple dozen parking spots, most of which were probably filled by its employees hours before the club opened for business. A few brave souls had packed their cars into the grass next to the lot, though anyone who had arrived early was no boxed in and would have to wait for latecomers to move their cars before leaving. Griffin pointed this out as we passed the club, laughing in amusement as we drove by a long row of cars lining the street.

Despite knowing he and I were both likely to walk away from a car accident scratch-free, especially in traffic moving this slowly, I clutched the sides of my seat in anxiety when he whipped his car into a space that looked impossibly small, narrowly beating another car who had been gunning for the same spot.

Griffin laughed again when he looked over at me and saw my white-knuckled grip. "Not a fan of parallel parking?" he asked.

"Not when you're the one performing it," I answered, making him snicker.

Griffin patted my arm in a poor show at comfort. "There, there. It's all over now."

Any response would just encourage his teasing, so I got out of the car and waited for him to join me on the sidewalk. I couldn't help marveling at the tiny space – mere inches – between Griffin's bumpers and the cars in front of and behind him. How had he managed to maneuver so quickly and seamlessly? And did he have a similar trick to get his car out when it was time to leave? Just how many times had he done this to be so confident?

As we headed toward the club Griffin had driven by, Griffin started to get progressively antsier. He pulled at his clothing, ruffled his hair, scratched at his arms, and appeared determined to look at anything and anyone except me.

I pulled him to a stop. This evening out may have been my idea, but I only wanted him humoring me if he wanted to. "What's the problem?"

Were his cheeks flushed? Even with my enhanced eyesight, it was hard to tell in this lighting.

"Well..." Griffin began, then bit his lip as I watched quietly. I wouldn't push him for more if he was unwilling to reveal it, but I was content to wait him out a little, in case silence coaxed out an explanation.

Griffin sighed and continued, "I might have a bit of a... reputation. In the club, I mean."

That had my brows lifting in intrigue. "Oh?"

"Yeah... well, this was always the easiest way to... you know, pick people up. I'm not sure what you might hear about me inside. I should have thought about that before," Griffin said. A familiar guilt displayed on his handsome features.

I hated the part of werewolf culture that made Griffin feel this way. There was nothing wrong with him exploring his sexuality, even with people he knew weren't his soulmate. His people's obsession with virginity was unhealthy.

Besides, it was that side of Griffin I was hoping to see a bit of tonight. And I wouldn't get to see it if he felt like he had to smother it and hide it away.

I cupped his warm cheeks in my hands and waited until I knew I had his full attention before reminding him, "Your past doesn't bother me."

"Knowing something in theory is different from seeing it for yourself. You might not like what you hear," Griffin argued, though I could see that it was his insecurity speaking. He wanted to believe me, but he couldn't.

Well, words would only get us so far. Griffin's qualms would be best soothed by seeing for himself that there was nothing to worry about. "Come on, let's get inside," I said, coaxing him gently forward with an arm around his shoulders.

There was no line to get in, though I would have appreciated a moment or two to acclimate to the raucous, pulsing music that streamed from the open door. Griffin gave a security guard a couple of bills and led me inside while my ears were still ringing and trying to adjust. If I didn't relax, this place would give me a blinding headache.

Inside, smoke machines worked hard at the front of the room near the DJ. The circulation was poor, so the smoke stayed pooled around the front. It was just as well, because there was a slightly musty smell to the vapor that had me suspecting the machine was in dire need of a cleaning.

Red, blue, and purple lights streamed from the ceiling over a mass of people that was bigger than I would have expected. Some writhed to the beat, some seemed to be using the atmosphere as an excuse to get too handsy in public, and others were tucked into small pockets around the room or jammed around tiny tables just big enough to hold a few glasses. I noted that there were small pockets of darkness where I could lead my prey for a quick sip, and my hunger flared.

"Well?" Griffin asked, and I felt his eyes on me as I took in our surroundings.

After just a moment more, I had acclimated to it and was able to smirk down at him. "I like it."

It was the truth. There was probably no avoiding a splitting headache later from the assault on my eardrums, but I could feel the music pounding through my body like a pulse, and that alone made up for it. Besides, there was something different about the way Griffin held himself here, something alluring. It took only a couple of minutes of following him through the crowd to recognize what it was: confidence. Something about this place made Griffin feel good about himself. I would have enjoyed it for that alone.

Griffin secured us a tiny booth against one wall. The table was almost as sticky as the floor, but I appreciated it nonetheless. Griffin, now that we weren't moving any longer, seemed to sink back into uncertainty again. "So, what do you want to do?" he asked.

I felt my lips pull into another smirk as possibilities flitted through my mind. But I knew exactly what I wanted from this evening, and I leaned in close to whisper in Griffin's ear, "I have some business to take care of, and then I want to see how you move."

I pulled away and enjoyed the way Griffin's pupils had dilated from my nearness. He swallowed and asked, "Business? What kind of business?"

I bared my teeth at him and ran my tongue along them, lingering on the sharpest edges. "I need to eat."

He licked his lips and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, using it as leverage to gently pull me in close again. "Blood?" he whispered, the word so quiet I could scarcely hear it at all.

I nodded, watching his expression carefully to make sure the idea wasn't too disturbing for him. His brow furrowed and his teeth emerged to bite at his bottom lip, but I didn't think he looked bothered; rather, he seemed pensive.

"I don't want you to," Griffin whispered. It was like a blow to my gut, and I automatically leaned away from him until he looked up and his eyes widened. "Wait, no. I didn't mean that. I meant, why not drink from me instead?"

I kissed him bruisingly hard, and my fangs emerged at the suggestion that my soulmate might willingly feed me. They scraped at his lips and nicked him so that a bead of blood hit my tongue and I groaned. If the building caught fire around us, I would have been blissfully unaware. The heat between myself and Griffin would more than match it.

The little cut was already healed when Griffin pulled some minutes later. He pressed his fingers to his lips with a little smile and said, "Wow."

I lightly brushed at his hair, though with its messy style, none of it could really be out of place. "Did you mean it? I won't be upset if you didn't."

I prayed he would say yes, for a multitude of reasons. The strongest reason was the most practical: I was sick of feeding on drunk people. They were easy targets and compulsion was more successful on them – useful for keeping them compliant and making them forget their donation when it was all over. The drawback was that their blood would be diluted and sour. I could only imagine how rich Griffin's blood would taste in comparison, and I had never had the opportunity to sample from a werewolf before.

The next reason was less pragmatic. I wanted Griffin to feed me because I liked the symbolism of it. With this one gesture, he demonstrated both his trust in me not to hurt him and his desire to provide for me. I didn't think it was wrong to want that.

"I meant it," Griffin said hoarsely. "I want to."

He leaned toward me, and the motion elongated his throat. I was sure it was accidentally done, but his point was made. "Alright. We can save that for later; for now, why don't you show me how you dance?"

"What?"

Griffin blinked a few times, like he was trying to come out of a daze.

"I'd like to see you dance," I said. "Unless there was another way you picked up your conquests?"

That was what I really wanted to see. I wanted to see this man at his most alluring. I wanted to see how he had drawn people into his bed. I wanted to watch it, knowing that it was all for me now.

Griffin squinted at me like he was trying to figure me out, but he seemed to be at a loss. Eventually, he shrugged and stood up. "Alright. But you have to come with me."

Would it be too odd to request that he treat me as a stranger? Yes, it probably would. At least, on our first evening together. Maybe in the future that was a game we could play. Griffin, the intrepid tempter. Myself, the unsuspecting target of his wiles.

Griffin took my hand and I followed him into the throng of moving bodies. My hunger was still ignited and I couldn't quell it again, not when I hadn't been sated and not after the scintillating preview of my soulmate's blood when we kissed. It had heightened my senses and I followed his every move like the predator I was.

Griffin's arms looped loosely around my neck and he started shifting to the beat. I moved with him and was just thinking that this was easy when he broke form. In a smooth move accentuated by shifting hips, Griffin stepped behind me. His hands splayed open on my chest and he pulled me tightly against him so that I felt every sway of his body as he moved against me.

As we danced song after song, it became clear to me why Griffin had experienced such success in the past. He didn't tire the way humans did, and he didn't ever seem to run out of new ways to tantalize my body through the movement of his. It wasn't all about pressing close together; Griffin seemed to understand that sometimes, the best way to pull someone in closer was to add some distance. He seamlessly changed from sliding our bodies against one another to linking our hands and twirling to spinning back into me. And with every new move he made, I became evermore fixated on him.

When Griffin seemed to decide I'd had enough, I couldn't have said how many songs had passed or how many people had come and gone around us. I had no sense of time passing. My whole focus was on Griffin.

All the tables were taken up now, but Griffin seemed completely unbothered. He pulled me to an empty area against a wall and leaned back against the stone, tugging on my hand so I'd step closer. I caged him in with my arms, pressing a palm on either side of his head, and looked down at the werewolf who in that moment seemed to be more of a siren.

Griffin's hands toyed with the end of my shirt for a few tantalizing seconds before boldly sliding up under the fabric. His fingers glided over my muscles for a few long moments, just long enough to have me stiffening against the urge to debauch him here in the club. Then, his hands slid around my sides to hook into the back pockets of my trousers. Griffin smiled up at me and I almost would have believed him to be feeling completely normal except for the light in his eyes and the way he heaved for breath.

"Come home with me?" he asked.

Usually, I might have requested more information before making a decision. For example, I didn't imagine his parents – who had superior hearing – would be thrilled about Griffin taking a conquest home, even if it was his mate. But it was still better than the complete lack of privacy I had to offer at the witches' house, and I was helpless to deny him.

Would I regret being so bold with Griffin in the morning? Perhaps. I always imagined us experiencing at least something of a normal courtship before jumping into bed... but I couldn't find it in myself to care. Instead, I gave Griffin the only answer of which I was capable: "Yes."