Chapter 5

Richard

I leaned against the balcony railing in the Moonlight Hall, nursing my third whiskey of the night.

The amber liquid burned pleasantly down my throat, doing nothing to ease the restlessness inside me. Below, in Erotic Paradise's main hall, unaffiliated women explored the club during our rare open night. I should have felt something—interest, anticipation, desire—but I felt only boredom.

Three fucking years of searching. Three years wasted on useless candidates.

The novelty of owning Silver Moon City's most exclusive werewolf club had long worn off. What good was all this power, this territory, this goddamn club when I couldn't find a mate worth my love? My wolf paced restlessly inside, growing more impatient with each passing day.

"Are you sensing any signs of a destined mate yet?" Michael's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"What?" I blinked, forcing myself to focus on my friend's face rather than the sea of mediocrity below us.

"A destined mate," Michael rolled his eyes. "The one you're supposed to be with. You're supposed to smell them, feel the connection in your soul." He shuddered dramatically. "Old Blake insists it's nothing but a bedtime story for pups."

Kevin, the hulking, tattooed brute, took a deep drag from his cigarette before speaking in his barely audible baritone. "You think it exists?"

"I don't know," Michael shrugged, disgust twisting his handsome features. "My father has found six supposed 'true loves,' and every one ended in disaster. Each time he claimed he'd found his destined one."

"Maybe he was just looking at the wrong women," I snorted, swirling the whiskey in my glass. "Three years and I haven't felt a damn thing."

"Tell me about it..." Michael's voice suddenly died as his gaze locked onto something below. His entire body tensed, going completely still like a predator on the hunt.

I followed his line of sight, curiosity piqued by his sudden behavior. Then I saw her—a young woman I'd never seen before, sitting at the bar with Violet.

Holy fuck.

My wolf slammed against my consciousness with a ferocity I'd never experienced, clawing and growling to be released. The glass in my hand cracked under the sudden pressure, whiskey spilling over my fingers. I barely noticed the sting.

She was stunning—raven-black hair falling like liquid silk down her back, skin pale and flawless as porcelain, her body making me instantly hard. Her breasts strained against the simple dress material, full and perfect, her waist impossibly small before flaring out to hips made for a man's grip—made for my grip. Her lips were full and pink, parting slightly as she spoke, and I couldn't help imagining those lips wrapped around my cock, or gasping my name.

Christ, those fucking curves. I'd bet she was wet and tight and perfect.

Even at this distance, I could smell her scent—sweet and intoxicating like nothing I'd ever encountered. My mouth started to water, my wolf howling as it recognized something primal and essential that my human consciousness couldn't yet comprehend.

As if sensing our attention, she stood from her barstool, an action that nearly took my breath away. Her ass was a perfect heart shape, her thighs pressing together as she moved, making my hands itch to part them. The simple black dress she wore might as well have been transparent, clinging to every enticing curve, riding up just enough to reveal thighs I wanted wrapped around my waist.

Before I could process another thought, she exchanged a few words with Violet and hurried toward the exit, her scent trailing behind her like an invitation my body couldn't refuse. My cock throbbed painfully against my zipper, and I had to subtly adjust myself.

"Who the fuck was that?" Michael's voice was tight, his eyes tracking her every movement, glowing slightly in the moonlight. His breathing had quickened, and I could see his pulse hammering at his throat. The usually composed professor was completely undone.

"I don't know." My wolf howled inside me, recognizing something I couldn't yet name. The primal message was clear: Mine. Mine. Mine.

"She's..." Kevin's voice, rarely heard, was even rougher than usual. His massive hand gripped the railing so tightly the metal groaned in protest. Though he said nothing more, the bulge in his pants and the intense amber glow in his eyes said everything.

Without discussion, we moved as one. Kevin's tattoos seemed to ripple across his skin, his wolf closer to the surface. Michael, usually the most relaxed of us, now moved with predatory grace, his easy professor persona completely gone. I could feel my own canines lengthening slightly, my heart pounding as if I'd run miles.

We descended the stairs, our combined Alpha auras carving a path through the crowd. Lesser wolves flattened themselves against walls or hurriedly moved aside, instinctively submitting to our presence. I caught Violet near the bar, still wearing a bewildered expression as she stared toward the exit.

"Violet," I demanded, unable to mask the urgency in my voice. "The woman you were just talking to—who is she?"

Her eyes widened slightly at my tone. "Isabella?"

"How would I know?" I said impatiently, having absolutely no patience. "The one who just ran out of here like the building was on fire. Was that her?"

"Yes, that was Isabella." Violet's eyebrows lifted slightly at my intense reaction. "Tonight's her eighteenth birthday—her evolution night."

Michael stepped closer, his usual laid-back demeanor completely gone. His eyes were almost entirely gold, his wolf pressing close to the surface. "Isabella what? Which pack?"

"I... I don't know. She didn't tell me her last name or her pack." Violet hesitated, looking between us. "But her scent... it was very unique. Not like any Omega I've ever met."

"Damn it!" Michael's eyes were fully gold now, his control slipping.

"The registry!" he suddenly called out, already moving toward the front desk.

We followed him down the corridor, my wolf growing more agitated with each step. My skin felt too tight, every sense heightened. This feeling was something I'd never experienced before—a mixture of hunger, possession, and recognition. Whatever this Isabella was, my wolf knew her.

I needed to find her. Needed to taste her.

Diana straightened as we approached, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Michael, as always. She practically devoured him with her gaze, recording every inch of his body for later fantasies. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, trying to appear sexy but only managing desperate.

"Diana," Michael commanded, his voice dropping to the Alpha tone no wolf could ignore. "The guest list for tonight. Now."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled up the information, sneaking glances at Michael who completely ignored her. Her cheeks flushed, the scent of obvious and unwelcome desire permeating the air. Her attention—all our attention—was focused on finding the identity of the mysterious Omega who had just walked out of my club.

Kevin leaned against the desk, saying nothing, but his mere presence was enough to make Diana's hands shake harder. The tribal tattoos around his throat seemed to pulse with his rapid heartbeat, his jaw clenched tight with restraint.

As for me, I was absolutely certain I would not let this Isabella slip away again. My body, my wolf, my soul had recognized her. The hunt had begun.