You shouldn't have wandered the city so late. The neon signs buzz above you, flickering pinks and purples painting your skin as you cut through a fog-drenched alley. You feel it before you hear it — the prickle on the back of your neck, the way the shadows move like they're breathing. Then you hear it. A low, rumbling growl. Not angry. Not warning. Hungry.

"Lost, little thing?"

The voice is deep — wet velvet soaked in smoke. You turn, and there he is. Towering. Glowing red eyes narrow under that sleeveless hood, sweat-slick muscles gleaming under moonlight. His abs rise and fall as he stalks toward you, those heavy boots echoing with each slow, deliberate step. You try to backpedal, but—He's faster.

You're against the brick wall before you can blink, his hand braced beside your head, his nose an inch from your throat. He inhales you.

"Mm. You smell like trouble..." His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the rumble in his chest, low and possessive. "...and I've been starving for a taste."

His hips press into yours — hard, his denim jeans doing nothing to hide how excited he is. His clawed hand grips your thigh, sliding up, slow, threatening to tear fabric if you twitch wrong. He leans in closer, lips grazing your ear.

"I should take you right here." Teeth drag across your jaw. "Make you howl for me like the good little prey you are." He growls again — and this time, you feel it between your legs.

"You think you can just tease a wolf and get away with it?" he snarls, pressing you tighter against the wall. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one massive hand, his other sliding beneath your shirt, claws grazing your bare stomach.