The air in the packhouse ballroom was thick with anticipation, the soft murmur of conversations and the gentle swell of music a deceptive calm before the storm. Tonight, I, Damon Woods, would turn twenty-one. It wasn't just a birthday; it was the night I was meant to find my mate, the one Axel, my inner jaguar, had been buzzing about for weeks.

My mother, Sara, and sister, Kat, had pulled out all the stops, orchestrating a grand celebration that felt more like a state dinner. I stood by the entrance, a reluctant king in a suit I hated, as guests from allied clowders and packs filled the room. Jared, my Beta and oldest friend, nudged me with his elbow.

“She’s here,” Axel’s voice echoed in my mind, a low growl of recognition that sent a jolt through me. A faint, intoxicating scent of lilies, subtle at first, began to permeate the air, guiding my senses. My gaze swept across the room, but the source remained hidden.

Then, the scent grew stronger, a magnetic pull that drowned out all other distractions. Excusing myself from a conversation, I moved through the throng, following the invisible thread of scent. Axel was practically vibrating with anticipation, reaching out, yearning to connect. She hadn’t even fully entered the ballroom, but I knew. I knew it was her.