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The owner was bound to have killer art on the wall, and being a gifted artist herself, she could never pass up the opportunity to see what someone else had.
People with money always had interesting art. Most of the time, it was weird, but it was always interesting.
“God, this place is fucking spectacular,” she said. But with music playing, shifters talking, and the hustle and bustle of people all around them, no one could hear her. She turned around to check on her friends. It appeared to her that they were all equally as enamored with the place.
Outside a floor-to-ceiling window, she glimpsed a bunch of smaller cabins that one could use for the night. While it appeared that some of the doors were already closed, there were many still available.
It was an intricate setup for a night of passionate sex. It seemed like nothing had been left out. The shifters came here to fuck, and many of them didn’t care who saw them.
Lillian imagined that she wouldn’t care either. It would be fun to skip off to the woods, a hot shifter on her tail while he pushed her up against a tree …
She shook her head and decided to continue onward until a deep set of brown eyes made contact with her green ones. She froze, having never felt an instantaneous connection like she did with this incredibly gorgeous stranger.
His hair was short and neatly cut, just like his beard. He was perfectly trimmed. And tall. And muscular.
This is him, all right.
He didn’t so much as glance in the direction of her friends. His eyes zoned in on Lillian, and without blinking, he introduced himself.
“I’m Oliver. Can I interest you in a drink?”
His deep, baritone voice struck a chord deep within her. He was everything she was hoping for. She slipped her hand into Oliver’s. She was eager to learn everything there was to know about him.
THREE
OLIVER
The moment Oliver saw Lillian walking around the lobby of Callum’s mansion, he felt a pull so strong he nearly stumbled.
Mate.
His bear whispered the word over and over and over in his head like a mantra, but that was utterly impossible. Oliver shook his head, trying to clear the incessant chant in his brain.
“We have hunter’s block on,” Oliver growled. “There’s no way this woman is our mate. She’s just … ours for tonight.”
He watched her from afar. The bounce of her red hair had his dick harder than a rock. Her emerald-green eyes called to him even at the distance from which he stood. Her long legs and the curve of her neck had him nearly drooling in his desire to touch her.
What he really wanted was to reach out and grab her, crush his mouth against hers, and taste her.
Mate.
“Cut your shit out,” Oliver snarled.
There was absolutely no way in hell the mate sense could be activated with everyone wearing block. It wasn’t possible. That pheromone was ineffective with the potion on their skin.
The only reason he had thoughts of mates on the brain was because of his conversation with Quintin. Quintin had drilled it into him today and every full moon for the past eight years. It was all he ever talked about. For some reason, today just stuck.
He drew his attention back to the fine young woman in front of him. God, but she was lovely. Everything about her was exactly what he was on the prowl for. He could sate himself within her tight body for the night, and tomorrow, he’d probably forget what she looked like.
Yes, that was the absolute plan. Nothing more, nothing less. With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he focused once more on the woman with the red hair.
He studied her, and even though he knew most of the shifters around the area, both bear and other animal alike, he was certain he’d never seen her before. Feeling like he would have noticed if he had, he took another long look.
“No,” he said out loud. “I don’t know this woman.” Even with her face hidden behind her mask, he was confident. Her hair and eyes were too striking.
As he watched other men approach her, jealousy began to consume him. How dare they lay a hand on what belonged to him. His jealousy quickly turned to rage at the thought of her choosing a lesser man to spend the night with.
He couldn’t have that. She had to pick him, and for whatever reason, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would choose him. They were meant for each other, if only for this one night.
