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“You should have seen the line outside.” Mathias glanced over his shoulder to where Zeke stood. “God. The scents alone like to have made me drunk.” Zeke made his way to Gina’s other side and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her from Mathias’ embrace. “Our sister and I will find a way to while away the time, my friend. Your boy didn’t go unmarked by others. Perhaps you should escort him home.”

Faster than a thought, Mathias sharpened his hearing and vision, rapidly accounting for each of his camp—save one individual.

“No.”

***

Carson

The sidewalk that stretched along the front of the building was still packed with a crush of bodies waiting their turn to get inside. As they walked past the mass of people, Carson studied a few of the faces. Their expressions bore an odd mix of emotions ranging from excitement to boredom, both to be expected when temporarily restricted from access to what they wanted, but mixed in amid those were others. Wide eyes and flaring nostrils, and on some faces he saw lips pulled back in a too-wide grin that showed more teeth than expected. There were alert postures that would be more at home in a war zone than standing on the street outside a dance club.

Arousal.

Anticipation.

Fear.

They’d cleared the crowds and been walking for a few minutes when Tim jostled against his shoulder. Carson looked over to see his friend stumble for what had to be the second time. Tim’s gait was unsteady, legs wobbly, and his face looked ashen in the weak streetlights. A bump from the other side had him glancing towards Joe only to find him in the same condition. Both men looked as if they were in the throes of an illness that would leave them bedridden in its wake.

“Hey.” He stopped and put a hand on each of their shoulders. Their heads turned to face him...too slowly. Tim’s pupils were so dilated that his eyes were nearly black, and he looked like he was beginning to struggle for breath. Shit. “What did you drink? Did you eat something? You both look like death warmed over.” Tim stared at him without speaking. “Are you okay?” Joe nodded. “Say something.”

“Something.”

The word came from behind them, voice unfamiliar, an unknown person creeping up close enough to startle Carson for the second time that night.

He whirled and his mouth fell open as he stared. The man on the sidewalk was close, less than two feet away. White-blond hair fell in artfully arranged curls around an angular face. Ruddy lips and red cheeks were at odds with the pale, Scandinavian look of the man, and his light blue eyes were brilliant even in the uncertain lighting.

“My friends—” Carson started, but the man cut him off.

“They’ll be fine. A few hours’ sleep and they’ll be ready to go again. They’ve got a lot more to give.” He shrugged and swept his hand wide to indicate the sidewalk in front of Carson. “I assume you’re driving, so once you get them to the vehicle, you’ll all be just fine.” The man tipped his head, and strands of hair fell in front of his eyes as his nostrils flared, chest heaving on an inrush of breath. With pursed lips, he said, “Mmm. Oh, yes. I promise you, they’ll be fine.”

“What’s happened to them?” Tim staggered sideways, and Carson grasped his arm, holding him upright, as he wrapped his other arm around Joe’s shoulders. “This isn’t right.”

“Rolf.” The man from inside the bar blinked into existence behind the blond, who whirled away, shoulders spearing the air behind his back as his arms flung to the sides, back towards Carson. The dark-haired man’s tone managed to be both scolding and full of an intolerant annoyance as he said, “Do not presume.”

With a slow tip of his head towards the man, the blond—Rolf—sighed, stepped to the side into the dew-wet grass, and walked away without even glancing back to where Carson stood trapped between Tim and Joe.

“Are you okay?” The man drifted closer, his gaze traveling up and down Carson’s body. Seeming more to reassure himself than anything, he muttered a semi-repeat of his question, this sounding more like a firm statement. “You are well.”

Breaths coming fast, Carson asked, “What was that? This whole thing? What’s happening?” The man made a dismissive gesture at his questions and leaned in until the heady scent Carson remembered washed over him like a seductive wave. He drew a deep breath, and against every survival instinct, his body began to relax. He fought the feeling, digging deep to hold on to his fear as he demanded, “What happened to my friends?”

“Nothing they didn’t ask for.” The man shrugged, the movement jerky, his body seeming better suited to stillness. “I’m Mathias.”

Just “Mathias,” as if the single name was identification enough.

Carson stared into his eyes, the chill air seeming to warm between them. “I’m—”

“Carson.”

Mine. In his mind, Carson heard an echo of a word that didn’t make sense, but the feeling of belonging roused by his name in Mathias’ mouth was unmistakable. For some absurd reason, Mathias considered Carson his, and Carson had no desire to argue the fact. He tucked that notion aside for later review. Tim and Joe, he thought. I need to get them safe.

“Your car.” Mathias halved the distance between them, and Carson felt caught in an inferno, his skin heating and muscles weakening. Vision consumed by Mathias’ eyes, Carson couldn’t look away from the intense stare. “Shall we?”

Carson blinked and startled, jerking sideways in the seat until he hit something solid. The door. Looking around, even in the darkness he recognized where he was. He was inside his car, sitting in his driveway. I’m home. How? Twisting around in the driver’s seat, he grasped for a steering wheel that was too far away and glanced around the car. He was alone, no sign of Tim or Joe.

Or Mathias.

One moment he was on the sidewalk between the bar and parking lot, and the next...