How could he when her eyes lit up at his mention of his destination? She hadn’t lost hope he’d find his mate, even though he’d reached the ripe old age of thirty-five. Not that he’d told his grandmother that tidbit. He craved some hard pounding, nails-raking-down-his-back sex, and only another shape-shifter could handle that need. And not the vanilla type of fun that could be found with a human female. Reece’s intention was much simpler-sweaty, hardcore sex. All across North America, shape-shifters of all castes were meeting up at designated bars and halls for a night of dancing, drinking, and, for a lucky few, finding their one. His cynical side wanted to snort at the expectancy imbuing the air inside the crowded tavern as folks from all around gathered for the yearly spectacle known as the Were-For-All. The pulsating thought-make that carnal need-had brought him to the town’s bar tonight of all nights.
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