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changes to come. He wrestled with the events before his memory decided to swallow up the surreal images.
    Last night, he’d fallen back on his hunches in the shadows. There was a wolf near him. Another difference in his dream. His hackles bristled recalling the warning sounded by the wolf pack sentinels. Not his pack. He traveled alone. Yips and barks could be heard off in the distance and then a collective pack howl became a unified, muffled cry. The hairs all over his body spiked at the memory. He exhaled rapidly, burning the oxygen from his lungs. This was getting downright absurd. The warning had been for him. Not his mate.
    He closed his eyes, unable to make sense of what this meant. Her voice followed him into sleep each night. Night after night, disturbing him, pleading and struggling, and then silence. Darkness. Cold. And he crashed into the morning.
    Today, his body felt stiff and he pulled back the sheet. Dried blood was on his upper thigh. An ugly scrap ran a couple inches down the side of his leg. He must have gotten literally falling down drunk last night. No, he remembered pushing a blonde off him and nearly getting stabbed. Fuck. That was insane.
    Grogginess didn’t normally lift until his third cup of coffee and shit, today he’d promised Shawn that the pleadings drafted for the conveyance of the Den would be ready to file. Shawn, a proud soon-to-be father of twins, wanted to step down from running the Den. Of course he’d needed more time for his family. The Den required a huge chunk of time to manage. A stud club for shifters was quickly becoming Quinn’s own personal hangout. His partner had been married for less than a year and already his best friend was turning into a man with strollers and car seats, and diapers to change. It seemed most of his close buddies were settling down. Mating and making a life that did not include group sex, alcohol, and avoiding sleep.
    Jesus Christ. His life was on a downward spiral. Forget finding a mate—not with what he encountered each night. The dreams had gotten worse. Much worse, leaving him with few options except to drink and fuck them into submission so that he could fall asleep and stay asleep for a couple of hours without walking around like a zombie the next morning.
    He’d put aside what most people his age were into. Family, tradition, finding their place in a pack. At least, his family had learned to accept his decision and were probably better off not being privy to how their youngest son spent a portion of his trust and his time during the evening. Sex clubs, parties, and any little hot number that happened to breach the city border, particularly within the LoDo section of town was fair game in his book. Throughout it all he’d had the dreams. Hazy at first and now more and more prominent in details and the lingering effects.
    He inhaled, shaking loose from the weight of the dream, and glanced around the room. The sight kicked up his headache. He needed a shower and a gallon of coffee.
    He bounded from the bed just in time to hear an ear piercing, “ What the heck?” coming from the hall. In about five seconds, Sherry would be blazing a path into this disaster.
    He exhaled a silent holy shit , peering around the private room where he’d crashed last night. Lingerie was draped over the door knob. The scent of sex and shifters soured his stomach. Simon and Jeremy’s naked bodies sandwiched a brunette. Quite well from what he remembered. Thank god it was someone else’s party for a change, but hell, it was a sea of naked arse cheeks… both male and female. Empty bottles, cups, and shot glasses littered the floor. The fan moved in a lazy circle, stirring the hair of some of the women.
    Standing by the bed, naked and sporting a hard-on fell outside any rational plan of how to greet Sherry as the Den’s manager. With zero chance of finding his trousers anytime soon, he casually reached down and lifted a pillow and placed it in front of himself at the