Ainsley made his way out from the loo, carefully steering the bucket by the mop handle, using his all senses to avoid all the people crowding the corridor. He hated his job. To be fair, he hated most of the jobs he managed to get. But this one was the worst. His best had been on the night clean-up crew for a business complex in Toronto. Three guys, all of whom kept to themselves and didn't ask questions, each taking a few floors and working alone. He missed that job.
This one, though. This one was teeming with bodies, drunk and on the pull, hormones and pheromones raging, blood pumping hard through sweating, dancing bodies. It also involved mopping up a lot of piss and puke. And spilt drinks. Ainsley sighed as he was snagged by the manager to clean up a spill with broken glass at the bar. He hoped no one had cut themselves.
He put the mop away, knowing it would be far too crowded out there for its effective use. Instead he grabbed a container for the glass, and several rags, and made his way back out into the public areas. He stepped up to the bar area, excusing himself and ignoring the call pulling at his body. He ran his tongue over his teeth, checking that all was well. A habit by now. He found the glass and went down on his haunches, firmly ignoring the girls who were quite deliberately putting their legs right in front of him. He reached for the largest piece of glass and---
It hit him hard, the scent. How he'd missed it before he didn't know. It was clear, it was close, and it was dangerous. All his senses went on alert, heightening, though the rushes of blood around him, the mating scents thick in the air, these meant nothing to him now. Now his body was poised, honing on one thing and one thing only.
The wolf.
"Fuck," he muttered as his tongue got pricked sharply.
"You cut yourself, lovey?" a sweet voice asked and he looked up out of reflex. The girl gasped and slowly inched away, and Ainsley worked hard to get himself under control.
"It's fine," he said, though it still came out more of a growl than he'd have liked.
"I--I'm going to . . ."
"Go. Find your mates. Might want to call it an evening."
She nodded and backed away, turning only when she was several feet away from him, then taking off as fast as those heels would allow.
Abandoning his task for the moment, Ainsley stood, following his senses. It wasn't the full moon, but it was inside the week, and werewolves didn't always need to be in wolf form to cause trouble. That pack mentality was good for all sorts of mayhem, and if Ainsley was going to lose his job, it was going to be because he'd done something good for once. Plus, if they were going to attack him, it would be nice to see them coming.
He blocked out everything else while he concentrated, keeping his eyes human but letting his lips close over his exposed fangs. His nostrils flared as he sniffed him out. Definitely him. Male. Barely out of adolescence. Hardly more than a cub, really. And, so far anyway, alone.
There.
His eyes found him, across the square bar, sitting alone, dark hair, young face. Ainsley felt a growl rise in his chest, a natural instinct upon seeing a rival predator, but he tamped it down. If the wolf didn't cause trouble, Ainsley wouldn't be the one to start it.