Ainsley went about his job for the rest of his shift. He did his best not to get too close to the wolf again, but there were times when it was simply unavoidable. The spill behind the bar, the puke in the corner (and didn't that smell lovely), the bloke needed escorting out. Each time Ainsley approached cautiously, letting the wolf sense him as he approached, doing his best not to startle. He also kept his own senses alert, sniffing at the air every so often to make sure the kid stayed alone.
That did nothing to help his nerves though. Trying to remain aware of his surroundings while simultaneously trying to block out the people around him was impossible. He could hear the heartbeats, smell the sexually charged pheromones. It had been over a month since he'd last stopped in at the blood bank, but he had a feeling he'd have to go soon. The supply from the butcher shop wasn't going to cut it after tonight.
He ignored the need travelling through him, very determinedly not noticing how drunk and alone the bloke he was escorting was. He didn't think about the deserted side alley next to the club, how easy it would be. Or how, now that they were outside, he could smell the man's anemia. Just the way he liked them . . .
He held his jaw firm, his lips shut tight around his telltale fangs. He would not. He could not. He didn't want to. And if there was anything the past six years had proved, it was that he didn't actually need to. No matter what his instincts were telling him.
"Go," he ordered, the single word a growl. He didn't even try to disguise it. The sooner the bloke went, the better off he'd be.
The guy stumbled off quickly, and Ainsley turned to go back inside, taking a deep breath in preparation.