He was determined to go back, no matter how many times his mother repeated her thoughts on the idea. Vampires were obviously dangerous; everyone knew that. They were violent and brutal and relentless and uncaring. They were the hunters, and they were always going to be the hunted.
So he didn't tell her when he went out. It was only three days after the full moon, but he was resilient still. He was up for it, though he'd definitely lose even more than usual if that vampire decided to go for him this time.
It was stupid, in all honesty. Mason knew that, of course, but the curiosity was too strong to ignore. They had come across a blessed few vampires in his time, but all of the ones that they had hadn't been anything like this one. None of them were damn near offering to get attacked, and certainly none of them were just letting two vulnerable wolves run off without a mark or even a threat.
So Mason Thomas found himself at the same club, ordering himself a soda and keeping an eye out for the vampire. His senses weren't heightened after nearly as much as they were before, but he was sure he'd be able to sense the vampire even if he didn't already know what he looked like.