Visiting a gay bar the night of a divorce certainly didn’t seem like something a smart man would do. River Robinson considered himself very smart, and there was a lot of evidence to back him up on that, but this was more than a little out of character. Then again, so was the divorce.

River leaned back in the front seat of his brand-new Hyundai Genesis, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he studied the bar. Truth was, he’d had his eye on this place for quite some time now. He was certain Jeanine thought he was cheating on her whenever he left the house at an odd hour of the night, but that wasn’t the case. Most of the time he was here, sitting in front of the bar, tapping on the wheel just like he was doing now as he tried to drum up the courage to go inside. However, he never found the courage. Something always held him back. Some lasting perception of loyalty, or simply a grim stubbornness. He had not been a free man, bound by the vows he made at his wedding, bound by the judgment of others that might befall him if it was discovered he was unfaithful.

But now he was free. The papers had been signed. The final words of the proceedings had been said, and tomorrow he would begin the long, laborious—and joyous—process of leaving these wasted 23 years behind.

He could do whatever he wanted. He could go inside and let go of all his inhibitions to pursue a conquest he had been dreaming of for more than two decades. It would be liberating, and then he could go back to being the sensible gentleman everyone knew him to be.

So, why am I not already inside?

River wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself, so he answered his own question without hesitation.

I’m afraid.

It was laughable. An alpha, afraid? A wolf, an apex predator, scared of a bit of freedom? But he was afraid, and that was why he was staying inside the car, inside the cage he knew so well, afraid of what lay outside even though it called to him, and he was desperate to answer.

As River watched the bar, reading the neon name over and over again, a van that had seen better days pulled up alongside his sedan. He slid his eyes in its direction, checking to make sure that they weren’t in any danger of knocking their doors together. It was quite possible that the driver had bought the van in such a decrepit condition, but assuming things like that was a very good way to sustain damage to his own wheels.

The van’s doors opened, and an astonishing number of people piled out, laughing and joking and pushing at each other. Most of them were young men, but there were a few girls amongst them, and one who looked to be somewhere between.

River was envious of that one. Whatever sex they had been, whatever they were working towards, they were striving towards their goal at a young age. He wished he had done the same.

The majority of that crowd were clearly drunk, talking too loudly and walking a bit unsteadily as they ambled up to the front entrance of the bar. The leader was nearly inside before the bouncer stepped out of the shadows and stopped him with a polite hand on his arm. They spoke at length. The young man whined so loudly that it was audible even inside River’s car, and several of the others protested in turn. However, the bouncer was not to be swayed, and he stood his ground with his arms crossed over his not-inconsiderable chest. The group eventually gave up and went back to their van.

One girl, who at least seemed to be moderately sober, pushed another out of the way so that she could drive. The van backed out, swerved around, and rejoined the silent city streets in search of another venue.

River hoped he had his guess right about why the youngsters had been turned away, though witnessing this event brought another fear of his to light. What if he was just too old? The years had spiraled past so slowly, and yet all he had to do was blink and another one had gone by. He had been 20 only a short time ago, then he was 30 and all 6 of his children had been born and were developing into adolescents of various ages, and then he had been 40, thinking that he didn’t blame his youngest for leaving as soon as possible. And now he was 41.

Too old, maybe, for a new start?

He would never know if he didn’t get out of the damn car.

Dropping one hand away from the wheel, he reached for the door. The smooth slickness of the handle beneath his fingers seemed to ground him, pulling him out of the fog and back into reality. Before he even realized that he was making the conscious effort to do so, he pushed the door open and stepped out. The air around him was rather warm, summer showing its reluctance to give up the stage to fall, but the breeze was pleasantly cool, and he turned his face towards it as if it might also help to cool his jumping nerves. Locks of his hair were tugged this way and that without ever really disturbing the style he imposed upon it much earlier that morning. Most people would have reverted back to unkempt lankness, but not him. He used only the best products, put in only the utmost care into his personal appearance. If he couldn’t maintain what went on in inside, at the very least he could make an art piece of the outside.

Pulling in a deep breath, River turned in the direction of the bar entrance and the bouncer, who had pulled back into the shadows once more. The neon sign above the entrance flashed the words Falcon’s Nest on and off in a slow, steady rhythm. River willed his heartbeat to be steady and calm, and made himself walk towards the bouncer. His legs felt odd and his feet seemed to be making too much noise on the concrete, clapping on the ground without grace. His arms seemed to have no purpose other than to dangle awkwardly at his sides. If only he could put his hands in his pockets to give them something to do, but that was a non-gentlemanly habit he’d been working to curb for years now.

Though a human might have a hard time detecting him, River had no trouble seeing the shadowed bouncer as he approached. The man wore an immaculate black suit and pants, accompanied by black shoes that shone so brightly they seemed to be only minutes off the factory line. His arms were still crossed over his chest, pulling the material taut in all the right places to show off his muscular biceps and the broad set of his shoulders.

Despite himself, River admired those muscles. He kept himself in fairly good shape in the interest of maintaining his appearance as a man who neglected no part of his personal upkeep, but his interest in such things had been waning the older he got. Other things seemed more important. Or perhaps it was that everything seemed less important. Either one.

River paused by the bouncer, unsure if he needed permission to go inside. The other man looked at him, clearly appraising him from behind his sunglasses. “You’ve got some wrinkles,” the bouncer said.

River stared at him, incredulous. While that might be true…

Suddenly, the bouncer let out a laugh. “Don’t give me that look, man. I was talking about your clothes, not your face.”

If anything, this made him feel even more incredulous. River was wearing a tie, cinched so perfectly that it might have been drawn on. His collar was crisp and white, the angles exact. He wore a gray vest with the bottom button stylishly undone, accompanied by gray slacks. The sleeves of his shirt beneath the vest were wrinkled, as they had been pushed off his forearms to his elbows, but he had carefully folded each crease for maximum effect. He was on the loose, sexy side of business casual, and this bouncer was complaining about a wrinkle or two?

But now the other man was grinning, clearly enjoying this. “I’m only fucking with you, man. Gets boring out here, you know?”

The rules of polite society decreed that River laugh along at what the other clearly considered a good joke. He didn’t really feel up to it, but he managed a chuckle. Being so near to his goal made him feel even more tense than before, and he tried to clear his throat, but it came out a growl.

“Sorry,” he said. “Kind of on edge.”

The bouncer nodded slowly. “Well, no better place to relax than here. You know, I haven’t seen you around before.”

“You know everyone in the whole city, huh?”

“No, but I do know our regulars. Place like this is mostly regulars. Never seen you, but I have seen that car of yours a time or two. Finally got the courage to go in?”

He wasn’t going to admit to that, mostly because his courage felt like it was waning by the second. This was too much conversation, too much dawdling. If he kept thinking, he would think himself all the way right back to the car and go home.

The bouncer didn’t seem to need an answer, though. A lack of one seemed to be just as good. “Well, you’re welcome in. I haven’t seen any troublemakers tonight, so I think you’ll find that you’re scared for no reason.”

“You always chat up every guy who goes into the bar?”

“Only the ones with big eyes, like you. Have a cocktail or two. Enjoy your freedom, you know?”

Enjoy my freedom.

That was what he had come here to do. He didn’t have to get laid or anything. He just wanted to enjoy himself, to drink a little too much, and discover that part of himself he’d been hiding for much too long.

“Sure,” River said. “Whatever you say. Can I go in now?”

The bouncer unfolded his arms and held one out, gesturing grandly through the doors. “Have a good evening.”

He hoped that he would. Without returning the sentiment, he pushed his way inside the bar, and took a look around.

The interior was dimly lit, which he’d been able to judge from the outside. Strategic lights here and there provided just enough to operate by, casting harsh shadows across the faces and forms of the patrons. The bar was long, dark cherry in color, and there were a few small tables near the entrance; towards the back, past a thick support beam, was a wider space which seemed to be a dance floor. No one was dancing. Near that were a number of booths with deep red tabletops between them. The whole atmosphere was calm and unhurried, not at all like any other bar he had ever been in. Soft, inoffensive music filtered through hidden speakers, a harmless blend of piano and guitar with the occasional cameo by a flute.

There were perhaps a dozen patrons in the bar, all of them keeping to themselves or in pairs. They were sharp, good-looking men between the ages of 25 and 50, with fine features, exactly like proud falcons. They preened over themselves and each other, conversing in low murmurs that were lost in the cadence of the background music. River understood the name of the bar now, and he wasn’t sure if he belonged. These men were hunters, looking for opportunities and taking what they wanted.

He was a wolf, but he had never gone after anything he wanted before. The thrill of pursuit was a mystery.

Until tonight, he reminded himself. Some of the excitement returned, seeping through the barrier of fear.

“Hey buddy, you in or out? Air ain’t free.”

River abruptly let go of the door that he’d been holding, letting it fall back against the door frame. Now that it had been called to his attention, he did feel the air-conditioning. Despite the warm, moody lighting, the bar was borderline frigid. Maybe pushing his sleeves up hadn’t been such a good idea. If he unrolled them now they’d be a mess.

Maybe after he had a drink he wouldn’t give a fuck.

A few of the other patrons glanced his way as he was scolded by the bartender for keeping the door open. He felt their eyes, questioning him, answering for themselves. They went back to their drinks or their conversation partners, ignoring him.

Rather than give in to his doubts, River strode bravely up to the bar and grabbed a stool. He kept a seat between himself and the other man, which was only proper.

“Hey, now, honey. I won’t bite.”

Proper, but not here. The rules were different here. Another blunder. Another and he might as well just go for real. Three strikes, you’re out.

River resisted the urge to ignore the man and turned to look at him. A damn fine jawline, features as rugged as a mountain range. His eyes glowed red in the ambient lighting.

“Maybe you don’t,” River said, “but I do.” God, it was exciting to flirt, sending a thrill through his body.

The other man flashed a bright smile. “I still want you to move on closer to me.”

“Hey, don’t scare the new guy away.” The bartender wandered over, placing his hands on the counter. He was young and handsome, though a bit too rough around the edges for River’s tastes. River had been watching other men from afar throughout his entire marriage, enough to know that he preferred a certain look over others. He was careful about his watchfulness to keep it a secret though, so he didn’t know anything other than the fact that he did have preferences.

The other man who had been flirting with River shrugged and leaned back. “Can’t blame a guy for playing with the new meat.”

River choked on his own breath and sputtered. Did he just say that? He didn’t really say that.

“Uh-huh.” The bartender waved one hand. His fingertips glistened wetly in the dim light. He had apparently been washing something only a moment ago, and he didn’t look unhappy at all to have been taken away from that task. “Why don’t you let the new meat get lubed up first before you start tugging him around.”

My god!

The other man shrugged and went back to his drink, but he didn’t seem perturbed. In fact, he was grinning as he took a sip from his glass.

Shaking his head, also smiling, the bartender turned back to River. He leaned one hip against the counter and looked down at him. “So, what’s your name?”

“River.”

“Nice name. Powerful name. You a powerful guy?”

“Is this another euphemism?” River asked. If that was how things were done here, he wanted to know so he could play along.

The bartender laughed. “No. Not really. Just, you get a lot of types in here. Most of the guys here dress up special, treat this like a reward for gettin’ through the week. But you wear that vest like it’s your uniform.”

River said, “You couldn’t just ask me what my job was?”

“Would that have been as interesting?”

“I guess not.” River looked around, needing to escape the intense gaze focused on him. He surveyed all the bottles behind the bar, glistening in a variety of colors, and the blackboard above that listed a number of drink names and prices. Having something to look at and focus on relaxed him, like it always had.

“Well, my name is Travis and if you need anything, all you gotta do is holler at me. These guys all have me trained.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” River wasn’t the sort of guy to shout in a bar. It just wasn’t polite. “I think I’m in need of a drink, Travis.”

“What’ll it be?”

“What’s good?”

The other man spoke up, though he kept his head down as if pretending that he wasn’t talking to them. “The Peregrine is a good way to start the night.”

River glanced at the blackboard again, noticing that this time all the drinks were named after birds. He rolled his eyes, smiling a little. They weren’t all that subtle about their theme here. “Sure. Sounds fine.”

“Coming up!” With another grin, one which River was beginning to think he could definitely warm up to after a drink, Travis turned around to get busy. River looked at his ass without quite meaning to and felt heat start to rise up his cheeks even though he didn’t know why. He was allowed to do this now, after all.

It was a good ass, a little flat, but still shapely.

God, he really did need that drink.

Travis turned back after a minute and slid a rounded glass across the polished countertop. “One Peregrine for the gentleman. As our friend Ralph over here says, a fine way to start the night.”

The other man, Ralph, glanced up. “That’s my phrase. My intellectual property. I believe you owe me some money for using it, Travis.”

Ignoring their cheerful talk, River took the glass and inspected it. The liquid was deep, dark orange, served with a slice of blood orange hooked on the rim. A few ice cubes bobbed around inside, competing for space with crushed maraschino cherries. For something with such a grand name, it looked a lot like a regular fruity cocktail. Tasted like it, too. Made with whiskey and a bit too much sugar, which the bitters couldn’t quite combat. The tang of the orange helped, but not much.

Wasn’t bad, though. The annoying Ralph guy was right. A good drink to get started. Maybe a bit better if you got rid of those damn ice cubes.

A few more people entered the bar, and Travis moved down to where they sat so he could take their drink orders. River focused on his drink, letting the warmth of it in his stomach ease away his tension. The music changed, becoming more focused on the high crooning of a pair of violins. He let himself become lost in the sound, closing his eyes for every sip of his Peregrine.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

River opened his eyes, half-expecting to see Travis or Ralph attempting to engage him in conversation again. However, Ralph was nowhere to be found and Travis was busy tending to the newcomers, who had already finished their first round of drinks and wanted more. There was a new man sitting beside him, not with his knees against the counter but turned so that he and River were nearly touching.

The other’s nearness was a definite hint at something other than casual interest. River automatically shifted away from the other man, moving his arms closer to himself as if to protect his drink. Almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t done that. It was automatic, ingrained in him to make room for others, but tonight he was supposed to break out of that and listen to the needs he’d been neglecting. He was supposed to follow his excitement. “I’ve had better times. Worse times.”

“Haven’t we all?” the other man replied, very seriously. “But I was referring to the music.”

“What about it?” River took another, bigger drink, almost finishing off what was left in his glass. The ice cubes clattered against his lips, almost shockingly cold compared to the slight warm buzz fizzing around in his blood. It was a surprise to him that he did feel a little more relaxed than before, but he wasn’t quite relaxed enough to have figured out this whole conversation thing yet. Being flirty was hard.

“Well, I was watching you and when the violins came on, you looked happier. You a music lover?”

“You were watching me, huh?” His fingers tightened reflexively on the glass.

“Well, that’s kind of what this bar is for. Unless you’ve wandered into the wrong kind of gentleman’s bar.” The words were teasing, rather than accusatory.

River pulled in a deep breath, reminding himself once more that this was what he wanted, and turned his head to face the other man.

The first thing that River noticed was that the man was familiar to him, though he couldn’t place exactly why. He didn’t know this guy, hadn’t ever done business with him. There was just something about his face that made River feel as if he should be able to conjure up a name to match.

The second thing was that the other man was another wolf. That should have been the first thing he realized if he was honest with himself, but he hadn’t been expecting to find another shifter in here. There were too many new things going on for him to have been looking for things which he would already know, such as the sensation of another shapeshifter entering the room, or the musky scent of canine beneath the sharpness of alcohol and cologne.

And the last two things that River noticed were that the other wolf was an omega, and he was extremely hot.

Despite the fact that the omega had the sort of roughness about him that River thought he didn’t like, it was different than when he looked at Travis. The omega didn’t look as if he was trying hard for that edge. In fact, he didn’t seem like the sort to try for anything at all. His frame was slender beneath a dress shirt and slacks, but there were slight curves here and there that hinted at muscle definition. His shirt was wrinkled and looked to have been tucked in at some point, though it no longer was. Adding to his messy appearance was a shaggy head of dark brown hair which curled around his collar.

And I thought I spent a lot of time on my hair.

His fine features were accentuated rather than dulled by pale shadows of stubble on his neck, chin, and upper lip.

But his eyes.

River couldn’t look away from those eyes. That same sense of familiarity came back to him, almost overwhelmingly frustrating. He couldn’t tell what color those eyes were because of the light in the bar, but he very much wanted to, as if knowing whether they were green or blue or brown would spark his thoughts and allow him to remember. Because, goddamn, why did he feel as if he had looked into these eyes before? He felt as if he knew this wide expanse of forehead, as if he had once intimately known the way the bridge of that aquiline nose arched out beneath those thick eyebrows. The sleepy eyelids. The cheekbones. The curve of the lips. It was all there. Just, he couldn’t recall.

Forty-one years was a long time to be alive. It was very likely that he’d known this man at some other point in his life and his features had changed. Either that, or River was way more intoxicated than he had initially thought.

“No,” River breathed. “I think I’m in exactly the right place.”