**inspired by the Yolanda episode. (I really hope that's the name, otherwise I'll feel like an idiot.**

Even I couldn't explain what I was doing. If JT had been with me, he would have killed me. He would have wrung my neck himself. But I couldn't help it. One minute, I was just walking along the street, getting out of the warehouse for a little while and trying to breath. It was a few months after her mother's death anniversary. A few months before I was set to meet her. A few months after my near accident on her fire escape. I was walking along, minding my own business, when I smelled it. Her smell. The irresistible, addicting scent of her perfume and shampoo, drawing me off the path I was taking. She was too close to resist. I promised myself I would just stop to see what she was doing.

So I followed her trail around a corner, down three blocks, and around another corner. All in time to see a brightly lit neon sign boasting a nightclub and her in the front of the line with her partner. Her partner was dressed in a glittery dress that looked nice on her but I didn't spare her a second guess. My entire focus was on her. Catherine Chandler. She looked like a goddess. I let myself drink her in, from the crown of her head to the pointed perfect stilettos on her feet.

Her hair was straightened and it was near time for her to get it trimmed again. It was longer than she liked it. Her eyes, her entrancing eyes, were decorated like smoke and her lips were painted the same color red as the wine she loved to drink. The earrings she wore looked like they'd been borrowed from Tess. They were way too long to be her own and fell into what Tess would call 'slutty dangly.' I hated that I'd been watching her enough to know that, but I did and I was worried how far Catherine would take slutty dangly that night.

The dress she was wearing said all the way. It hugged every single curve of her body as if it'd been painted on. The red scrap of material started below her collar bones, was supported by the curve of her breasts, and ended just under where her underwear should have ended. Her legs seemed forever long until they stopped at the pointed black heels that I knew came from Tess. The tall woman admitted to owning heels to seem taller, even though she towered over average sized men. I should have walked away right then and there and left Catherine to meet a one night stand in the club. Somebody who could take her home and have coffee with her in the morning and leave her with a phone number or just a smile or even a regrettable but funny memory. But I didn't. Instead, I got in line, four people away from where she and Tess were giggling.

The big man at the door, the one that was supposed to be intimidating, didn't even card me. He took one look at the scar decorating my face and let me through. On the way in, he muttered, "God, don't make me fucking go after that guy."

A scar intimidated him. No glowing eyes, no extended claws, no tiger teeth. A scar scared that man away from me. I wandered into the club and up to the bar. Once again, I wasn't asked for id. I was handed a beer without a second thought and I stood back to scan the crowd. I found her easily, dancing with Tess off to the side and laughing. She was having fun. She was enjoying herself and I found myself enjoying just watching her. Until Tess caught me.

One moment, I was watching a smile curve across Catherine's lips. The next moment, something told me to pay attention and I tuned in as Tess laughed, "He is staring at you! Go ask him to dance!"

"No! If he wants to dance, he'll come ask me!"

"Come on! You didn't wear slutty dangly for nothing!"

"Tess, we look too hot to ask men to dance. They can come ask us, or we aren't worth it."

It had been too long since a night club and three beers intoxicated me. It had been too long since stupid liquid courage flooded my veins. It had been too long since I was forced to make a split second decision concerning women in dresses that were way too short. So, making sure to keep my scar away from her, I swaggered over to where she and Tess were still dancing and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Can I dance with you?"

She whirled around and tottered on the too high heels and I found myself instantaneously worried and thankful for the fruity little drinks she'd been sipping for the hour and a half we'd been in the night club. She wouldn't remember specific details of the night the next day. She would remember a tall man asking her to dance. She wouldn't remember a man with a scar across his cheek.

"I'm going to get a drink!" Tess called over the music. "Embrace the earrings!"

Catherine tilted her head up to grin at me and agreed, "Yeah! I could use a dance!"

Within alcohol fueled seconds, we were out on the dance floor with the back of her body pressed against the front of mine and my hands clutching her hips. She was swaying her hips side to side with the music and I was thankful that there wasn't much I had to do. Then, her hips pressed backwards against mine with more insistency and I lost myself in it for just a few moments. I clutched tighter and her ass ground against the front of my jeans. She tossed her head back against my shoulder and the smell of her hair intoxicated me further. I groaned and it was lost in the music of the club.

My hands developed their own will. They climbed her body, sliding up her waist and then back down while my nose trailed her neck. Her hands climbed her body, sliding up my neck and wrapping themselves around me. Her fingernails trailed my hair and tangled in it. I blamed that night for why I didn't cut my hair for so long. The way her fingertips caressed my scalp with care. The way she purred, "Your hair feels so good."

"You feel so good," I whispered back.

"Your name? What's your name?"

"Ray," I lied quickly. It was the name of a guy who'd been in basic with me, before the experiments.

"It doesn't fit you," she replied and I was worried that she was going to catch me in the lie. But, instead, she turned to face me and the front of her body pressed against mine, leaving my hands to travel her back. Luckily, when she pressed her face into my neck and her tongue traced the shell of my ear, she chose the side without a scar and I nearly made a mess in my jeans.

Suddenly, I was in overload. Everything she'd eaten, touched, and came near that day clung to her skin and invaded my senses. The pure scent of her clouded my mind. My fingertips tightened and dug into her supple flesh. It gave way under my fingers and I was thankful for the shred of control I had left. The shred that allowed me to have human hands instead of beast claws. Every detail of every person on the dance floor was visible in the dark and I wished it was her I was seeing. Her heartbeat rang above the pounding of the music and I attached my focus to it and the shallow pattern of her breathing as her lips traveled down to below my ear, to where my own pulse raced.

I brought one of my hands up to her hair and I tangled my fingers in it. I traced each perfect silky strand and memorized their patterns in my head. I memorized their trails and then forgot them when her legs parted around the thigh I didn't even realize was moving between her legs. The heat of her center pressed on the thin barrier of my jeans made my eyes roll back in my head and I used the grip I had on her hair to tug her head back. My lips passed down her throat and across her collar bones. The groan that escaped her throat ripped through me at the exact same time as the shot of adrenaline did. The exact same time as I felt my eyes change. The exact same time as I felt my heart rate slow down and my thoughts speed up.

"I can't do this," I moaned. "I'm so sorry. You're so amazing. I can't do this."

I untangled my hand from her hair as quickly as possible and unwrapped my arm from her waist as the claws came out. She protested, "No, no!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then, I was gone. I was out in the back alley, breathing deeply and trying to regain control. My pulse raced, my heart ached, my jaw readjusted itself and I screamed into the night. Catherine Chandler, the beautiful, amazing Catherine Chandler, was a danger for me to be around, but I would never be able to stay away from her. There was no chance of ever escaping the pull she had on me. The attraction that I wasn't able to resist. But, I would never follow her into a club like that again, I promised myself right then.

Of course, within four months, I broke every single promise I set for myself that night.