The wood beneath her heeled feet thumped with the beat of the bass as she weaved her way along the far wall between the bodies hugging its graffiti framework and the masses gyrating against one another on the dance floor. The cocktail of scents that drifted from each glistening skin was driving her mad, her nostrils flaring in hunger as her mouth watered and her tongue kept scraping against her teeth. Golden irises flickered over the sea of swaying limbs, the blood pumping in their veins and the pheromones being expelled like pollen in a field of mixed flowers, tugged on threads deep in her belly like magnetic points driven by instinct to one another. She wanted to taste them, to lick the sweat and honey from their bodies, to bring them bucking and writhing against her in ecstasy. But there was one--so sweet, so spicy, so unlike them--only one, she wanted the most. In the Shadows of Twilight streaming into the warehouse, acr...