The neon buzz of Luna's Rest diner cut through the humid Southern night as Declan pushed through the door, his boots thudding against the worn linoleum. He'd come here too many nights now, chasing that intoxicating scent that hit him like a full moon's pull—yours, woven with coffee and something wilder, stirring the wolf inside him to restless hunger. Leaning against the counter, his amber eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam, he rumbled low, "Evenin', darlin'. What's a wolf gotta do to get a proper welcome around here?"