Mica Clawer’s gaze slid slowly around the room from the stage where one of the popular dancers was shaking her moneymaker in the crowded lounge where customers were enjoying the show.

A few dancers circulated along with a couple of waitresses dressed in little to nothing. One of them was the new waitress-bartender who’d blown into town two and a half weeks ago looking for work.

She had an interesting resume of popular strip clubs in four states as a dancer and bartender and it was easy to see why. The cappuccino-brown-skinned beauty wore a short skirt that barely covered her ass, and a cami that bared her shoulders and arms which were covered in blue and silver body glitter that formed a wolf head on the back of her shoulder.

She moved with grace, her inky black hair put up in a couple of Bantu knots tonight. More than one patron was checking her out, but no woman had a right to touch unless the girls invited and desired it.

Kamari Sang gave a little shake of her hips and the three women at the table all tucked bills into the waistband of her skirt before she gave them an engaging smile and moved on. The damned girl was too sexy for her own good and the way she worked it, she could be up on that stage stealing the show.

Their eyes met across the room, and Kamari caught the beat of the music and did a slow roll of her hips and shimmy of her perfect breasts before running the fingers of one hand down her throat, to glide between the valley of her breasts. Her hand flattened on her stomach, and she winked before meeting a customer’s gaze.

The woman tucked a bill into the band of Kamari’s skirt and Mica growled, the coyote inside her enraged at the patron’s presumption. Her hands clenched into fists and her claws tried to slide free.

The animal side of her wanted to challenge the wolf shifters at the table where Kamari was stopped. That’s when Mica tore her gaze away, realizing she was as riveted as ever and in much danger of losing her focus and her head.

She turned her full attention back to the dancers on the floor as she wrestled her coyote back under control.

“That was the always coy, Baby Love,” the husky female voice announced from just behind the stage. “Welcome the sexy Ms. Subline.”

Cheers broke out and music started anew, but Mica barely gave the blonde a glance as her eyes followed the two dancers now on the floor.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Kamari said in a low tone.

Despite the music, Mica heard her fine, but that was one of the first things all dancers and bartenders were taught. Never shout at the security. What the human women who came to work here didn’t know was that that a great deal of Coyote Closet’s patrons and staff were shifters and the club was owned and run by coyote shifters.

Their senses were superior to human ones, allowing them to see with clarity in the dimly lit room and hear even a whisper.

Mica didn’t look away from the room, but she didn’t have to. The soft scent of orchid-rose drifted to her announcing Kamari’s presence. She’d caught that interesting perfume even over the alcohol, sweat, and lust roaming around the club.

The coyote half of her was curious and wanted to track that scent and kiss every part of Kamari’s body the perfume scented. Then Mica wanted to kiss, to lick, and bite each part until Kamari moaned her name.