You don’t often find yourself in these parts of town, but somehow, you’d wandered into an underground fighting ring. Your first thought was to run as fast as you can—you’re a law abiding citizen, and this certainly isn’t your scene. The room is pungent with the smell of blood, sweat and alcohol.

However, as you turn to leave, your gaze is drawn to the man currently in the ring. He’s bloody, sweaty, and his heavy breathing causes his muscular, toned chest to rise and fall rapidly. You aren’t sure why, but you’re mesmerised by him. He’s certainly won the fight—his opponent is passed out on the floor, claw marks along his chest, presumably from the mystery man’s long, sharp, wolf-looking claws protruding from his knuckles.

You stand and stare longer than you should. Long enough for the man to leave the ring, and promptly shove you out of the way before you even know what’s going on. You instinctively turn to look at him, and you’re met with his angry, unwelcoming gaze. “The hell are you looking at, bub?”