All other sensations dimmed next to the pain in his chest.

A bitter laugh burst past his lips.

Homeless.

Why in his father's hell did he ever start a relationship with an alpha werewolf? It wasn't as if he didn't know the man wanted to have a successor, yearned to have children of his own.

It was for the best. He gave another sad laugh at his new mantra, whispered it to the breeze, stomped it out with each step, desperately trying to believe his own words.

He didn't know which hurt worse, losing his lover to a woman, or losing the comfort and caring of the pack. Cutting himself away from his pack friends after twenty years of belonging ripped away a huge chunk of his soul.

Remembering the love in Betsy's eyes when she claimed Bran as her own eased a small portion of Luc's frozen heart. However, during the mating ceremony, Bran had looked away from his new wife and the longing in his expression as he watched Luc, hit him as if he were struck by a body blow.

He knew in that moment that the werewolf would never accept his fate as long as Luc was near. It wasn't fair to the pack to have a conflicted alpha. One of them had to leave.

The one who wasn't pack.

"Get it together." Tears prickling his eyes, Luc continued his determined march to nowhere.

His guitar case banged painfully against his side as he walked, all the hard edges finding his most sensitive places. He ignored it with the same indifference he coated over his soul to keep moving. His guitar was custom made by his uncle, one of his most prized possessions, and the only thing he'd grabbed on the way out. The rest of his things he'd shoved through a portal to his childhood bedroom. He'd retrieve them when he found a place to stay.

A quick glance around proved he was in unfamiliar territory. An area of town never visited, at least not in recent memory, but then he'd never travelled around the city without companions before. Loneliness formed a hard knot in his stomach.

This was a day for new things.

So far, none of them had been good.

Loud, pounding music caught his attention. It thrummed through his body like a moving heartbeat. As a half fae, Luc felt the notes deep in his soul. Matching his steps to the beat, he turned the corner seeking the source of the sound. A music club stood before him, pulsing notes sliding through the doors each time the bouncers opened them.

The club's ridiculously overdone stone facade had grinning gargoyles carved over the corners. Words written in bright red paint to resemble dripping blood proclaimed this building The River Styx.

Luc had visited, played around and once damn near drowned in the River Styx as a child, and this wasn't it. The river that granted immunity from death never had a line of goth kids wrapped around the block and there wasn't one creepy ferryman in sight.

Tempted, Luc decided now was the time to slack his thirst. He hadn't had a drink in hours. His stomach rolled queasily at the memory of the wedding champagne.

Decision made, he walked straight up the stairs towards the bouncers guarding the door.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Damn, the men were impossibly big close up. Luc liked a large man. He let his eyes roam up and down them both. There was the off chance he'd get the crap beat out of him, but he knew how to run if things went badly.

"Good evening," they replied in unison. The man on the left gave him a small smile, while the one on the right looked at him as if he were a chocoholic finding the world's last chocolate truffle.

He flashed them both his best smile. "I'd like to go into your fine establishment, what's the cover charge?"