Page 38 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

I should not be sitting here with her like this, watching the way she can barely contain her excitement. It’s not innocence, like I first thought, but an appreciation for the small things. She makes me look at the world through her eyes, and I like what I see.

I thought she’d figure out the drink she ordered had alcohol in it, and it took me some time to realize that not only did Charlotte not recognize the taste of alcohol, she was also getting drunk off it. A vampire getting drunk from human booze is the strangest sight I’ve ever seen.

Drunk Charlotte smiles more, laughs more openly, and likes to touch me. She also gets this trace of heavy sadness in her eyes when she speaks of the past, and I don’t want her to remember it. She was obviously mistreated in her clan. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering vampires barely tolerate any faults in their peers, but I would have thought her family unit would have treated her better. As if I’m one to talk. My own father pulled no small number of strings to try to get me killed.

As Charlotte’s mouth presses against mine, I feel weak against her.

I could have been more forceful when I realized she was beginning to get tipsy, but the idea of denying her anything didn’t sit right with me. And now she’s kissing me so sweetly, my skin on fire as she caresses my neck.

This woman is dangerous, I realize belatedly as my mouth moves against her soft one. She makes me greedy for something I should never desire. I should have stayed away from her.

My fingers dig into her arms, wanting more.

Charlotte pulls away, a smug expression on her face. She looks like a cat who got the cream. Of all the words I could use to describe her, the one most prominent in my mind is “adorable.” My heart is beating wildly in my chest, my wolf nudging me in approval.

Mine.

The desire is torn from my soul as my hand reaches out to grasp her by the back of the neck and pull her toward me. I should get her drunk more often. The wary woman who watches me secretly and tries her best to push me away is replaced by this vixen. This time when our lips meet, I angle her head to get better access to her mouth. The heat between us is electrifying, her proximity burning my skin, my heart. I need her. I want to possess her.

As I lick the seam of her lips, Charlotte lets out a quiet moan.

The sound rouses me.

This is not the place for any of this.

I pull back and glance around. Nobody is paying much attention to us, but the server at the bar is putting Charlotte’s drink on the tray and is about to approach us.

I sit her down firmly in her chair, finding it difficult to ignore the way her lower lip sticks out in annoyance.

“You’re very confident when you’re drunk,” I say, running my finger over her cheek. “I might have to keep you this way.”

She just scoffs before forgetting all about me when her drink arrives.

“No more.” I look at the server, my voice hard. “Cut her off now. We’ll take a bottle of water for her and the bill.”

I try to snatch Charlotte’s drink, but she’s faster, holding it out of my reach and drinking it happily.

I try to keep my voice even. “Charlotte, that has alcohol in it. You’re already really drunk. Why don’t you give it to me?”

She studies me and then gets up and moves two seats away. My eyes widen fractionally at the cheekiness of her actions.

“Charlotte…”

I get up. Without warning, she quickly tilts her glass back and gulps down the remaining drink.

I gape at her, and she grins.

“Don’t act so smug,” I say as I sink back into my chair. “That’s going to come back and bite you in the ass tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” she beams. “I’m just going to go and get another…”

She should be falling over her feet by now, but I guess she does have some level of tolerance. She’s a happy drunk, not a loud one, but a somewhat perverted one, too. That particular aspect of her drunk personality is made clearer as she walks past me and whispers, “You’re also welcome to bite my ass if you want.”

I’ve never been one of those people who gets flustered easily, but drunk Charlotte seems to have a knack for making me feel that way.

I grab her wrist, my voice hoarse. “No more drinks. I’m taking you home.”

“My home or yours?” She winks at me.

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