So I ignored him as I pulled the wine out of the cooler beneath the bar and smiled at the customer in front of me. “Our chicken caprese sliders would go great with this wine,” I said as I pulled the cork. After pouring his glass, I nudge the menu in front of him.

“Caprese, huh,” he grunted as he eyed me, the gleam of his wolf front and center. I didn’t need my own wolf to tell me that he was more powerful than me. Everyone was more powerful than me, but he wouldn’t touch me. This wasn’t his territory, and he had no idea who I was.

Shifter politics aside, he was a customer, and I was his bartender. “This used to be a simple cheeseburger joint.”

“Yup. That was also when we just served beer.” I tapped one manicured red nail against the wine glass. “But here you are, enjoying our expanded menu. Our new cook can do some amazing things with chicken.” Although he was also a complete and utter asshole. “If you’re worried that the meal is a little too fancy, we can always add a basket of our amazingly greasy fries.”

Snorting, he nodded. “Alright. Sounds good, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. What’s your name?”

“Anna.” I moved to the computer to ring in his order. “I’ve been here for three years.”

“Three years, huh? I guess it’s been a while since I’ve swung back by here. You one of Jax’s?”

My hand slipped, and I hit the wrong key. Cursing under my breath, I fixed it and took a deep breath. “I sure am.”

Jax Bishop. Owner of The Fanged Smiles bar. Alpha of the Black Diamond Valley wolf shifters.

Alpha of me.

Most wolves were loyal to their alphas. Submissive. Protective. Proud. Black Diamond was no different. They acted like Jax was a god. The males wanted to be his right-hand man.

The females wanted to fuck him.

Scratch that. If rumors were to be believed, most of the females had fucked him. They wanted to mate with him.

Too freaking bad for them. Jax Bishop already had a mate. Me. Much to both of our dismays.

“Hard to believe he’d hide a pretty little thing like you in this little corner of his world,” the customer continued. “I don’t smell a wolf on you.”

It was all I could do to not roll my eyes. He was just another idiot who thought a female was only good for taking cock. “I like my little corner of the world,” I lied and shifted to avoid Danny’s wandering hands.

Truth be told, the bar wasn’t so bad. It sure beat the hell I’d been living with most of my life. Problem was that the bar had been run by a decent man. When Parker Hewitt was manager, he’d done the least decent thing a male wolf could do around a girl like me.

He’d kept his hands off me and made sure everyone else had done the same.

Unfortunately, Parker was dead. Two weeks now. I hadn’t even had time to mourn him properly. I was too busy fighting off Danny and the other assholes in the restaurant.

Instead of letting me go, Danny moved with me toward the beer taps and snaked a hand around my waist to pull me up against him.

“She’s Dirk Kipling’s daughter,” Danny said.

Cold slithered through me at the sound of my father’s name. The customer’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward, fascinated. “Is she now?”

Ah, even three years later, my father still held onto his reputation as the monster of Shadowed Moon Mountains. Kidnapping and murdering his way through his own pack. Failure after failure. Until he took three children.

And kidnapped the wrong female.

Everyone still hated him. Everyone still hated me.

Of course, most knew why he hadn’t killed me. I was his mate. The wolf his wolf had chosen to be faithful and loyal to.

Bullshit, if you ask me. Jax let me live because he liked having me as a prisoner.

He’d set me up here. At the time, it had been a dirty hole in the wall where even shit-faced drunks didn’t sit down without sliming sanitizer all over their hands. The night Jax had all but thrown me into the bar, Parker met him out front. He was an old and grizzled man even then.

Jax said a few words to Parker and walked away without a second glance back. I figured he was giving me to Parker. Like, literally. Instead, Parker set me up in the small apartment above the bar and left me alone.

After about six months of not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do, I figured I’d focus on the bar. A year later, I’d really turned the place around.