Page 7 of Impregnated By the Alpha

The restaurant was too crowded, jarring after his peaceful journey, so he continued on. He followed a narrow alley to a promising-looking bar with tinted windows. Inside, a polished oak bar encircled most of the room. A fireplace burned in the back corner, and a handful of mismatched chairs sat on a plush rug in front of it.

Jonah made his way back, sinking into one of the armchairs that looked like it had been pulled directly from a grandmother’s house, complete with a garish floral pattern. After depositing his backpack there, claiming his spot by the fire, he ordered himself a beer and waited at the bar for it. The pub felt like a locals only spot, the bartender greeting everyone who entered by name, and Jonah saw more than a few curious looks pointed his way.

He took his glass back to the armchair and pulled out a book, tuning out the rest of the world. Sometime later, when he’d nearly finished his beer, a man filled the seat beside him.

“A White Winter in our bar,” he said, lifting his pint glass in greeting. “I had to see it to believe it.”

It took Jonah a moment to place the man’s face, familiar but not instantly recognizable. “Spencer, right?”

The man nodded, scratching his beard. “And you’re Jonah. Adria told me all about you and how different you are. It’d better be true, or I’ll have you thrown out of here faster than you can blink.”

Jonah didn’t mind the threat, knowing it came from a desire to protect his pack more than anything else. Another White Winter would’ve decked him for it.

“I’ll make no trouble,” Jonah promised, “I’m just passing through.”

The Rosewood Alpha looked Jonah over from head to toe. “You look like you need another drink or two.” He signaled the bartender, who brought over a second round. “Stay a while. I knew your father, and I’d like to get to know the man taking his position.”

Jonah sank back into his chair, wishing it would swallow him whole. He’d rather drown in brocade peonies than step into the role of Silversand Alpha.

“God, I hope not,” Jonah blurted out before he could stop himself. “I mean, there has to be someone in the pack that’d be better at it than I would. Honestly, it wouldn’t take much.”

Spencer wiped a line of condensation from his glass, a thoughtful look on his face. “We’re all unsure before we take on the mantle of alpha, Jonah. I know I was. Anyone who finds it resting easily on their shoulders is not taking the position seriously. It’s your blood right to claim, and your duty.”

Unfortunately, Spencer’s words were an echo of the ones Jonah had been running from. He sucked down half his beer in one swallow, wishing the sweet oblivion of alcohol would take hold of him. “My father did a rotten job of it, and it only got worse after I left. The least I could do is take my bloodline out of the running and let that place recover.”

A group burst into the bar, laughing and clutching each other, cheeks rosy. One of them caught his eye, tugging at a memory. She was gorgeous, with voluptuous curves and raven hair spilling to her waist. Her blue eyes sparkled above a full, wide smile. Everyone else in the room seemed to fade away, duller in comparison to her.

“I’d say it’s your duty to put things right in his wake,” Spencer said, pulling him back into the conversation, though Jonah’s mind still hunted for the connection between himself and that woman. “Even if there’s a better candidate, you’d be obligated to stay and assist them. You never should have run from this in the first place. Maybe if you'd stayed, you could have kept your father on track.”

He watched the woman move through the bar, drawing appreciative eyes from everyone in the place. His own were glued to her, to the dimple in her cheek and the way she swept her hair off her shoulder.

“Maybe,” he said, sighing. “Or maybe I would’ve made everything worse.”

Spencer shrugged. “Can’t live your life worrying about the maybe’s. Take some chances, or you’ll go to your grave, having barely lived at all.”

That didn’t sound so bad to Jonah right then. He’d take a quiet life, letting others lead the way rather than the hornet’s nest that waited for him back home. But he could see Spencer weighing him, judging him, and his skin prickled under the other man’s judgment.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jonah said, putting his empty glass down on the table beside his chair.

The warmth in his veins gave the room a soft buzz, and he wanted to return to his book, to escape into it again. He didn’t want to be lectured on his failures, when he already knew them so well. Sometimes, he felt like they could fill a book.

“That’s a start,” Spencer said. He was weighing Jonah, studying him, and Jonah knew he was coming up wanting.

He found the woman again, sitting with her friends at the bar, a glass of dark red wine in her hand. It suited her, he thought, the color dramatic against her pale skin. Another woman peeled herself away from the same group, coming straight toward them. Adria, he realized, the Rosewood Luna and Beth’s closest friend.

“Hey you,” she said to Spencer, wrapping her arms around him from behind and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Spencer pulled her around to sit on his lap, holding her waist. The rigid sternness melted from his face with Adria around, replaced with soft adoration. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said to her. “I thought you all were eating dinner at Barnaby’s?”

Adria wrinkled her nose. “It was completely packed. We’ll just get some pub food and try again another day. Hey, Jonah.”

“Hi,” Jonah said, raising his hand in a half-wave. He felt the eyes of Adria’s friends on them now that she’d come over, and he was trying not to look, afraid he’d make eye contact with the woman he’d been staring at. “Don’t worry, I’m just passing through.”

Adria twisted to give her mate a stern look. “Have you been interrogating him? He looks terrified.”

Spencer winced. “Maybe. But he’s the next Silversand Alpha, and we’re going to have to get along.”

Adria turned back to Jonah and gave him her own appraising look, though her eyes were kinder than Spencer’s. “Is that right?”

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