Page 11 of The Beta's Blind Date

“Are you all right?” she asks, placing her hand on my forearm, just under my rolled-up sleeve.

My wolf forces me to open my eyes, and I look at her hand on my arm, marveling at the contrast between her smooth dark skin and mine, a zap of pleasure shooting to my fingertips.

My gaze travels to her face, to her eyes that are darker than a moonless night sky. A frown wrinkles the skin on her forehead, her eyes scanning over me. My first instinct is to rub my thumb over that wrinkle, to smooth it out so there is nothing marring her beautiful raven skin. But I close my eyes again and clench my fists to keep myself from giving in to that ridiculous notion.

“You should sit,” she says, taking my hand and guiding me to the chair across from hers at the square table. “Can we get another water?” she asks the hostess, and the retreating steps towards the kitchen tell me she left to do as my mate asked.

My mate.

Her reaction confuses me. Now that we’re sitting, now that my shock is clearing, I realize she didn’t react to me at all. Her pupils didn’t dilate; her nostrils didn’t flare. She didn’t even flinch when she put her hand on me, when our skin met for the first time.

“Here,” she says, handing me the glass of water already on the table. “I didn’t drink any of it yet. I’ll take the new one they bring out.”

I stare at her, then stare at the glass, at her hand wrapped around it. Her hand that touched my arm and held my hand, her hand that sent sparks across my skin. I take the glass without a word, brushing my fingers against hers on purpose. Just to test. Just to see.

Another jolt zips up my arm from my fingertips, and I grit my teeth again. Inside, my wolf, heart, soul, and brain wage a war, each fighting to be the one in charge of my response to her. Outside, I am the picture of calm, an iceberg in a tumultuous sea.

Or at least, I hope those are the vibes I’m giving off.

Again, she doesn’t react to my touch. No blinking, no sharp intake of breath. Nothing.

I take several sips of the water as my mind races. What should I do? How should I proceed? I could just yell “MATE!” and see what she says.

But that means claiming her out loud. And I don’t want to claim her. How would it look if I claim her but then say, “I’m going to reject you?”

And I can’t shout out “MATE!” in the restaurant. Not with humans around.

The pieces click together. That must be it. She’s not acknowledging it because we’re in public. Okay. I’ll play it cool, too. I can be as nonchalant as her. I can pretend her scent isn’t the most divine thing I’ve ever smelled. I can pretend her presence and her smile aren’t making my wolf turn circles in my mind.

“Sorry. I must have gotten lightheaded,” I say.

“It is a little warm in here,” she replies, nodding, her curly hair bouncing with the movement, ensnaring my attention with their spiraling dance. “And you probably had your knees locked, which doesn’t help. You should feel fine once you have a little more water and have been sitting for a bit,” she continues with a smile.

“Right,” I say, giving a dry chuckle, setting the half-empty glass on the table and playing with the condensation.

Like she doesn’t know the real reason I reacted the way I did.

“Here’s that second water,” a server says as he approaches our table, and I stop the movements of my hand as it draws a curlicue on the glass.

“Thanks,” my mate says, turning her bright grin to him.

My wolf growls in my mind, hair standing up at the nape of his neck, and I grip my chin, covering my mouth to keep the sound from slipping through my lips and rubbing my jaw to hide my reaction.

Shit, what is wrong with me? Why should I care if she smiles at the server? She’s just being friendly. She’s just being polite.

Stupid wolf.

Stupid mate bond.

“I know you haven’t had time to look over your menu, but can I get either of you some wine while you decide? Perhaps the most recent vintage of pinot noir from Vigne Della Luna, or maybe some champagne?”

“Oh, no, I am fine with water,” my mate says, shaking her head.

I lean forward, her words and my wolf driving me to speak before I can think. “Hey, you can order whatever you want,” I say. “Don’t worry about the price.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “I just don’t drink alcohol.”

I blink and lean back in my seat, grabbing my water and taking a sip to hide my face.

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