Page 18 of The Beta's Blind Date

And she isn’t just pretty. She is gorgeous. Legs for days, a smile that lights up the room, rich, dark umber skin, and hair like spiraling strands of midnight.

Oh Goddess, did those words really fly through my brain? Shit, meeting my mate is turning me into some kind of cheesy Shakespeare wannabe.

No, no. It isn’t me. It’s my wolf. My wolf is the one putting those ridiculous notions in my brain. He’s the one turning to mush and writing poetry.

But she is beautiful. Plus her scent and her personality—her sass, intelligence, humor, and confidence. All of it combined into the form of a woman I couldn’t have conjured up in my wildest dreams.

Fuck. I need to figure out what is going on and break our bond. Before my wolf’s desires and thoughts become inseparable from my own.

“She was fine.” I shrug.

I shove the second cookie in my mouth before I can say anything more to him on the subject.

Before I come clean and tell him the truth about how she looks and who she is to me.

Before I confess to him that she’s my mate.

He’ll never let me live it down if I tell him. He’ll forever gloat that the blind date he picked for me ended up being my mate. Even though I’m rejecting her—once I figure out what the hell is going on with our bond—he’ll still brag about it to anyone who listens until either he dies or he finds something else to be smug about.

Whichever comes first.

“So, you didn’t want to tear it up with Taryn?” he teases.

“She’s not that type, okay?” I snap, slamming the black marble counter with my fist, holding back the growl my wolf wants to give him.

How dare he insinuate that about her? How dare he treat her like an object?

“Dude, chill. I’m joking,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender.

“I’m going to bed,” I say, ignoring him and shoving off from the counter, heading out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs before I wring his neck for suggesting I would use my mate like that.

The way I’ve used every other female I’ve ever been with.

That thought stops me in my tracks, and I rest my forehead against the door of the beta apartment, my hand frozen on the knob.

It’s not like those females didn’t know what they were getting when they rolled into bed with me. I’ve always been blunt about what a night with me entails—fantastic sex with no strings attached, no emotional commitment.

I’ve always been respectful, too. I make sure the females have as much enjoyment as I do when we’re together. Sure, there isn’t any kissing, but no kissing doesn’t equal no pleasure. There is plenty of pleasure.

But now—what happens now? I can’t go out and continue on in the way I have been. Sure, Taryn didn’t feel the bond, but that doesn’t mean I can sleep with other females while the bond is intact. I don’t know for sure that she won’t feel my betrayal since I don’t know why she didn’t feel the bond to begin with.

And what happens if she sleeps with someone else? Will I feel that? What if she dates someone from Date-To-Mate, or, Goddess forbid, lets Dominic back into her life?

The snarling, growling, and snapping of jaws by my wolf in my head at that thought clinches it for me. I have to find out what is going on with our bond as soon as possible. So I can reject her on the next full moon.

The day before Wesley and Haven’s wedding.

“Fuck!” I mutter under my breath, banging my head against the door noiselessly. “This is all such a fucking mess.”

It appears Haven’s birth mom has a sense of humor. A twisted one. But, then again, she’s Selene, and a goddess, so maybe her idea of what is funny isn’t the same as what we think is funny.

“Reid, you need to stop spiraling and just go to bed and sleep on it. You’ll think clearer in the morning when it’s not so fresh,” I say to myself.

With that goal in mind, I open the door to the apartment and head inside, only to be stopped in my tracks again.

The scene in the living room shouldn’t surprise me. It’s not the first time I’ve found my dad like this in the eighteen years since my mom died, and it won’t be the last. But somehow, I am always shocked when I come home to find him like this—passed out cold on our old, brown couch, with bottles of beer and liquor littering the floor and the coffee table.

I close the door behind me, careful to not make a sound, then walk into the living room, pinching the bridge of my nose and blowing out a long breath. I don’t want to deal with this. Not after the night I’ve had. Not with my racing thoughts, my riled up wolf, and the stress both are putting on my mind and my heart. I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is go to sleep so my mind can rest and my wolf will stop bothering me.

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