Page 22 of The Beta's Blind Date

I don’t have to wait long for his reply. It pings through on my phone after less than a minute.

Reid Thomas: Of course. Just name a day and a time.

Chapter 8

REID

Iambleacrossthepack grounds in the early hours of the morning, another light dusting of snow falling around me and sprinkling the grass like powdered sugar on a pancake. Without my permission, my eyes lift to the mountains in the east, where the snow clings stronger to the ground and the pine needles, up towards where Silver Ridge’s borders are.

I can’t see the pack from here, but I know the exact spot on those hills where their lands begin. It’s my job to know.

That’s the only reason I’m looking. To make sure no one is wandering too close to that line where the borders of our packs meet. Not because of a certain exquisite mahogany-skinned she-wolf who lives there. Definitely not because of that.

I wonder what she’s doing.

“Goddess, damn it,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away and gluing them to the path in front of me.

My wolf whimpers in my mind, tugging against my control to get me to look over there again.

“Not going to happen, mangy mutt!” I say under my breath, glancing around to see if anyone is nearby to witness my crazed arguing with my inner beast.

This must be how Wesley felt that week he didn’t talk to or see Haven. They didn’t know they were mates yet at that point, but I remember how testy and on edge he was during that time, and I remember him mentioning his lycan driving him nuts. Lycans are already more active and present in their human’s minds than regular werewolves, anyway, so his lycan must have been extra vocal and annoying during that week.

And now that I’ve met my mate, my wolf has decided he wants to act more like a lycan than a werewolf.

Or maybe more like a fool. A lovestruck, infatuated fool.

He’s been a hot fucking mess since last night. The sleep I thought would help did not, in fact, help. Because I didn’t get any sleep. He kept me up with his pacing, whining, and growling for letting her go back to her pack.

It doesn’t matter that I keep reminding him I’m going to reject her. It won’t matter to him until I sever the bond between Taryn and I. But I will remind him as much as I have to.

Because I will reject her. Once I have sorted out all this weird shit with her not feeling the bond.

I wasn’t going to agree to see her on Monday for a training session, even though I was the one who offered it in the first place. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it might work in my favor. If I see her again, then maybe I can get some clues about why she didn’t feel the bond between us.

A lone figure jogs down the path towards me, cheeks tinted pink and sweat staining his T-shirt, on the tail end of his morning run. I cross all my crossables that Wesley won’t see me or, at the very least, he’ll just say “hi” and go on his merry way back to his mate. But of fucking course, he decides to stop and strike up a conversation with me.

His footsteps slow, and he puts his hands on his hips, breathing in and out, making little clouds of mist in the air and melting the powdered sugar snowflakes as they fall to the ground. I hold back my groan and clench my teeth.

He may be my best friend and my alpha, but I am not in the mood for small talk. I have too much on my plate with everything going on with my mate.

I mean Taryn.

“Morning, Alpha Wesley,” I say.

I don’t have to address him with his title in public. He’s told me before I can call him Wes or Wesley—even out on the pack grounds—and he won’t get upset. But it’s a matter of respect. I’d give that respect to him no matter what, but he’s more than earned it over the years. He’s still a cocky bastard, but he’s also a good friend, a tenacious leader, and the type who stands up for what he believes in and those in need.

“Good morning to you as well, Beta Reid,” he replies, addressing me with my title, too, as he sweeps his hair away from his forehead before placing his hands back on his hips.

Both his hair and his beard have gotten longer than he tends to keep them. I’m guessing he’s waiting until closer to the wedding for a trim. Or maybe Haven digs that lumberjack, mountain man, trying to be a bear look.

“What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?” he asks.

“I’m going to the pack library. What about you?”

“I’m heading into town. Haven has a rehearsal, and I told Nolan he could take the day off. Then we’re having lunch with Haven’s sister and niece.” He cocks his head at me and raises a brow. “Wait. Did you just say you’re going to the library?”

“Yes?”

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