Page 50 of The Beta's Blind Date

But that’s all it is for him. Physical attraction. Lust. He’s a player—he’s confirmed that himself—and he has no desire for a relationship or a long-term commitment. For a mate. He can’t offer me what I want, and no amount of wishing, dreaming, or prayers to Selene will make him anything other than what he is. He won’t change his ways for me. I’m nobody to him. I’m just his trainee, his “Cadet,” his project.

He may have called me “his girl,” but he didn’t mean it. He’ll never mean it the way I want him to.

Which is the reason I didn’t cancel this date with CantHoldMeDown. Because Goddess, I wanted to. I had cold feet about the entire situation from the moment I agreed to meet him, and even more so after the training session with Reid today. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that happened, taking it all apart like a broken clock and analyzing every individual moment and word with a magnifying glass, searching for a clue or a hint of his true feelings towards me.

A fruitless task. A pointless endeavor.

I scan the restaurant, my eyes bouncing between the tables, looking for a male wearing a royal blue dress shirt, just as he told me he would be in our messages.

He isn’t difficult to find. Most of the other diners are in dark or muted shades, so his bright shirt stands out like a lighthouse in a storm. I catch his eye and lift my hand in greeting. I walk to the table he sits at near the back of the restaurant, where the lights are even dimmer and the tables are further apart to give more privacy to their occupants.

My date stands as I approach, his green eyes traveling over my body in a slow drag. They snap back to my face as I stop in front of him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he speaks.

“Kent Ford,” he says, holding his hand out to me.

“Taryn Campbell.”

I reach my hand out for him to shake, but instead, he lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, his eyes staring at me as he does. An eye roll threatens to appear on my face, but I push it down, instead yanking my hand out of his.

Free meal. Free dinner, I remind myself.

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

He sits in his seat, not waiting for me to walk to mine. I shrug my coat off, draping it and my handbag over the back of my chair before I sit down, my body tense under his examining eyes that linger on my exposed skin. Why, of all the dresses I own, did I choose this one?

“Likewise,” I say, sitting down as fast as I can to hide my body from him.

He smiles and takes a sip of his red wine, nodding his chin at the generous pour in the glass next to my place setting. “I ordered us a bottle of the ‘Asteria’ blend from Vigne Della Luna,” he says. “It’s their best and most expensive blend.”

“Thank you, but I don’t drink.” I glance around the table, my brow furrowing. “Where are the menus?”

“Oh, I already ordered for us,” Kent says, setting his glass down.

My brows raise. “Oh?”

He nods. “I ordered the porchetta for us to share.”

I purse my lips together but say nothing, instead taking a sip from my water goblet.

The audacity. Ordering for me. As if I don’t know how to read a menu or talk to a server or choose my own meal.

At least Reid had the decency and wherewithal to ask me if I wanted him to request something for me. And he didn’t really order for me. The chef himself—Claude—made me something he chose.

It’s fine, I remind myself. It’s just a dinner. I don’t have to do anything more with him or go on another date with him if I don’t want to. Which I don’t. I’m doing this to prove a point to Dominic because I am as petty as they come, and I had to show him I meant business when I said I was on Date-To-Mate. When I said I was searching for someone to settle down with.

I can’t back out now.

“So what pack are you from, Kent?” I ask.

“Amber Forest. I am a warrior there. You?”

“Silver Ridge. Warrior as well. Or, well, I will be. Soon.”

“Cool,” he says, taking another sip of his wine.

I give him a half smile, my hand going to the gold snake pendant around my neck, dragging it back and forth along the chain. Both of us are silent, him sipping his wine and me playing with my necklace, listening to it as it zips across the links.

He smacks his lips after another long drink of wine, then sets his glass down and pours himself more. “You look familiar,” he says. “How old are you? Did you go to high school here in town?”

---