Page 7 of The Beta's Blind Date

The crisp air outside tinted her pale cheeks with pink, clear evidence of her morning run. She never shies away from running in the forest. I think she’d run out there in a blizzard if Alpha Dominic let her. The white stripe in her otherwise black hair comes loose from her ponytail, falling into her dark gray eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the window, smiling.

“Forty-nine minutes and one second,” she says.

I sigh and roll my eyes, but walk to the whiteboard and add a tally mark under her name. “We’re tied now.”

She unfolds her arms and stands up straight. “What? No way. I should be in the lead,” she says as she walks to the board.

I chuckle and shake my head. Not that it matters. There is no prize, no end goal. It’s all for fun, a game she and I have played for the last six years, both of us challenging and pushing the other to be better, to show those who thought we couldn’t do it that they’re wrong.

“The board never lies, Shrimpy,” I say.

Her sharp elbow jabs me in the gut, and I grunt, knocked to the side by her hit. Her strength still surprises me since she’s so much smaller than most female werewolves in her human form. But then again, her wolf is huge, which is part of why she’s so strong.

“Damn it,” she grumbles after she counts up the tallies and realizes I’m right.

I smile and grab a water bottle out of the gym’s snack bar, which is always stocked with drinks and snacks. I crack it open and take a swig, rolling my eyes again as the doors to the gym open and Alpha Dominic and Beta Dawson stroll in, their massive forms and ranked-wolf auras crowding the large room.

“Shrimp,” Dawson says, winking a brown eye at Blake.

“Troll,” she shoots back, flipping him off, and he laughs, returning the gesture.

Dominic heads straight to me, eyes on me with every step. I chug my water as he approaches, avoiding his gaze for as long as possible.

“What can I do for you, Alpha Dominic?” I ask, twisting the lid back onto my now empty water bottle and tossing it into the recycling, looking at him once I’ve finished.

“I wanted to talk,” he says, crossing his arms, stopping a foot away.

“About what?”

“You know what, Taryn,” he says.

“Want me to punch him?” Blake mindlinks me.

“Won’t help,” I reply. “Plus, you shouldn’t punch the alpha.”

She shrugs.“Hasn’t stopped me before.”

My lips twitch. “Training doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t it, though?”

“Taryn.” Dominic sighs, rubbing his face. “Please?”

I shake my head but move a few steps from Dawson and Blake, and he follows. The two of them take verbal shots at the other, but I block them out and focus on Dominic.

“Tare, I—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Alpha,” I say, holding my palm out to cut him off.

“But sweet—”

“It’s Taryn,” I remind him, crossing my arms, my voice firm. “Not ‘Tare.’ Not ‘sweetheart.’ Just Taryn.”

He blows out a breath but nods. “Right. Sorry. I just—habits die hard, I guess,” he mutters, ruffling his sandy brown hair.

He’s usually put together and confident, but the last few times we’ve spoken he’s been a mess—barely stringing words together and unsure of his actions, his hair roughed up, and his normally neat beard longer and untrimmed.

There is no one to blame but himself, though. He shouldn’t have expected anything other than this outcome.

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