Page 10 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

He couldn’t help but laugh, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Cassius, I think that's the best idea you've had all day. You're on."

“I surprise myself sometimes,” he said with a lazy grin before turning to head back to the middle of the room.

Chapter 4 - Wren

The din of the bar enveloped Wren as she weaved between tables, a tray of empty glasses balanced on her palm.

It was another busy night at The Howling Moon, the most popular watering hole on this side of the mountain. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of alcohol, a smell she had grown accustomed to over the past five years.

She had been working there since she was seventeen after setting out from the shack, lying about her age to get the job. Not that anyone cared much—in that part of town, a job was a job, and if you could do it, you were hired.

Wren was quick on her feet and rarely made mistakes, which was why they kept her around. It wasn't much, but it was a living.

As she reached the bar, she set down the tray and started loading the glasses into the washer. Mara, the owner, nodded at her from where she was pouring drinks. "Good work, Wren," she said, her husky voice barely audible over the noise. "Keep it up."

Wren nodded back, a small spark of pride flickering in her chest. It wasn't much, but it was the closest thing to kindness she had experienced in years.

She knew better than to get attached, though. In this world, you were only as good as your last shift. If she disappeared tomorrow, they'd replace her without a second thought. At most, they'd say it was a pity to lose such a reliable worker.

She was wiping down the bar when a hand grabbed her wrist. She looked up to see a burly man with a scraggly beard leering at her. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey.

"Hey there, pretty thing," he slurred. "How about you and me go somewhere quiet?"

Wren twisted her wrist, breaking his grip with a move she had perfected over years of dealing with handsy drunks. "How about you keep your hands to yourself?" she snapped, taking a step back.

He scowled, reaching for her again. "Don't be like that, Sweetheart. I'm just trying to be friendly."

Before he could touch her, a meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. It was Bruno, their bouncer. "Time to go, Pal," he growled. "You know the rules. No touching the staff."

The drunk tried to shrug him off, but Bruno's grip was like iron. After a brief struggle, Bruno hauled him toward the door, ignoring his slurred protests.

Wren took a deep breath, steadying herself. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. Just another night at The Howling Moon. As she turned back to the bar, her eyes caught on a newcomer who had just walked in.

Wow!

She froze. He was... different. Gorgeous didn't begin to cover it. He was tall, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. But it was his coloring that caught her eye.

His hair was white as snow, his eyelashes so pale they were almost invisible. And his eyes—they were the brightest blue she had ever seen, like chips of ice.

He wasn't from around here; that much was clear. Nobody on this side of the mountain looked like that. They were a rough bunch, all sharp edges and hard lives etched into their faces. This man looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

Wren realized she was staring when Mara chuckled beside her. "Why don't you serve him, Honey?" she said, a knowing glint in her eye. "I need a smoke break anyway. Cover for me, will you?"

Wren nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Grabbing a clean rag, she made her way over to where the stranger had settled at a corner table with another man.

As she approached, his companion excused himself and headed to the restroom, leaving them alone. The stranger's eyes met hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her.

Up close, he was even more breathtaking. His jawline could cut glass, and his lips... She forced her gaze away from his mouth, her cheeks warming.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, proud of how steady her voice sounded despite the sudden dryness in her throat.

He smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. "What would you recommend?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth. "I'm in the mood for something... memorable."

The way he said "memorable" sent a shiver down her spine. Wren swallowed hard, trying to maintain her professional demeanor. "Well, our house special is pretty popular. It's a blend of whiskey and local herbs. Packs quite a punch."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Sounds intriguing. But I have to ask, is it as intoxicating as your company?"

Wren felt her cheeks flush even hotter. Was he really flirting with her? She was used to crude comments and lewd stares, but this... this felt different. Dangerous in a whole new way.

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