Page 24 of The Alpha Wolf's Pregnant Bride

“No thanks,” I decline with a grunt.

“Will the Alpha not be drinking tonight?” Emily's face pops out from the side of the pitcher. She smiles coyly, and I know exactly what she's trying to do.

Emily is another reason I will not take a mate. She's too high-maintenance, believing that the whole world revolves around her just because she's a fashion designer in the human world.

I already know that her attempts to seduce me are calculated with greed and a desire to save her dying business.

“No,” I grouch, spine turning steely in defense. “I'm not in the mood.”

“Hm… Does Cassandra's return have anything to do with your sour mood tonight, Alpha?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I feign nonchalance with a scoff. “Cassandra means—”

I stop myself from dragging Cassandra's name through the mud, something innate causing the snap of my mouth. All Emily does is giggle before sauntering off, as if she was strategically at the right place at the right time to knock some sense into me.

Whatever is happening, it feels orchestrated by the higher power who we've just prayed to tonight. I don't feel like myself, and my feet don't feel like my own when I step out from behind the bonfire and make my way to the barrel.

Jarrod is in the midst of passing Cassandra a drink when I reach out and snatch the cup out of his hand.

“You shouldn't drink,” I say matter-of-factly. “It's not—”

“It's not what?” she scoffs. “Healthy? Or am I not allowed to join in on pack festivities ‘cause I've been gone for nine years?”

“I didn't say that…” I shake my head slowly. Clutching the cup with slightly trembling fingers, I have no idea what just happened or why I'm trying to stop her from drinking homemade wine.

Then, it hits me—like a flash of images that project into my mind—a scene that has never taken place before.

Cassandra, in that black dress again, sipping champagne on my balcony back home…

Whoa…

“You didn't have to say it,” she snaps back, rolling her eyes. “But you were thinking it.”

“And how would you know what I'm thinking?” I accuse, highly conscious of the unruly thought that popped into my head. Does she know what I'm thinking? Were my thoughts not private?

I quickly scan my surroundings to check if anyone else has been able to eavesdrop on my thoughts.

“You've always had a way of making your thoughts crystal clear, Alpha Cyrus,” Cassandra sneers, grabbing her friend'shand. “Come on, D. I wanna stand by the fire.” She tilts her chin away and marches off with her friend, who glances over her shoulder and mouths “Sorry” at Jarrod.

I look down at the cup in my hand—the wine meant for Cassandra—and chug the drink in one gulp.

“Did you hear my thoughts, Jay?” I ask the Beta, slamming the cup against his chest.

“N-no, Cyrus.”

I grunt under my breath, turning to the bonfire. Jarrod does the same, and from the side of my eye, I catch him staring at Cassandra.

Needing to push aside that heinous scene constructed in my mind just now, I know what I have to do. I have to remember who the hell I am.

I'm Cyrus Rudolph, the Alpha of this pack who doesn't need to be tangled up with a complicated she-wolf.

I'm also Jarrod's best friend, which means I have to be his wingman at times.

Like right now, when doing the latter will only help prevent the attraction from soaring to dangerous heights. It's crazy to be magnetized to Cassandra Chikara when she's only proven she isn't one of us. If that's the foolish mistake Jarrod wants to make, I'll be a supportive friend.

I, on the other hand, will quench my thirst and appease my hunger for bodily pleasures outside these borders.

“Come on,” I nod toward the bonfire. “The night is still young.”

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