Page 27 of Alpha Hunger

“Stay,” Hunger orders. “He will kneel, won’t you, Junior?”

The hound shakes his head, seemingly not obeying.

Hunger rattles louder.

Junior drops to his belly. Finally!

I hop off the hound and stand under the brightly lit neon sign.

The prince isn’t done yet. He crouches and leans in, whispering for Junior. The hound’s rattles soften to a purr, and the prince matches the sounds. It’s one of the most intimate interactions I’ve witnessed. I think the prince was upset because Junior halted so abruptly, sending us jolting forward so we nearly fell off him. The way he goes about handling his fierce hound warms my heart. When he presses his forehead against Junior’s, I’m near tears.

The wine makes me emotional. I turn away. Uninterested that Hunger parked at his restaurant, an older man wearing jeans and a black T-shirt sweeps the floor. Hunger nudges me forward with a hand on my ass and a firm squeeze. A gentleman would put a hand over my lower back, but not the prince, probably because he’s unfamiliar with being either gentle or a man.

Inside the shop, he greets the man in Spanish.What the fuck?My head is spinning and not from alcohol. When did he learn Spanish? My Spanish stops at the menu items. I can order tacos, chimichangas, enchiladas, and nachos. And a margarita. Can’t forget a margarita, though I’m not ordering one tonight.

The man smiles wide and greets him back, then hollers for a woman named Antonia.

The prince sits in the corner, and the man draws down the blinds and flips the sign to readOPENon the inside. He retreats into the back.

I stare at the prince while he reads the specials written on the chalkboard. When he finally gives me his attention, he smiles. “Yes, Omega?”

“Care to explain?”

“Which part?”

I wave my hand around. “I thought you were taking me home.”

“I know it’s past your bedtime, but if you would allow me this small diversion, I’m hungry, and hunger makes me grumpy.”

Ha!Pun intended. “You’re always grumpy.”

He laughs. “That’s only because I haven’t fucked you yet.”

Cue tomato face. His candor trips me up every time.

Hunger strokes my burning cheek. “This entire planet has sex, practices religion, and wastes unbelievable amounts of energy in the form of shit, piss, tears, sweat, blood, and things I’m probably not even aware of. And yet, nobody talks about any of it. When I strap people to the poles, they talk about it for months. If I publicly say cock, pussy, or fucking, they bleep it out of my speech. Why is sex more offensive than starving to death, Omega?”

Good question. I rub my forehead. “Can I get back to you on this tomorrow? Also, I’m coming in late.”

“You will come on time, just as I will. Seven sharp."

“Ah, there you are,” Hunger greets.

I turn in my chair to see a woman in her sixties walk out from the kitchen. She’s plush, with large breasts and an ample behind, white paint over her left cheek standing in contrast to her dark complexion.

“Raven,” she greets Hunger and sets a tray full of food on the opposite table. She gets the plates and piles them on our table, then bends and kisses the top of his bald head. “Long time no see,” she says in accented English, then quickly switches to Spanish. I’m staring at the piles of food. All baked, not fried. I open a taco and find the fish inside it raw.Ew,but to each his own.

There’s one fried thing. Nachos. I reach for a chip, then remember Hunger might slap my hand.

“Go ahead,” he tells me. “Antonia is family.”

The woman smiles at me, her hospitality welcoming.

I stretch out my hand. “Anna.”

She shakes it. “Best nachos in the city.”

I laugh. “No doubt.”

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