Page 23 of The Alpha's Cursed Queen

He sets a bottle of juice on the table before sitting down with his pasta. “Anytime. I’ve got you.” Pointing his fork at me, he adds, “If you didn’t have the red hair and the blue eyes, I might have gone for you. Maybe just the hair. Your loss.”

“My loss indeed,” I drawl. “Now I have to live with the knowledge that I will never be able to get with such a charming individual as yourself.”

Sam stuffs his mouth with a forkful of pasta. “You’ll get over it. I break a lot of hearts.”

I snort. “I wish I had that kind of confidence. It would take me far in life.”

Sam grins. “You’re either born with it or you’re not. Anyway, what’s with this line of questioning? Are you having some sort of identity crisis? I could buy you a mirror for your birthday. I was going to get you a gift. I even saved up for it, but then I got hungry and got myself a burrito.”

“You were going to give me something that costs as much as a burrito?” I stare at him.

My friend gives me a deadpan look. “I love burritos.”

My brows scrunch together as I stare at him, not knowing what to make of that statement.

“So, spill.” He chews his food. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m not having an identity crisis,” I correct him. “I met someone. He seems to—I think maybe he kind of likes me, although I don’t see how that is possible. I didn’t tell him about not having a wolf spirit. I didn’t have the strength to tell him that. But I did tell him to look me up in the registry. Surely, he has found out that way. I know he looked me up because he has my address. He sent me a gift of steaks the other day. And last night, he dropped off these sandwiches. I just don’t know what to make of it all.”

The words come out of me in a rush, and then I have to stop and gulp in some air.

“So, you’ve got yourself a boyfriend.” Sam looks pleased. “Good for you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve met all of two times. Or maybe three.”

“Sounds like a boyfriend to me.” Sam looks at me. “So what’s the problem? He likes you and you clearly don’t hate him. Give it a shot. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with your lack of wolf spirit. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“What if he’s faking it?” I reveal the uncertainty in my heart. “What if he’s just pretending with all this, and then later he—”

My friend rolls his eyes. “This isn’t a movie. There’s nobody placing a bet here to humiliate you. He likes you, and you seem to have a thing for him or you wouldn’t be so conflicted. You have to take a chance sometimes.” When I don’t say anything, he sets down his food container and gives me a long look. “You do like him, don’t you?”

I rub the spot on my chest right above my heart. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before. I was so rude to him, and he didn’t care. It’s like everything I say rolls right off him. I try to push him away, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.”

Sam resumes eating. “Sounds like a keeper. I know you have this melodramatic idea that only bad things will ever happen to you, but good things do happen, Alice. The world is a shitty place—and I believe that statement wholeheartedly—but sometimes good things happen, and you should just go along with them. This guy is clearly into you. Sending food is courting behavior. We both know that. Why are you trying to turn it into a bad thing? There’s no harm in giving him a chance.”

I play with my sandwich, my appetite vanishing. “He wants to meet up tonight. Do you think I should say yes?”

“Yes!” my friend says loudly. “Go out with him. Let him spoil you. You clearly like him, Alice. I keep telling you this. Give him a chance. Not everybody’s a monster.”

My lips curve slightly. Mary told me the same thing. Maybe I should just take their advice and go out with Darian. I didn’t want to see him, now that he knows what he knows, but this might not be the worst idea. If he’s willing to accept me as I am, isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? To be accepted as I am?

As I finish the sandwich, I find myself smiling.

*****

Darian told me to meet him at the restaurant, but when I exit my building, a car is waiting for me. At first, I ignore it, but a blond man gets out of the driver’s seat when I walk past, and he calls out to me. “Alice Lane?”

“Yes?” I ask cautiously. “Can I help you?”

“Darian sent me to pick you up.”

I stop in my tracks. “Darian sent you?”

“Please, get in. I’ll drive you to the restaurant.”

He opens the back door for me, and reluctantly, I slide into the seat.

The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror throughout the drive but doesn’t say anything. He pulls up in front of arestaurant that looks far more expensive than anything I could have imagined.

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