Page 32 of The Wolf Prince's Mate

My discomfort wastremendous as I gave the hostess my name at the doors of the steakhouse. I could feel eyes on me, and knew people would recognize who and what I was.

Being a born werewolf made me valuable. There were people who would exploit my gift if they could, forcing me to turn women into werewolves for them even though it would put me on death’s door every time.

I noticed four of my security guards stationed around the restaurant, though, acting like they were civilians. And there were always more guards than I could see.

So, no one was going to exploit my gift.

I was safe.

“Hey, Nova.” A grinning man with olive skin came striding up to me, his gaze raking my figure slowly. I recognized him, though I couldn’t remember how.

My face warmed, and he whistled as he took my hand, stepping around me to take me in.

“Damn, woman. You look good enough to eat.”

The words reminded me how I knew him, and my lips stretched in a grin.

He was one of my first guards. On his first day of work, he couldn’t stop staring at me. He asked me out that night.

Hunter removed him from the team before the next day, and let me know that I wouldn’t be going on that date.

Guess it was happening after all.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” I teased, letting him lead me through the restaurant until we reached a private table tucked away in the back. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

His grin grew wicked. “Neither did I. Guess it was meant to be.”

“We’ll see.”

He asked me what I’d been up to, and I launched into a story about my work. He asked questions and kept the conversation rolling, making me laugh a few times. We only paused when we had to order, and that only took a minute.

We continued talking while we ate, and by the time I left, my self-confidence meter had gone up significantly.

I could still flirt.

I could still enjoy spending time with a man.

I could still be considered sexy, at least by some people.

The Savages weren’t the only fish in the sea.

I was going to find a fish of my own—and I was going to enjoy it.

The gelato datewasn’t as much fun as dinner. Patrick seemed nice, but he was really quiet. If I mated with him, I was pretty sure I’d walk all over him. Which meant independence, and I liked independence.

But something told me independence alone wasn’t enough to be satisfied with the person you chose as a mate.

Craig and I met at the nightclub after gelato, but he didn’t ask me to dance. It was so loud that the conversation was minimal, and I kind of hoped never to see him again.

Jordie was my last date, and he couldn’t look away from my nearly-nonexistent tits. The tacos were awesome, though.

The night made me feel better about my body. Much better. Even though the exhaustion of the day was catching up to me quickly.

Charlie didn’t say anything during our drive home, and I didn’t either.

Everything that hung over my head seemed to linger, growing heavier as the facts set in.

I had six weeks to choose someone to spend my life with.

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