Page 3 of Swipe Right on the Alpha
He grudgingly filled out the profile, answering questions about territory preferences, hunting styles, and pack dynamics. When prompted for photos, he awkwardly uploaded the few non-blurry pictures he had—mostly outdoor shots where his muscular build was evident even beneath casual clothes, his intense gaze captured despite his discomfort with cameras.
“There,” he said, tossing the phone back to Theo. “Happy now?”
The app pinged immediately, causing both werewolves to freeze.
“That was fast,” Theo said, his eyes widening as he looked at the screen. “Dude, you already have a match! That never happens!”
Dylan’s nostrils flared slightly, a primal response he couldn’t control. “What?”
Theo turned the phone to show a profile. “Aiden Reynolds. Human, looks like. Cute in that city-boy way. Says here he’s a ‘content creator,’ whatever that means.”
Dylan took the phone, something stirring deep in his chest as he studied the man’s photos. Green eyes that sparked with mischief. A smile that hinted at secrets. Something about him called to Dylan’s wolf in a way he’d never experienced.
“He’s… interesting,” Dylan managed, trying to sound neutral while his inner wolf was practically howling.
Theo smirked knowingly. “App says you’re 99.8% compatible. That’s the highest I’ve ever seen.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Must be fate.”
Dylan tried to appear nonchalant as he swiped through Aiden’s profile again. “I’ll message him tomorrow.”
That night, Dylan dreamed of green eyes and a laugh that echoed through the forest. He woke tangled in sheets, his body hard and aching, the scent of an unknown mate lingering in his senses despite never having met the man.
His wolf knew. Somehow, his wolf already knew.
Chapter 2
“EMERGENCY POLL: Is wearing a first-date outfit that you’ve already featured on Instagram a fashion faux pas or practical recycling?” Aiden spoke rapidly into his phone camera as he stood in the middle of a clothing hurricane that had once been his bedroom. “Vote now in my stories, because I’m meeting LunaLove Mystery Man in exactly forty-seven minutes and currently wearing nothing but anxiety and Calvin Klein briefs.”
He tossed his phone onto the bed and resumed the frantic wardrobe excavation. Three different button-up shirts hung from the doorknob, rejected for being “too trying hard,” “not trying hard enough,” and “worn during the Accountant Disaster of February.”
Mason leaned against the doorframe, watching the chaos with amused detachment. “You realize you’re spiraling over a dating app match, right? The same dating apps you’ve spent three years mocking on your platform?”
“This is different,” Aiden insisted, holding a midnight blue shirt against his chest and examining his reflection. “There’s something about this guy. His profile was so… minimal. Mysterious. Just outdoor photos where you can tell he’s built like a Greek god but trying to hide it. No gym selfies. No fish photos. No evidence of an ex cropped out.”
“So he’s either a unicorn or a serial killer,” Mason deadpanned.
Aiden shot him a glare. “His messages were direct but not creepy. He suggested a real restaurant, not drinks. And he didn’t even flinch when I told him what I do for work.”
“You mean he didn’t immediately ask for promo on your channels? Marry him.”
Aiden tossed a discarded sock in Mason’s direction. “I’ve got a good feeling, okay? And LunaLove says we’re 99.8% compatible.”
“Ah yes, the mystical moon app has spoken,” Mason said with a theatrical wave of his hands. “Just text me the restaurant address and his full name in case you disappear.”
“Already sent his profile to you, Liv, and my sister with instructions to hunt him down if I don’t check in by 11 PM.” Aiden finally settled on the midnight blue button-up, paired with his best-fitting dark jeans that did magnificent things for his ass. “Standard first-date murder prevention protocol.”
Mason’s expression softened slightly. “All jokes aside, I hope he’s great. You deserve someone who appreciates more than your follower count.”
Aiden paused in front of the mirror, vulnerability briefly replacing his usual bravado. “What if I’ve forgotten how to actually date? Like, not for content, but for… real connection?”
“Then you’ll figure it out,” Mason said simply. “Just maybe don’t live-tweet the entire evening?”
“I make no promises,” Aiden replied, the mask slipping back into place as he grabbed his phone to document his final outfit choice.
Chapter 3
Dylan arrived at Aurelio’s twenty minutes early, a combination of anxiety and punctuality that his pack often teased him about. The upscale Italian restaurant had been Theo’s suggestion—“Neutral territory, good food, romantic lighting”—though Dylan felt distinctly out of place among the white tablecloths and ambient lighting.
He tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his only dress shirt, a charcoal button-up that felt too tight across his shoulders. He’d forgone his usual jeans for black slacks that Theo had practically forced him into, insisting that “showing up in hiking boots would send the wrong message.”
