Page 6 of Haze

Between the wolf lore of our people and the Catholic faith of my mother, I prayed every day we’d find our mate and that she’d be crafted for me in every way. I’m ready to put that wait behind me. I need to claim her in all ways possible and never let her go.

After turning toward the main road on the edge of campus, I pull up the address on my phone and check the map.

A few blocks ahead is the sign. You can get the black stuff in all the sports bars in Minnesota, but only one pub imports my favorite ale from back home. Guinness will do, but it’s not what I want. A rich amber lager calls my name. The green pillars and gold sign sell the pub feel.

Thinking about finding my mate must be messing with my head because once I open the door, I swear I smell her. But the scent disappears almost as quickly as it hits. I’d be far too blessed to find a woman who wants a beer in a dark pub on a Monday afternoon.

Tinted windows make the place much darker inside than out. I blink my eyes to adjust, only to find the entire establishment bustling. My wolf perks up, on the hunt. Despite all the scents of other patrons crammed in this pub, he’s certain we smell our mate. My lack of detection or notice of it doesn’t deter him.

I’m not giving up, but I’m not going to get far too close to every woman in the place to find her. No sense in alienating myself in the only place that has what I want.

Further scanning the room, I find exactly one open seat. It happens to be next to a fine thing. Her deep brown hair folds in big curls down her chest, draped over her beautiful tits, which are cloaked behind a black dress. She’s leaning comfortably against the end of the bar, rotated in her stool so that her back is against the wall. Beautiful hazel eyes scan out across the room. Her soft cheeks and nose are a stark contrast to the sharpness of her eyes.

From the way she carries herself, proud and strong, to how easy she is on the eyes, I’m glad that’s the only seat available. I’m fooling no one. She’s far more than easy on the eyes. I can already tell it’ll be more than a little disappointing when she’s not the one for us. Surely God wouldn’t make it that easy to find my mate.

Go closer, she could be ours, my wolf urges. She’s our type too; good childbearing hips. We could have the yard full of pups.

It’s not like one can simply look at someone and know they’re a wolf, mostly. She’s certainly built to be one. Soft curves and an hourglass shape but clearly muscular. My feet move, driving me to her without any further thought.

There are too many people and smells to single any one out. It seems hard to believe I’m imagining my mate’s scent. Far too coincidental to scent a sweet smell of water lilies and the warmth of fur at the reception and now here in the pub.

Drinking in the beauty, I let myself admire her. Perhaps a bit too long before I turn the leatherback of the barstool to accommodate sitting on it.

“With a beautiful lass like you sitting here, I have to ask, this seat taken?”

Clearly, having watched me look her over, she’s none too impressed. Coldness infuses her gaze as she looks me up and down before turning a critical look at the stool. “I suppose that depends. Is your ego going to fit on it?”

Damn, she’s fiery. I don’t reply with snark. Not yet.

While the scent I want a deeper breath of seems ever so slightly stronger, she may not be mine. But there’s no harm in taking a test drive until I’m sure.

A sassy mouth and headstrong behavior. I have no doubt in my mind she’s a brat waiting to be broken and molded to a Dominant’s hand.

Sitting on the barstool next to her, I shrug. “Guess so.”

My ass barely touches the stool when the bartender stalks over. He tosses the towel he was wiping the bar top with over his shoulder and puts both hands on the bar, glaring at me. “You okay here, Lena?”

“Here for a pint.” I raise my hands in surrender.

No point in pissing off the man with the beer.

The brunette with the attitude, Lena, shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

Batting her long lashes at the bartender, she defends, “Nah, Jay. Seems to be brave enough and new here. I’ll give him a fighting chance. His first one is on me.”

I pull my wallet out, tossing a twenty on the counter. “I’m not here to hit on you. This is the only place in town I’ve been able to find my beer. I’ll pay, drink in silence, and be on my way.”

I have no intention of being silent. I’ll prove my assumption of her disposition is correct and take her number by the time I leave the seat. Is it cocky of me to be so sure? Absolutely, but she’s not the first brat I’ll have brought to her knees.

“Two Smithwick’s. Please,” she rattles off the order, her smile locked on me.

The bartender slides my twenty back to me, but I leave it on the bar. How did she know that? The sweet smile on her face only adds to that question. How on earth would she have known that?

When he steps away, her eyes fall away from me back to her empty glass. “New to town or passing through?”

Before I can reply, the bartender returns with two bottles and empty glasses for us.

He pops the top as I nod a thanks. “New to town. Should I worry that the glass is coated with some sort of poison?”

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