Page 96 of Alpha Mates

“Nothing,” he dismisses quickly. He shakes his head before I can push. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to have a night away from all the pack shit and blow off some steam. That’s it.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from asking all the questions that crowd my throat. I have no right to press, not after two days of avoiding him because I wasn’t ready to talk.

“Okay,” I say instead, earning a surprised glance. “What? You’re teaching me how to have fun, remember?”

That gets a snort. He merges onto the main road, and it’s different at night, more lights and more cars. I try not to think about the fact that we’re outside of the pack at night. If I don’t think about it, then I can pretend it isn’t really happening.

Yeah, I’m dreaming. This is just a dream.

If this were a dream, we’d be fucking our mate,Alex inserts, earning himself a prompt shove to the back of my mind.

“Sure, Jewels,” Aiden chuckles, and my heart does that annoyingfluttering thing. “Lucky for you, Emitt just wants to get food and a movie. Nothing above your limited capabilities.”

I roll my eyes and don’t bother protesting. He’s finally acting like himself, even if it’s his more annoying self, and if being social is the price I have to pay for it, then that’s fine with me.

It’s a while later that Aiden pulls into a crowded lot lined with a handful of shops with bright lights and the strangest names. He squeezes into a space between two massive trucks while I peer at the main building.

“Emitt’s in there with the others,” he says, tugging the hand break up.

“Already?!” I baulk and he laughs.

“You think I drive crazy? You should see Emitt,” he replies while he digs around the car, searching for Goddess knows what. “That morning you were with us, he was on his best behaviour.”

I shudder. He leans over to rummage through the glove box, then slams it shut with a curse. “He’s introducing them to his babies, and then we’ll get back on the road again.”

“His babies?”

“Cinnamon sticks,” he supplies, twisting to continue his search in the back of the car. “He’s got a fucking obsession.”

“How many of those do you have?” I ask as he resurfaces with another set of shades.

“Not enough,” he laughs, unfolding them. Leaning over, Aiden perches them atop my nose with a grin. I frown but don’t make a fuss. It isn’t like I have my contacts, and besides, Aiden always laughs when I wear these since they’re too big for my face.

On cue, he snorts when he sits back to look at me. I roll my eyes and get out, but he’s still snickering to himself as he follows suit. I give him a warning shove as we meet in front of the car, but we’re both smiling by the time he leads us into one of the poorly-named restaurants.

“What do you mean you’re out of cinnamon sticks?”

It’s the first thing I hear when we enter, and the first thing I see is Emitt standing at the counter like a miniature bull, just waiting to charge.

“I mean, there’s no more, sir,” the man on the other side responds in a drawl.

“Then make some!” Emitt exclaims, and I can already scent his frustration from here. “You’ve got an oven, right?”

I look around, noting the other customers watching the scene unfold, and my chest quickly tightens with unease. Several humans are watching him with more attention than any supernatural creature should want, but Emitt either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Neither does Aiden apparently, because he walks us towards a booth in the corner, leaving Emitt to cause a ruckus.

Beckett and Isabel are already there, squashed together with the same look of horror I’m sure I’m sporting. They both do a double take when they see me.

“Julian?” Beckett hisses. “What are you doing here?”

“Did they not tell you I was coming?” I ask, sliding into the free side of the booth behind Aidan.

“Only that you said we could leave,” Beckett says before Emitt drops into their side of the booth with a satisfied grin.

“They’re making them,” he reports, and Aiden nods approvingly while I look at his beta, who is still, unfortunately, the subject of all the humans’ attention.

“Were you not a bit too harsh?” I ask under my breath. “They’re all looking at you.”

“And they can keep looking,” Emitt replies with a pointed glare at his onlookers. “I paid for those cinnamon sticks, so I deserve my cinnamon sticks.”