Page 17 of In Deep

“Exactly?”

“Yes.” He reaches across and brushes his knuckles across my cheekbone. “I’ve been living in my pack for nearly two years now. One thing you learn quickly is the need to be up front and honest. You can’t keep secrets. You can’t assume everyone knows how you’re feeling. You have to tell them.”

“It sounds complicated.”

“It’s not. I love my brothers, and they love me too. Our bond is unbreakable. There is nothing simpler.”

I nod, although I don’t understand. I’ve heard of alpha packs but I’ve never met one before. They are rare. And the dynamics involved with that many people have always sounded complex.

“So tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that I don’t know what I think of that,” I laugh.

“Explain,” he tells me.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of my own feelings. “My parents love me, although my mum can be … overbearing. I don’t want to give the wrong impression about them, they’ve made sacrifices for me. But I’ve never exactly been spoiled. I had to earn my keep and work hard in my family. And, I guess, I’m not sure if being spoiled would be utterly fantastic or completely cringeworthy and uncomfortable!”

“There’s only one way to find out.” I bite my lip. “If you’ll let me.”

My gland tingles in my neck and his fingertips have brandished my cheek. I close my eyes and let the air from my lungs escape. When I open my eyelids again I find myself staring straight into those bottomless eyes. I know he’s snaring me in, carefully, slowly, winding in the line. I’m caught.

The waiter arrives with a bottle of red but Zane waves him away and pours the burgundy liquid into my glass. It sloshes against the sides before settling in the bottom. Pinching the stem between my finger and thumb, I lift the wine to my nose and sniff. The bouquet is rich and fruity and much heavier than anything I’d usually drink.

“Trust me,” he says, noting my hesitancy, “once you’ve tried good red wine, you’ll never want to drink anything else.”

I wonder how he knows that, then remember the banker parents.

He watches as I lift my glass to my lips and tip, letting the liquid run into my mouth. The taste is strong and I blink as it dissolves onto my tongue.

“Good?” he asks.

“Hmmm,” I admit. “What did you order us to go with it?”

“Steak.”

“Steak?” I splutter. “How do you know I’m not vegetarian? You never asked.”

“Are you?”

“No, but I could’ve been.”

“The steak here is the best. And I rowed for two hours today. I’m allowed the fatty protein.”

His phone beeps then and he tugs it from his pocket, and reads the messages across the screen before typing a reply, his thumb moving rapidly.

“Do you always message other girls on a date?”

He grins although his eyes remain on the screen. “It’s my pack. There are a few things we have to sort out about training tomorrow.” He lowers his phone. “But here, you have my full attention.”

The food arrives almost immediately, and I have to admit, he’s right. The steak is divine, especially complimented with the wine. I’ve never eaten anything quite like it, certainly not this good. Even hanging out with Sophia I’ve never eaten so well.

He eats much faster than me, explaining he’s always famished after training. When he’s finished, he sits back, sipping his wine and observing me eat. I cut the steak into tiny pieces. Taking my time, wanting to make it last, both the amazing taste of the food and this moment with him.

“You eat like a rabbit,” he says.

“A carnivorous rabbit.”

“Should I just have ordered you a carrot to nibble?”