Page 10

Chapter 10

Harlow

I feel energized as I rush from work and check my watch.

I have a date for the first time in a month, and to say I’m eager is an understatement. It’s been weeks of using sex toys on myself and now I really need a dick inside me.

I really want a knot. Since Carver knotted me, I’ve become a little knot obsessed.

But I can’t go there. And that’s why my date is with a beta.

I step onto the sidewalk, a blast of hot air hits me. I exhale deeply and wrap my curly hair up in a high ponytail to keep the heat off my neck. Days like this, I long for an air-conditioned car. Shame I can’t even drive.

My phone chimes with a message:

Bardot: I hear you have a date tonight.

Regardless of the distance, my twin sister is still my best friend, but telephone calls are all we have to keep us connected.

I glance at my watch as my feet pad faster over the now familiar concrete sidewalks. I can’t be late for my date.

My phone rings.

I take a few deep breaths and smile at seeing my sister’s name. “Hello sis.”

“You never answered my message, and I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” The moment I say the words, the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I get this often, the sensation of someone watching me.

Bardot laughs. “No. I want to know all about your first date since you know? I mean everything. What are you wearing? And I want his name and job?”

“I don’t know anything yet.”

“Nothing.” She quietens before saying, “You need to send me some details. What if something happens to you?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Never mind, it’ll be fine. Before you go, I need a name, where he works and where he lives. Should you disappear, I need to know where to look.”

I shake my head and giggle. “You sound as crazy as Mom.”

“You swiped right on a weirdo dating app,” she whispers. I assume she doesn’t want our mom to hear her.

“It’s not a weirdo app. It’s called BetasAreBetter. ”

“Of course, they’d say that. They’re hardly going to call it BetasAreSerialKillers.”

“It doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” I say dryly. “Anyway...” I hesitate as I inhale a familiar scent.

I shake my head, despite the feeling that someone is watching me.

“At least you’re getting back into the dating scene.”

I laugh. “Make your mind up. You thought he was a serial killer a minute ago. And don’t get too excited, it’s just a drink.”

My sister huffs.

“I’m still worried. I need you to turn on your location app. Or contact me every half an hour with where you are.”

“Whatever, Bardot. I need to go,” I say and press disconnect. A grin spreads across my face.

I’m going on a date.

What I haven’t told my sister is that I don't want a boyfriend. I don’t need one. All I want is to be fucked, and then he can leave me alone.

I pay the fare and push myself out of the cab before heading to the bar that Freya advised me to go on a first date.

Once inside, I glance around before raising my cell to check out what my date looked like again.

I look around once more, then I walk further into the bar, rubbing my hand over my neck at the strange tingling feeling needling the back of my neck.

“Harlow?” A man with a pleasant face and perfect, shaggy hair walks up to me .

I smile at who I assume is my date and the reason for feeling watched. I nod and he holds out his hand, shaking it formally.

“You must be Harry?” Freya was right. He is a good-looking guy, with hair the color of maple syrup, which contrasts nicely with his dark brown eyes, but he lacks something. I can’t put my finger on it yet.

“I am, and you look as gorgeous as your profile picture,” he says.

I force a smile. I hated joining the dating app BetasAreBetter, but Freya persuaded me. Saying it was the only way to date. Especially for female alphas whose hormones haven’t quite kicked in and still don’t desire an omega.

For me, male omegas are far too needy.

Freya told me she’s tried dating betas as male alphas never liked her and betas just love the thought of being with an omega.

Neither Freya nor I will tell our dates about our true designations. A clever beta will work it out, but that is fine.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, giving me a charming smile, relaxing me.

“A glass of white wine, I need it,” I say as we walk to the table ahead. I take a seat and Harry takes one opposite me.

A server reaches our table. “What can I get you guys to drink?” she asks.

“A white wine and a beer,” Harry says.

The server takes a note of the table number and the drinks and disappears to the next table.

Harry’s fingertips slide over the back of my hand, but it’s too early for anything like that, and I pull my hand away.

“Do you want to eat?” Harry’s eyes roam around my face before he stares intently into my eyes.

I don’t know why, but a flash of unease contracts in my chest .

I glance away, staring around the dimly lit bar. A couple is enjoying their evening out and a rowdy group of guys are sitting at the bar.

“No, thanks,” I say with a smile.

“I’ll order a sharing platter. This one,” he says as the waitress places our drinks on the table. He gives her a bright smile and points to what he wants from the menu.

My cell chimes as she walks away. I consider ignoring it for a moment, but I don’t like to ignore calls. Especially in case it’s my mom or sister.

Oh.

Carver: Where are you?

“I’ll just send this text,” I say to Harry, who looks pissed off that I’m about to reply.

Me: Still in LA.

We’ve been texting each other for a week now. Just our usual chit chat, nothing about Colton or what we did together.

Thank god.

I place my cell in my pocket rather than my purse.

“Who was that?” Harry asks.

My spine straightens. It’s none of his business, so I don’t answer. We continue to engage in small talk.

He tells me about how he plays football on a weekend, asking if I want to watch him play this Sunday. I tell him nothing about me.

“Where do you work?” he asks.

I don’t want to answer with the truth and leave it as vague as I can. “Just a local firm. And you. You’re a financial analyst, aren’t you? Doesn’t that make New York a better place to work for your career? ”

He smiles. “Yes, and yes. I’ve actually had an interview for the perfect position. I’m waiting for a reply.”

“Wow. That is great news.”

I keep asking him questions. About football, finance, and anything I-don’t-fucking-care related. Luckily, he runs out of steam just as the food turns up, and he finally stops talking.

I never really wanted small talk. I wanted a drink, chemistry, and someone to have sex with.

I take a sip of my wine. At least it looks like I’m getting one out of the three.

My phone chimes again.

Harry gives me a look that says, don’t you dare answer.

But fuck you, Harry. I do what I want.

I smirk as I pull my cell from my pocket and turn it over. My mouth turns upwards at the edges, seeing it is from Carver. I want to laugh out loud.

Carver: We still need to talk about you leaving New York.

Luckily, Harry is too busy stuffing his face, and my thumbs are quick over the keys as I type.

Me: You are so right. But I could hardly stay. You know I’ve been gone for a few weeks now.

Three dots appear.

Carver: Where are you, Harlow?

Me: At a bar, Carver.

Carver: And where is the bar?

Me: Like I told you. In LA. Why?

Carver: Because I can’t find you.

Me: I didn’t know you were looking for me.

A throat clears, my eyes flick from my cell to Harry, who tilts his head to one side and says, “It’s fucking rude to text someone else when you’re on a date.”

“Sorry, let me send this last one.”

Me: Sorry Carver, can’t speak as I’m on a date, and he isn’t happy with me for not giving him my full and undivided attention.

I smile as I lay the cell face down on the table and pick up a French fry.

My cell dings.

“Don’t answer it,” Harry hisses, annoyance etched across his face.

I ignore him and turn my phone over.

Carver: You’re on a fucking date?

Harry leans over the table and reads the last message. “Who is that?”

Red flags have filled the bar as I narrow my eyes and stare at a man I’ve known for all of forty-five minutes. “That’s none of your business.”

Harry quietly seethes in front of me. His chest heaves, but it’s when my cell chimes again that I think he is going to explode.

“Don’t answer that.” His voice whistles through his clenched teeth .

I don’t answer—not because I dread his reaction or because I don’t want to. I don’t answer because I stand and take my purse and say, “Enjoy your evening.”

“Harlow! Harlow!” he yells. His voice gets closer as I walk away. “Sorry.” His hand grips my shoulder and he stops me dead in my tracks. His eyes roaming over my face, down my body before landing on my tits. “Do you want to come back to my place?”

Before this moment, I would have described Harry as a harmless-looking guy, with kind eyes and a nice smile. But he does nothing for me, and now, with his pathetic outburst, I know I can’t even fuck him tonight–or ever.

“Not tonight, maybe another time.” I lie, feigning a yawn.

Harry pecks my cheek before he takes my arm and says, “Then let me be a gent and take you home.”

“Get your fucking hands off her.” A voice behind growls.

A voice I know.

“Fuck off, she’s my date.”

I spin to see Carver, dark hair, storm raging in his gorgeous blue eyes. Eyes that are glaring at Harry’s hand on my arm.

I smile at Carver. He’s like a warrior without paint, as tattoos cover his arms and one side of his neck. He makes Harry gulp at how badass he looks.

“I told you to take your hands off her, because if you don’t, you won’t have hands to touch anyone else with.”

Harry’s hand moves upward, and he gives my shoulder a firm squeeze before releasing his grip and saying, “Do you want to come home with me, Harlow?”

“No, she fucking doesn’t. How stupid are you? Get the hell away from her, or I’m going to fucking end you.”

“Carver... ”

“Harlow,” he murmurs, trying not to grit his teeth. The way he says my name as he stares at me so intently makes me shiver.

“Sorry Harry, thanks for the night, but this is my brother and, as you can see, he is pretty possessive,” I say.

Carver growls at my words.

Harry looks so damn disappointed

“Another time,” I lie.

“Next time tell your brother, so he doesn’t interrupt us.”

I’m sure Harry is on a mission to be murdered tonight. Luckily, he takes a step backward.

Once he’s gone, I press my hands on my hips and turn to Carver. “What the hell is this about?”

“I saved you from that dirtbag, darling, so don’t...” he holds his finger in the air. “Tell me off when you left me in New York, wondering what the fuck happened to you.”