Page 27 of The Alpha's Mates

“Stunning,” Jackson concurred.

After stepping out of the car, Christoph grabbed Jackson before he could move over to Bell. “No matter what happens or what you hear tonight, it’s imperative you do not respond. I’ll handle it.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah. It’s bad.” He glanced to Bell. “Protect her. Everything else I will explain later.”

“Always. But I’m also going to want to protect you, too. You understand what I’m getting at, right?” Jackson stared at him with those eerie eyes of his.

He nodded, unable to respond due to the varying emotions swirling around inside of him. First Rapier, now Jackson. It was unexpected but welcomed. He finally had people who cared for him and would protect him. Two things he never got from his parents.

He smiled when Bell’s smaller hand touch his. Without hesitation, he intertwined his fingers with hers. He didn’t miss the fact she’d done the exact same thing with Jackson. Slowly, Bell became the glue binding them together. Because of her, he’d realized he didn’t always have to be the strong Alpha. Jackson and he could share the load. A couple of weeks ago, he had issues with it. Today, he hardly had any and contentment filled him. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long-ass time.

Reaching the front entrance, he pulled open the elegant glass door to Haute Restaurant. Once he released Bell’s hand, he gestured for them to enter and followed them. Bell fiddled with her dress again but stopped when he stilled her fingers by touching her hand. Their gazes clashed, and a sweet smile filled her full pink lips. Christoph’s dick pushed against the zipper of his pants. He wanted to experience those sweet lips wrapped around his cock once more. Jackson growled, obviously sensing the sexual tension in the air.

“You guys suck,” Jackson hissed, reaching down to adjust his own erection.

“And how may I help you?” The maître d'’s condescending tone set Christoph’s hackles up.

“Christoph St. John,” he replied, making sure to mimic the tone his father took when dealing with people he thought inferior to him.

“Ah, yes.” The man recovered quickly, his tone softer. “Are you all together? The reservation—”

“The reservation is obviously wrong,” Jackson snapped, insulted by the man’s tone and attitude. This was nothing compared to his parents. Jackson had to get a thicker skin for sure.

“Your party has already been seated.” The man handed off their menus to a hostess. “She’ll take you to your table.”

Christoph made sure to be first, placing Bell between him and Jackson—where she belonged.

As they stepped into the private area made for them exclusively, he stared at the those who sat at the table, waiting on him. Next to his mother and father was a small boy, no more than four who had been, if he had to guess, burned by silver, blinding him in one eye. The nasty gashes creeping across his right eye were still healing. The only instrument that could have been used to cause those types of marks were his father’s silver tipped claws. They were the brass knuckles of the shifter community, used by Alpha’s who were past their prime and didn’t want to give up control of their prides or packs.

Bell’s soft gasp drew Christoph’s attention first. “Father.” He stared hard at the boy, while taking in his tangled tawny hair, his dull blue eye and one complete silver and black from being injured. He didn’t say a word, in fact he barely gave Christoph, Bell, or Jackson a passing look. The boy’s medium brown skin appeared pale as well, like he was sick, something Christoph didn’t like.Where did he come from?He inhaled, hoping to catch the boy’s scent. Unfortunately, all he could smell was his mother’s awful perfume and the odor of the cigars his father liked to smoke.

“You’re late,” his mother’s cold, refined voice stated. “It’s rude. Very rude, Christoph. We raised you better than that. You should always be ten minutes early for any and all appointments. It sets the tone. You know this.”

Fuck. Everything’s always a lesson.Either in etiquette, businesses, or how to treat people. He pulled his gaze away from the kid and toward his mother. “Yeah, well, the world won’t end because I’m five minutes late.” He swallowed what he really craved to say. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought friends.” He couldn’t say mates yet, he had to know what his parents were up to first. Then he’d drop the bomb on them.

“The proper thing would have been to inform us or better yetaskus before showing up with an additional guest.” The mask his mother always wore slipped slightly in her anger.

“Your mother is correct, Christoph.” Big, dominant, and powerful, just some of the words he’d use to describe his father. Jackass, abuser, stuck-up, and power-hungry condescending asshole, also words he associated with his father. “How many times must we remind you?” His father stood, offering his hand while reprimanding him like a child.

Completely ignoring the hand, he gestured for Bell to sit when he pulled her chair out. Jackson took a seat beside her.

“Are you not at least going to do introductions?” His mother clucked in disapproval, and a deep frown formed between his father’s brows.

Before his conversation with Rapier, he’d debated on telling his parents exactly who Jackson and Bell were. Now, he didn’t give a flying fuck. “This is Bell Dryer and Jackson Dalco.” Pausing, he watched his parents intently. “My mates.”

His father’s face turned beet red, and he sat up straighter in his chair. His mother, on the other hand, didn’t even bother to hide the look of disgust filling her features while she eyeballed Jackson and Bell.

He cut his eyes toward the little boy, hopeful to see the child engage a little on their conversation. Instead, he looked down at his lap. It was then Christoph saw the bruise behind the boy’s ear. Small, almost pinprick like. Rage burned in Christoph’s gut. Who’d hurt a child? Why was he there to begin with?

“The time for jokes is long over, Christoph. Need I remind you of your family obligation waiting for you at home?” Anger radiated off the man. His father’s sneer alone would have caused a weaker man to wither before him.

“I refuse to mate with anyone who isn’t my true mate. I won’t live my life like the two of you did. Forming a bond for social hierarchy, greed, and to keep the line strong.”

“No son of mine, let alone an Alpha, will be gay.” His father growled and slammed his hand on the table, drawing the attention of the other guests.

“Oh, I’m not gay.” He’d been deliberately vague, knowing his parents would assume he was bisexual.

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