Page 18 of Bite Me Alpha Cole

“Grace!” I hiss, leaning towards her and smacking her arm. “Fucking – stop! You can’t justaskstrangers whether or not theybitetheir girlfriends!”

“Oh, you’re not a stranger, are you, Greg?” Shayne says, leaning towards the wolf next to her, wrinkling her nose adorably. He beams at her – as captivated as she said he is.

“I can too ask!” Grace says, snapping her face towards me with a frown.

“You’re being sorude!” I whisper, pissed and embarrassed as hell.

“It’s not rude!” she bites back. But then her face falls and her shoulders straighten as she spins back towards the boys. “Oh my god. Was it rude? Am I being rude?”

The brown-haired guard – Tommy, I think – laughs a little and shakes his head, clearly pleased with us.

“It’s not rude,” Cole says, laughing a little too and smiling at Grace. “Honestly, ask whatever you want. Hi, my name’s Cole. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last night.” He holds his hand out across me, a clear welcome and invitation.

“Grace!” she says, grinning and taking the Prince’s hand, giving it a hearty shake. The other boys introduce themselves and then turn to me.

I scowl, focusing on my tray, emptying my tiny carton of milk onto my fruity cereal and pointedly ignoring them all.

“That’s Nadia,” Shayne quips, perky as hell for someone who was dramatically hungover half an hour ago. “She’s in a mood now, but when she’s not, she’s cool.”

I flick my eyes up to her for a second, letting her know with my expression that she’s going to pay for that. She just beams at me, unafraid.

“So, any of that true?” Grace asks, looking between the boys as Shayne leans over and stabs Grace’s sausage links with her fork and lifts them to her own tray. Grace doesn’t even spare her a glance – she’s a vegetarian, after all, and Shayne always likes a little extra. Greg grins as he watches Shayne dig in, I think liking that she’s a girl with an appetite.

“Some of it is true,” Tommy says, smiling softly at Grace and abandoning his breakfast to pay attention to the conversation. “But not everyone gets a fated mate – they’re pretty rare. I mean,nobody in my family does – the Moon Goddess seems inclined to bless some people and not others.”

He glances briefly at Cole, whose parents are famously fated mates with a pretty incredible love story. Even if in recent years they’ve kind of…grown apart.

“So, if you don’t get a fated mate, you don’t bite them?” Shayne asks, very intrigued.

A miserable groan slips from my mouth.

“No, marking your husband or wife with a bite is fairly normal,” Tommy says, glancing at me before turning his eyes back to Shayne. “You don’t have to be a fated mate to have a mark. Most people who exchange them are just in love. And the giving of the mark is like…a very physical exchange of wedding rings.” He narrows his eyes, contemplating that, I think wondering if his metaphor is correct.

I move my gaze down to my cereal, which I haven’t touched and which is getting soggy. My shoulders tense and my fingers tighten around my spoon. Why?Whyare we talking about this at breakfast?

Intense discomfort starts to roil in my stomach.

“So, you like…bite your wife? Or, sorry, your mate? In front of your friends and family?” Shayne asks, fascinated.

Greg laughs, low and sexy. “Well, usually not for the first time. When a wolf marks his mate, it’s usually a very…intimate act. The one at the mating ceremony is mostly just that – ceremonial.”

“And do women mark men back?” Grace asks, her voice eager, rapt. “Or is this some sort of weird wolf patriarchy thing where –“

I stand sharply up from my seat, shoving my chair back and gripping my tray. Grace’s words fall short as everyone turns to me. But I keep my eyes down as I yank my tray up and turn,heading for the bussing station, just…completely disinterested in sustenance and friendship and this goddamn conversation.

Breath huffs from my nose as the soles of my sneakers smack hard against the ground.Why would they askthosefucking questions?I shake my head, livid with my friends.Why not just be more blatant about it and ask, ‘Hey Cole, when the hell are you planning to use your fangs to take a big chunk out of Nadia’s neck?’

“Nadia!”

I hasten my pace when I hear the voice of the one person I absolutely donotwant to talk to ringing out behind me.

“Nadia!” Again, more frustrated this time.

I reach my tray out towards the table. The woman in charge of the bussing station looks at me with wide eyes when suddenly a dark form cuts between me and the table.

I gasp as my tray collides with his chest, milk sloshing all over the front of his black uniform.

“Cole!” I whip my head up to glare at him. “What the hell!”

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