Page 44 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
I opened the door to the restaurant, gesturing for Zoey to enter ahead of me. She hesitated before stepping inside, her gaze darting around cautiously. I’d called ahead to make sure we got a table tucked away in the corner where the noise would be muffled and there’d be minimal bustle. Being the “heir to the throne,” as it may be, had its perks. I wanted Zoey to relax and feel like she wasn’t being watched.
“Is this spot okay?” I asked as the hostess showed us to our secluded table.
She nodded, sending the same strand of hair tumbling across her face. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
The tension from outside seemed to have followed us in, but I was determined to ease it for her sake. I pulled out her chair, and once she was seated, I sat across from her. The female server I had requested, a friendly woman with a kind smile, approached and handed us our menus.
“Take your time,” she said before walking away, then left us to decide.
Zoey fidgeted with the silverware, arranging and rearranging them beside her plate.
“Hey,” I said gently, leaning forward a bit, “you don’t have to be on edge. I’m not going to bite or anything.”
She looked up sharply. For a second, I thought I’d said the wrong thing. But then she tilted her head, a playful glint flashing in her eyes. “Isn’t that a werewolf thing?”
My response was immediate—a deep, resonating laugh shook my chest, surprising even myself. “Werewolves?” I scoffed. “Nah, they’re a myth. There’s a difference between them and shifters.”
She knew that. Her sister and stepdad were shifters, too, after all. But the fact that she was teasing me was a damn good sign.
“Right, the difference,” Zoey said, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smirk. “Which one’s the nicer companion, right?”
I caught the subtle change in her expression, and it made me laugh again. It wasn’t often I found myself enjoying a woman’s company like this, but with her, it was different. It felt natural, comfortable, even with the undercurrent of nerves.
“Absolutely,” I said, still grinning. “And for the record, I’m a pretty nice guy... most of the time.”
She gave me a genuine smile, and for a moment, all the caution in her body melted away. It was a brief glimpse into the person she might be without the ghosts of her past hovering over her. And I couldn’t help but think that I really wanted to see that smile again.
The waitress had just finished jotting down our orders when I leaned back in my chair to study Zoey. There was an ease to her now that hadn’t been there when she first walked in. Her earlier jest about werewolves told me she was a funny woman, and I was eager to discover more of her humorous side.
“Ah, so you do have a sense of humor,” I said with a playful, teasing tone. “I was beginning to doubt that.”
Zoey’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, her eyes once again meeting mine before darting away. She folded her hands on the table, the faintest hint of color rising to her cheeks. “Well, you know, gotta keep things interesting.”
I chuckled at that. “Indeed.” Aware that keeping the focus on her would make her feel uneasy, I shifted the conversation away from her. “Speaking of interesting, I’m curious about Roland. Can you tell me more about him? What breed of wolf is he?”
She hesitated, then sighed softly. “Honestly, beyond being a British Columbian wolf, I’m not entirely sure. I know he’s strong-willed, and… he’s got this presence.”
“Will he inherit a pack?” I asked gently, knowing it was a sensitive topic.
“George’s pack, if you could call it that,” Zoey started, with a hint of derision, “are more like a bunch of goons. They hang on his every word, follow him around like eager puppies. Seeing the Boldercrest pack firsthand, I’ve realized the true meaning of pack. George’s is about money and power. Not loyalty or respect. Not like here.”
“Sounds like he valued the wrong things in a pack,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
“Exactly. When we started dating, he never missed an opportunity to boast about being wealthy and that he was a British Columbian wolf, that his was the most prestigious breed. When I got pregnant and we found out it was a boy, he wasn’t excited about having a son but that we’d have an addition to the gene pool because of his genetics.” She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t understand why I ever fell for him. He’s nothing to write home about,” she added, rolling her eyes so hard, I thought they might get stuck.
I couldn’t suppress the chuckle. It was so full of life and disdain for her ex. I loved that she was showing such spirit.
“British Columbian wolves are known for their strength,” I said. “Could explain why Roland is so agile and quick.”
“Is that right?” Zoey seemed genuinely curious now. “And what about your wolf?”
At the mention of my wolf, an involuntary rumble vibrated through my chest. It was low, a sound of pride and acknowledgment.
Zoey’s brows flew up, surprise etched across her features. “Did... did your wolf just?—”
“Sorry about that,” I said, a sheepish grin spreading across my face. “He tends to get a bit full of himself when he’s the center of attention.”
To my relief, Zoey let out a giggle. The sound did wonders for the tight knot of nerves in my stomach. Hearing her laugh felt better than winning a championship match.
