Westin grinned. “For extra seating, of course.”
“Who the hell let this degenerate in here?” a booming voice with a thick Irish accent called out from the bar. I stiffened, ready to jump in front of Westin if needed, but she just grabbed my hand and dragged me forward.
“Cillian!” she said, leaning over the bar top. The lamplight illuminated a large alpha with silver hair and a wild beard.
“Haven’t seen you in years,” the alpha grunted. “I guess you’re old enough now I don’t have to pretend to find your fake ID believable.”
“It was a great fake,” Westin said indignantly.
“It was made of cardboard,” Cillian said dryly.
Westin just shrugged, unbothered. I liked seeing this vibrant, playful side of her.
“Who’s the suit?” Cillian asked, turning his attention to me and giving me a once-over that left me with the distinct feeling that he was unimpressed.
“This is Henry,” Westin said. “We’re on a date.”
“Really? This guy?” he asked, turning back to Westin, who rolled her eyes.
“Be nice, Cillian. You’d rather me bring some alpha in here?”
“Fuck no,” the bar owner said as he looked back at me.
“We were supposed to eat at Stella del Nord,” Westin started to say before Cillian cut her off with a snort.
“Fucking assholes with mediocre food.” He fixed me with another glare, as if knowing I had chosen the spot.
“Well, we know now,” Westin said, hopping up on one of the bar stools. The slit of her dress parted, and I was mesmerized by the long, creamy expanse of her thighs. I tore my eyes away before my semi turned into a full-on erection. Cillian’s smirk told me he’d noticed where my mind went.
I stood behind Westin’s chair and draped my arm over her shoulder, hoping she would be okay with the contact. She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder in a way that made everything feel right with the world.
“So anyway, we need food,” she said, turning back to me. “What are you in the mood for? Unless things here have changed, your choices are fish and chips or a hot dog.”
“Fish and chips, I guess,” I cringed internally at what a shitty dinner I was providing my date, but Westin looked more relaxed and happy than I’d ever seen her. Westin ordered a hot dog and Cillian gave me another dirty look before going back to the kitchen.
I sat down on the bar stool next to Westin, angling the seat towards her. I stroked my hand down her arm, my thumb rubbing circles against her soft skin.
“So, tell me about your life,” Westin said.
“Umm…” My mind went blank and I couldn’t remember a single fact about myself. I wracked my brain, trying to find something interesting to share. “Not a whole lot to tell. I grew up in Sol with my mom and dad. My dad’s a lawyer, so that’s how I got into law, and my mom’s a surgeon. I have a sister who’s an architect and is about to get married. I got into human rights law while in school, and when this job offer came up, it seemed like a good opportunity.”
“Are all your family members betas?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Yeah. I think we might have had an alpha a few generations back, but pretty much all betas. I’m still learning about the insand outs of designations, but pack life has always fascinated me. One of my best friends revealed as an alpha when we were teens and he’s bonded with two other alphas and an omega. I had a happy childhood, but my parents were busy with their careers, and my sister had her own life going. Pack life seems less lonely.”
Westin hummed.
“What about you? All omegas in your family?”
“Pretty much,” Westin said with a slight huff. “My grandparents died when I was a baby, so I never got to meet them, but my grandma was an omega, and of course my mom and my aunt. My mom was bonded to my two dads—an alpha and a beta.”
My heart rate picked up. If her mom was bonded to a beta, maybe she would be open to the idea of having a beta in her own pack. I knew I was getting way too fucking ahead of myself, but I couldn’t stop the images of our life together with a pack flashing before my eyes.
“Are you close with your family?” I asked gently, knowing I was treading on a sensitive topic.
“My parents died in a car crash when I was eight,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry, darling,” I murmured, taking her hand and interlacing her fingers with mine. Westin took a deep breath, the sadness clear in her eyes, before blinking away the emotion and smiling.
