he Alpha Men's Secret Club 2(13)

Yes, you can, she told herself, her heart beating fast.

“Relax,” he laughed. “I can’t gift them to you. They’re not mine. They’re my mother’s. But I can loan them to you for the night. You’ll look beautiful in them.”

Oh. Her disappointment was palpable in the mirror, even though she tried to put on a brave face.

He saw her expression as he clipped the earrings on her, but did not say anything. They were phenomenally beautiful on her ears. She looked like a princess – albeit a very modern, slutty one. The expression in his eyes was unreadable, as though he had something he wished to say, and yet he knew he would regret saying it.

She knew it was coming . . . the talk. Now, Kate, what we have is nice and all that . . . but that’s what it is. There’s no ‘me and you’. We are not a couple. Our relationship is strictly genital.

But he didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go,” he said, more abruptly than he had done all night.

She should know better than to set herself up for disappointment. Now you’ve done it, she scolded herself. Now you’ve puffed yourself up into a balloon and let yourself get pricked.

They went down to the lobby of his apartment building. The mood between them was a little more sober.

The doorman brightened when he saw them.

“Good evening, Mr. O’Brien,” he said, nodding. “Ms Penney, you look beautiful.” He sounded as though he fervently meant it.

“Yes, she does, doesn’t she?” Rust said, a little more amiably. His tone was admiring, even, and she stole a glance at him. His face was a composed mask and as unreadable as always.

Oh, well.

She wished her emotions weren’t such a yoyo where Rust was concerned.

“Shall I bring the BMW around, Mr. O’Brien?”

“No, we’ll take the McLaren.”

He had a McLaren too? She felt faint. He couldn’t possibly afford on this on a Professor’s salary. He had to come from old money, especially since his mother owns things like that pair of diamond earrings.

The doorman drove the McLaren to the front, and Rust opened the passenger door for her.

“After you,” he said courteously.

They were back to normal, playing emotional cat and mouse. Everything was all right again. Or not, depending on her perspective at a certain time of day.

She stepped into the car, and he closed the door behind her, putting the lid on all her bottled hopes, fears and insecurities.





8



The restaurant Rust was taking her to was situated a little way off, and so it took thirty minutes to get there. But once they were there, she was confronted with a guardhouse and a barricade at the entrance to the parking lot.

Where the heck were they going? The White House?

Rust winded down the window of the McLaren as the guard came around.

“Password, please,” the guard said.

“Amscray.”

The guard signaled someone in the guardhouse and the barricade was lifted. Ah, so this was one of those secret alpha men’s places.

“Are there a lot of these places around here?” she asked quizzically.

“There are some.”

“There are still so many shifters?”

“Not enough, Kate. Not enough. We are a dying breed.” His face was obscured by the shadows as he drove them to an empty spot between a Jaguar and a Toyota. So the clientele was mixed here in terms of possession riches.

He came around to open the door for her, and he gave her his hand to help her out. She could almost forget that he was her Professor.

The restaurant was a double-storey building which extended a good way back. It was made of red brick, like the six foot walls which fringed its compound. The owner obviously intended to make this a very private establishment, much like the Alpha Men’s Club.

A maitre d’ greeted them at the doors. “Welcome, Mr. O’Brien. Haven’t seen you here for a long, long time.”

“Yes. It’s been entirely too long.”

“We have your table reserved.” The maitre d’ gestured inside. His eyes roamed to her breasts appreciatively. “This way, please.”

Unlike other restaurants, this one did not lead to a room full of tables and diners and bustling waiters. Instead, the doorway led down a corridor which was flanked by many translucent curtains, which covered many other doorways. There were shadows behind these curtains.

Kate stopped when she saw a werewolf pad towards them. This place was entirely too much like the Alpha Men’s Club. Only it wasn’t a club, and she wasn’t certain what took place behind those curtains.

The werewolf eyed both Rust and her as it walked by, but did not growl or bare its teeth.

“Relax. Not all wolves are Thomas,” Rust said.