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CHAPTER 8 – THEORY

Hazel

I whip my head in the direction of the sound and see someone I wasn’t expecting to see again soon.

Alpha O’Brien.

Only, he now looks terrifying with his fangs and claws out, he looks exactly like the werewolf monsters from the horror movies.

The three men reply with growls of their own, then they turn into huge furry wolves right under my eyes. They were werewolves too; I never stood a chance against them.

Before I can make another coherent thought, the Alpha runs past me and at the wolves. His speed is incredible, and although their struggle is terrifying, I can’t not appreciate the strength and elegance he puts in each blow and move.

In no time, he has the mongrels running for their life, and although it is no secret that Alphas are strong, it still amazes me how superior they are compared to their fellow specimens.

“Are you alright?” he asks concerned, coming to stand in front of me.

His fangs and claws have disappeared, and he’s back to being his normal self, although his face and shirt are smeared with blood; I wonder if it’s the product of the blows he’s inflicted, or if he’s sustained some injury himself.

I nod my head yes. “Thank you, for helping me. Are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replies smiling, and I wonder what he has to smile for; he’s just come out of a fight to the death!

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

“I was following you from a distance, I was worried something like this would happen.”

A black sleek car with tinted windows approaches us, and the driver immediately gets out and opens the backseat car’s door.

“Alpha,” he says, lowering his head in respect.

The Alpha motions for me to get in first, and I ponder what to do for a second.

“Do you seriously want to try your luck again? I am in for some more work out, if you prefer this option,” he says jokingly, rounding his shoulders.

Looks like, either way, I won’t be rid of him easily, so I guess I’d better chose the most comfortable option.

I get in the rear, secretly hoping that the Alpha would sit shotgun, but of course he comes to sit next to me.

The driver hands Alpha O’Brien a clean shirt and some wet wipes, before he gets in the driver’s seat and immediately drives off.

The Alpha cleans his face from the blood with one of the wipes, then shrugs his suit jacket off and places it beside him. Next, he starts unbuttoning his white shirt, and soon that one reaches the dirty clothes pile too.

I know I shouldn’t be staring, or drooling, but God, he’s made to perfection. Every and each of his muscles are well defined, on his shoulders, arms, chest and abdomen, I bet even on his back. I long to trail my fingers through their ridges, try how they’ll feel under my fingertips.

He starts wiping his chest, and the car’s temperature just gets a little hotter.

“Wanna help?” he asks me with a smirk, and I bet my face is now as red as a tomato.

I hurriedly look the other way, unwillingly taking my eyes off that heavenly sight, and he chuckles, making me feel even more embarrassed, and a little annoyed too.

The car stops at one point and when I turn around, I see that the Alpha is still topless.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” I asked him in disbelief.

“I wanted to let you enjoy the view some more, plus, I don’t really mind.”

Is he making fun of me? This jerk!

“No need to get worked up, it’s the bond, you just can’t help it,” he says, in an annoyingly condescending way.

I am not his mate! How many times do I have to tell him, before it sinks in that thick brain of his!

“There is no bond, because I am…”

“Human, I know, you said that already. But I think that, maybe, you might not know yourself as well as you think. Mates’ scents can’t be mistaken, and your scent doesn’t feel human to me.”

“What are you implying?”

“That you might be a werewolf without actually knowing it.”

I erupt in a fit of laughter, without intending to, but his statement is just hilarious; his delusion has no limits.

“Yeah, very unlikely,” I comment.

“Maybe, but I have my theory,” he states, with a glint in his eyes.

“And what is it?”

“Now, I can’t spill all of my secrets, can I?” he says with a wink and a sexy smirk.

By this time, he was already dressed, and getting out of the car. I follow him out, and I notice that we are parked in front of one of the most luxurious restaurants in the city.

“Don’t say no. I’ve just saved your life; you owe me at least one lunch.”

And I can’t really argue with that.

“I guess I kind of do owe you,” I concede.

He answers with a dazzling victorious smile that sends me head over heels, and with my heart thumping 100 km per hour.

“Ladies first.” He motions for me to go in first, and he follows closely behind me, and when I say close, I mean really close, like nearly touching close. This werewolf has no sense of personal space.

We spend our lunch chatting and eating, and I have to admit that it isn’t so bad, or better, he isn’t so bad. When he’s not bossing people around like the Alpha of the henhouse or trying to bite me and claim me as his mate, he’s actually a pleasant person to be around. And I find myself softening a little, putting my guard down just enough for him to see some of the real me.

“So, about this theory of yours, would you mind sharing?” I ask, faking mild interest.

His smirk immediately tells me that he’s not going to share, or that he’s going to make it really hard for me.

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