Chapter 109

Ava

Goddess, the last thing I wanted to do was spend more than three seconds with that awful man—and even three seconds was too much.

But my years growing up and living in the werewolf world had made it nearly impossible for me to be impolite to people, especially my elders. And so, no matter how much it made the hairs raise on the back of my neck, I threw George a polite smile.

“Sure,” I said. “So long as you’re paying.”

I felt Chris’s arm tighten around me. Ophelia, who had gone silent and as red as a tomato, continued to look away with a clenched jaw. But George simply grinned and began leading the way to the bar.

As we walked over to the bar, Chris leaned close and murmured, “You know you don’t need to be polite to him. He’s a jackass.”

I shrugged. “Just because he’s a jackass doesn’t mean that I need to be one as well.”

“Fair enough.”

We took our seats at the bar, with Ophelia taking care to extricate herself from George’s grasp. I felt her sidle up next to me, and I gave her hand an apologetic squeeze. She merely smirked at me in return.

“Shots?” George asked. Before any of us could even answer, he held up four fingers to the bartender. “Four shots of whiskey. None of that cheap crap. You know what, just give me your most expensive bottle and four shot glasses. What are you waiting for? Make it snappy!”

As the bartender scurried to take George’s order, he turned to us, leaning one elbow on the bar. I felt his eyes wander over both me and Ophelia, and I felt her bristle behind me. Even Princess growled.

“Big spender, huh?” I asked, carefully angling myself so he couldn’t get a good view of my friend’s breasts. “They must be paying you well at Coca-Cola.”

“Yes, well…” George waved a hand and stuck the thumb of his other hand into his belt. “I can’t let the two most beautiful ladies I know go around drinking swill.” He paused then, pouring the whiskey into the shot glasses as he did. “What do you drink over there in… What’s your pack called again? Moonpebble?”

“Moonstone,” Chris corrected through his teeth.

I exchanged an annoyed glance with Ophelia before answering. “I actually make my own wine. But we do import plenty of alcohol.”

“I see. Didn’t take you for a winemaker. Do you stomp on the grapes with your bare feet, too?”

“I do, actually.”

George guffawed. “Even better,” he said, causing me to blanch in disgust. “Actually, I was just going to ask Chris here if you’d consider a partnership with Coke at some point. Why not import some of our delicious sodas, too? Surely even werewolves enjoy a good pop.”

Before I could answer, Chris downed his shot and slammed his glass back on the bar. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” George asked, already refilling Chris’s glass without missing a beat.

Chris snorted. “Sorry, George, but that stuff is horrible for you. I highly doubt that werewolves would even like the taste of all the sugar and additives, and besides… As Alpha, it’s my job to keep my people safe and healthy. I’d like to avoid importing junk whenever I can.”

“And yet alcohol is alright?” George asked with a chuckle, raising his glass. Ophelia and I did the same, taking our shots. I winced at the burning sensation—whiskey was whiskey, as I had learned. No matter how cheap or expensive, it always made my throat feel like it was on fire.

A silence passed between us after that as George refilled our glasses again. Chris was practically vibrating with annoyance beside me, and I gave his leg a nudge beneath the bar. His green eyes snapped to mine and instantly softened upon meeting my gaze.

“So,” George said, sliding our glasses back to us, “Ava… What is your title now that Chris is the official Alpha? I’m afraid I don’t know much about your… culture.”

“Acting Luna,” I replied quickly. When he didn’t seem to understand, I quickly explained, “The Luna is the counterpart of the Alpha—typically the Alpha’s wife, girlfriend, partner, whatever.”

George raised an eyebrow at me. “But acting would imply that it’s a temporary position, no?” he asked. “Does that mean you’ll have to give up your boyfriend when another woman comes along?”

I felt my fingers tighten around my glass of their own accord. Blinking, I stared down at the amber liquid inside. My mind grappled with various biting retorts—but before I could voice any of them, Ophelia was standing and shoving Princess into my arms.

I didn’t expect what happened next. Suddenly, as Ophelia was walking toward George with her glass in her hand, she lurched forward—her foot ‘catching’ on the hem of her dress. Her glass spilled forward, and…

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried out as dark, sticky liquid spilled right across George’s fancy boots.

George practically leapt up out of his seat, stumbling backwards in shock. “Dammit!” he cursed aloud, dancing from foot to foot. Ophelia, however, didn’t miss a beat. She merely grabbed one of the white cloth napkins from the bar and handed it to him between two fingers.

“I do terribly apologize, darling,” she cooed. “I’m afraid I tripped. Silly me.”

“Don’t darling me—” George stopped himself, his race reddening beneath Ophelia’s biting glare. “It’s alright,” he finally continued through gritted teeth. “They’re just my prized snakeskin boots, that’s all…”

“Terribly sorry… What a tragedy,” Ophelia said, already looping one arm through mine and the other through Chris’s. “But I’m afraid we must go… Ta-ta, darling!”

As Ophelia hurried away with us, I looked up to see her lips pressed firmly together in an attempt to suppress her laughter. Even Chris’s face was turning a bright shade of red as he held in his own. I could barely keep my giggle from escaping at the sound of George whining and moaning in the background over his snakeskin boots.

Only once we burst out of the reception hall and into the cool night air did we finally let it out. The three of us were practically doubled over in laughter, with Chris clutching the marble wall to keep himself from falling down the steps. Princess wagged her tiny tail in my arms, Ophelia gripping one of my shoulders and dabbing at the tears streaming down her cheeks with a gloved finger.

“Oh, he deserved that,” Ophelia managed between gasps of air. “What a jackass. Truly.”

“The biggest,” Chris snorted.

Once we finally caught our breath, Ophelia pushed a loose blonde curl out of her face and took her dog back. She turned on us then, her voice lowering and her face taking on a more serious look.

“But I know it’s true,” she whispered, gripping my hand. “About your relationship over there. About the… implications.”

I swallowed, glancing over at Chris. “How do you—”

“I know enough about the werewolf world to get by,” she said. “And I know that you’ll have a hell of a time convincing your people to go along with your relationship—for multiple reasons.”

My shoulders slumped. It was true, of course. Ophelia was right on the nose with that one.

“Listen.” She straightened, sticking her chin out a bit. “Whatever you two might need to help get through this, I’m here for you. Just say the word, and I’ll do my best to help; no matter how big or small.”

My eyes widened. “Ophelia, I…” Glancing over at Chris, I could see the dumbfounded look in his own eyes as well. Words failed me at that moment; so instead, I threw my arms around Ophelia and hugged her tightly, practically crushing her poor little dog between us in the meantime. “Thank you.”

Ophelia chuckled, smoothing her hand over my hair as she pulled away. “It’s the least I can do, darling. In exchange, you can just share your home with me when I come to visit.”

I nodded hastily. I doubted there was much she could actually do, but… her kindness was enough to make my heart feel like it was on fire. “Of course. No question about it.”

With that, Ophelia said her goodbyes. Chris and I watched as she gracefully strode down the red carpet to her waiting car—the crowd had long since dwindled into a vague smattering of only the most loyal fans, allowing the clicking of her heels to echo the entire way.

Once she was gone, I turned to Chris. His jaw was set hard, his eyes fixed on the tips of his shoes. I felt my heart soften when I saw him.

“Hey,” I said, turning to face him. “What’s on your mind?”