“Yes.” She sagged in relief. “That's not all of it. But it's a part.”
“Good. Now,” he said, his voice becoming, for the first time in their acquaintance, almost angry. “I'd like to know why you keep calling me 'beta.'”
She looked down. To her astonishment, she suddenly felt ashamed. And you should, her conscience nagged her. This man has given you nothing but kindness and understanding. And you insult him at every opportunity. “It's not important.”
“Really? I'm not stupid, you know, Laura. I know what beta means. Why don't you just admit it?”
“Fine,” she snarled, part of her hating herself. “You're a beta male. Second-best. A weakling. A failure in natural selection. In my world, you'd be on the fringes, reduced to eating carrion to survive. You'd never have the chance to mate. Most li
