The Alpha's True Mate

Aisha "Here you go, Ricky," I slide over the cold glass of tap beer to the dark-haired man sitting at the end of the bar. He grabs it neatly before lifting it and chugging half the glass down. I'm no longer impressed by Ricky's ability to guzzle any alcohol at the speed of light. He's been a regular at the Silver Brawl bar for six months now. The man barely strikes up a conversation, but if you get him started on his ex-wife, he'll eat your ear for hours. I was still a rookie when I started out here, and my first mistake was asking him if he was okay. The man kept talking for an hour and a half straight about the nasty divorce his b***h of a wife was putting him through and how she didn't deserve any of his money. With a mouth like that, it was no reason his wife was leaving him. His temper was a close second reason in my book. "Are you ready, y'all?!" The loud voice from the speaker makes me wince, and I look over in the direction of the band about to start playing on stage. The Blue Boyz is a popular band in this bar. The lead singer is the bar owner's son's friend. Maybe that's why their trashy sounds are so in demand at this sleazy little bar. Or maybe it's because, after two drinks, more than half the patrons of this place become tone-deaf. Bond, the lead singer of the Blue Boyz, glances my way and winks at me when he catches me watching him. A shiver of revulsion crawls down my spine. When I first met Bond, with his golden hair and deep blue eyes, he seemed charming and approachable. It took me an hour to reverse my opinion of him. He is the sleaziest person in this place. As the band breaks into music, Bond's vocals banging against my sensitive ears, I have to fight the urge to whimper. Bars that cater to supernatural beings like me usually have low soothing music in the background, if even that. For a wolf shifter like myself, this loud music is painful. I forgot my earplugs today, so it's worse than usual. "Hey, pretty lady," a man grins at me, sliding onto the stool. "Hey, Derek," I set down the glass I was about to wipe. "Where's Sheila?" "Broke up with me," Derek gives me a rueful look. "Again." I raise a brow at him, "Did you propose?" "I did," Derek reaches into his pocket and takes out a small ring box, "but she didn't think it was expensive enough." I press my lips together, "Well." He opens the box for me to see a pretty diamond ring, and I give him a small smile, "It's beautiful. She's making a mistake." "Maybe it's me," Derek sighs. "Maybe I'm just not good enough." I grab a beer from the refrigerator and open it, put it before him, my voice firm, "Or maybe your girlfriend is a gold-digging b***h?" "Oh, she is," Derek says simply. "It's why I fell for her. The bitchiness was just icing on the cake." I stare at him, "Did you ever consider selling this ring and paying for therapy instead?" Derek grins at me, "I have you, don't I? What would I do with a therapist?" "My bad," I say dryly. Derek takes a chug of his beer, "How's Harry?" "He's doing okay. Maddie is watching him. I offered to pay her, but I guess she likes having someone young around, and he helps her out after I drop him there, so she's happy as well." Derek sets his chin on the palm of his hand, "We should all have dinner someday. The weather is nice. We should have a picnic." "In February?" I stare at him. "You okay? It's still snowing every other day. And we have exams till Friday, and the next semester starts on Monday." "Oh, yeah," Derek makes a face. "Exams." My brows nearly disappear into my hairline, "That's the part you want to focus on?" "How is your prep for the Principals of Accounting? Do you think you could tutor me after class tomorrow? I still don't understand Chapter Seven of the book. I can't get the numbers down." "No," I say shortly. "I have to pick Harry up from school and make lunch for him, and then I have my night shift here, so I have to catch some shut-eye. Ask Irene. She's been tutoring some others. But she's charging a hefty fee." Derek drains his beer, "I can't afford to fail this course again." He gives me the side eye, "Not that you ever have to worry about it, Miss-Straight-As." "b***h all you want, Derek," I tell him, nodding at one of the kitchen hands who's brought out a glass of glasses fresh from the dishwasher. "Not all of us have rich Daddies who'll put us through college and rent a nice penthouse for us." "Bitter much?" Derek points his empty beer bottle at me. My lips twitch, "Always." He grins back at me. There's nothing malicious in our conversation. Derek was my first friend when I moved here from Jacksonville to Portland. Harry and I had been sleeping in the local shelter when I had gone to Red Rock College to register myself, having already received my scholarship while in Jacksonville. It had been Derek who had helped me off my feet, getting me some job interviews and getting me in touch with some landlords who could let me rent at dirt-cheap prices. It's been close to a year now, and we've been fast friends since. "So, about that picnic," Derek begins. "No," I cut him off. "You know I only get one day off from here. I have to spend it cramming the whole week's courses in that time." Derek gives me a wan look, "Once we graduate, we should have that dinner we keep putting off." "As long as it's your treat," I wipe down a glass before placing it upside down with the rest of them. Derek holds out his empty bottle to me when a person slides into the seat next to him, "Hey, doll." I stiffen, my smile slipping off, "Bond. What can I get you?"