Fated To The Alpha Prince

2

I didn’t blurt out what I was thinking. Instead, I took the safe route. “I don’t know. I’ll wait to see what the test says and go from there.”

Fate didn’t force me to wait long. My phone chirped a few hours later with a text that let me know the results were ready. I didn’t open the email, though. My fear and anxiety spiked as soon as I saw the message.

I called Abi to let her know and see if she could come over. She was, of course, beyond excited about it and was at my place in less than twenty minutes.

I had my laptop open, the email link to the test ready. Abi walked in and pointed to the screen. “All right, sister, let’s see it.”

I took a breath and opened the link. The first couple of pages explained what the company had done and also assured me that my DNA wouldn’t be shared or sold to outside companies. Finally, I pulled up the page with possible genetic markers for disease. Thankfully, there were none, except a negligible chance of developing irritable bowel syndrome at some point. Ugh, pleasant reading.

The next page brought up possible DNA matches. It was the one I was most excited and nervous to see. But the results were less than enlightening.

“Seriously?” Abi said, sounding dejected.

The only match was for some guy who’d lived nearly three hundred years ago. I didn’t even know how they had any DNA from the guy to match me, but there it was. I leaned back, sighing in both relief and disappointment.

“I had like thirty different people matched to me,” Abi said. “Most were distant, though. I can’t believe you only have one. That’s crazy.”

“Yeah. Oh, well. We can’t all have slave-owning rapists in our family tree,” I said, nudging her.

“Hey, don’t be an asshole. You can’t choose your ancestors.”

“Right. Let’s go, we need to get the bar ready.”

It was another Friday night, and my mind rested a little easier than it had the last few weeks. It was a relief to know I didn’t have to make some big life-altering decision to contact a stranger and let them know I was their daughter. For the first time in weeks, I was able to enjoy my job without that weighing on me.

It was another busy night, and I was helping tend the bar because our normal two bartenders were having trouble keeping up. It was good for me, though. It kept me knowledgeable about cocktails and wine. It was difficult owning a bar without being in the know.

I was handing a couple of college kids some beers when Abi nudged me and nodded toward the door. “We got a crew of shifters coming in.”

I glanced up and saw the guys she was talking about. You could always tell the shifters from the humans. There was…something about them. I couldn’t even describe it, but it was obvious. I wasn’t a bigot like some people. I’d never had any trouble from shifters and they were welcome at my place. All they wanted was some good bar food and good booze—both of which I could provide.

I nodded. “Yep, I see them,” I said.

The guys, about a half dozen of them, made their way across the bar to an open table near the jukebox. One of them glanced in my direction and made eye contact. I forced myself not to roll my eyes. His face changed when he saw me, and then he changed course to come to the bar. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’d been hit on in the years I’d owned the place. I was well-acquainted with the look he was giving me.

He bellied up and nodded to me. “Hey. Can I get a beer?”

At least he hadn’t led with a pick-up line. I nodded. “Sure, what kind?”

He shrugged and gave an easy smile. “Whatever you recommend. You’re the professional.”

“Fair enough,” I said, turning back to the line of beer taps. I’d made sure to have a cool and eclectic selection of beers when I opened the bar. I had almost two dozen options. I went right for my favorite: a micro-brew made by a couple friends of mine a few towns over. It had hints of orange and wasn’t too hoppy. I slid the glass across the bar to him but held it back just out of reach. “I’ll need to have your ID.”

He grinned. “Yeah, sorry.” He pulled it out and slid the license toward me. I checked the birth date, even though the guy was obviously over twenty-one, and slid the ID back. I pushed the beer the last foot over to him.

He caught it and took a sip. He furrowed his brows and looked at the glass. “That’s really good. Nice choice.”

I had a hard time not succumbing to his charm. He was cute and had a great smile, but I knew how these things usually went. I only nodded and took a couple of orders from some people beside him. Once I was free again, he waved me back over.

“Another round?” I asked.

He shook his head. “How long have you lived here?”

“Sorry, big guy, no personal info. I can do alcohol and maybe some hot wings from the kitchen if you want to ask for some of that.”

He looked back across the room to his friends, who were all watching us. Most had their eyes on me. I wondered if he’d made a bet with his buddies on whether he’d be able to get my number. Turning back, he nodded at his glass. “Okay, house rules. I get it. I’ll take another.”

I filled another glass for him, and he went back to the table with his friends. I glanced over and they all seemed to be in deep discussion. Some of them looked pissed. I figured they were having a guys’ quarrel. As long as it didn’t escalate into shouting and fists, they were free to do as they pleased.