Blind Beast Mate (Beast Mates Book 1)(5)

By: Milana Jacks

On step twenty, we stopped. The Alpha Beast sat down with me on his lap. He arranged my legs, then placed them on the bench, and his left hand slapped the table, his upper arm bracing my back.

A hand snuck into my hair and released my hair clip. Just as well, it was hanging by a thread since the ride anyhow.

My long, brown curls draped over his arm.

He did something, maybe brought it to his nose, because he said, “Smells like heaven.”

I smiled.

“Don’t gimme that fake smile. I’ve seen you give a plant a more sincere smile. You don’t wanna be here, do you?”

No sense in lying. I was so nervous. My palms sweated, and with his superior senses, he might even be able to smell my fear. “Where is here?” I asked.

“The beast compound. Our sanctuary, if you will.”

“I see. It’s not that I don’t want to be here,” I clarified, “just not tonight. Maybe in a few nights, when I’ve found my way around…the city.”

“I don’t want to be here no more than you do, but I got to show face.” He rearranged me on his lap. I felt him grow. He didn’t hide it. He moved me over his erection. “Baby, I’m gonna try to be nice tonight. You looking forward to it? I bet you are. I bet that’s why you wanna go home, to get to know your beast. I bet you’re wondering how big I am, if it’s gonna fit into your tight pussy. Are you wondering?”

“Yes,” I muttered on a mission not to lie. How big was a monster cock?

“Let me tell ya, I’ll make it fit.”

Oh. How comforting. As comforting as my mother’s promises of one last drink. I shuddered.

He bit my earlobe. “I will not fuck you. I will mount you like a beast male mounts a beast bitch in heat, you hear me? I’ve never wanted a woman more in my entire life, so get used to it. The sooner you do, the better it’ll be for you.”

I cleared my throat. “Maybe in a few days after I make you dinner first. I’m an excellent cook, and we’d get to know each other before—”

“Got ribs, burgers, chicken right here. You hungry?”

“I didn’t mean right now, but—”

“Got a cake coming. You’ll have some. What do you say?”

“Yes, Alpha Beast.”

“Jamie, my name is Jamie.”

Jamie. Such a sweet name. It didn’t fit.

As the crowds came to congratulate us on our pairing, Jamie grunted along. And while he happily grunted and hit his chest at least twice, I tried to match everyone’s names with their voices. It was difficult. Most beast men’s voices were identically hoarse, sort of like they’d chain-smoked all their lives. Only four beast women approached, so they were easier to tell apart. I worked though my new family, the feel of their hands and the brush of women’s soft skin on mine when they kissed my cheeks. I identified at least three Southern beasts by their accents.

Minutes passed, and nobody else came. I guessed we were done with congratulations. Sighted people didn’t tap tables with their hands; they looked to see if there was something there. I didn’t want to spill anything. I removed my backpack and placed it on the table. When glasses didn’t crash, I dug inside for my sunglasses. For one, the strobe lights on the roof of the compound shone brightly over the backyard, and two, people expected eye contact. Even if I was shy—and I wasn’t—I’d have to make some eye contact. I’d been avoiding his for most of the night.

Sunglasses worn at night weren’t an unusual sight, so I slid them on.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” a woman said. “I run the bar around here.”

“Rey,” I said and followed her voice with a smile. I tied my backpack, busied my hands in case she extended one of hers.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, please, I’ll have whatever Jamie’s having.”

“Jamie, is it?” she said.

Hm. “It is.”

A man sat next to us. His pants—presumably black jeans—brushed the tips of my sandals. “Be on your way,” the twenty-dollar-bet man said, “and come back with something hard for me.”

Now I knew Karen either wasn’t anyone’s pair or she was this man’s pair. I put my dollar on the former. I’d been around enough to know. My mother hustled in a man’s world, after all.

“Vice,” the man said.

He might be introducing himself to me. Oh God, help me. “Vice for vice president?” I asked and stretched out my hand. This was better than him extending his, because I knew where my hand was.

“Vice for wicked.” Soft lips touched the top of my hand, and I exhaled in relief. He was introducing himself. Under my sunglasses, I blinked at his elegant gesture and didn’t withdraw from his soft grip. I wondered if he wore tailored pants. The beasts came in all shapes and sizes. This one might wear nice clothes. A gentleman. Under my fingertips, Vice’s skin was smooth, and I thought I might be right on track with the suit thing.

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