Page 3 of Rejected By the Alpha

Pavel walked up to the counter. “Guy was an asshole.”

I hummed in response and smiled at a guy sitting in a booth at the corner.

Ah, alphaholes. How much should I bet that this guy was one? All the hot guys were.

A girl snuggled up into the crook of his arm, but his eyes didn’t leave mine once. They were an odd color, almost a mixture between brown and gold. I sucked in a breath when they turned all gold for a moment, then pulled my gaze away.

Heat coursed through my body, and I discreetly tried to press my thighs together.

Get it together, Ember! No alphaholes, remember?

“Jared who?” I teased Pavel. “Don’t remember him at all.”

Pavel rolled his eyes, staring up at the menu behind the counter. I rocked back and forth on my heels, feeling eyes on my body, and peeked back at that handsome guy, really getting a good look at him this time.

Muscles, a head of thick dark-brown hair, tattoos, muscles, a jaw chiseled like a god, full lips that I’d bet would feel so good on my skin, and look at that … more muscles.

Yep, he definitely is an alphahole. I could tell just by his looks.

Hated their personalities, but, God, did I love to fuck them.

To keep my distance, because I didn’t need any boys in my life right now—we’d moved to this town for a reason—I turned back to the menu and looked up at it, gaze wandering around the different types of drinks.

“You know there’s a difference between liking an alphahole and sleeping with one,” I said, knowing that Pavel really wouldn’t enjoy thinking about his own sister sleeping with anyone. If he wanted to get under my skin, I could get under his too.

A sudden growl erupted through the café, and I snapped my head in the direction of the sound, staring right at the table of mostly guys—and that alphahole. What was that? It sounded like a wolf.

Nobody said a word, the group completely silent and emotionless, except one girl who was beaming with excitement at the guy across from her. But that man’s eyes … they were burning into me now. Glaring.

Yep, alphahole, being all dramatic for no reason. Drama queens.

Pavel cleared his throat, his nose scrunched. “Ew.”

“Are you both ready to order?” the cashier asked, smiling at me.

“Yeah, I’ll just get a coffee,” Pavel said, reaching into his pocket to pick out his buzzing phone. He peered down at it, brows furrowing, then placed it to his ear and headed to the door. “I gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”

“And for you, miss?” the cashier asked.

I placed my hands on the counter and leaned forward. “What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” he asked, nervously scratching the back of his neck and peering between me and the menu behind him. He was a cutie—scrawny but cute. I really, really should go for someone like him. “You should try the⁠—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the alphahole—or shall I call him the drama queen?—was at my side, staring up at the menu behind the cashier, arms crossed and jaw clenched. “The Caramel Craze. You should get the Caramel Craze.”

My lips curled into a small smirk, and I craned my head up at him. “Why?”

He peered down at me, still pissed for some reason. “You wanted a drink suggestion. You got one. Get her a Caramel Craze.”

After arching a brow at him, I turned back to the cashier. “Actually, I’ll have a black tea.”

The girl, who had been beaming at Mr. Drama Queen before, snickered loudly at the table.

He turned around, nostrils flared. “Shut up, Hazel.”

“Excuse me,” I said, crossing my arms and poking my finger into his hard chest. “If you could shut your mouth instead of telling an innocent girl—who wasn’t even talking—to be quiet, that would be great. Some people are trying to order.”

The cashier cleared his throat. “I-is that all?”