Page 94 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

“Oh, Clarissa, you have nothing to apologize for.” Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles. “I should have asked you more questions. I should have told you the truth sooner.”

“You’re not in the mafia.” She sniffled.

“No, I’m not.” He laughed.

“You’re a werewolf,” she said.

He stopped laughing.

“I saw you turn into a, well, it sort of looked like a wolf. And then you were there that night, and it was a full moon. You attacked the men who took me.”

“Yes, I was there, but I’m not a werewolf. I’m a shape shifter. While both can change shape into a wolf, weres are very rare, and they have no control over the change or themselves when they phase. Shifters learn control of their inner animals and maintain their consciousness after the phase. I’m still me when I do it. Not a werewolf.”

“A shape shifter?” she asked. “When you looked at me on the lawn, your eyes weren’t yours anymore. They were yellow, like when Alister attacked me in the parking lot.”

“Alister?”

“The blonde man from The Barrel parking lot. When he attacked me, his eyes turned yellow, and then you had the same eyes.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You weren’t afraid of me shifting into a giant wolfman, you were afraid because my eyes changed?”

“I was scared you weren’t you anymore.”

She whimpered and Tom kissed her hand. “I’m still me when my wolf comes out.”

“You didn’t look like a wolf though. How does that work? Are there other animals? I thought I saw an oversized bobcat.”

“We shift into larger, humanoid versions of our animals. I can walk on my back legs and my front paws are dexterous, more like hands. And you did see an oversized bobcat. That was the shifter pack from Louisiana.”

Opening her mouth to ask more, he cut her off. “Tell you what. I’ll answer all of your questions if you eat.”

She picked at her food, fork clumsy in her left hand. He took it from her. Lifting her plate, he brought a fork full of eggs to her lips.

“Eat and I’ll answer your questions,” he said.

She took the eggs and chewed.

“You’re Alpha,” she said.

“That’s not a question, and I’m not a fan of that term.”

“Okay, why don’t you like being called Alpha?” She took the second bite.

“A lot of Alphas are buried in traditions. Traditions that aren’t very nice. They also have a superiority complex and treat those around them like commodities or tools rather than individuals. They’re bullies, not leaders.”

“If that’s how you feel, why are you Alpha?” she asked.

“I didn’t really have a choice. My dad was Alpha, and his dad was before him. It’s a lineage thing. When my dad retired … Well, he was injured and became paralyzed. He can still shift but can’t walk or fight, so he stepped down.

“It came to me or one of my siblings. Maria was a newlywed and wanted kids; James hates Fairville and had moved to Kansas City before the accident. I’m the oldest anyways, so it fell to me,” he said.

“I see,” she said. “You still don’t like being Alpha though, do you?”

“The job comes with a certain level of responsibility and expectations, and zero privacy. I have rules on how I’m supposed to act, who I’m supposed to mate, who I’m not. It’s hard not to feel bitter when your life isn’t your own anymore. I never wanted this, everyone looking up to me, expecting me to have the answers.”

“Isn’t there anything that makes it better?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “A few things, since I met a certain waitress. She made me feel like me again. Taught me that I’m allowed some happiness for myself while taking care of my family.”