Page 40 of Alpha Brock
I’m towing a fine line here. I can’t let myself want her, but I can’t help myself either. And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.
“Coffee?” Jared asks, reaching into the cabinet for a fresh mug.
“Mmm, yes please,” Astrid practically moans. This girl and her coffee- it’s like a drug to her.
“And where wereyoulast night?” Brent asks, coming up beside Astrid as Jared pours her coffee. “The bar was wild, you missed out.”
“From what I just heard, I didn’t miss much,” she shrugs. “Other than watching you fail to pick up a girl.” Astrid grins devilishly, sticking out her tongue at him.
“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” Brent grabs her around the waist from behind, lifting her off of her feet easily.
“Brent!” Astrid giggles, wriggling to escape his grasp.
“How’s this for picking up a girl, huh?” Brent laughs, lifting her higher.
She kicks her feet, still giggling. “Put me down!”
Watching them, I suddenly have the urge to tear my brother limb from limb. The mere sight of his hands on Astrid makes my stomach turn.
“Knock it off,” I growl, a little more menacingly than I mean to- earning me curious glances from all three people in the kitchen.
Brent sets Astrid back on her feet, chuckling softly. “Calm down, bro, we’re just playing around.”
“It’s too fucking early for that shit,” I grumble. I stare down into my coffee again because I can feel my wolf close to the surface and I’m sure he’s revealing himself in my eyes. He makes it pretty fucking difficult to conceal what I’m feeling when I’m pissed off.
I draw a few deep breaths, glancing up again as Astrid sweeps her unruly hair out of her face, giving me a strange look as she reaches for her coffee mug. She takes it and steps around the kitchen island, heading for her usual barstool on the other end- and I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach out for her before she can pass by, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her onto my lap in one fluid motion. She makes a startled little yelp, her body stiff as she sets her cup on the surface of the island and adjusts her position on my lap.
I keep one arm looped around her waist and casually reach for my coffee with the other, ignoring the glances that Brent and Jared are exchanging right now. After a few moments, Astrid relaxes back into my chest and picks up her own coffee mug, sipping from it. She must have a calming effect on my wolf, because he’s suddenly content, retreating back into the recesses of my consciousness.
I can tell that Brent wants to say something, but Jared shoots him a warning look, giving a little shake of his head, and Brent wisely backs down. He hops up to sit on the edge of the counter instead, sipping his gross creamer filled coffee and watching Astrid and me with interest.
“Mmm, what’s that smell?” Astrid asks, lifting her chin and sniffing the air, glancing toward the oven.
“My mom’s quiche,” I reply.
She wriggles in excitement, her movement on my lap making my dick a little… er…excited, too.
“Oh my gosh, again?!”
“Every Saturday,” Brent remarks, bringing his mug to his lips.
“So Astrid, when are the next group of wolves from Denver expected to arrive?” Jared asks casually, leaning back onto the counter again.
She swallows down a sip of coffee and sets her mug back on the island. “Tomorrow, actually!” she replies excitedly. “They’re going to Westfield… who has that territory, again?”
“Alpha Damian,” I supply as I take another drink of my coffee. “Jax’s dad.”
She snaps her fingers, twisting around to smile at me. “That’s right. Duh. I should’ve put that together since Quinn offered me a ride over there tomorrow.”
“And the next group is Tuesday, right?” Jared asks. “The group that’s being placed here?”
I took Reid’s advice and had Jared take charge of the assignments for the Denver wolves, and he’s definitely staying on top of it.
“Think so,” Astrid replies, grabbing for her coffee again. She turns to me over her shoulder. “How much time have we got before we have to head out?”
I glance down at my watch. “About ten minutes.”
“Damn,” she sighs, taking a big sip of her coffee, finishing it. “I’d better get dressed.”