The Human Alpha

Chapter Five. Coffee Date.

Chapter Five. Coffee Date.

“It is just a date, it is not like I am going to fall into bed with the guy,” I sighed down the phone to Becca.

I had only rung her for advice on what I should wear for my coffee date with Levi. But rather than tell me if jeans with a nice top were a good option, she went on a tirade of wanting to know everything about the man I was meeting up with. When I could only tell her his first name, and what he looked like, my cousin was not very happy about it.

“I know, and you must do you. However, at the same time, are you sure you don’t want to wait and find out if you have a mate out there somewhere?” Becca sighs, after hearing the frustration in my voice.

“Becca, I am 28 years old. That is not old, granted, but for a human, my body clock is ticking. There is no sign of a mate heading my way, nor am I guaranteed to have one. Maybe I have to do this as a human, not as a werewolf. I cannot afford to wait around forever, I want a life, a family, so I have to make some tough decisions about my future now,” I attempted to explain my decision-making to her.

“Out of everyone, I thought you would understand,” I sigh again.

“I do. s**t Hannah, I am sorry. I guess I just always hoped you had a mate out there. I suppose I forget that you don’t have a wolf at times, and things are different for you,” Becca apologises.

“I know. Look if Aunty Chloe or even Asher had one of their visions regarding the appearance of a mate, then I may continue to wait. But neither of them has said anything to me about it, so I have to presume that it is not on the cards for me. Plus, I know you are worried about me meeting up with a strange man. I may not attend training as much as I would like, but I still know the family motto,” I grin down the phone, understanding my cousin's concerns.

“Yeah, no matter how big they are…” Becca begins.

“They all go down with a kick in the nuts,” we say together, with a hearty laugh.

“I am sorry, I have not been as supportive as you needed me to be. Oh, and the jeans that are tight at the top but flare a little at the bottoms, which are on trend again, those will look amazing, and showcase your amazing arse,” my cousin advises me.

“Oh, and team them with that cream-coloured crochet top. Depending on how ‘out there’ you want to be, either use just a nude-coloured bra, or a vest top underneath. Oh, and before I forget, those cream coloured Jimmy Choo heals I got you last year,” Becca continues, her passion for clothes taking over the conversation.

“Will do, thank you, Becca. I miss you,” I tell her.

“I miss you too Han. Just, be careful out there,” she tells me, and I giggle at her.

“Hey, I can still make a head a football if required,” I reassure her, as we say our goodbyes and I hang up the call.

Truth is, I am not sure if I can now. Plus, technically, I had Dad’s help with that, during one of our many battles, when I ripped my mam’s, father's head clean off his shoulders.

What? Don’t gasp, the man was an evil C.U.N.T. He had beaten my Nana Cheryl for years and then started on my mother. That was before he joined the disgusting Criminal Underground Narcissistic Traitorous Scumbags, or Costa Lobo as they are officially called. What can I say, my family prefer Aunty Chloe’s name for them, and using the acronym, because that is what they are, a bunch of C.U.N.T.S.

I really need to do more training. Maybe I should join an MMA club, just to keep some of my skills before I altogether forget how to fight. After all, we never know when we are heading into battle.

Anyway, enough of this tangent, I need to get my arse into gear and finish off my make-up. I have bought a new anti-wrinkle foundation, which is supposed to cover fine lines and wrinkles. Let’s hope it works.

Finished applying my make-up, and styling my freshly cut hair, in a half up, half down style, I get into the clothes recommended by Becca. She has never steered me wrong in the past, and I doubt she would now, no matter how much she is apprehensive about what I am doing.

I head out of my apartment, and walk to the tube, ready to meet Levi at the Starbucks at Piccadilly Circus. As I am being shoved and pushed by the mountains of people waiting for the train to arrive, I try to control my temper. People are so rude. God, I miss home. I hate the city, every part of me longs for the countryside, and fresh clean air. Never more so as the tube pulls up, its brakes screeching, and the smell of diesel fills the air. The scent doesn’t get much better as I push my way on, the carriage which stinks of stale urine, and despair. I may be human, but I do have an enhanced sense of smell, taste, and hearing, and this odour is enough to turn my stomach.

Gross.

As I get off the train, and walk through the barriers, and up the escalator, I quickly pull out some perfume from my bag, and give myself a good spritz, to get rid of the tube stench. That is another change I have made. I normally never wore perfume, nobody in our family does. You see, it masks our natural scent, which is important for a whole ton of reasons, not just because of finding your mate. However, here in London, I find that the smell of the city clings to my clothes, and oozes out of my pours, so I mask it, with something flowery, and extremely expensive, which is probably nothing at all like my natural scent.

As Starbucks appears, I slow my steps down, am I doing the right thing here? I don’t know if I am being honest, but I guess I have said I will turn up and I am a woman of my word. I take a large inhale of breath, and pull the double doors open, walking inside.

Sitting in the centre of the room is Levi, he looks handsome, in his jeans with a blue button down shirt, open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He is a nice looking guy, but there is not that rush of blood when I look at him, nor do I get butterflies in my stomach. Granted, I don’t have a wolf to shout ‘Mate’ or ‘Mine’ at me, but if this was supposed to go anywhere, I should feel something, shouldn’t I? Again, maybe I need to lower my expectations. I smile and give a small wave, as he stands up, and politely pulls my chair out for me to sit down.

“Hi, you look beautiful. What would you like to drink?” he asks.

Okay, he gets points for politeness.

“Just an Americano please,” I smile.

“Milk?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“No thanks, just as it comes please,” I give him another polite smile, as I sit down.

Levi goes to order my drink, bringing back a couple of muffins as well. Yeah, now he has gained an extra point because I love sweet food.

“I was really glad you texted me,” he smiles expectantly at me.

“Didn’t think I would,” I honestly replied.

“Neither did I. But very glad you did. So, Hannah, tell me everything about yourself,” he grins.

I take a deep breath, well, I guess he needs to know who I am, and who my family are, and his reaction to my admission is what will determine if I continue to pursue this.

“Well, I work as a special advisor to the government, and hail from Scotland,” I begin.

“I gathered by your accent. Very sexy by the way,” Levi grins.

Oh god, he is trying so hard, too hard if I am honest. The barrister shouts his name, indicating our coffees are ready. He passes mine over to me, and I notice he has a long white latte, and by the smell it has a healthy dose of vanilla syrup in it. Humm, am I being overly picky about his coffee choice being a little bit of a turn-off for me? Yes, I know I am, hell what is wrong with me? It is becoming clear as day that I am looking for excuses not to like him, to sabotage what may, or may not happen. Maybe it is because I am still holding onto a little hope of finding a mate. I need to make my mind up about what I actually want.

“Yeah, anyway, I am a special advisor to the Inter-Species Minister,” I continue.

“Oh, that has to do with werewolves, isn’t it?” he states. Well here we go, his reaction to my next statement will either have me attempting to create something, or shutting this down, once and for all.

“Yes. Members of my family are werewolves,” I state, sit back and wait for his response.