The Human Alpha

Chapter Three. Ripping it Up.

Chapter Three. Ripping it Up.

Hannahs Point of View

The music from the jukebox reverberates through my body, as I walk into Slone’s bar, seeing Carlton sitting on one of the bar stools, already chatting up the barman.

“Hey gorgeous, you look wow. You could have your pick of the d**k tonight girl. Hell yeah!” He grins at me.

I cannot help but laugh at his shenanigans, as he orders me a whiskey. It is not the lethal werewolf-proof kind, but it will do, and one of the benefits of being human, will still give me a buzz after a few glasses. I watched, partly amused, and partly in awe of Carlton’s confidence as he passed his number along with the twenty-pound note to the barman with a wink.

“Sorry, I am straight,” the barman states, returning the number but smiling, clearly not offended.

“Ah, so let me introduce you to Hannah. She is single and needs to mingle,” Carlton shamelessly tells him, making my cheeks heat.

“I am not desperate,” I hiss out in embarrassment.

“Oh, so you think to be with me would be desperation. Shame, because you are gorgeous,” the barman winks at me, with a sexy smile.

His blonde hair falls forward across his eyes in a cute kind of way, but it is a shame, he is not really my type. I like my men tall, as in over 6 feet four inches, dark, and with that aura only a werewolf has.

God, maybe I need to lower my expectations. I am still, after all these years, clinging to the hope that I will find my mate. If I want kids, which I do, I need to move on with my life and leave that dream behind, because time is passing, quicker than I would like.

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean you… I…” my voice trails off, as the barman chuckles.

“No worries, hun,” he states and turns to serve another lady, who seems more into his advances than I was.

I take my drink, sipping the amber liquid and letting the burn ignite my senses, as Carlton leads us through to the back part of the bar, his eyes like a hawk’s looking for a place to sit, among the throng of revellers.

He must find one, because all of a sudden he is rushing past people, heading for a seat in the centre of the room. I tail behind and snag one of the available seats.

“Now, my gorgeous friend, which of these specimens is getting your juices flowing?” Carlton asks, again making me giggle at him. He is like a dog with a bone and is not going to let this go. I can tell.

“Come on Hannah, don’t be shy, you know that dress is made for pulling,” he continues, making me laugh.

“Honestly, I am not sure about ‘pulling’. Why don’t we just have a few drinks, a dance, and have some fun,” I say, because I am not sure I am up for this. Not really.

“Okay, girl, whatever you want. Now, get that drink down your neck, and let’s go strut our stuff,” he loudly exclaimed, knocking back his drink, and I joined him. Because let me be honest. I am a Colton, and Colton’s love to party.

Sweat is dripping down my back, from dancing all over the place. I am having a great night, although I still miss my family. I know that if they were out, my mother and Aunty Chloe would be dancing on the tables by now, Phoenix and Alisha would be slumped in the chairs telling each other how they were going to reward their mates for looking after the pups, and Becca would probably be starting a bar brawl. My Dad, Uncle, brother and male cousins would probably be hiding somewhere, ready to sling us over their shoulders and get us out of there. Still, despite them not being around, I am having fun. The drinks are flowing, and even with my tolerance high due to drinking Uncle Robin's moonshine, I am feeling more than a little bit buzzed. Carlton is a hoot, as he ‘slut drops’ to the floor, only for him to come back up with a bright red face, his hands clasping his behind.

“I split my trousers, girl!” he exclaims to me.

I cannot help it. Although I would love to be a supportive friend, I cannot move from laughing. Especially when he turns around, moves his hands and shows me his bright yellow underwear peaking out of his black tight-fitting trousers. No wonder they split!

“Come on, let's get a cab home,” I say, still giggling my head off at him, as he shuffles out of the bar, with me close behind him, to help cover his embarrassment.

“But I was supposed to help you find some d**k!” Carlton drunkenly slurs, again making me giggle.

“I think I can survive without it,” I tell him, when a deep voice echoes in my ear.

“That’s a shame because I have one that would be happy to oblige,”

I turned to look towards the voice, and saw a man, around six feet, not quite my preferred height, but still, not small. Black hair with piercing grey eyes. He is, in a prudential light, good-looking, with a strong jaw, and a confident smirk on his lips. But is he my perfect match? Nope, but then again, I am probably being too picky. Let me be honest, there is no 'probably' about it, I am being too picky.

“Let me help you,” he tells me, and takes hold of Carlton, ushering him to a black cab that is sitting outside.

“I am Levi, by the way, nice to meet you, Miss Survival?” he grins at me.

Is this the point where I give him my name? Or should I just concentrate on getting Carlton home, because now the fresh air has hit him, he is a bit of a mess, and has burst into a loud and off-key version of Gloria Gaynor’s classic ‘I Will Survive’ upon hearing Levi’s name for me.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” I state, although I could easily pick Carlton up and throw him over my shoulder. I may not have trained for a while, but I am still as strong as an ox, or wolf, as the case may be.

“What no name?” Levi grins as he bundles Carlton into the back of the cab.

“Hannah,” I state.

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. Here is my card, with my number. If you fancy a drink sometime or find the waters of survival getting a little choppy, give me a call,” Levi winked at me.

I take the call, and place it in my clutch, before climbing into the back of the cab. To be honest, I have no intention of using it. A human man who comes up with lines like he has just delivered is obviously a playboy. However, do I want something serious with a guy who is not my mate? Probably not, but then again, I am not guaranteed to have a mate. s**t, my mind is all over the place, I need to just get Carlton back to his apartment, because he is now practically curled up with his head on the window of the cab snoring his head off.

“Here love, if he is sick you are paying to clean the cab,” the driver tells me.

“No problem, Holland Park please,” I tell him and sit back watching the city lights blur as we take Carlton home.

“Carlton, time to wake up,” I shake my friend as we pull up outside my apartment in one of the most affluent areas of London. I decided to let him sleep this off at my place because it felt wrong leaving him to fend for himself when he is in such a state.

“I ain’t carrying him either,” the cab driver helpfully tells me with a look of disgust on his face.

I shake my head at him, then watch his face as I effortlessly lift Carlton, and throw him over my shoulder fireman style.

“Ewe, you are not one of those werewolves are you,” the driver sneers at me.

“Nope, all human,” I say to him, then pull out my purse, look at the meter, and paid him the exact amount I owe in change. He is busy riffling through the pound coins, fifty pence, pennies, and tiny 5p’s counting and re-counting.

“Oh, are you looking for a tip?” I asked with a 'butter wouldn’t melt' smile on my face.

“Yeah, you forgot it,”

“Ah, well, here is my tip. Don’t be a miserable bigoted bastard, and maybe be helpful to your passengers,” I tell him, slamming the car door, and climbing up the stairs, two at a time to my white front door, that leads into the big house that had been converted into apartments, before turning to the left and opening the front door, for my place, and laying a comatose Carlton onto the long wine coloured sofa, grabbing a throw and placing it over him, with a cushion for a pillow. I roll him onto his side, in case he is sick in his sleep, then head off to the shower, stripping out of the dress. As the hot streams of water fell onto my skin, I let out a long sigh. My thoughts turn to Levi. Should I give him a call, and have a little fun that has been a long time coming? Or do I continue to wait for my illusive mate?

Maybe I have had more whiskey than I thought, because I am sitting with my phone in one hand, with Levi’s card in the other. He did help me with Carlton, and I am nothing if not polite. The polite thing to do is to message and say thanks. Isn’t it?

Hesitantly, I type out the message,

Hi, it is Hannah here. Just wanted to say thank you for your help with my drunken friend tonight. It was much appreciated. Hope you enjoyed your night.

My finger hovers over the send button. Should I send it, or not?

Decisions, Decisions.

I close my eyes, Carlton's words echoing in my ears. I need to live a little, to put finding my mate on the back burner, as I am not guaranteed to have one. With a rush of blood to my brain, I hit the send button, and throw my phone onto the side, not expecting a reply any time soon. However, within less than thirty seconds my phone pinged.

Hey Hannah, glad you texted. I had a good night, and met this sexy woman, with a drunken friend, who just happened to text me. If I ask her out for a coffee date tomorrow, do you think she will make my night better than just good with a Yes? Levi xxx

Oh s**t! Now what do I do?