Everyone is indeed staring at us. There are more men than women, but the groups are mixed. From what I can tell, most of the men wear jeans, while the women are dressed in slinky dresses, miniskirts, and cropped tops. A few wear pants with revealing shirts. One thing they all share is the heels. Not one woman besides me is wearing less than a four-inch heel. They’ve all got me beat by four inches before the heels. I feel like I’ve been transported to the land of Amazonians.

Masen urges me into the booth and scoots in close behind me. When I try to keep scooting, he puts his heavy arm over my shoulder, stopping me before I reach the middle of the booth. The way we’re seated, I can’t even see the rest of the bar. His big body is on the outside of mine, blocking me.

I huff. “Masen, should we just leave? Obviously, you’re not comfortable here or with me here.”

His body relaxes a tiny bit, and he turns his head and looks down at me guiltily. “I’m trying to adjust. I don’t really like them looking at you. This is hard for me, too. I want to hurt them,” he growls slightly and clenches his fists. I place my hand over his and bring it under the table to the top of my thigh. “So, it’s best if we stay over here for now.” I can feel his restrained violence. I stroke his hand and arm under the table reassuringly.

“Do all males get a little... ah, territorial in the beginning?”

He’s still looking down at me. I see when his eyes soften. “It just depends, Little One. I’m sure it’ll get better after we’ve Mated fully,” he says unconvincingly. He runs his hands through his hair. “It’s actually gotten worse since those fuckers at the mall!” he spits angrily. “I’ll deal with it, baby. Don’t worry.” He smiles.

Masen’s head turns to the bar, and he nods once. Moments later, the pretty, redheaded barmaid nears our table with a big smile and two menus. “Hi, I’m Lizzy. Everyone calls me Red. I’ve been so excited to meet you!” She gushes, I can’t help but smile back.

“Are you Sid’s Red?” I ask tentatively.

Her eyes light up, and her smile gets a little bigger. “Oh yes. I’m his,” she states proudly. She places the menus down and looks at Masen for the first time. She goes a little pale. “Alpha,” she clears her throat, “what can I get you to drink?” She looks right at Masen.

In his deep, low timbre, he asks, “What would you like, Little One?” I’ve never had alcohol. I’m not sure what to get. He realizes quickly and says, “We’ll have a white and red wine, and I’ll have my usual. Thanks, Red.”

She exhales when he speaks. Her bubbly demeanor back, she chirps, “I’ll get those right out,” and dashes to the bar.

“Why did she get so freaked out?”