But this wasn't just an ordinary bar filled with people enthusiastically greeting the weekend.
These were Alphas.
When she had visited with Dr. Cheung, there had never been more than six or seven of them, but tonight there was at least twice that.
The unease in Cassidy doubled as well.
"Hey, little lady," a deep voice rumbled at her right. "Never seen you before. You must be new. What's your name?"
Cassidy looked up…and up…into the face of a seven-foot tall alpha with shoulders that were wider than two of her pushed together.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"Her name is Dr. Carr," an even deeper voice answered for her—a voice that Cassidy knew well. The rich sound resonated through her. "She's not one of Nicky’s girls."
"My mistake," the first alpha said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "No offense meant."
"None taken," Cassidy said, even though she knew that the apology was directed at the alpha behind her.
The one with the voice that made her heart pump a little bit faster. She was reluctant to turn around and face him. She knew from experience that gazing into his eyes would only distract her more, and she wasn't quite ready for that yet.
So she just said his name instead.
"Samson."
After seven visits in sixteen months, Samson was the only alpha who made her feel this way. Wary and cautious, sure, but also…fluttery. Cassidy winced at the thought. ‘Fluttery’ wasn't exactly a scientific description, but she couldn't think of a more accurate word for the changes in her heart rate, the temperature of her skin, the increased sensitivity in her fingertips, and…other places.
Maybe it was the alpha's appearance—his thick brown hair, his deep brown eyes, his strong jawline, and chiseled cheekbones. There was no denying that Samson was more conventionally attractive than most alphas.
But the differences didn't stop there: Samson was also taller, more massive, more muscular, more…everything than all the other alphas she'd met.
"Dr. Carr," he said again.
And on top of all that, he had a sense of humor too—a rare trait among alphas.
"You shouldn't call me that," Cassidy chided as she turned around, unable to put off facing him any longer. "You know I haven't earned the title yet."
Cassidy thought she was ready to greet him, but she had been wrong. Just as with every other visit, her first glimpse of Samson took her breath away.
Literally.
The air caught in her throat. Her belly contracted, but no air filled her lungs. Cassidy mentally cursed the attraction she felt toward Samson. The one she couldn't control.
And the one she absolutely could not act on.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
She cast her gaze toward the floor, a show of submission she would have made instinctively when asked a direct question by any other alpha—but with Samson, she had to force herself to look away.
The truth was that Cassidy didn't want to give up even a second of looking at him. She saw him so rarely—only a couple of days every two or three months. Any time he was in front of her, she didn't want to look away.
But she had to.
Not just so she could breathe and find her words, but to behave professionally and avoid drawing any negative attention to herself. Dr. Cheung insisted that all of his students show the utmost respect when out in the field. Only perfect behavior from the outsiders would allow the researchers to continue their good relationship with the Boundaryland community and be welcomed back.
"I'm here to conduct more research for my dissertation," she said, finally finding her voice.
"Tonight? But you know what happens on Friday nights."
"Of course," Cassidy said. "That's why I had to come. I'm researching all kinds of relationships between the alpha and beta cultures, and tonight is a chance to gain some key insights into the more intimate interactions."
Samson let out a low rumbling sound that spread through the whole bar. A few gazes shot their way, and Cassidy found herself shifting nervously under the scrutiny.
"I don't like the idea of some of my brothers thinking you're a whore," Samson muttered.
Cassidy felt a sharp stab of disappointment at his words—not because he meant any insult by the word 'whore', but at the reminder of why he was here tonight. She did not judge the commerce between the alphas and the beta woman who willingly earned a living servicing them—but it was different with Samson.
Samson had always been polite to her, even protective at times. Still, there always came a time during each visit when Cassidy had to remind herself that the attraction she felt was one-sided.
Cassidy was a confirmed beta. Samson's touch—when he'd shaken her hand, or politely touched her arm to guide her to a table, or even accidentally grazed her knee when they were seated—always ignited a sizzle of heat that started deep in her belly and landed between her legs…but nothing else.
And their brief interactions certainly didn't cause a visible reaction in him.
It wasn't surprising. Alphas were meant to be with omegas. That was the natural order of things. Sure, they could have flings with betas, sate a few carnal needs. Friday nights in Evander's Bar were proof of that. But that was it. There could never be anything more.
"I'll be fine," Cassidy said lightly. "Mia personally invited me, so technically, I'm a guest under Ty's protection."
Cassidy glanced up and saw that Samson's mouth was still flattened in a hard line. Obviously, her words didn't reassure him as much as she'd hoped, though she had no idea why.
Though Boundaryland laws were considered cruel and violent by most betas, they were sacred and unbreakable among alphas. Being under the bar owner's protection all but guaranteed Cassidy safety.
"Who's the man you drove in with?" Samson asked, changing the subject.
A royal pain in her ass.
"Ian Wilkerson," she said. "He's another of
