"I think I'm going to go outside and get some air," she mumbled, clutching the bar to steady herself before heading to the side door.
"Told you," Ty called after her.
If Cassidy didn't know better, she would have sworn that his words were laced with humor.
Chapter Three
The night was clear and cold enough that Samson could see his breath. He kept a jacket draped across the bench seat of his truck, but he wasn't about to go get it. Somehow the assault of freezing air against his skin felt right.
He'd been hoping that the sting would be enough to distract him.
He should have known better.
Nothing was enough to distract him from her.
Samson was leaning against the side of the bar when the service door swung open. His mood was too foul for company. He only hoped that whoever was stumbling out that door was smart enough to sense it.
But the figure was small—much too small to be one of his alpha brothers. Samson stiffened when he realized who it was. He didn't need to see her face. He'd memorized her scent long ago.
Sixteen months ago—the first time Cassidy Carr had ever set foot in Evander's Bar.
Samson had never paid much attention to her boss, the beta sociologist who came around from time to time to conduct research. None of them did. Just like every other beta who came to the neutral territory of the Boundarylands, the man was welcome as long as he remained respectful, stayed out of the way, and knew when to leave.
But then one day, this unremarkable beta showed up with another researcher, one of his students.
A woman.
A tall, willowy woman whose red hair was piled up in a thick bun at the back of her head, a few strands escaping to brush against her creamy, pale neck. Who smelled of paper and tea leaves. Who Samson couldn't take his eyes off of.
Just like her professor, Cassidy Carr was careful to conduct herself appropriately at all times, her behavior and speech both submissive and respectful.
Unlike the professor, however, she went out of her way to make personal connections with the alphas she encountered. She remembered little details from her interviews. Like the time she asked about everyone's favorite childhood snack from the beta world and then brought them on her next visit.
Even her questions were different from the professor's. Less focused on generalities and more on intimate details. The first time they'd talked, she had asked him why he came to Evander's most nights…if there was anything he missed about the beta world…
If he ever felt lonely.
Samson wasn't blind. He saw the attraction in her eyes on the rare occasion she allowed her gaze to meet his. He caught the shift in her scent when she spoke to him, the increased heat, the simmering desire.
This woman wanted him, but she never let it show outwardly. Every interaction, every conversation, remained controlled and reserved.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, Cassidy had almost fallen when she stumbled out onto the bar's patio. She didn't even notice Samson standing behind her as she caught herself, wrapping her hands around the thick wood rail for balance. She let her head fall back and drew in a deep breath.
"I am a goddamn idiot," she mumbled, appearing to address the bright, full face of the moon that was shining down on her.
The sharp scent of grain alcohol hung in her breath.
"We both know that's not true, Dr. Carr," Samson found himself saying.
Cassidy started at the sound of his voice, almost tripping over her feet as she turned around. Samson reached out and steadied her before she could fall.
Just like every other time he'd touched her, he hoped for the blinding surge of deep, primal desire that would signal a change in her nature from beta to omega.
And just like every time before, he was disappointed.
Once Cassidy was steady on her feet, Samson stepped back into his shadowy corner.
"You scared me," she said. "I didn't think anyone was out here."
Samson cocked his head, bemused. "Where did you think I'd gone?"
"You know…" She twirled her finger in a lazy circle, and Samson knew it wasn't the cold that turned her cheeks bright red. "Wherever it is you guys go on Friday nights with Nicky's girls."
"You thought I was with a prostitute?"
Cassidy raised her head and looked him straight in the eye, her bold cornflower-blue gaze shaking Samson to his very core. She must have had more than a single shot of the rotgut Ty kept behind the bar to forget her well-practiced alpha protocol.
"Why aren't you?" she asked huskily, not taking her eyes off him. There was more than simple curiosity in her voice. For the first time, he also heard hope.
And want.
So much want.
His cock stirred at the delicious sound.
Fuck.
What was Ty thinking, giving her that whiskey? He had to know that someone so slight wouldn't be able to handle it.
"Because that's not why I came here," he said honestly.
Her nose crinkled, confusion in her eyes. Still, she didn't look away. "Then why did you come?"
To see you. To catch your scent. To touch you, just for a second. Then go home and stroke myself raw at the memory of your face.
Pathetic.
There was no way in hell Samson was going to say any of those things, so instead, he changed the subject.
"I've never seen you drink."
Instantly, shame filled Cassidy's eyes, and she looked away. Tilting her head to the sky again, she spoke quickly. "Yeah, that was a mistake. Any chance you can forget about it?"
No chance in hell. Samson had never seen her throw off the heavy weight of her professional persona before, not even for a moment. And the truth was
