Chapter Two.

The growl sent a shiver down my spine, low and rumbling like distant thunder. My heart raced, thudding painfully in my chest as the enormous Alpha stared down at me, his scent-salted caramel and something darker, richer-completely overwhelming.

"Uh... hi?" My voice came out shaky, more like a squeak than an actual word.

He didn't respond, just tilted his head slightly, those deep brown eyes studying me with an intensity that made me want to squirm. His growl subsided into a faint hum, but the tension didn't dissipate. If anything, it thickened.

"Do you... need something?" I asked, clutching my book like it was some kind of shield.

For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he spoke, his voice rough and deep, like gravel sliding over velvet.

"You're sitting in my spot."

His spot?

I blinked, glancing around the small café. There were at least five empty tables nearby, including one identical to the one I was occupying. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was ridiculous-that anyone else would just pick a different seat. But this wasn't anyone else. This was him.

"Oh! Um... sorry. I didn't realize," I stammered, starting to gather my things in a flurry.

"Don't."

The single word froze me in place. I looked up, confused, and saw something shift in his expression-something softer, like regret, flickering briefly before it vanished. He ran a hand through his thick hair, then gestured vaguely toward the chair opposite me.

"Mind if I sit?"

My throat went dry. Of course, the polite answer was no, not at all. But this was no ordinary social situation. This was a massive Alpha who smelled like temptation and danger, asking to invade my little sanctuary.

And for some reason couldn't explain, I nodded.

"So..." I began, my voice faltering as I felt the full weight of his attention settle on me. His gaze was heavy, intense, like he could see straight through me, and it rooted me to the spot. "You... have you ordered?" I managed to stammer, my words slipping into a barely audible whisper.

If my eyes avoided his any harder, I'd have been staring straight through the table. The curtain of my strawberry-blonde hair did little to shield the vulnerable expanse of my neck that kept angling toward him in a shameless sign of submission.

"Hmmm."

Oh no.

The growling was back.

It rumbled low in his throat, almost contemplative, but it sent a fresh wave of goosebumps racing across my skin. Was he irritated? Amused? I couldn't tell, and that made it worse.

When he didn't immediately respond, I chanced a glance at him. Big mistake.

His eyes hadn't left me, and now they were darker, swirling with something I couldn't quite place. He leaned back slightly, folding his thick arms across his chest, the motion making the tattoos on his forearms shift in mesmerizing patterns.

"Not yet," he said finally, his voice rough, sending vibrations through the air like a physical force.

His sheer Alpha presence like an unyielding pressure.

I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for something-anything-to say.

"You should... um, the raspberry muffins are really good," I blurted out, instantly regretting it. Raspberry muffins? Really? That was the best I could come up with?

He tilted his head, the faintest curve of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You think so?"

I nodded, my throat too dry to speak again.

His gaze lingered on me for another long moment before he stood, towering even more now than when he'd been sitting. "Guess I'll give it a shot," he rumbled, turning toward the counter.

As he walked away, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, slumping slightly in my chair. My heart was still racing, and my cheeks felt impossibly warm. What just happened?

I wasn't sure if I wanted him to come back-or if I was praying he wouldn't.

I tried to focus on my book, but the words blurred together, meaningless against the whirlwind in my mind. The scent of salted caramel still lingered in the air, teasing me, and I knew he wasn't far.

A minute later, I heard his deep voice at the counter, ordering something. My heart thudded painfully when I caught snippets of his conversation with the elderly Alpha. It wasn't the words-it was the way his voice rumbled, low and smooth, wrapping around each syllable like honey over gravel.

I risked a glance in his direction.

He was leaning casually against the counter, but nothing about him looked casual. Every movement, every tilt of his head, was deliberate and commanding. The way he smiled faintly at the older Alpha nodded in thanks as she handed him his order-it all spoke of someone completely at ease in their own skin.

And then, as if he sensed my eyes on him, he turned.

I froze, caught like a deer in headlights.

He held my gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then, to my utter shock, he smiled-a small, barely-there quirk of his lips that sent heat flooding through me.

Oh no.

Before I could think, he was walking back toward me, tray in hand. The little number on my table was still there, and with a sinking realization, I remembered what that meant.

This wasn't just his café.

This was his table.

He set the tray down and slid into the chair across from me, completely unbothered by my wide-eyed stare.

"Raspberry muffin," he said, holding it up slightly before setting it back down. "Figured I'd take your recommendation."

I blinked, my brain short-circuiting. "Oh, um, I hope you like it." My voice sounded strained, too high-pitched, and I wanted to kick myself.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. "Guess we'll see."

As he unwrapped the muffin, I tried to figure out what to do with my hands, my eyes darting anywhere but at him. The book. Yes, the book! I picked it up, pretending to read, but I could still feel his presence like a magnetic force.

"So, what are you reading?"

I glanced up, startled. His eyes were on me again, warm and curious, and suddenly, the book in my hands felt absurdly heavy.

"It's, uh... just a story," I mumbled, holding it up so he could see the cover.

He tilted his head, examining it. "Romance, huh?"

The heat in my cheeks doubled. "It's not just romance," I said quickly. "It's got action, and adventure, and-"

"And romance," he finished, smirking as he took a bite of the muffin.

I clamped my mouth shut, unsure whether I wanted to defend myself or sink into the floor.

For a moment, there was only the sound of him chewing, and then he nodded approvingly. "You're right," he said, gesturing to the muffin. "It's good."

Relief and something like pride washed over me, but before I could respond, he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.

"So, do you always let strangers sit at your table, or am I just lucky?"

His tone was teasing, but there was something else behind it-something deeper, sharper, that made my pulse race.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "I guess... maybe you're...you're just lucky".