Mated To The Cold Hearted Alpha
Chapter 6

**Three Years Later**

Hycinth (age 18)

“Lucky…” I g*****d, sounding a bit too close to a whine for my preference. I cleared my throat and began again, edging my voice with firmness, “Luca Diamonte, you need to pull yourself together. We have clients in less than an hour.” A muffled voice came from behind the bathroom door, “Patience, Cinn.”

Growling under my breath, I turned on my heel and paced into our small kitchen. Coffee was clearly necessary today. I placed the single-use pod inside the Keurig and settled my favorite mug-white with black polka dots and a startling orange and red chrysanthemum flower- on the little stand. I set the machine to brew. Two minutes later, my coffee was ready, and Lucky wandered into the kitchen. I gathered the mug and climbed onto a tall stool next to the granite island.

Dressed in his usual attire of dark jeans and a T-shirt, he smelled fresh and clean. The scent of his shower gel hit my nose, spicy and aromatic. I breathed in the familiar smell, my brain automatically making the connection to home. Lucky was my only home now. My only family.

I couldn’t help worrying about him. “You got in late last night,” I began the conversation, letting my words linger in the air.

He opened a cabinet and pulled out a jumbo-sized box of Froot Loops, and then made his way to the refrigerator to get a gallon of milk. Tucking the box under his arm, he used his free hand to open the drawer and snatched out a spoon, before joining me on the island. “Yeah, she wanted round two. Or was it round three?” he said, absentmindedly. He poured cereal into the bowl.

I rolled my eyes. So, not, what I needed to hear. Clasping my mug in both hands, I blew gently. The steam dissipated into the air. “Do you even know this one’s name?”

His lips curled into a smirk. He shoveled a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth, milk dribbling from his l*p. “Of course, its Sandra…or Sarah…or something close to that.” His eyes danced with humor, fully embracing the manwhore that he was.

How did he even speak with that large of a mouthful of food? I shook my head and snorted in disgust, appalled, both at his table manners and, even more, his revolting s****l escapades.

Of course, it wasn’t all Lucky’s fault. At least the s*x part, not the lack of basic table etiquette that most people employed. Women threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Human females didn’t stand a chance. Not with a virile predator Wolf in their midst. His animal magnetism was too much for them to resist. And Luca indulged all of their wanton fantasies, liberally and thoroughly, as if it were his second job.

I sipped my coffee, licking the extra droplets from my lips. “Lucky, you need to be careful. You don’t want to break the wrong girl’s heart. Or worse, accidentally knock up one of them with a pup.” We’d had this conversation more than once. I understood women and how needy and disillusioned they could be. He might be clear about his intentions upfront, but that didn’t mean they listened or believed him.

“You know I’m always careful, mom. I’m just doing my civic responsibility to keep the female population happy. And it’s Whiskey to you,” he reminded me, referring to his alternate identity.

“You’ll always be Lucky to me,” I grumbled. “Why you chose that name, I’ll never know. And why Daddy allowed it, I’ll never understand.” Except, I did understand. My parents had adopted Luca when he was just a little orphan pup, his mother, and father, both casualties of war.

Daddy loved Luca like a son. And more often than not, had spoiled him, even letting him pick such a ridiculous name when he prepared our alternate identities. Maybe, it was because he never really assumed we’d have to use them, I thought sadly.

“Whiskey is an awesome-as-f**k name,” Lucky retorted, continuing to wolf down his breakfast.

I huffed, “Not when we’re supposed to be staying under the radar. Flaunting a name like Whiskey Cole is just begging for someone to question whether or not it’s real.”

He ignored my statement, adding more cereal to his bowl. “Who’s comin’ in this morning?”

“Tommy and Leroy.” I stood, taking my empty coffee cup to the dishwasher.

Luca’s l*p curled up into a snarl. “I don’t like how he looks at you.”

“He’s harmless. You know that. I’m in no danger from any human male.”

“It doesn’t matter. All that bastard does is stare at your tits the entire time.”

I found my eyeballs rolling toward the top of my head again. I was a trained daughter of an Alpha. I could chew up and spit out any human male. Lucky bordered on being too protective.

I couldn’t help teasing him.

I was wearing a low cut cobalt blue singlet over top of a push-up bra, revealing quite a bit of my ample cleavage-portraying every bit the part of the badass tattoo artist I was. I grabbed the sides of my breasts and pushed them up and together, and blinked innocently. “What? These?”

He grimaced. “You know it’s gross when you do that, little sister.”

“You’re not the only one with sexuality,” I reminded him.

Absinthe green eyes zeroed in on me. “Really? And when was the last time you indulged in said sexuality?”

My heart clenched. It wasn’t that I hadn’t found any males attractive.

But I just couldn’t.

Not since I’d seen that bastard mate of mine, Leander.

I didn’t want him-I would run my entire life to stay away from him—but whenever I got physically close to another male, the memory of Leander’s piercing amethyst and cerulean eyes filled my mind. I couldn’t shake the image of him out of my head, making it impossible for me to take the next step with anyone.

I hedged defensively, “I’m working on it.”

His expression softened. “You deserve to be happy, Cinn.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, overwhelmed by the love and concern in his voice. “One day…” I whispered, my words dropping off.

He already knew what I was going to say. It was another conversation we’d had more than once. Letting it go, he whined, “Will you at least go change your top? Do it for me, so that I don’t feel the need to tear out the horny male’s throat the entire time I’m trying to create a pretty little picture on his biker friend’s shoulder.”

I couldn’t help smiling at his forlorn expression. He really did have a hard time when males looked at me like they wanted to gobble me up. It kicked his protective nature into high gear, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.