10 Dates with Mr. Alpha (MXM)

Chapter 1

Chapter One
The First Date: Tethered in Heat

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Kiel had never been more tense in his life.

Not during a pack spar, not during a shift in the dead of winter, not even the time his arm was nearly broken in a rogue ambush. No, this — this — was worse.

He was standing outside Ronan Hale's house, in front of the wrought-iron gate that guarded the Hale estate like it was some sort of wolf palace. Behind it was the Alpha-in-training, golden boy, mate-from-hell. And apparently, the guy he was supposed to "date."

Date. Like some lovesick human couple. The word alone made Kiel gag.

"Why the fuck did I agree to this?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He wore dark jeans and a black fitted tee, casual enough to pretend he didn't care, tight enough to draw eyes. He hated that he had dressed with Ronan in mind. Hated it.

As if summoned by frustration alone, the gate creaked open.

Ronan stood on the other side, leaning lazily against the post, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his scent curling out to wrap around Kiel like smoke.

Kiel's wolf stirred immediately — hungry, needy, traitorous.

"Well, well," Ronan drawled, voice smooth. "You clean up nice, Navarro. Is that a new shirt, or did you finally grow into that scrawny body of yours?"

Kiel glared, teeth already clenched. "Don't make me regret walking through this gate, Hale."

"Oh, please regret it. I live for your regrets."

Still, Kiel stepped in. The gate clanged shut behind him, and that was it — no escape, just proximity. Hot, electric, oppressive proximity. As they walked side by side toward the house, their shoulders brushed. Sparks. Real ones. The bond didn't give a damn about pride or resentment. It wanted skin. Contact. Touch.

"I can't believe our parents think this'll work," Kiel muttered.

"They think the Goddess made no mistakes." Ronan looked over, his gaze sharp. "I plan to prove them wrong."

Kiel's stomach twisted — half challenge, half anticipation. "Let's see who breaks first."

Ronan's eyes gleamed. "Is that an invitation?"

Kiel rolled his eyes and pushed past him through the front door, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Candles.

Dozens of them. Flickering along shelves and tables. The house smelled like cedarwood and burning spice. Low music thrummed through the air, something slow and sensual.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kiel groaned. "This is your idea of a first date?"

"What?" Ronan smirked, closing the door behind them with a heavy thud. "I figured if we're pretending, we should really commit."

Kiel turned to retort, but stopped short. Ronan was standing too close. His eyes no longer teasing — but dark. Hungry.

The air thickened. The tension between them snapped tight, like something straining at its leash.

"Your scent's stronger tonight," Ronan murmured.

"So's yours," Kiel bit back, breath hitching.

And then—

Ronan's hand was at his waist, firm, possessive. "I can smell your heat. You want to fight, or you want to do something better with that mouth?"

"You wish," Kiel hissed.