《The Waitress and Her Alpha》| IV- A Yellow Eyed Devil |

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"I am indeed, would you prefer I wasn't?" His grin is mocking, one that I wish to rip right off that pretty face. If I wasn't trying to present myself as a lady, I would take it into my own hands. However, here I am becoming a fumble of words that can't formulate an entire sentence.

"Yes... no." What was that? I am such a blubbering idiot, and this man still seems to appreciate my presence.

The side of his lip raises, eyes becoming more honey than before, "Ready, love?"

"Let me grab my wallet, and then yes."

I turn away running over to my kitchen bar to grab the small dollar store wallet I keep my cash in. Ares is still standing at the doorway when I turn back around to leave with him, his eyes on my hips, "That dress..."

"Yes? Do you have a problem with it?" I pause my steps, placing a hand on my hip. A first problem we will have between us if he likes to control what a woman wears.

"You wear that dress well; it will be a shame to remove it later." I feel him testing the waters, and I accept the compliment. After all, my intention is a good fuck. He looks to me with a raised dark brown. The night sky floods around him, the moon giving him an eerie glow, one that resonates within him. I'm mystified by the way the moons light shapes around him, but my focus needs to be on something less... future.

"Good thing it looks better on the floor." I walk over to him laying my fingers on one side of his chest. As I exit the doorway, I let my fingers follow me going from one side to the other. He sucks in a breath, the electricity that sparks from my touch unimaginable.

"You are a dangerous woman." He says grabbing my hand as it falls from his chest to lead me to his luxury vehicle parked out front. I don't respond to his statement, my body freaking from him being so nearby. I can't remember a time in my life that my entire being craved someone as much as this. Ares opens the door for me letting me get comfortable before he gets into the driver's side. Instrumental music comes through the car, but nothing felt uncomfortable in the silence. He felt like someone I have known my whole life, and even with my lack of trust towards others, my brain refuses to believe he's another name to add to the no-trust mindset.

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I look over to my date studying the little things about him. His light stubble is framed well around his face, no acne in sight. Not that it would have bothered me, but perfect skin is something to speak for. I trail my eyes down his well-carved jaw towards the base of his neck to see small instances of tattoos peaking over the collar, "Tattoos?"

"I have many. They cover most of my back and chest, some on my arms. Does that bother you?" His eyes glance over to me. I try to avoid the golden eye contact.

"Do they have meaning?"

"Every single one." The response is genuine, no hesitation in his tone.

"Then no, no they don't. I love a man with ink. I only have one tattoo myself, however." The admittance on my part is unexpected. I don't share this side of me easily, but for him it's almost too easy. A haze comes over my brain when I'm around him, a willingness I've never wanted towards another till now.

"One? Where?" He takes a turn stopping in front of a valet stand. I look around trying to figure out where we are, but he exits the car to run around and open my door once more. He hands off the keys to the valet, the kid shaking in his boots to get to the driver's seat. I exit the car wrapping my hand around his. I let him lead me towards the glass doors where Fire and Ice are beautifully etched into the main part. It takes most of my mental strength to keep from turning and running away. This is a restaurant I would stare at online with a wish to work at. Only the elite dine here, and I personally don't fall into that category.

"It's on my shoulder blade, a memorial for my parents. They passed two years ago." A symbol of love and peace. James wanted me to rid of it. Offered me all the money in the world to have laser surgery. It was one of the few things I was allowed to keep to myself, and one I will fight for much longer.

He stops to look at me and his eyes are swirling with emotions, "I am sorry to hear that."

"No worries, we ended on a bad note anyways." Why am I saying this. Please shut yourself up, Veronica. The bad note wasn't my most wonderful moment. My anger I'd felt in those last moments was more than I'd ever had towards them. And now I have the hell of living with the guilt whenever I think of them.

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He drags me to the host, the man giving a plastered smile, "Mr. Gray, we have your section arranged. Please follow me." It was tight and he gave me the most disgusted look. Section?

"I prefer privacy at all times, money means little to me in order to achieve that. Come, I reserved us the back room." His back is strong, shoulders back. He walks with a graceful dignity that anyone would be intimidated to walk next to. It came as a shock when he turned back and offered a hand to me. My heels clicked across the floor, and soon enough my hand rested in his elbow as we walked together behind the employee.

"Oh... um." I barely know what to say, his beautiful face distracting me from any cognitive thoughts I could have. Walking next to him makes me want to drop my head, maybe even kneel. What is this?

"When it comes to you, darling, I would reserve the entire restaurant if you so desired. And keep your chin up, your perfection needs to be seen by all."

"That-that is not necessary. I would- There's no reason for that, but um... thanks for the compliment." That's a lot of emotion rather quickly. My insides stir. Now that we're here, I should've told him no. Requested that we hadn't gone on a date. Ares Gray has a chance of winning my heart over, or at least my body in more ways than a single nightstand. And why don't I mind?

"Here you are, Mr. and Mrs. Gray." The person waves to a table, another forced smile coming over him.

"Smite." The host looks over at me, his eyes wide, "My last name is Smite. Not that it really matters, but I would appreciate to be addressed by my name."

Ares stares at me intently, not moving to sit at the table while the host stands there awkwardly. He looks at the host, a nod coming from him setting the host back into gear, "Yes, of course, please enjoy Mr. Gray and Ms. Smite."

The host runs off, Ares pulling back a chair for me so I can sit, him moving to his seat right after. A bottle of cabernet sits with two wine glasses. I take initiative pouring myself the first of the bottle, no need to seem any less of a wine lover than I am. If we're going to do this, he needs to know all parts of me not just the less graceful ones.

"Do you enjoy cabernet? I can call for a different wine." He grabs the bottle pouring himself a glass.

"No, actually, cabernet is my favorite. Thank you." He hums taking a sip of the wine. I follow suite trying to keep myself from jumping this table into his arms. Whatever is coming over me, I need to get in control.

"Good evening, my name is Walter, and I will be taking care you both tonight. May I get you started with Oysters, Escargots, or even Croque Monsieur?" Ares looks at me, and I shake my head. That sounds like some stuff that I would personally hate. I'm more of a burrito, pasta gal.

"We need a few minutes to review the menu."

"Of course, sir, thank you. I'll bring by some bread for your enjoyment."

"I haven't been somewhere like this before." I finally admit setting down the menu that is littered with french cuisines. While the names seem beautiful, I barely can read the words let alone say them. Not to mention that none of them have descriptions.

"It is my pleasure to bring you here, what do you normally enjoy in the form of pasta? I can order you something similar if you would like."

"I like red sauce and shrimp." And it normally comes from a bag from Trader Joes.

"You would enjoy Crevette a La Marseillaise." His french is beautiful, the words rolling off his tongue as though he speaks the language frequently.

"Sounds great." Way to make this awkward. My inner monologue will always be a downfall, but that little Veronica that runs through my head has always led me in somewhat of the right direction. It's nice that she constantly reminds of my faults, a true inner demon that lives to ruin my exterior state. The waiter returns quickly and Ares orders for us, Walter running off as soon as possible to take care of us.

Ares swirls his wine glass, eyes running over my face, "Tell me about yourself, Veronica. I want to know everything."

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