The Fake Mate

by Lana Ferguson

have gotten coffee with human data analysts who asked if I could somehow keep my tail in human form (I don’t even want to explore the thought process there);

You can think of something you enjoy, like glaring at small children or criticizing baristas at Starbucks.”

I’ve pegged him as some celibate sourpuss who gets by with angry masturbation on the weekends, but what if Noah is like every other horndog I’ve come across?

I wave Parker off. “And risk him going all Jacob Black on me?” “What?” “When you see her, suddenly it’s not the earth holding you here anymore. She does.” “Is this a Twilight reference?”

“Alpha,” I practically growl against her, applying more pressure against her clit with my fingers. “I want you to call me Alpha.”

“You love it,” she laughs. I might love you.

It’s like watching a puppy cry or something.”