That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf (Mead Mishaps, #2)

by Kimberly Lemming

“Should I growl in your ear that you’re mine and toss you over my shoulder? I admit it’s not my style, but for you, Lamb? Anything.”

And I lied to myself when I began clanging pots together so she’d wake up and speak to me instead of just making her breakfast.

“It’s a lot less painful than what your woman would go through if you put her through childbirth. You can’t expect her to go through worse pain if you yourself can’t even offer her this.”

A fierce surge of possessiveness hit deep in my bones. No one would take this from me. Not magic, not the sun, not even the absence of an imprint. Brie was my wife.

“Every woman should carry a weapon.”

do not know if my tits were built for murder. I don’t even think they were built with my back in mind.