Bride (Bride, #1)

by Ali Hazelwood

“I could fuck you very nicely right now,” he says into my ear. He sounds honest, and a bit resigned. “I almost did.”

Which, going by his amused smile, Koen knows. “And to think that you’re the most sensible Were I’ve ever met. Look how finding her made you,” he says cryptically.

“Come on, Lowe. You need to sleep. I’ll watch over her while you—” “No.”

“Juno helped. Sometimes. When I was able to let her. Once I calmed down.” He wipes his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me.”

“To see you like that. To let anyone else touch you when you’re hurt or sick or just…I didn’t need that qualifier, actually. To let anyone else touch you is…”

“The night we met, when you came down the mezzanine stairs,” he groans against my shoulder, “I thought about doing this.”

“You’ve bitten me before. I didn’t mind then.” He leans forward, eager. “I won’t mind now.”

The timbre of his voice is rough and low. “You smell like you just came.” I stare back, speechless at his directness. I did just come. “And I need to eat you out.”

Woah

She makes him want to draw again.

“Of all the good things I’ve felt in my fucking life, you are the best.”

AHHHHH

Sexually, he and I might not be fully compatible.

I swear if they dont..

I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world.

Misery u idiot hehe

A mate grabs you by the stomach, he said, and he was so sure of it, I felt it in my stomach, too.

!!!!

But I feel something deep in my belly, and I know it to be right. Lowe may have a mate, but she’s not Gabi.

ITS YOU

I feel his lips move against my skin into what feels like three short words, but probably isn’t.

Asshole

He nods. “I showed Lowe the recordings, and he immediately recognized him. Misery, he freaked the fuck out.” “Yeah, Mick and Lowe go way back—” “No, he freaked out because he knew that you were with Mick. I thought your boy toy was a pretty even-tempered guy, but he’s actually bloodcurdling.”

“You can be whatever you are, and you’ll still be my friend. And I won’t ever have any issues with you being a Were,” I say into her hair, which is matted with soil and God, this baby wolf needs a bath just as bad as I do. “In fact, I think I might be in love with one.”

“Text me when you’re done chasing moles, or smelling each other’s buttholes, or whatever,”

He shakes his head, eyes burning into mine. “You’re not a problem, Misery. You’re a privilege.”