Bro and the Beast (The Wolf's Mate, #1)

by L.C. Davis

That's my reality, and yeah, I'm okay with escaping it once in a while to live in a better one. One where love is real, and it's okay to be different, and everything works out okay in the end. If you wanna judge me for that, fine."

By this point, RIP the main character’s panties.

The first is regret that sets in immediately as I realize the last time I saw my brother, we got into a stupid fight over a stupid book, and the second is that I'm never going to get to find out how that stupid book ends.

I've lived on this planet for twenty-two fucking years and I've never seen someone's eyes twinkle. Something is very, very wrong with this place.

The intensity of his stare is unsettling, to say the least. I'm pretty sure I've never looked at anything or anyone that way, except maybe a twenty-ounce sirloin at Longhorn.

look over my shoulder instinctively, half-expecting the heroine with the magical werewolf pussy to be standing behind me.

How the hell have these bumpkins not figured out he's a werewolf by now if he's teleporting all over the damn place like a complete weirdo?

This asshole might be an alpha wolf, but I'm the vice prez of my fraternity and Kappa Nus don't run.

"Is that the shit you say to Catalina when she's pissed?" I snap. "Because even I know better than that, dude. Relationships 101—never tell someone who's mad to calm down unless you wanna get neutered."

He smells like pine and wood and something uniquely him. Something uniquely masculine.

Neither is the fact that somehow, despite what I know I felt, he is human. And he is also, paradoxically, an omega.

The strangest omega I have ever encountered, without a doubt, but definitely an o...

He's also built like a linebacker. Not only is he not a woman, he's the most masculine human I've ever met, but that doesn't stop me from thinking he's the most gorgeous person I've ever seen—of any species.

"Brad Miller," he answers, hiccuping as he takes another swig of beer. My God, he is so enchanting.

I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't have a mate." At least, I didn't. Not until he came along. But he isn't ready for that truth just yet.

"You know about omegas, then?" I ask. "Sure I do," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Submissive, doe-eyed little werewolves with daddy issues and tight pussies that put off magical pheromones once a month that drive you and all the other alphas batshit, so the vamps are always trying to take them like some fucked up game of capture the flag."

and while I would rather him come with me willingly, I'll force him if I have to.

"It's a feeling that washes over you, like warmth and electricity. A deep, innate sense of knowing and belonging that makes everything and everyone else seem like nothing in comparison."

"Once upon a time, every alpha had his perfect match, but these days, it's exceedingly rare.

Regardless of gender, they act like they're coming unglued the moment they catch the scent of an omega in heat.

I know that was a mistake, too, when I see the murderous look he's giving me, as if I've just fucked his mother on his father's grave. Without a condom.

I can only stare in awe as Brad steals my beer from the table in front of me, guzzling it down without pausing and making frigid eye contact the entire time, as if to assert dominance.

He slams the empty glass down on the table and says, "I'll drink you under the table anytime, anywhere, you fleabitten mofo."

All I can do is gaze at him, a strange warmth stirring in my chest. "You are a c...

The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was something special. I knew he was mine.

I'm not about to sit on some random guy's bed, especially when he's been making werewolf eyes at me all night, so I fold my arms and make a point of standing as close to the door as possible.

"Are you shitting me, bro?" I cry. "Look at me. Do I look like a fucking omega to you?"

"You don't look like an omega, but that doesn't mean you aren't one. And you certainly smell like one."

I love my girl Catalina and all, but next to a big titty goth girlfriend with a blackbelt and a degree in microbiology? Come on.

"What are you doing to the boss's new fucktoy?"

"Ex-fucking-scuse me?" I growl.

I've been aware of the existence of werewolves for all of an hour, and they are already by far the most overconfident douchebags I've ever met. And that's saying a lot.

All I can think as I black out is how I'd better wake up in my own world, or at least one where I can be a space pirate or something cool. This omega thing is absolute, complete fucking bullshit.

"He's not most omegas," I say, glancing down at the man in bed, feeling a surge of pride and protectiveness. "Not by a long shot."

"I don't know why you assholes think I'm an omega, but you're way off base," I inform him. "I'm human. Just an average, admittedly very swole, but completely normal human."

I don't like the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m the last chicken parm on the sandwich tray and the Superbowl party isn't even half over.

"Catalina isn't the main character, Brad. You are."

"Bro. Are you saying I'm so hot I turned you gay?"

"Even if what you're saying is true, I have no intention of finding her. Or of letting you go."

“You're only saying that because you're written to be an overprotective, obsessive alpha douchebro.