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

by L.C. Davis

"Keep telling yourself that," I say, taking a step toward him. "You're always the victim, aren't you? Poor, special, unique little Devon, always so misunderstood. If only some big, strong alpha male would come along and see you for the swan you really are. You ever stop to think maybe the reason you can't find a boyfriend is because you're the asshole? Because you're so convinced everyone else is gonna judge you, you have to judge them first before you even give them a chance?"

Kinda clocked Devon’s tea

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

I ain't gay.

Famous last words

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.

That's what I get for reading. I'm sticking to action movies with oily shirtless dudes and WWE from now on. Nothing good ever comes from literature.

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

There are three men around him loitering on the curb and they all come around to flank him like it's some cheesy eighties gang movie. I'm fully expecting them all to start snapping to the same rhythm and busting out the showtunes

"Yeah, I got a problem," I answer. "Ever heard of Head and Shoulders? Because I'm thinking you should buy some stock before you singlehandedly grease up the Atlantic Ocean."

😭😭😭

"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."

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

"You're telling me you've never met a chick named Catalina Evergreen? Spends a lot of time thinking about how she's only five-five, and you tower over her? Petite but curvy, long brown hair, thinks she's plain but is actually catnip to werewolves? None of this rings a bell?"

"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."

Such a way with words he has.

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 charming creature, Brad."

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.

"Of course I'm healthy," I say, flexing my bicep in indignation. "This is Grade-A American beef, baby. Never even missed a day of class."

if he thinks he can out-stubborn the only guy in the last twelve years who's won Beef O'Brien's eighty-ounce sirloin challenge, the bastard has another thing coming.

"I'm serious. You smell like a Calvin Klein ad and a whorehouse had a fucking contest," I tell him. "What gives?"

"What do you think you're doing, bro?" He looks up at me in confusion, but he pauses. "I'm eating you out."

😭😭😭😭

Rome, here I come.

Fucking hell, maybe I am a little bit gay. Like... one percent. Maybe one and a half. He spreads my cheeks and his tongue slides up my crack and it immediately skyrockets to five percent.

"You didn't like it?" he asks, sounding amused. I'm too fucking horny to be properly enraged. "I did," I say through my teeth. "That's why I stopped." "Oh. I see," he says with a laugh. "You're one of those."

"Great," I mutter. "Just what I've always wanted. A magical, lube-dispensing asshole to turn alphas on."

"Don't tell me 'easy' until you've taken a fucking footlong up your ass, pal!" I bellow.