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

by L.C. Davis

"You can like the classics and paranormal romance. It's not mutually exclusive.

The main character is one, and there's some drama about her running away from her pack to escape a forced marriage to an alpha who sounds like a total douchebag. I can tell he isn't the love interest on account of how she isn't always thinking about his abs.

I'm starting to think the sketchier a guy is, the greater the chance he's an alpha.

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.

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.

"Who are you?" he asks, his voice low and menacing. The kind of voice that makes you want to turn tail and run like a dog with its tail between its legs. Nope. Not gonna back down. This asshole might be an alpha wolf, but I'm the vice prez of my fraternity and Kappa Nus don't run.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Who does that? Me, apparently. Oh my God, I have to get out of this place.

Before I can do anything, Raul grabs the other one by the front of the shirt and hauls him off the ground. "Is this how you spend your nights?" he demands. "Threatening people weaker than you?" The guy's squirming and thrashing to get away, but he stops to look at me, then back at Raul, then back at me again, and squints in confusion. "Huh? He's more jacked than me, man!"

"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." "I can't say I've ever heard it put quite like that, but I guess you've got the gist," I say awkwardly.

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."

I stare at him, trying to decide which of his bones I'm going to break first. The metacarpal is always a classic, but you really can't go wrong with a good jaw fracture. It would be immensely satisfying to pop him right in that stupidly chiseled—

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 a damn omega," I growl. "How much trouble could he possibly have given you?" "You've seen him," Curtis protests. "I don't know where you found this guy, but he's no ordinary omega."

"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."