Bro and the Beast 2 (The Wolf's Mate, #2)

by L.C. Davis

"Most omegas would jump at the chance to be barefoot and pregnant with your pups, huh?"

"No," he agrees, lacing his fingers with mine, which has the effect of making me freeze. Well played, douchebag.

It doesn't have quite the same electrifying sensation on me as it did before, but it still makes me shiver. Because that's apparently something I do now.

It’s another unexpectedly tender gesture that makes me go tense when I should be punching him in the nose.

"You were in heat," he says in the tone of a man who's convinced he's right but knows it's going to get him into trouble.

I hear a knock on the door, and I can tell it's Raul without even looking. Only he could knock with that level of audacity.

Next thing you know, I'm gonna be getting the vapors, whatever the fuck those even are.

As much as his words chafe my ass, there's something about them that's kind of touching, too.

I'm pretty sure heat pheromones release some kind of brain worms.

"Seriously?" Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow. "Blue Fang's got fifty omegas? Sorry, Raul, but I might have to swap packs."

Raul smiles, and I loathe the butterflies it stirs up in my stomach even more than I loathe him. Time to chug an entire can of Raid.

That's how I know it's Constantine, because the author of this book has more clichés rattling around in their skull than brain cells, so of course the villain has a scar.

He’s been gone for two days, and when he gets back, I’m making him buy one of those overpriced bricks that pass for cellphones in this decade. I don’t care if he has to strap it to a dog collar.