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

by L.C. Davis

"I'm not cute," I snap. "Do you have some weird Shallow Hal thing going on where you see me as some tiny 'uwu' beansprout with glittery Hello Kitty eyes and not a swole bro who could bench your whole family?"

"Oh, it's different all right," Brad mutters. "For one thing, there aren't any sanctimonious werewolves who turn you gay with their magical musk."

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.

Omegas have the reputation for being the clingy ones, but I'm starting to think alphas are the real culprits.

"Are you going to deny it?" he challenges. "Please tell me you didn't mate with that asshole just to get me a better prison cell." Before I've fully processed what I'm doing, I have him pinned against the wall by the throat. The look of shock on his face suggests this isn't how Catalina handles her interpersonal conflicts. Oh fucking well.

The fire behind those golden eyes makes me wonder if he's not a bit feral to begin with.

The kid keeps staring at me like she's one of them creepy little ghosts in The Shining, and I'm suddenly reminded of why I was thinking about getting a vasectomy. Me and kids have never mixed. Hell, I didn't even like myself when I was a kid. They all seem to come in one of two varieties—the kind that're always shrieking like medieval peasants whose village is being raided by dragons, and they somehow manage to always be sticky, or they're the kind that stare at you like a tiny Victorian ghost in a well.

Mina frowns, looking me up and down, and I swear I've never felt more judged in my fucking life. Not even when Devon caught me eating tuna out of a can with my fingers at 3 AM.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up? We're having dinner soon, and Hannah's going to freak out if she sees you covered in dirt." "Fine," she grumbles, like she's been personally curating her collection of grime and considers this a huge setback.

"Is there any part of you that's going to miss me? Even a little?" I swallow hard, because there is one part of me that already misses him more than I want to admit, and if he steps any closer, he’s going to figure that out. "Nope," I lie. "Sorry, bro. But good luck with your, uh, wolf war and all that."

Pretty much every night, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I'm asleep. Hell, I've gotten screamed at a handful of times for drifting off while a girl was jerking me off.

mean, if I had a badass scar like that, I'd be unstoppable, but that shit is always wasted on emo villains and never guys who'd put it to good use.

The members of Raul's pack don't seem that bad, even if they have bitched a little about me being human, but I guess I can understand that, too. Pretty sure I'd be awkward about a rotisserie chicken running around my apartment.

"Thanks." "For what?" she asks. "For listening," I say with a shrug. "And not immediately judging." "Oh, I'm definitely judging you," she informs me. "Just not for that." I laugh. "Fair enough."

But it's hard not to think about him, especially with his scent clinging to my clothes–or rather, the T-shirt I stole from his room because I guess I’m that fucking pathetic now.

“Because for the first time in my life, I’m watching my brother follow his heart rather than just his head,” she answers. “Raul has been an adult ever since we were kids, but when he looks at you, I see a lovesick teenager.”

I'm captivated by every inch of him and every second that passes, I feel like my straight card is in even greater danger of being pried out of my grasp. Who am I kidding? That shit got revoked when he was buried knot-deep in my ass.