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

by L.C. Davis

"What, you're telling me that giant apple in your pants is stronger than Kevlar?" I challenge.

anything last night. I grudgingly sit down and pile a bunch of eggs and bacon onto a slice of toast before taking a bite. I'm halfway through my open-faced sandwich when I realize Raul is staring at me and look up to find him watching me with this dreamy look on his face, like I'm a kitten in a top hat or some shit.

"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?"

"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.

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.

I 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.

What if it–and Raul–is just my brain’s way of living out some unfulfilled desires?