Bro and the Beast 4 (The Wolf's Mate, #4)

by L.C. Davis

"I don't care what destiny says. I choose Brad." My gaze finds his, and the warmth in his eyes chases away the chill trying to settle in my bones. "I'll choose Brad in this universe, and every other."

But this is his den, and these strange fools are his pack. A pack he's clearly the alpha of, so I'm not going to challenge him openly in front of the others.

A smile flickers across Brad's lips. "You really meant all that shit about choosing me in every universe, huh?" "Of course I meant it," I say. "I don't care whether my entire world really was some fantasy concocted by that strange woman, or if this is all just a dream. As long as I have you, it doesn't matter to me."

I imprinted on you, Brad. I love you. Nothing—and no one—is ever going to change that."

Brad looks up at me, more vulnerability in his eyes than I've ever seen before. "They're not just… people in a book anymore. They're people I care about. People I love. And you... you're my world now." He looks away, his face turning red. "God, I'm starting to sound like you." I chuckle, reaching down to tilt his chin toward me. "You're my world, too, Brad. And I love you. More than anything."

"You should know us better than that. We're bros, man, and bros accept each other no matter what. Even if they're getting boned by a gay werewolf." "Especially then," Steve says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Look, I just wanted to talk to you,” I repeat. “About what?” she demands, folding her arms. I hesitate, deciding I should try to get on the same page. Bad metaphor.

She takes a step toward me and I actually back up a little, because she may be pint-sized, but this bitch is a solid five feet of menacing.

"Newsflash, Brad. We're all just stories dreamed up in someone else's head. And judging from what I've seen of yours, it's a comedy,"

Two semesters in and I still don't know what the fucking economy even is. Is it money? Is it stocks? Is it old dudes in a meeting room saying shit like "irregardless"?

"Your friends seem to have adapted well," Raul says once we're alone. "That's one of the perks of not being that deep. You kind of roll with shit," I admitted. Raul smirks. "You felt pretty deep last night." "Okay, that was your worst one yet," I tell him. "So cheesy even Reese wouldn't eat it if it was melted and poured over a plate of nachos."

"It's just because he's a werewolf. They're all lucky." "That's leprechauns," Nathan says, rolling his eyes. "I think they prefer to be called elves," Steve says with unearned confidence. Brad shakes his head. "You're all idiots."

"No," I say quickly. "Reese, you're a fucking genius." "Really?" he asks, perking up. "Never heard that before."

"I'm really not enthused by the idea that our fate might rest in the hands of a man your pack calls 'Smelly Steve,'" Raul says flatly. "You and me both, buddy," I snort. "And it's not a pack, it's a frat." "Same difference," says Raul.

"You're mine," he says, low and possessive. I know I should argue. Tell him I don't belong to anyone. But the truth is, he already has me. And I don't want it any other way. "Yours," I agree softly. "For the record, you're mine, too." "Always," he says,

"Why do you even want me?" I demand. "I'm not even really from Blue Fang." "That hardly matters, does it?" He reaches out, grasping the air an inch from my face. His nails have lengthened into claws. "We all have to play our roles." My breaths come sharp and fast. "What are you talking about? What roles?" Constantine smiles, a flash of teeth. "You'll find out soon enough, my lamb. Now, wake up!"

Sometimes, it's easy to forget he's a fantasy alpha male from a romance novel, and then other times, it smacks me in the face like a ten-inch cock.

"If that's true, I could kiss you," Luna says, and even though I'm pretty sure she means it as a figure of speech, Reese whips out his phone like it's a pistol and he's in some kind of Wild West duel and starts texting like his life depends on it.

"I'm not a trophy wife!" I snap. "I'm a trophy omega. Get it straight."

"Fuck it," he mutters, stalking forward. "I'm going, too." Brad's face lights up. "Seriously?" "What the hell." Reese shrugs. "I did say I'd do anything to get out of finals."