Son of the Cursed Bear (Sons of Beasts, #1)

by T.S. Joyce

I don’t think Peter is your match because he ripped a gnarly fart like four seconds before you sat beside him.”

“You give me erections. Of my dick.” He gestured grandly at his lap. “My dick is erect.”

Now she was blushing, and her cheeks were so pretty that color. She liked when he said nice things, he could tell, so he said, “Your cheeks are the color of vaginas.”

“Fiiine,” Vyr muttered. “We’re a crew. For now. But I’m not biting you fuckers because you probably taste like cheap beer and bad decisions.”