The Alpha's Warlock (Mismatched Mates #1)

by Eliot Grayson

Ian's toiletries were surprisingly high-end for a guy I'd always thought was one brow-ridge away from a Neanderthal.

Okay, and that was the second time in a day he'd almost shown a sense of humor. I was starting to wonder if I should be looking for an empty pod out behind the shack.

Ian stalked toward me, the soft crunch of his boots on the bits of twigs strewn over the path the only sound. Even the wind had stopped for the moment. Of course Ian would get the weather to cooperate with his need for a dramatic pause, the fucker.

I stared up at the ceiling and finally let the tears roll down. They pooled in my ears. I didn't care enough to move.

When he lifted his head, his eyes glowed like stars, yellow shining through the pale blue. “Fine.” It was a little muffled; his fangs were out. Fuck, glad that waited until he was done sucking me off.

Maybe ‘dominant mate’ meant he drove anything with wheels, including grocery carts — and I wasn’t really sure what gender norm that was supposed to support, but whatever. Maybe Ian didn’t think about it that deeply. “Oh, hey, they have jellybeans on clearance,” he said, and veered off with the cart toward a freestanding display. I was going to have to go with ‘didn’t think that deeply.’

A shiver went down my spine as I finally crawled out of the bush and came to stand beside Ian. Maybe that was the prickles embedded in the back of my hoodie, and maybe it was having someone willing to die for me. A little from columns A and B, probably.

To my surprise, he sat down next to me. And put a hand on my knee. And started rubbing circles on my leg. In a comforting way. “Hey, Ian?” I wasn’t sure how to ask him tactfully if his brain had gotten scrambled. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I wouldn’t mind watching, but I thought it’d be more polite to tell you I have magical surveillance on the apartment.” Dor sounded casually amused, the bastard. “We’re going to be leaving in a few minutes anyway, so no time for that.” A fainter voice cut in with, “You couldn’t have let them at least get their clothes off? You’re such a spoilspo—”