The Alpha's Warlock (Mismatched Mates #1)

by Eliot Grayson

Where the hell were the pack's perimeter guards? Someone had to patrol this huge territory, what with rival packs only a few miles away and a master vampire and his brood in the next town over. Especially since one of those rival packs had snatched me from the club, and especially especially since they'd done it as the first step in a plot against the Armitage pack.

“Once his energy's bound to yours, he'll have all your resilience and all his powers, all under your control. He'll be the perfect weapon.”

To be fair, if I'd been a giant predator with four-inch razor-sharp retractable claws, I probably wouldn't have been too terrified of the twink in skinny jeans lying in the mud like a lump, either.

Different supernatural species had slight variations on the ways they mated, like vampires had to trade blood or gnomes…okay, not even going to go there, because seriously, gnomes were some kinky little bastards. But all the rituals involved sex.

I thought longingly of Starbucks. Green aprons, standardized shots of vanilla syrup, people who didn't growl at me. Heaven.

For a second, I started to panic. I didn't have the fucking manual for this. What did a guy do when his hostile asshole werewolf mate started to, like, be nice to him? Sweet, even?

Ian hadn't wanted anything to do with me, and neither did that asshole shaman, really. I was a means to an end. No one thought I was good for anything except to be a pawn.

“Groceries, laptop, low body count,” I promised him.

I didn’t trust Charlie; no one with any kind of brain, caffeinated or not, would trust an ancient vampire who looked like jailbait and had a whole territory to protect.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Fainting-Like-a-Princess-Every-Five-Minutes.”

I swallowed hard. I already had enough weird kinks. No adding to them, not allowed.

I was like a bad supernatural country song, all wanting to be loved and sad that my werewolf ran away. Or something.

“I’ve been trying not to fall in love with you for years and failing, and I’d die for you. You called me an asshole, so I think you actually mean it, so can you please, please just fucking say it again?”

“I love you,” I whispered. “You unbelievable dick.”