The Alpha's Warlock (Mismatched Mates #1)

by Eliot Grayson

“You don't need to know,” Ian growled at me, setting down his spoon. I put mine down too, with a little more force. Okay, if we're being honest, I threw it at him and he dodged, and it clattered onto the floor.

“Please stay out of trouble,” Matthew said. He sounded a lot less optimistic, not that I could blame him, given my track record — not to mention Ian's. “Groceries, laptop, low body count,” I promised him.

After this was over, I promised myself I was never going hiking again. Nothing even hiking-adjacent. The farthest I was going to walk was from a nice warm car into a Starbucks and back again, and if I got flabby and pale, or flabbier and paler as the case may be, so fucking be it.

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

If alpha mating instincts meant they washed you in all the hot water and then uncomplainingly took cold showers on their own, I couldn’t believe everyone didn’t want one.