Manix (Shadow Bred, #1)

by Grace McGinty

Seven was a Beta, but he was a strong Beta. Too strong. It was a generally held belief that a strong Beta would resist orders and cause problems. And it was true, Seven did cause issues at times, especially when given orders. But our Pack weren’t hardcore traditionalists when it came to hierarchies. I treated Seven the way I’d treat any other Alpha—hell, any other Manix—with respect and understanding. In return, Seven was grateful to even have a Pack, even if it was one filled with misfits. He was loyal and loved, and that was worth something too.

Or, a female and male Omega could mate during a heat cycle, and the male Omega would draw the viable eggs into himself. Afterwards, the pack would lie together during the rut and all the eggs had a chance to be fertilized. It was animalistic, feral sex that would leave the entire Pack drained and weak.

Step one of feminism: you did not have to be polite to people who were trying to abduct you in nothing but a thong. Maybe that should be steps one through five. There was a lot there to unpack.

“It’s not really that hard if you stop being so fucking human. You two fuck during the heat. He steals the eggs with his super sucker dick. We fuck him and fertilize the eggs in what is one very long and dirty orgy. He grows some cubs. In four and a half months, we cut him open, deliver our young, and we are finally a family.”

Finlo was lithe and fair, his body lean yet muscular. He looked like some kind of sleek predator. Gatlin was like the dark side of Finlo’s moon, with a beard that had to be a couple of days old creating a shadow across his cheeks. He was a touch shorter, but broader across the chest, and gave off the vibe of being an immovable wall.

It was official. The heat was like PMS sent straight from Satan.

Modesty had packed her bags and left, and the only person left to man the ship was a wanton hussy.

I wanted to tell him that his Goddess-sent dick was welcome in my lady cave anytime.

“No. First we feed our Omega, then we get to eat. You know this shit. That's a bad Alpha. Bad Alpha!”

I laughed against Raiden’s lips. “Love you, Omega, even if you don’t know your place.” He ran a hand up the back of my head, twisting my hair in his fingers and tugging. “Alpha, you love me because I don’t know my place.”

Even my baggage had baggage. I was one of those Russian dolls, but with issues. There were issues inside my issues.

I’m pretty sure if there was a Valhalla, the VIP area was set aside for people who died fucking.

“If you make me wade into that office to break up a fight, I’m doing it with a taser set to ‘crispy balls,’ and I swear, I’ll zap you until your pubes catch on fire. Got it?”

Finlo growled, and Doc just raised an eyebrow. “Finlo Grey, I delivered your squawling backside after thirty-six hours of labor. Do not make that noise at me.