Manix (Shadow Bred, #1)

by Grace McGinty

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.

Woah. Hold the fucking phone. Back that truck right the hell up and dump that load of what-the-hell right at my feet.

If I was honest with myself—and three in the morning, when your body felt like it was crawling with fire was a good time to be honest with yourself—I trusted them.

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

They were wrapped in Christmas lights, with a big blinking sign saying ‘The Thing You’ve Been Missing, Dumbass!’

Oh no. That traitorous fucker was thundering away like we were Seabiscuit running the damn Kentucky Derby.

My mom gave me the are you stupid or did I actually do damage that one time I dropped you on your head look.

“Sev, up?” she asked, and my Beta complied in a heartbeat, because he was only Manix and that cuteness was just irresistible.

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

I could have told him that my Pack already thought he was a douche-canoe, but it hardly seemed conducive to a civil conversation.

“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?”