That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf (Mead Mishaps, #2)

by Kimberly Lemming

With the force of every woman tired of broke men’s audacity, I yeeted the drink straight at Jack’s head.

“Love potion or not, you can’t fake a hunger like this. If it weren’t for this crowd, I’d show you just how much I already burn for you. You’re mine, Brie.”

“Please don’t run from me, Brie.” He panted. “It’s getting me a little too excited.”

“Should I growl in your ear that you’re mine and toss you over my shoulder? I admit it’s not my style, but for you, Lamb? Anything.”

Realization donned as I recalled his adverse reaction to the sandwiches. You didn’t spend your life in my profession without recognizing the signs of a stomach Armageddon. Felix was allergic to cheese.

“It’s a lot less painful than what your woman would go through if you put her through childbirth. You can’t expect her to go through worse pain if you yourself can’t even offer her this.”

A low thumping sound knocked against the porch railing, but it was too dark to see what it was. “Alright,” he said. “Is your tail wagging?” I asked. “No.” The thumping stopped.

Brie’s shoulders tensed beneath my fingers. “And now I’ve got you trapped in another curse.” “It’s fine.” I slid my hand down the curves of her body, then grabbed her ass. “This one comes with benefits.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Three lemon meringue pies.” “…pies?” I asked. Of all the things I thought a dragon would ask for, sweets weren’t one of them. “You eat pies?” “No, I shove them up my ass.” He growled.

Her husband regarded her with a look of pure exasperation. “What happened to the terrified human that was too scared to leave her farm?” “She fucked a dragon and helped kill a god.” Cinnamon shrugged. “It changes a gal.”

I do not know if my tits were built for murder. I don’t even think they were built with my back in mind.