Zombie Wolf of Piston (Wolves of Piston, #1)

by T.S. Joyce

A little sliver of disappointment worked its way through her chest cavity. Goodbye, ReaperStrykerZombieWolf I-don’t-know-your-last-name. Send.

“Stop! Women actually have more value than that. I know it’s hard to believe for a sexist bag of assholes, plural, like you, but I’m sick of you talking about bringing a woman into the shit show you boys have created in this way. It’s disrespectful. This isn’t some escort service, Vaughn. A woman isn’t a Band-Aid. This is a professional service designed for shifters who actually want to give their animals something deep to attach to.” “I fell asleep in the middle of that.”

Reaper wasn’t anything like she’d expected. He was the most interesting, intimidating, surprising man she’d ever met.

“I liked drinking that disgusting wine with you, and I liked the concert, and I liked waking up and wanting to send you a message. I liked the Jeep ride, and I liked thinking about coming here between work calls today. I liked bringing the soda to the door. I like that you don’t run away or tell me to leave. I like telling you things. I like the way your eyes stay soft even when I admit something bad about myself.” He shrugged up a shoulder to his ear. “I even like this small talk.” “I don’t think this is small talk anymore,” she murmured. “I think it’s very big talk.”

“I guess because you’re nice to me. I know you’re dangerous, but my wolf isn’t scared, so I guess I trust her. And you.”

She grinned. “I like that you say yes to me. I hate hearing ‘no.’” “Spoiled,” he grumbled. “Independent and I know what I want,” she corrected him.

“Hey, you can be half-dead, and a little crazy, and have magical powers and all, but your questionable taste in candy is where I draw the line.”

“Someone once told me that making other people happy is a better fuel than hate.”