AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Some humans think of mating as a deprivation of free will.
Some of us think they're just fucking jealous.
Humans could spend the rest of their lives chasing after true love and never find it.
We get ours handed to us on a silver platter.
~ Domenico Moretti in The Werewolf Prince and I (now a major motion picture)
––––––––
'MY BOSS IS A BEAST,'the female narrator whispers to my ear.'And he's no ordinary one either. I've watched Twilight, and Jacob is either human or wolf. But my boss is different. My boss is both.'
I quickly hitPauseon my audiobook because I need to catch my breath.
Oh. My. God.
Hana and the Beast Man is one of my all-time faves, and I honestly thought it would takecenturiesbefore English-languageromancewriters could catch up, and I can finally start enjoying some anthropomorphic smut happening in American soil.
And just to be clear: romance is the operative word here, not erotica.
But now this.
Please, please, please Author.
No behind-the-door sex, please.
If I wanted clean, then you shouldn't have added a male chest to your cover.
So please, please, please—-
I mentally cross my fingers as I clickResume.
'My throat tightens as I watch him slowly straighten up, and so does the rest of my body when I realize what I'm looking at. A wolf - no, a werewolf. A six-foot-plus werewolf standing on its two feet. A werewolf with a furry muscular body save for...that. And THAT...is another beast on its own.'
I need to hitPauseagain, and I catch a few people glancing at me oddly as I start fanning my face.
Phew!
Ilovelistening to steamy audiobooks. The dirtier, the better, too, but it's when I'm indulging in my favorite filthy hobby in public that things can get awkwardly...heated.
The pedestrian light turns green, and I breathe a sigh of relief as everyone loses interest in the flushed state of my cheeks, which is understandably baffling since today's weather is a comfortably chilly fifty degrees.
We all cross the street in a hurry, and no one complains when there's a bit of shoving here and there. This is New York, after all; it's always been a city for hares, not tortoises, and the occasional flash of meanness from hares is just part of its charm.
I see the 7:05 train bound for Night Bloom arriving as I run down the steps, but an old woman hunched down on the subway station's cold tiled floor also catches my eye. Her hair is long, gray, and unkempt, and she only has a thin, dirty shawl placed over her fragile set of shoulders.
New Yorkers are all about minding their own business, and while on one hand it means being free to do whatever you want,thisis one of its downsides, with everyone just walking past her like she's invisible.
One minute, I promise myself.Just dash over there, drop some money in her can, and you can still make it.
It's the perfect plan, and I executed it perfectly, too.
But what I don't count on is the old woman suddenly grabbing my wrist before I can pull away.
"Choose a card," she rasps out as her grip tightens with surprising force. Have I been pranked? Is she not an old woman, after all? Or maybe she'sreallyold, but not human?
