Page 52 of Big Bad Bully
I suddenly realize how wrong I played this. I should’ve made her seem like a toy.
“She’s nothing,” I mutter, turning around because I know my eyes are still glowing the pale grey shade of my wolf’s, and I don’t want the guys to see. “Just a piece of pretty ass and a duty to my alpha.”
“Dude, there’s nothing wrong with screwing a human,” Sully says.
“Yeah, he does it all the time.” Jake hooks a thumb in Sully’s direction.
“I know your dad is kind of a Nazi about them, but you gotta get over that. Especially with Madi as our luna,” Sully continues.
Great. Now they’re therap-izing me. This is the last fucking thing I need.
But I have to stop reacting. I showed too much already.
“She’s not my first human,” I lie.
I’m a good liar. I had to be growing up with a psychopathic father. Shifters can smell lies, so I learned to shut off all emotional responses when in tricky conversations. It’s what makes me the best deal-maker and fixer for Brick.
For some reason, I’ve lost all control of my ability tonight.
Still, I think they’ve bought it until I hear Vance mutter something that sounds like a dubious, “Uh huh.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aubrey
Just to fuck with Billy, I charge my scone and morning coffee to his Gold Card on the way to Central Park. I can’t decide if he’s the kind of guy who is so rich he won’t even notice or enough of a control freak that he’ll try to nail my ass to the wall for it. I strut down the sidewalk in a pair of paint-splattered ripped jean cut-offs with fishnets under them and a push-up bralette under a button-down paint shirt that I took from my dad’s discard pile years ago.
My mom saves all cast-offs for me to use as paint clothes or rags.
I’m walking along the sidewalk in front of Billy’s building when a blue Toyota pulls up to the curb. The back door opens and someone chucks a cardboard box onto the sidewalk before the car drives away.
Everyone on the sidewalk freezes, giving it the side eye. I guess we’re expecting a bomb. Or poisoned gas or something, but a little yip sounds from within the container.
Oh shit.
“Hey!” I yell at the departing car and march over.
Some assholes just abandoned their dog.
“What dicks,” I mutter to myself as I pry open the top flaps of the box. Inside is the cutest little salt and pepper puppy. He’s some kind of mutt, I’m guessing, with long matted hair covering its big brown eyes.
“Oh, baby!” I croon, picking him up.
He promptly pees a little on me. “Shit!” I mutter and hold him away from my body, angled away.
“What’s up, cute thing?”
He tries to lick my face. “Don’t you have the sweetest little floppy ears?” I use my baby-talk voice. “Did someone throw you out?”
His hind end wiggles with the force of wagging his tail.
“You’re a sweet thing. Who would want to give you up?”
I look up and down the street. His owners are long gone, not that they deserve to be pet owners. What am I going to do? I’m not taking this puppy to a shelter, and I need to find a good home for him.
My apartment doesn’t allow pets.
I’m also supposed to be at Billy’s in two minutes.
