Ronin was a heterosexual wolf, but he was a modern one. He had no qualms about the way anyone else lived their lives. So when his pansexual second, Alphonse, bet him he couldn't survive a night on the town, he took that bet. Nothing Alphonse threw at him could get him to run away with his tail between his legs. Especially not when losing the bet meant settling for mating with anyone other than his destined mate.
But he really was heterosexual.
And the drag queen on stage didn't smell anything like a man.
And those curves could only belong to a woman...
Right?
EXCERPT:
"I'm not a drag queen, mister," Jazz tried again, attempting to keep her body from rubbing up against him like a cat. She should be attempting to run, to scream, yet here she was, way too curious for her own good. The way he was looking at her, like he wanted to devour her, just made her all weak. Still, that look was probably for what he thought she was, not the female she really was. Even though he had declared her to be a woman (duh), perhaps that was just part of his kink. "And I'm not trans. I am a real girl. I was just doing a favor for a friend."
"I know what you are, chere." Lord, if that glare got any more intense she might catch fire. As it was, it was so hard to keep her panties on when he talked. That voice should be outlawed. The man was a lethal-ass, white, Cajun Barry White. That was so wrong on so many levels. The he went and moved that powerful body closer, so there was barely enough room between them for air. "You're mine, and I'm going to take you now."
