Free Bride of the Alpha by Georgette St. Clair

coffee that the waitress had just put in front of him. The coyote hadn’t spotted the humans yet.
    He followed everyone’s gaze and looked at them, and instantly his face went back to human, but it was
    too late.
    “Crap. Sorry,” he muttered, hanging his head.
    The family stared at him, mouths hanging open, eyes huge with panic. All chatter died out. Everyone in
    the restaurant fell silent.
    A gray-haired wolf shifter jumped up from his seat and rushed over to the human family’s table. He
    raised his hand and began talking to them, and I could see their eyes glaze over.
    “Your shaman?” I asked.
    “Yep,” Max nodded, glowering at the shifter who’d howled at me. “My uncle Cody. Thank God he’s a
    good one.”
    Cody was hypnotizing them to forget the moron who’d howled. That was the unique ability of the
    shaman. Every pack had at least one. It was a genetic mutation. Among their powers was the ability to
    hypnotize humans, and make them forget anything suspicious that they’d seen. It was theorized that shifters had evolved this protective ability the same way that chameleons had developed the ability to change colors.
    That was why shifters had managed to stay hidden from humans all these years.
    Of course, shamans didn’t always get to humans in time. That was why there were werewolf legends (mostly inaccurate) and werewolf movies. However, thanks to shifters tending to live away from human
    populations, and the power of our shamans, humans believe that we were just scary fables.
    The humans got up and left. “He’s also hypnotizing them to forget this restaurant. They’ll just go on
    their way safely to their destination, and never even remember this place,” Max said.
    “Close one,” I said, turning back to my coffee.
    “It’s a good thing Cody was here,” Max agreed, nodding. “Otherwise we would have had to hold them
    here until he got here, they would have freaked out…it would have been ugly.”
    He shrugged, reached out, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant…like what
    I’m going to do to you when we get back to the bridal chamber. I think your little fiasco with your friends calls for another punishment…and this time, I’m choosing the method.”

Chapter Eight
    “I can barely walk,” I moaned to Maxwell on Sunday afternoon. We were sprawled on a porch swing
    on the back porch, with a breathtaking view of the white-capped mountains. Max was shirtless and
    barefoot, only wearing his pants. I wore a tank-top and pajama shorts.
    “Hey, you were the one who wanted to do it just one more time,” he said, kissing my ear.
    “Well, why would you listen to me? I’m clearly a moron.” I sat up, slowly and gingerly. He wrapped his
    arms around my waist and pulled me back against him, nuzzling my neck and sending shivers down my
    spine.
    “That’s true, but you’re a hot sexy moron who was asking for more sex, so I threw common sense and
    caution to the wind.”
    “My poor vajajay,” I groaned. “She needs an ice pack. And a day off. If you want to come again, we
    will have to explore alternative methods.”
    “I can think of many. I’ve demonstrated some,” he said.
    I leaned back and sighed. The sky was blue, the air smelled like pine needles and sex and summer, life
    was good.
    “Oh yeah? What else ya got?” I really wanted to know.
    “That information will be revealed on a need to know basis,” he grinned at me.
    “By the way, what are you planning on telling Kray’s pack? And when?” I asked.
    He frowned. “There’s no need to tell him anything right now. I don’t want you to have to worry about
    my problems, Josephine. It’s my job to handle that kind of stuff.”
    “Oh yeah? What’s my job?”
    He laughed. “Your job is to satisfy me sexually, make me laugh, socialize with my pack members, and
    satisfy me sexually.”
    “Ah ha. I see where your priorities lie. You pervert. So, only some of the things they say about the
    Timber