How to Tame a Werewolf: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 3 Read Free

stepped the alpha and left the diner in a huff.
    Well, alright! The Trash Man had backed Rue’s big bad dad, Abasi Gray-Sayf, down with only a growl no one else had heard. Wait. What? Wow.
    Trash Man didn’t turn to leave like Rue expected. Instead, he stalked over to her table. His animal existed so close to the surface of his skin that his eyes blazed pure amber. In the silence that followed, the wolf inside him regarded her, his head turning from side to side so slowly she knew he’d gone feral.
    Trash Man was not civilized. He hadn’t been tamed by his human skin the way most shifters had. Or if he had been a man of manners once, his life had somehow beaten the etiquette out of him.
    Rue couldn’t breathe. She wanted to kick him under the table to distract him enough to end that unwavering glower.
    He sniffed her, so she sniffed him right back. And he didn’t stink. If he’d been living on the streets he should’ve had some form of odor, especially to her cat senses, but he simply smelled manly. Like waterfalls and a crisp green forest on a winter night. He sniffed her again and his brows quirked. The skin bunched between his eyes in the most adorable way as if her scent confused him too.
    How can a man be so wild and so adorable in the same moment? She wanted to ask him but he intimidated her.
    Oh hell, fake it ’til you make it.
    “Um, thanks?” Rue said.
    Trash Man crossed both his muscular arms and rested them on the table. Then he lazily lifted a thumbs-up. Amber lit his eyes with animal ferocity but a touch of humor danced at the corners, causing the skin to crinkle in a smile that didn’t quite reach his lips. Both the gesture and the expression made Rue more comfortable. She preferred eye smiles to smiles that only lifted the lips. Lips lied, eyes never did.
    After a long time, Trash Man dropped his gaze and used it to damn near caress her father’s untouched butter pecan cinnamon roll. So that’s the flavor he’d been searching for in the garbage cans. He’d never have found it. No one threw away the butter pecan ones. It was a crime punishable by a good kick to the shins.
    Trash Man gestured at the cinnamon roll and then to himself. When she looked from the plate back up to his face, he’d quirked an eyebrow at her again. She’d read about those eyebrow quirks in a lot of romance novels. She’d always thought it sounded a bit pretentious and weird. Though not when Trash Man did it. When he did it the region south of her belly button began to feel very…funny. Yeah, she’d go with funny.
    To distract herself she stared at his beard, a preposterous growth that sprouted from his cheekbones and didn’t stop until it tickled his chest. The beard was as wild, dark and tangled as the look he hadn’t stopped giving her since he sat down.
    Rue tentatively, so as not to startle the beast within the man, reached out and pushed the cinnamon bun his way. Trash Man smiled fully this time and Rue’s stomach did a downhill rollercoaster flip. Holy hell . Then to make matters worse, for her libido, he tented his hands and bowed his head to say thanks. Maybe the wild animal inside him still had manners. At least Rue thought so until he ripped the cinnamon bun apart and devoured it, not leaving a single pecan behind.
    Impressed, she pushed the not so good but drinkable house red wine she’d ordered in his direction. He picked it up, sniffed, and gave her an affronted look.
    Rue couldn’t help but laugh. “I know it’s not the good stuff but it’s okay for a diner.”
    Trash Man gave her a double take.
    “Fine,” she said. “What do you want to drink?”
    Putting the wine down with one hand Trash Man picked up a full water glass and drained it. Rue looked down at the empty dessert plate and back up at the man with the outrageous beard, phenomenal body, and intimidating feral gaze. She threw a hand up to catch their server’s notice. “Two—” Trash Man inclined his head at her. “No, four more