Misfit Mates {the half-wolf and her recessive alpha}

Whöre Olympics

When I open the door to Lion's apartment after knocking softly, the three men are sitting on the couch watching television.

"What took you so long—oh, boy," Grayson lowers his gaze to my body, especially my breasts and legs. I love the attention so much that I can't help but do a spin in front of him so he can see all of me, "This isn't the same Midnight that arrived here."

"Don't let Angie turn you into her clone, okay?" Lion asks, barely giving me a glance and rolling his eyes, then he extends his beer towards me as if he's offering but I shake my head, "Come and sit with us while we wait."

"Okay," I walk over to the couch and make room between Grayson and Bastian again, "Lionel, I have a lot of questions for you. The first is this: what..."

"This isn't an interview is it?" he interrupts me, with a grimace, "I've always hated interviews. Tell me something about yourself, and I'll tell you something about me."

"I have nothing to tell about myself. Nothing interesting has ever happened to me. I could tell you something about any subject in the world, but I'm not a worthwhile subject."

"Well, then I'll have to ask you something," he lifts the TV remote to turn it off and Grayson makes an annoyed sound next to me, "I'm trying to meet my daughter, I don't want to have distractions."

"Could we meet her another time when we're not watching the biggest game of the season?" asks Grayson and Bastian reaches over me to smack his head pretty hard, pressing his full weight against me and making me shiver when I can feel and smell him. God, I could seriously lick his neck right here and feel his broad chest and his..... "Ouch! Damn, sorry... keep talking, Mid."

"It's okay, you can keep watching your game."

"Nah, I can watch it later. Tell us about your obsession with numbers and why you hate the numbers seven and nine."

"You see, I picture the numbers arranged in a straight line from one to ten," I begin to explain, and all three men give me their attention. If one of them wasn't my father, this would be much more exciting, "I like six because it's right next to five, the center, but seven is too far from the center and too far from the end, it makes no sense, it has no reason to be, it's just there to annoy me. And nine I despise because it's on one side of the ten, the end... this might seem like a good thing but it's not. I wouldn't know how to explain just why but I feel like it's the last scale for the ultimate and will always live in the shadows of the ten."

"And why not hate two, too?" asks Grayson, looking at me with interest, "And four? They're basically in the same positions, they should bother you too."

"They don't because they're part of the main group, one through five. I love them all, especially two. The others are just..."

"I'm not getting this conversation," Bastian mutters, "Why don't you tell us what you like to do?"

Besides thinking about men like you and touching myself?

"Not much," I answer, giving him a smile, "Reading, learning, watching movies... I don't know, I'm pretty boring."

"You're not boring, you told me earlier that you read three volumes of the federal constitution or something right? That's great, the fact that you want to learn things that don't interest you just to have more knowledge."

"But that's easy for her because she has a photographic memory," Grayson explains.

"Really?" asks Lion with wide eyes, "That's amazing How much can you remember, from birth?"

"Of course not," I answer, laughing, "My earliest memory is from when I was two years old, at my mother's funeral. I remember sitting in a rocking chair with oatmeal cookies my grandmother gave me and I even remember what I was wearing. It's not a good memory, but there it is anyway."

"That's unfortunate," Grayson mutters and I nod toward him. Angie arrives just then, her hair is the same as it was earlier but now she's wearing black pants, a blue blouse and high heels. Her makeup is a little more heavy too, "Finally! Okay, it's time to go. Everyone to my car."

"You're sick in the brain," Lion denies as he gets up from the couch, "I don't want to be seen in that crap, we'll leave in my van."

"I'll ride in your car if that makes you feel better," I say towards Grayson as he sticks out his bottom lip in a fake pout. Grayson does the same thing he did earlier, putting his arm around my neck like he's choking a pig and pulling me to him, "My hair!"

"You're adorable, I just couldn't help it," he murmurs, and lets me go, "But just for today we'll leave with Lion. We want to go somewhere fancy."

We walk down to the lobby all together and the same ginger boy greets us. He stares at me with interest and tells us goodnight. Once we're outside, I realize that just a few hours ago I was out here, not knowing anything about Lion. And now I'm standing next to him, looking cute and about to go to dinner with him and his family.

My new family. My new werewolf family.

My dad's van is a white Escalade and they let me ride up front with him. He hands me his phone with complete familiarity and tells me to put on some music. Unfortunately I spend the whole way looking for a song and when I finally find one I like, I'm told we're here.

As we enter the restaurant I realize that Grayson was right, this is a very fancy place and I'm glad Angie helped me look good because if she hadn't helped me look my best, I would have shown up here just as ugly as ever and embarrass everyone.

"Are you a very famous boxer?" I ask Lion as we walk to the table. Several people have turned to look at him as if they know him, and I remember those pictures I saw in his living room and the things Angie has told me about him being known.

"I used to be," he replies, and pulls a chair out from the table for me, "I retired a few months ago and left the worst legacy in the world."

"Oh please, I'm better than most," Grayson defends himself, sitting down across from me, "If I wasn't good, I wouldn't have so many fans."

"They're not fans you i***t, they're just a bunch of omegas who think you're attractive," Lion taunts, “I threw you into the fire before you were ready, that's why you've lost three of your four fights."

"But I lose in style and that's what's important," Grayson closes his good eye to me, "Anyway, I'm a good legacy and I read it in two different places."

"Grayson won a full scholarship to Cambridge and turned it down," Bastian informs me, and I raise my eyebrows in amazement, "He's good at boxing, but his talent is in something else."

"I didn't want to go to a human university. Besides, my talent is in several things at the same time," he shrugs, though the muscle in his jaw tensed angrily when his brother made that comment. Grayson opens his mouth to say something else, but his gaze moves to something behind me and his whole body goes on guard, "It can't be. Lion, tell me you see it too or I'll start to think so many blows to the head have made me crazy."

"I see it too," he states, looking over too. I turn to find out what they're talking about and see a man walking into the restaurant accompanied by a stunning woman. The man's face is bruised and I can see his nose is broken, but he's still really hot. I wonder if he’s an alpha, "Don't even think about doing anything."

Grayson stands up from his chair, ignoring my father's words and extends a hand towards me.

"Midnight, be my whöre."

"What?" I ask, and Angie next to me starts laughing.

"Jake has a whöre, I want one too," he explains, waving his hand, "Just stand next to me and look pretty while I greet him, it'll be easy for you."

I don't want to, it sounds dangerous, but Grayson takes my arm anyway and starts walking with me to where Jake is sitting with his own whöre. I feel inside me that this is not a very good idea.

"Hello, liar," Grayson greets, slipping his arm roughly around my waist and pulling me so close to his body that I have to choke out a pained sound, "How are you?"

"Better than you," Jake replies, his voice surprisingly high-pitched for someone who looks so tough. He looks at me and his hot gaze makes my nerves calm a little, I put a hand on Grayson's chest and stick my hip out a little, hoping it's sexy, "It's good that you're here. In fact, I'd like to take the opportunity to discuss that rematch you want so badly."

"Talk it up with my manager," Grayson says, and Jake rolls his eyes with a laugh, "I just wanted to come say hi and let you know that this eye has nothing to do with you. The only reason you won is because I was..."

"Thinking about my mother and my dead grandma, I know," he laughs, and the whöre smiles towards me mischievously. I guess we're rivals and I have to look tough too, but I can't help but think she's a pro and would totally beat me in the whöre olympics, "Look, new kid, I'm going to give you some advice..."

"I don't need your advice. And I'm really hungry, so me and my omega are leaving."

"Enjoy your food. And your omega," Jake mutters, giving me a completely dirty look. I know I shouldn't do this because he's the bad guy here, but I smile at him anyway because I can't help it. I'd like to be his whöre, "I look forward to beating you again."

Grayson doesn't stop to let him know he heard what he said, he just starts walking back towards our table.

"Do you think you could introduce him to me in a proper way at some point?" I ask when we're out of his reach and Grayson stops completely to stare at me with his mouth open, "It might be after your rematch, it doesn't matter. He's just... he's very handsome."

"Midnight, no," he denies, releasing me and taps my forehead a couple of times with his finger, "Don't even think about it, he's my opponent and you're my niece. That can never happen."

We sit back down and as fate would have it, when I turn my head to look one last time at Jake, he's looking straight at me with that same dirty look. And when he licks his bottom lip I feel something warm in my stomach that makes me want to go to him right this second.