Not Like the Rest: Not a Werewolf Fairy Tale, #1

Not Like the Rest

Layla Cole

18+ Gay Romance|Length: 27,000 word novella|Not a Werewolf Fairytale #1 of 5

Paul believes in fairy tales: true love, happy endings, and the soulmate that, as a werewolf, he knows is out there somewhere. He's spent years fantasizing about the woman who will be his mate, but what he gets instead is a straight guy named Jesse who apparently wants nothing to do with him. All Paul wants is a chance…if he can get over his own gay crisis first.

Jesse's thought about experimenting once or twice--hasn't everyone?--but that's it. The last thing Jesse needs is for Alpha Kappa Tau's newest pledge to upset his carefully constructed web of denial, or for his position as Pledgemaster to throw them together at every turn. All he wants to do is keep running until life gets back to normal...if it ever does.

But maybe, just maybe, normal sucks. And maybe, just maybe, he likes Paul more than he's willing to admit.

Not Like the Rest

Layla Cole

****

Copyright © 2015 Layla Cole

All Rights Reserved

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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One

Friday, August 23, 2013

Paul wanted to kiss the fake ID that had gotten him into Voodoo and then hug Grayson for talking him into getting it last summer. He would have, if kissing the ID wouldn’t instantly give him away, and if Grayson weren’t off in Argentina being an absentee best friend. Shame, ‘cause Paul could use a little help right now.

Or someone to talk to.

He slipped his wallet in his pocket and staked out a spot with a view of the bar, trying to look like he knew what the hell he was doing. Had to blend in, which meant shaking off his nerves and pretending he’d been in a thousand bars exactly like this one.

My mate’s here, he thought, and tried, too late, to change his giddy smile into a jaded sigh.

The low light on the dance floor might actually be a mixed blessing. Made it tougher to scan the crowd, but gave him a chance to take stock of the situation without looking like an idiot.

After following his mate’s trail for blocks—all the way from the dorm where his parents had dropped him off after dinner—he’d ended up here, where the same werewolf instincts that had all but dragged him through town told him he should focus on the two people working the bar.

Paul closed his eyes to block out the constantly moving bodies and the gaudy, witches’ coven style decor—these people didn’t even know what real voodoo was, did they?—and wiped sweaty palms on his jeans, sorting through the tang of alcohol and the swirl of perfume and cologne, sweat and sex, unable to pick out which pieces, exactly, belonged to his soulmate.

He eyed the spotlights on the bar dubiously. Did he really have to go over there?

He could just, maybe wait for a while, figure out the perfect thing to say and the perfect time to do it, and—no. If he listened to the panicked voice telling him fuck-I’m-only-eighteen-this-is-too-early-what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here, he’d never get past the butterflies in his stomach long enough to make a move.

So, recon. He’d check out the woman who’d be with him for the rest of his life for a minute and then he’d go for it.

They were soulmates, right? Couldn’t go too wrong.

Of the two at the bar, one was a guy a little older than him. And—werewolf, he thought, watching the guy move. You could always tell. Paul wasted a moment trying to figure out which of the Alpha Kappa Tau brothers he might be, and then jerked his attention away. He didn’t do guys, so that made his mate the pretty brunette chatting up some jocks in Psi Alpha shirts.

Outgoing. Nice laugh, nice smile. Fantastic. She’d see right through him, naturally, figure out what a dork he was—but that was supposed to happen, right?

The scenario that ran through his mind went a little like this: he’d walk up to the bar, whip his ID out, and slam it down on the counter. As soon as she looked at him, the world would stop and she wouldn’t have eyes for anyone else. He’d say something brilliant, she’d laugh and instantly want him, and…somehow they’d bond and ride off into the sunset together.

Paul didn’t have the middle part figured out. Yet.

But he wouldn’t get to the middle if he didn’t move. Tentatively, he took a step forward; the pull grew stronger. Yep. Definitely on the right track.

Taylor met Annie when he toured campus during orientation, he reminded himself, and now he’s Alpha and they’re ninety-percent married. And that was only the latest in a long line of success stories. He’d be fine.

More confident now, he worked his way through the people crowding the bar, noting distantly that the male bartender had left his mate working by herself, and reached for his wallet. He had a date with destiny and everything would be absolutely perfect once he got through the first meeting—

I don’t think so, a distinctly male voice said from behind him.

And then the other bartender, the guy, grabbed his arm and he got jolted so hard, he didn’t know whether to pass out, throw up, or jump the guy, which was—confusing. He got a blast of fall scent: woodsmoke, leather, apple cider. A punch to the very core of him that said, Mine, even as his world realigned to make space for the man standing before him.

He’d heard so much about this moment: the wonder, the pure, unadulterated happiness of finding your soulmate at last… But Paul could only whirl around in shock, leaning very much toward puking his guts out right there in the middle of the bar.

The other guy looked like he felt about the same, judging by how pale he got. Only for a second, though. Seemed to recover unfairly fast.

You don’t belong here, the guy said faintly. And you can stop ogling Tessa. Her boyfriend’s about to propose.

Tessa?

Oh. Her.

Funny; Paul had been so sure, and now he couldn’t even spare a thought for her under the weight of knowing how badly the universe’d fucked him over. Paul didn’t—he wasn’t—this guy, okay, he just didn’t fit what he’d wanted in a mate, starting with his gender.

Sure, he was pretty good-looking, objectively speaking. Taller than Paul, dark hair to Paul’s blond cut short but growing long enough to look a little spiky, tanned skin, couple years older probably…

The eyes, brown with flecks of green and gold, he noticed because he couldn’t stop staring at them like an idiot. He forced his gaze down. Got stuck on the mouth that, even tightened the way it was now, looked inviting enough that Paul bet lots of girls thought it was kissable.

Paul wouldn’t know, of course, since he didn’t think about guys that way. Maybe I’m starting to, he thought, and cut himself off. Nope, he should get a second opinion. But who did he know who—

The guy cleared his throat.

I just wanted a drink, Paul said, flushing, knowing his heartbeat would give the lie away to any werewolf who knew how to read it.

The guy’s fingers felt hot even through the fabric of his shirt—they burned, almost, as they curled tighter. Assuming you’re even old enough, people like us don’t come in here for the buzz. Let’s see…

Bartender-soulmate-guy casually slid his hand into Paul’s front pocket and pulled out