Jagger's Mate (Gay Werewolf Romance)

Chapter 1

***Update!  So I posted the sample and immediately changed my mind lol.  I'm going to post one chapter a week and then leave the full story up for maybe a week so everyone who wants to wait can finish.  But if you'd like to support me or you don't have the patience to wait, the full book is available now on Amazon, iBooks, Google Play, Barnes and Noble, Scribd, and Smashwords along with a few others :).  Enjoy!***

***For Mature Audiences, 18 years old and above

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Jagger

I walked into the bar, the music loud enough that I could feel the reverberation of it in my stomach.

It wasn't great for my sensitive ears, but it wasn't quite loud enough to be a real deterrent to entering.

And I really needed a drink.

Or five.

Inside, the lighting was prerequisite bar lighting—meaning it was dim enough that a couple of drinks would have anyone looking like a supermodel.

Not that that mattered tonight.

I wasn't interested in hooking up.

The clash of various scents, old and new, assaulted my senses as I made my way over to the bar, my eye on an open stool.

Sweat, perfumes, colognes, soaps, shampoos, old alcohol, leather, and a million other threads swirled around me.

So many layered over years that it was honestly difficult to tease out each individual one.

It didn't help that multiple people had lit up cigarettes of various kinds.

This was obviously not a bar for the health conscious. I could appreciate that.

I got to the worn stool and parked by ass on it.

The bartender acknowledged me and slid the drink he was making to someone waiting before heading over to me.

"What'll it be?" he asked in that particular voice that was pitched just loud enough to be heard over the din but no louder.

Bartenders learned not to strain their voices too much early on or they wouldn't have a voice by the end of their shift.

"Whiskey, please. Neat."

"You got it."

He slid the glass in front of me in just a few seconds.

I appreciated the fast service.

Downing it, I gestured for another.

He was right there with the next which I took some more time with.

It took me longer to get drunk than the average bar patron.

Two whiskeys wouldn't do it.

But now that I was here, I found myself a little reluctant to just get shit faced like I'd intended.

Apparently shit was too serious for that.

So I just sat there, letting the background noise and the dimness of the bar cocoon me in my own little world as I took another sip of my drink.

I was not expecting to find what I did when I came out here to find Jeannie.

Rage, helplessness, a stomach churning grief...I felt all of it.

And I knew I couldn't do anything more than I'd already done by getting her out of the situation.

Much as I would have liked to do more—much more—I knew that way would only end with Jeannie being left alone.