Cole

In the land of Azar Akun, adulthood comes with a rather unusual gift. When a human reaches maturity, they are assigned a companion from one of the beast races. A lifelong bond, supposedly. Of course, the beast races are collar-bound to serve humanity, and the arrangement is rarely what anyone would call equal. Meet Cole. Alpha werewolf. Big, bad, intimidating, and thoroughly convinced he’s the sensible one in his family. He’s also Bree and Bartan’s older brother. Something he’s deeply ashamed to admit. Not because they’re Omegas, mind you. He’s ashamed because they got themselves captured. Honestly, what kind of werewolf gets caught? Cole, apparently. He insists he was outnumbered. Ambushed. Taken by surprise. A tragic tactical disadvantage. The actual story? Someone lured him in with dog treats. He refuses to discuss it. Now he’s sitting in a cage, collar around his neck, waiting for some human brave, foolish, or reckless enough to choose him. So far, nobody’s volunteered. Can’t imagine why. Perhaps it has something to do with the several hands and few dozen fingers he’s bitten off from idiots who thought sticking their appendages through his cage was a good idea. The last person who tried to pet him learned a valuable lesson about respecting personal space. Cole is an Alpha. He is dangerous. He is proud. He is absolutely not a pet. And if anyone calls him a good boy, somebody’s losing a hand. …Although, between you and me, he does have a weakness for bacon-flavored treats.