I'm not a fighter.
I was born into a fighting family. As the middle child, I was overlooked in favor of my older brother.
He took the negative attention, too. In comparison, there's nothing special about me.
I’m not as big as Cobra. I’m not as strong as Cobra. He's the alpha.
I'm a beta.
The second son.
The lesser one.
The one never encouraged to fight, never encouraged to do anything, but stay out of my father’s way.
I'm not a lover either - but I wished to be – that’s why I needed her.
I met a girl in the pouring rain.
Sounds cliché, but it's true. It changed everything.
Because of love, I learned to fight.
Betas come second, but in this fight, my story is first.
I was born into a fighting family. As the middle child, I was overlooked in favor of my older brother.
He took the negative attention, too. In comparison, there's nothing special about me.
I’m not as big as Cobra. I’m not as strong as Cobra. He's the alpha.
I'm a beta.
The second son.
The lesser one.
The one never encouraged to fight, never encouraged to do anything, but stay out of my father’s way.
I'm not a lover either - but I wished to be – that’s why I needed her.
I met a girl in the pouring rain.
Sounds cliché, but it's true. It changed everything.
Because of love, I learned to fight.
Betas come second, but in this fight, my story is first.
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo
If I thought I was going to make a speedy getaway,
I was wrong. My savior caught up to me, half way down the walk, outside the finance
building. He was quick and a large hand wrapped around my upper
arm.
“Whoa, sister,” he said, slightly out
of breath. “You almost got away from me
again.”
“What?” I questioned. I had no idea
what he meant: again.
“Never mind,” he muttered, his
hand still on me. I looked down at it and he immediately released me. My eyes
pinched as I realized I didn’t mind his hand on my skin. There was
something nonthreatening about him. He seemed rather innocent, studious, actually.
His shirt was buttoned almost to the top and tucked into his pants. The sleeves
secure at the cuffs. His jeans were snug and hugged him well. He wore dark rimmed
glasses that screamed smart. Brown boots looked too new on his large feet. It was
like he had the right parts but the wrong
combination.
His blue eyes were soft and easy to look into. They
practically spoke to me, but I had no idea what he was saying. His dark hair was
disheveled, a bit shaggy, but cool looking. He kind of looked like a pop star, which
was a little too sugar sweet for me. His form was questionable. It was hard to tell
what kind of body he had under those clothes. He looked rather preppy, like half the
guys at this university. I didn’t want to think about it. I’d just sold my
soul for another semester.
“So when do you want to do this?” I
asked. His blank stare told me he had no idea what I
meant.
“Us,” I said, pointing between him
and me.
“I…” His voice trailed off as
he gawked at me. His expression changed from confusion to
shock.
“I didn’t buy you to
sleep with you,” he said, a touch of disbelief in his voice. His face turned
crimson, then fell. “Why, have you done that before?” It was my turn
to be surprised and offended.
I turned on my heels and began stomping away
from him. He was too quick and he caught me again. His hand on my arm halted me.
This time he didn’t release me when I peered down at his fingers wrapped
around my bicep.
“Look. I need help,” he blurted. His
face pinked a little, and it was sweet. “I don’t need help with sex. I
need help with before.” His tone dropped, and he looked side to side to see if
anyone would hear him. I took his meaning.
“You don’t know how to do
foreplay?” I questioned in a loud whisper, trying to hide my astonishment.
How could anyone have sex and not know a touch of foreplay?
His face pinked
again.
“Not that,” he said, sounding like a
child. “The flirting. The dating. The…other
stuff.”
I was stunned. I stared at him, taking in his
features again. He was kind of cute, leaning toward the potential for good looking.
He couldn’t possibly need help with this request. The confusion on my face
made him speak.
“I don’t know how to flirt.”
The words swirled between us.
“I don’t understand.” I
didn’t. I didn’t know what he wanted from
me.
“I need lessons how to be…cool: with
girls. Call it a tutoring session. I need to learn how to be…seen.” His
voice took on a touch of sadness. He couldn’t possibly be serious. I continued
to stare at him. My mouth might have actually dropped open a bit, and I noticed he
was watching my lips. It was a little exciting the way he stared at them. I licked them
and his pupils dilated, filling in more black over the blue. His expression changed.
Knowingly, he blinked when he realized I was teasing him. His lip quirked up and a
dimple showed in his cheek.
“I need to date you,” he blurted.
“To learn how to do, what you just did to
me.”
L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be
classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many
fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and
historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an
overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations
Collection,Sound Advice, Taste
Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen,
and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star
series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in
Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and
four children.
