Forget Me Not (Beings in Love #10) Read Online R. Cooper

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Beings in Love Series by R. Cooper
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Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 180464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
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Detective Ray Branigan protects his chosen city of Los Cerros. Whatever feelings he has on how he is treated as a werewolf in a police department of mostly humans, Ray keeps to himself for the sake of being what he is supposed to be and doing what he thinks he is supposed to do.
…Until he wakes up in an alley with a headache, magic tingling in his nose, and no memory of the half-fairy in front of him claiming to be his mate. Ray does not have a mate, yet his instincts tell him this is right—and that something else is very wrong.
Werewolves who lose their mates get self-destructive or violent. But a miscalculation in the spell used against him has temporarily spared Ray that fate. While he still can, he has to find who did this to him, and why, and try not to get too distracted by the brilliant half-fairy who smells like home.
Callalily “Cal” Parker is beautiful, clever—and far too careful when discussing their past. Fairies are supposed to speak the truth, but maybe Cal is right to hide it from Ray, since the pack Ray has fought so hard to believe in, the police, seem to have abandoned him, and, his instincts whisper, cannot be trusted now, which means that maybe Ray shouldn’t be trusted either.
But the spell is still at work, weakening even a werewolf’s strength. When Ray can no longer fight off the magic, will he become the monster so many think he is, or the hero that his mate insists he must be—that he wants to be, to save himself, and help his city, and make his Callalily proud?

Full Book:

Chapter One

RAY DIDN’T KNOW where he was or why he was there. He didn’t know if the sky was dark or light, why he was cold, why his pulse pushed against his skull. He should have known those things. That thought came and went, crisp and shaped like words, which made it human, although Ray did not feel human with his senses streaming too much information to his aching head.

He inhaled, hoping for clarity, and only just turned his head in time for his vomit to spill out onto pavement that smelled of rotting food and piss and traces of rats. The rats were the safest scent to a were’s senses, not clean, but cleaner than the mess left behind by careless humans. City wildlife bathed itself. Rats, foxes, and opossums were only animals making do in an environment someone else had created. Humans chose filth.

Ray was somewhere in the city, then. He realized his eyes were closed and cracked them open, only to snap them shut again. The light was orange and dim, but still far too much for a wolf’s eyesight at the moment. He took another breath, carefully this time, his face turned away from the pavement.

It was afternoon, or evening. He was in a city, in an alley. That was all he knew.

Ray wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then slowly, with his jaw clenched, reached up to prod at his skull. No bumps. No blood. No heat. But he could have healed. The dangers of rapid werewolf healing; the surface sometimes healed before the wound itself did. That had happened before, although he couldn’t seem to recall a specific example.

Injured or not, he was still in pain. He was also on the ground, a realization that made him sit up, too much, too fast. His stomach roiled, but he didn’t vomit. Penn would’ve been proud.

Penn. Ray shielded his eyes before he opened them again. He ignored the sharp sting that made him blink and swept his gaze over the space in front of him. No sign of Penn. Or of anyone else, for that matter.

On his knees, squinting in the glow of the evening sun, Ray patted his chest, finding no injuries, before discovering his wallet and his gun where they ought to be.

He inhaled again. Vomit, still warm—not automatically objectionable to a were’s nose despite what humans would think, but hardly pleasant. Piss again. Food waste from one of the bins nearby. Old sweat and something else, something almost wild, only in the air for a second before it was gone. A hint of grass, like what sprung up sometimes between the cracks in the sidewalk. Plastic and metal. City smells.

The pavement was stained and uneven. It had not been repaved in some time. So he was not in a nicer part of town. Something somewhere smelled vaguely of pears, but almost artificially, like candy or cheap bodywash.

Ray grunted as he lurched to his feet, then swayed and fell against the wall that marked the end of this alley; the back corner of a building, although he couldn’t say which one. He had to blink away more tears of pain, then sparkles at the rush of blood through his head. Despite the light, the air was not warm. He remembered it was early autumn, although he did not know why that knowledge was so clear when nothing else was. Ray shut his eyes and focused elsewhere, using his ears this time. There was noise, like what might have been a crowd of people, but it was distant.


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