Alpha's Virgin Pup (Puppyville Pack, #2) by Fel Fern

Chapter One
    “N ext up the block is a fine, hard-bodied and thoroughly greased specimen,” the auctioneer announces. “So say hello to Paul, folks!”
    Seeing my pack mate Paul walk up the outdoor stage, confident and certain of what he had to offer to bidders, I gulp. He struts his stuff, runs a teasing hand down his oiled, tanned pectorals, flat belly and finally, the jutting package between his legs encased in sexy briefs. Paul even poses, like he’s being photographed for a men’s fashion magazine. The nerve.
    “Want some of this?” Paul Danes gives the crowd a cocky-eyed look, and they go wild even though he sounds like a porn actor reading off his lines.
    I don’t blame him. Paul is just doing his part for charity.
    I swear it’s true. Once a year, the Puppyville Pack holds a charity auction at the beach. The event is open to both the human and supernatural townsfolk of Puppyville—a remote, charming little town with a population of five thousand. All proceeds go to various charity organizations in town. Think of it as good PR, a way to cement our relationship with humans.
    “Paul, I love you!” someone from the crowd squeals.
    “Be mine, handsome!”
    I roll my eyes. Paul embodies the stereotypical werewolf model in movies and books. He’s over six-feet tall, packed with muscle, and basically... a walking temptation. Don’t let Paul fool you. Not all werewolves are unfairly attractive or automatically gain muscle. That’s all hard work and I know for a fact a couple of our pack enforcers are regulars at the gym. Paul’s the few, and I’m the many.
    “Bobby, you’re up, and for crying out loud, take off that towel,” Blue, another pack member and friend, mutters.
    He’s carrying a clipboard, ticking off the names of volunteers who agreed to be auctioned off. I’m starting to question why I agreed to this in the first place. I’m tall, skinny, possess average looks, and basically, I have nothing much to offer. Hell, if I weren’t a werewolf, no one would take a second glance at me on the street.
    Out here in the beach, I can feel the heat of the summer sun. Practically everyone’s getting a tan, except me. I’m still as pale as an uncooked pastry. I dig my toes into the sand. My heart’s thumping painfully. It’s difficult to breathe and I tug the towel around me.
    “Blue, I think I’m having a stroke,” I whisper.
    Blue frowns, grabs my shoulders and shakes me.
    “Get it together, man. Remember why you’re doing this in the first place?” Blue demands.
    “Yeah, well. I’m having second thoughts. I mean, look at me, Blue. I’m no one’s ideal dream boy.”
    “Well, we’re peas in the same pod.” Blue sweeps a hand across his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt and loose shorts. “But I have Jaime, and you’ll get your guy too.”
    The guy Blue’s referring to?
    He’s Brick Rogers, Alpha of the Puppyville Pack. Like his name, our alpha’s built like a wall. Brick’s not handsome in the traditional sense. More rough and tumble than refined and pretty, but if there’s one thing everyone knows, it’s this—Brick sees what he wants, and takes without asking. That’s all dandy to me, except Brick doesn’t even know I exist.
    I mean, yeah. We pass each other during pack meetings. Say the occasional ‘hello’ and ‘how’s it going’, but Brick says that to everyone. It’s as if Brick doesn’t really see me. To him, I’m just another wolf in his pack.
    Can’t really blame Brick for being blind, because Blue’s right. I might be holding a torch for my alpha for years, but nothing will happen if I don’t make the first move. Brick fucks anything attractive on two legs, but I can live with that. I’m certain after I meet Brick and blow his mind away, Brick won’t be interested in anyone else. At least that’s what I hope.
    “Listen, Bobby. Don’t you always say it’s better to try and fail, then never try at all?” Blue prodded.
    “You should become a motivational