You Bet Your Sass: Black Paw Wolves, #3

By Melanie James

After losing a bet with Tavy Olsen, Lars Jakobsen finds himself on stage for a weekend doing something he never thought he'd do: Stripping for the ladies at one of Crescent Bay's most infamous establishments, The Sketchy Wolf.

When the unmistakable sweet scent of his mate nearly knocks him on his ass, all bets are off. Or are they?

Sofia Martinez wants a one-night stand, but Lars wants more. Will she keep him chasing his own tail? Or will they get their happily ever after?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie James
• Release date: May 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224499632

Book preview

Prologue

A re we really going to do this again? Lars asked, more than a little annoyed.

You know it. Besides, life’s no fun without a few well-placed bets here and there? Tavy replied.

All Lars could do was roll his eyes. It was the same shit every Saturday morning. The pack met for their weekly meeting and run, and Tavy came up with some lame-ass wager he was sure to lose.

Every damn week. Without fail.

Man, you know I’m going to kick your ass—just like always.

It was Tavy’s turn to roll his eyes. Whatever. So, are we doing this? Or are you going to be a pussy and chicken out?

The boy had a serious addiction to gambling. Lars sucked in a deep breath like he did every week. If Tavy wanted a bet, he’d give him a bet. Maybe a bet to end all bets and break his addiction—teach him a lesson so to speak.

If we’re going to do this again, let’s play for something a little more interesting this time. It’s not like I haven’t enjoyed beating you on a regular basis, I’m just growing bored with it. How many times do I have to whoop your ass at something before you realize you can’t win against me?

That should do it. His wolf, who had been uncharacteristically quiet finally spoke up.

Lars wanted to lay the groundwork. That way there was no way Tavy could back out. He wanted to set a trap, more or less. One that Tavy would easily fall into, thanks to that ego of his.

In the past, no matter the wager, Tavy had never once defeated him.

I’m in, Tavy said with a wicked smirk plastered across his face, looking much like the cat who had just swallowed the canary.

That’s the one thing about Tavy that Lars loved, he was easy to goad. Thankfully, his brother Tad didn’t intervene. He just smirked, along with his brother.

Whatever. Lars had beaten Tavy every week for years. Today would be no different.

We’ve got him. Just like always, his wolf said.

So, what are we wagering this week? Tavy asked.

A few members of the pack had gathered around, listening to the details of the wager.

Lars thought about the question for a moment before answering. The first one to the lake wins.

Sounds good. Tavy nodded. What’s the wager?

If I win, you have to get my name tattooed on your ass, Lars said with a straight face.

Laughs and giggles from those who had gathered erupted. Others could be seen pulling cash from their pockets, eager to make a few bets of their own.

And if I win, you have to strip at The Sketchy Wolf next weekend, both Friday and Saturday nights, Tavy smirked.

It’s a good thing I’ll leave you in the dust like I always do, Lars laughed.

Is it a bet then? Tavy held out his hand, waiting for Lars to shake on it.

Are you sure you guys want to do this? Rafe asked.

Lars glanced over to see that the Alpha had joined in.

Absolutely, he said as he clasped Tavy’s hand and shook on it, cementing the deal.

As Alpha of Black Paw, I see to and agree to this binding pact. Whoever reaches the lake first wins the bet. Rafe placed his hand atop of theirs, and the deal was sealed.

Lars stood beside Tavy, calm and relaxed. They made bets all the time, and he’d always won. What could he possibly have to worry about?

1

Lars Jakobsen looked around at his surroundings and wondered again why the fuck he’d ever made that stupid freaking bet with Tavy Olsen.

What the hell had he been thinking?

He still couldn’t believe that he’d actually lost. He should have won the challenge hands down, like he had numerous times before.

Lars should have known Tavy had a trick up his sleeve. He had been far too agreeable to such an outlandish bet. If he’d been paying attention, he would have realized that his opponent had an ace up his sleeve.

Not even Lars could have guessed how the race turned out. Seriously, who would have guessed that Tavy’s new mate was a Faerie and had the ability to teleport?

Lars had tried to argue the semantics of it, but the truth was plain and simple. Never once was it specified that they could not use teleportation as a means of reaching the lake.

What the hell was I thinking? Lars asked his wolf, suddenly feeling the need to bolt as Parker Langley approached with a knowing smirk on his face.

That there was no way that scrawny little fucker would beat us at our own game, his wolf replied.

Bastard.

I couldn’t have said it better, his wolf huffed. Let’s get this shit over with.

Agreeing with his wolf, Lars planted his feet on the ground, refusing to tuck his tail between his legs and run away—though he really fucking wanted to. He sucked in a deep breath and held his ground. He knew damn well he had to man the fuck up and do what needed to be done. If he dared to so much as show his face without completing the challenge, he’d never live it down. Somehow, some way, the last laugh would be on Tavy.

Lars would make damn sure of that.

Besides, it’s not like he’d be totally naked, right?

When he got back home to Black Paw, he was going to kick Tavy’s balls up around his eyes.

Twice.

You must be Lars. Parker extended his hand, offering the customary greeting.

Unfortunately, I am.

You look a little green. Are you sure you can do this? Parker motioned to the stage, which Lars had yet to make eye contact with.

Let’s hope so. I’d hate to get up there and make an ass out of myself.

Have you ever done something like this? The skepticism was clear on Parker’s face.

Nope, but there’s a first time for everything, right?

It’s not as bad as you might think. By the looks of it, you’ve got a decent body, and the chicks will dig that. Big time. Work the crowd and you’ll do well.

Lars scratched the stubble on his chin, trying like hell to hold back on the sarcasm and failing.

Awesome.

Finally gathering up his nerve, Lars glanced at the stage for a glimpse of exactly what it was Parker expected of him, and his jaw nearly hit the damn floor.

"Sweet Odin. Not that bad? Is he smoking crack? What the actual fuck? There is no motherfucking way I’m getting up there and doing that!"

Bitching to his wolf about