Mitch Match Novels & Stories

I looked at Kent and Mitch, who seemed to be standing a little awkwardly. “So do either of you have mates?” I asked. They were both wearing collared polo shirts, so I couldn’t tell if they had marks or not. I knew it was unlikely that Easton would have sent unmated males with us as security, but I needed some type of ice breaker to get to know these two men better. “We both do, actually.” Mitch answered. He pulled his phone out and unlocked it before he turned it around so I could see it. “This is my mate, Julie.” He beamed.

unethical. Grace, watching the drunken antics of Mitch, rolled her eyes so hard they could have fallen out of her head. "Mitch, can you please stop embarrassing me?" Mitch, undeterred, beamed at her. "Honey, let me introduce you. This dashing young man, my new sworn buddy, his name is..." Mitch scratched his head, racking his brain but coming up blank on Lucas's name. "Hey, kid, what's your name again?" Lucas replied, "Dad, it's Lucas."

Usually, the sound of pucks thudding against the boards calms me. Today, it felt like someone dragging nails down my spine. I tied my black apron, yanked my hair into a knot, and fired up the espresso machine. Above the counter, the TV was muted, captions rolling over a face I knew too well. Darin Salvator. Black hair, ice-blue eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. He was Aiden’s uncle, the pack’s pro-athlete disaster. The headline crawling across the screen made me huff a laugh: ‘PLAYBOY PRO CAUGHT IN CLUB BRAWL—REBELS AGAINST PACK TRADITION.’

My adrenaline was sky-high, and I was pissed that I’d turned my back on the fourth guy. “Hey, I’m Whitman,” one of the fighters said, and sat on a chair in the corner. I turned toward him and held my hand out. “Kai.” We shook hands, and he smiled. “Who are you up against?” he asked me, as I placed my phone and wallet in the locker. “Some guy named Falcon,” I said. “And you?” “Falcon?” he asked me, with big eyes. “Do you know him?” “He’s some crazy guy from Montana. He’s been overseas and hasn’t lost a fight yet,” he said, and I smiled.

“Yeah, I go to the Alps every year. My parents own a house there.” “So, a true professional then,” I laugh lightly, but it sounds hollow even to me. “Not as good as Connor!” Brent shouts from his seat beside Ryker, his voice cutting through the chatter. Connor grins, pointing his knife at Mitch. “Yeah, I could race you too.” He lifts his brow, challenging. The table erupts in laughter, Mitch included, and I realize this is the first time he’s really joined in with the group. “You’ll have to beat Mr. Adkins first," Mitch says smoothly, “then I’ll race the winner.”

Even Mitchell himself was beaten up so badly that he had bruises all over his face. At that moment, he was pathetically kneeling on the ground and looked utterly miserable. He had only realized that he'd met a tough opponent the moment he was punched. His opponent was not afraid of violence at all, nor did they care when he begged for mercy! Helpless, Mitchell could only call his Helen for help. Meanwhile, outside of the bar, more than a dozen cars had driven over from different directions. "Ms. Helen, this is Mr. Micah Stone. He's a master-level expert. Mason went to great lengths to invite him over from another state just recently," Clement pointed to a middle-aged man with a squarish face

I demanded, my tone sharp. Mitch hesitated, his eyes darting around nervously. "It's...complicated," he muttered, clearly unwilling to meet my gaze. "I had to find a way to sneak out of Aiden Blackwood's camp without being noticed." I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my temper in check. "Complicated?" I repeated, my voice low and dangerous. "I don't have time for your excuses, Mitch. You either have something for me, or you don't."

Lucille mind-linked nervously. “Let’s talk outside,” Mitch said smoothly, motioning Louis to follow. The three stepped out into the night air. Mitch extended a firm hand toward Louis. “I’m Mitchell Jones. Your sister’s mate. Pleased to meet you.” Louis froze for a moment. His palms were damp. Slowly, he extended his trembling hand to meet Mitch’s. “Louis Clinton,” he said shakily. “Pleased to meet you, Lord Mitch.” “Mitchell,” Mitch corrected gently. “Just Mitchell is perfect.”

“Who fancies going on the sleighs in a bit? We can go to the top of Winte Moon hill and buzz down.” Roxy pulls her head in as if she wants to hide inside my sweatshirt which looks hot as fuck on her. If the boys were not here with us, I’d have put my hands under the damn thing and reached for her perfect nipples and tweaked them until she moaned for me. Then I’d put her ass on the island, spread her legs and eat her pussy out, enjoying her juices spilling over my lips and down my chin. It’s giving me a chubby thinking about it. “Game on,” Mitch says. “I bet you five-hundred dollars, I can beat your ass to the top of the hill and back down on the sleigh.” Cocky asshole. He always has to bet o

"Oh please, everyone should have their own fair share of getting pranked. Those kids are my fair share. You do not have anyone else to play pranks on you except Shawn and I. Consider us your own fair share" "You are unbelievable," Adrian muttered in mock disgust. Shawn gasped in mock incredulity. "Did you just call our Alpha unbelievable?" He turned to Gabriel. "Can we call it treason?" Gabriel eyed him for a minute. "Have you marked her yet?" He asked, referring to Mitchell, Shawn's mate. "Nah. We've decided to take it slow" Adrian snorted. Shawn had been in love with Mitchell since high school. Just before she turned eighteen, which was the age most female werewolves found their mates all