Administrative Control (Immortal Ops) by Mandy M. Roth

ridiculously well. They had to.
    “The cheaper the beer, the more I feel like home,” Striker added.
    “Missin’ the good ole days?” Duke smiled as he walked towards the lobby. “When you ran around in a kilt, singing songs of William Wallace while you got shitfaced off crappy beer.”
    Striker paused. “Old days? Och. I call that William Wallace Wednesdays. He’s a legend amongst lycans who fell too early. We should get a day off work each year in honor of him. I’ll petition for it. Right after I finish drinking tonight.”
    Having seen the man drunk too many times to count in their long history of being friends, Duke knew it was closer to the truth than not. “Hey, after beers, I need to run. You in?”
    Striker was a lycan as well and often ran in shifted form with Duke in the woods outside PSI Headquarters. The woods were stocked with deer and other woodland creatures on purpose, there for the operatives who were shifters to hunt and kill. Before they’d ensured something was there for the men to hunt, the men did it on their own, elsewhere.
    What a mess.
    This, while certainly not winning them any favor with animal rights activists, was the safest thing for everyone. Better a deer than an unsuspecting human. Sadly, it was part of the total package when it came to being a natural-born shifter, unlike humans who were bitten and infected with the virus that left them shifting forms and lived to tell the tale. Those lucky bastards weren’t slaves to so many things as naturals were. Seemed like it should have been opposite, but nature had a funny way of saying fuck you—even if I created you .
    A human getting eaten near headquarters by an operative had happened more than once in the past. Still kind of happened. They were just better at hiding it.
    He put his palm to the scanner at the lobby door. “Weird that they check us in and out when we’re salaried.”
    Striker wrinkled his face. “Big brother’s way of keepin’ track of how much we show our faces in here.”
    “I hate big brother,” Duke said, knowing he’d get a laugh out of his friend.
    “Aye, me too. Now, there are beers with our names on them.” Striker rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and Duke wondered if the man had started the party without him.
    “Had a few already?”
    Striker lifted his thumb and forefinger. “Wee bit.”
    As Duke stood closer he picked up on the smell of whiskey on Striker’s breath. A wee bit would have worn off already. Their metabolism was that fast. Striker had had more than a few drinks. He’d probably put away a bottle or two.
    “Mankind feels safer already,” Duke jested. He was all for blowing off steam. They’d put in a lot of hours in the last month and been dealing with a rash of bullshit in the way of bad guys. They needed to relax and unwind every once in a while to prevent them from losing their temper when a situation didn’t call for it. “With us in charge of their safety, why wouldn’t they?”
    “Hey, they don’t know we exist. To them we’re the stuff of fairytales.”
    Duke slid his friend a hard look. “I’m no faerie.”
    “You’re too ugly. They wouldnae take you,” Striker said with a snort. “They’d nae take either of us. We’re not pretty enough.”
    “True. Let’s go get you drunker.”

    The Dragon’s Queen (Dragon Lords 9) by Michelle M. Pillow
    Bestselling Futuristic Shifter Romance Series
    Mede of the Draig knows three things for a fact: As the only female dragon shifter of her people, she is special. She can kick the backside of any man. And she absolutely doesn’t want to marry.  
    Mede has spent a lifetime trying to prove herself as strong as any male warrior. Unfortunately, being the special, rare creature she is, she’s been claimed as the future bride to nearly three dozen Draig—each one confident that when they come for her hand in marriage fate will choose them. When the men aren’t bragging about how they’re going to marry her,