by Sam Hall
The Wolf At My Door
Sam Hall
Contents
Description
If you’re in any way related to me
Author Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Description
All Jules wants is to get a job. The drought is causing work to dry up along with the land and she and her dog, Buddy are starting to get desperate. Then she spies an ad for an all-rounder at a remote place called Sanctuary, whatever that is.
Somehow Jules is the only applicant and it appears all her prayers have been answered. She now has food, board, a job and a whole lot more. It appears Sanctuary is the home of a huge pool of ridiculously good looking men who are 1. All vying for her attention and 2, expect her to choose to have relationships with multiples of them.
Just as Jules thinks she’s Alice and she’s fallen down the hole into Dickland, she starts to look past the guys who read romance novels to better understand women and the HR manuals written by kink practitioners and starts to wonder. What is behind the huge fence at the centre of Sanctuary? Why is everyone waiting for the full moon? What secrets are the staff hiding? Join Jules as she finds her answers to these questions and those she never thought to ask.
The Wolf At My Door
The Wolf At My Door © Sam Hall 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except for in the case of brief quotations for the use in critical articles or reviews.
Cover art and design by Mibl Art
The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Created with Vellum
This one is dedicated to my alpha and beta readers. I was a bit leery of this one, feeling like it was all just thinly veiled porn, but with their support I ended up with something I was proud of. Couldn’t do it without you guys!
If you’re in any way related to me
Don’t read this one. Seriously, Christmas dinners are already awkward and weird without imagining me writing werewolf orgies. Just delete the book, put the Kindle down and sidle away. It’ll be better for all of us.
Author Note
This book is written in Australian English, which is a weird lovechild of British and American English. We tend to spell things the way the Brits do (expect a lot more u’s), yet also use American slang and swear more than both combined. I’ve included a list of what I think are Australianisms used in the book at the back in a glossary.
While many people have gone over this book, trying to find all the typos and other mistakes, they just keep on popping up like bloody rabbits. If you spot one, don’t report it to Amazon, drop me an email at the below address so I can fix the issue.
[email protected]
1
Please, please, God. Buddha. Hecate… whatever, I thought furiously as I waited, let me get this job. There I was, in the very nice air-conditioned head office of the vaguely named Sanctuary, my legs neatly crossed, my foot bouncing up and down at a million miles a minute. The only other person in the reception area was one of the staff, dressed in what looked like the uniform for this place, a khaki shirt and pants. I wonder what they do here? Maybe work with animals? A lot of people who work with animals wear khaki, I mused as my eyes flicked around the room. Zookeepers, rangers, why is that? Surely black or grey would hide more dirt. Or camouflage, with those weird blobs. Is that why soldiers wear camo? So the blood doesn’t show, and they look invulnerable? Maybe animal workers should develop their own pattern that hides dirt.
I watched the girl sitting at the desk, her fingers flickering over the keys of her keyboard. She’d smiled when I came in, offered me a glass of water, let the interviewer know I was here, and then turned back to her work. Of course she did, she had purpose, a job. I’m not sure if I’d ever noticed that unconscious smugness the employed had. They were insulated from the fears I faced on a daily basis, they knew where their next meal was coming from, that they could make their next car payment, they could even splurge a little. I tamped down an irrational flare of jealousy. It wasn’t her fault I wanted to feel that smugness and never, ever take having a job for granted again.
I needed this job. I had driven for five hours out into the middle of nowhere, and was waiting for an interview for a position I knew nothing about and had no previous experience in, my car sitting outside with all of my worldly belongings. My dog, Buddy, was tied up to the porch railing with a bowl of water, with me hoping that wouldn’t piss them off. The job was supposed to come with food and board, but I still didn’t know if that extended to one occasionally neurotic Husky. I was banking on them seeing his baby blues and opening their arms wide to let him join the family in response to his sheer beauty. I shifted on my seat as I felt my stomach roil and squirm. I’d had him as a puppy, fallen in love with this little black and white ball of fluff. Back then, I’d been full of that same unconscious smugness, thinking I would have no problems looking after him. Now we were both on reduced rations. I’d blown most of my severance check on petrol and caravan parks, driving around trying to find work in a country that was in a downturn. Despite the fact I am an atheist, I started sending up those prayers again, to any divine being that would listen. Right now, I’d sell my soul to the Devil to get out of this mess.
I’d seen the job in the paper the other day, advertising for an all-rounder. It was a total long shot. I had no idea what an all-rounder would do, but I was prepared to give anything a go. I’d spoken to the manager, Kelly, over the phone, and when she’d asked me to come in for an interview, I’d almost burst into tears. I’d taken a breath, steadied myself, and replied that I’d be delighted in what I hoped was a professional voice, waiting until the call ended to have that cry. Then I’d dried my eyes, had a cold shower in the caravan park ablution block, and picked out the most appropriate outfit I had left.
What are you going to do if they don’t want you? I thought, eyes flicking from the receptionist to the door of Kelly’s office and back again. What are you going to do for Buddy? I’d grown up in a small town, Melville, that I’d loved. My mum and dad had been born there, Dad had always proudly told us seven generations of Bronsons had lived and died in Melville. I knew almost everyone by name, lived in the same pretty white clapboard house, until my brother Daryl sold it in a fit of foresight. He’d packed up after Mum and Dad died, and was now making a living as an accountant in the big city.
Me, I’d done alright at school but didn’t want to leave to go to uni, so I’d had a range of jobs to keep a roof over my head, the last one was working at a diner. I’d gotten an arts degree by correspondence, but having a good understanding of world wars and cultural geography had proved not especially useful. Problem was, with the drought that seemed to be stretch
ing out for decades, and with the salt rising on what used to be A-grade farmland, jobs were drying up and towns were getting smaller and smaller as a result. I’d stuck my head in the sand when people tried to talk to me about it. Pa used to talk about the big droughts from his day, and Melville had survived them, but this was not that time. Everyone was living in cities, unless it was little towns on the coast for rich people’s sea changes. Cute farming villages hadn’t been identified as hot spots yet, so slowly trucks, trains and tourists all stopped coming.
Gary, my boss at the diner, could barely look me in the eyes when he let me go. He’d given me my pay, said he’d give me a glowing reference, and sent me on my way.
The manager’s door opened and I jerked upright in my chair, startled by the sound. I swallowed the small gasp I’d almost made and smoothed my face into a professional polite mask. A woman with long brown hair and wearing khakis came out, going over something on a clipboard with a tall man standing beside her.
“OK, I’ll get right on that,” he said.
“Can you send Finn in for me? I’ve got that interview for the offsider.”
“Yep, he should be in the shed.” I watched the guy take off for the door with a wave. My heart started to race as she turned. Was she ready for me? Was it go time? Now?
She looked up and smiled at me. “Miss Bronson? Come on through.”
I followed at a polite distance, walking into a conference room. A large map covered most of one wall, a whiteboard on the other. “Kelly Dwyer, we spoke on the phone?” the woman said, holding out a hand. I wiped mine on my skirt, then cursing myself internally for making it so obvious that I was nervous, I took it and gave it a firm shake. “Have a seat.” She grabbed the chair at the head of the table, in front of the large window that showed a panoramic view of the park. The forest beyond the buildings of the Sanctuary was beautiful, the kind of cool, green stillness I needed right now.
“So, you’re interested in the all-rounder position?” she asked, looking down at some notes.
“Ah, yes.”
“Do you know what the position entails?”
“As I said on the phone, not really. I assume you need someone who’ll gofer, do, pick up, get whatever you want.”
“That’s pretty much it, though what that means in Sanctuary can be a bit different than the city. Where are you from?” I told her. “Ah, it’s lovely down there. The drought is driving people out though, right?” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak at that moment. For most people, this was idle dinnertime discussion or a short news clip in the evening. For me, it was watching the town I loved die. “So you’re keen for work, then?”
I looked up at Kelly, really looked at her for the first time. When I’d come in, I know I’d smiled and met her gaze, but it was all a bit of a blur. With my heart pounding and sweat prickling on my skin despite the artificial cool, I’d sat down as quickly and gracefully as possible. She looked back with equanimity, like she could see past my neatly pressed white shirt and black pencil skirt I’d only ever worn to job interviews, through that to what lay beneath: I was homeless and desperate. Social security payments wouldn’t be coming through for a few weeks, and I was broke.
“I am very keen,” I said, and I was proud to hear my voice come out strong and clear, “but I think I can also be an asset to your company. I’m hoping it will be a win-win situation. You want someone who’s prepared to live on site, who can do a range of tasks without having to be asked twice. I can do that. I mainly served customers and cooked at my previous job, but I’ve cleaned the diner from top to bottom, dealt with difficult clients, made deliveries, and even repaired door hinges on some cupboards. While I’m not exactly a DIY queen, my dad taught me the right end of a hammer, and I can change my own tires. I’ve worked in shops selling goods, helped out the local vet when they were still in town, and done same basic car maintenance. You could obviously get someone who has more skills than me, that knows the running of… whatever it is you do here better than me. Maybe someone who’s studying business management…” I trailed off for a moment, seeing in my mind a legion of smarter, cuter, stronger MBA students, lining up for the same job against little old me. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and then looked back at Kelly. “You could easily find someone more qualified than me, but I don’t think many people would be more motivated. Seriously, I’m ready and willing to learn.”
“Well, she certainly sounds eager.” My head whipped around to see a guy walk in through the conference room door. Oh. My. God. Up until now, my brain had been a teeming mess of anxiety, complete with a slideshow of what life would be like without a job: Buddy dying from starvation, and me giving hand jobs in alleyways for money. I was struggling to pay much attention to my surroundings or Kelly’s expressions as my heart pounded. That all paused. It was like the world had stopped spinning, my heart had stopped thumping and instead, I experienced the most perfect moment of quietness. He came inside, giving me a brief nod and a smile, but I just stared. I’m sure with my mouth hanging open. Holy crap, this guy was gorgeous.
He was tall and on him, the ubiquitous uniform seemed to have been solely designed to stretch provocatively across his broad shoulders and chest. He had long, reddish brown hair that was tied back loosely at the nape, and his eyes were a pale grey that almost glowed in contrast to his warm brown skin. He moved with an easy confidence, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. My heart lurched in my chest, like it had all of a sudden realised it needed to beat to keep me alive. I blinked several times.
Get it together! I hissed internally. This is an interview, not a bar!
He didn’t seem to have noticed, just slouched down into his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and bringing his fingers into a steeple. Then, those eyes turned on me. He seemed to look me over, impersonally, then with greater interest. His eyes flared wider, his gaze raking over my body from head to toe, though I had no idea why. I wasn’t terrible looking, but I was well-aware I was the same middle of the road, mildly pretty that most women were.
“Ah, Finn. Was wondering where you got to.” He didn’t respond as he continued his inspection. “We don’t actually have a long line of post grad students, Miss Bronson,” Kelly said, with a smile. “We’ve found that university students are full of excellent ideas, but can lack the…”
“Common sense? Practical skills? Ability to follow even the simplest order?” Finn added, finally snapping out of whatever brain fart had him spinning his wheels.
“Quite. We are looking for someone with your sort of real-world experience, someone who has a proven track record of working hard. We’ve found locals from around the country tend to be the best fit for us.” I fought down the surge of hope I felt in my chest. My brain was running ahead, seeing me in company housing, being able to feed Buddy decent quality food… Keep it together, I snapped at myself, that doesn’t necessarily mean you personally. “So, Julie, if you’re happy to take the position…?”
“Oh god, yes,” I said, my breath coming out in a rush. Finn’s eyebrows shot up.
“You’re OK with this, Finn? She’ll be your employee.”
Fuck! Working for the hot guy? I knew this job was too good to be true! Seriously, could women be accused of sexual harassment as well? Because I didn’t know if I could stay professional around this guy. He looked me over one more time, then nodded. “Sure, it’d be nice to have someone who actually wants the job for a change.”
“Well, there’ll be a trial period, it’s all written into your contract, paid of course. We’ll set you up with some uniforms and one of the bungalows, and you’re welcome to move in when ready.”
“I could start now, if that works,” I said, trying to sound calm and failing. “I’ve been staying in caravan parks, so everything is in the car.”
“Along with your dog? That was your beast out on the porch?” Finn asked.
“Uh, yeah, that’s Buddy. Is that going to be a problem? I meant to ask over the phone…”
“He will need to stay this side of the fence, for his safety as much as anything,” Kelly said. “There is a risk, keeping him here. This far out, we do have issues with wild animals.”
“I know he’s a Husky, and they’re bad for escaping, but Buddy’s never been an issue. But yes, I understand. I brought him here, he’s my responsibility.”
“OK, I’ll get Finn to set you up with uniforms and a place to stay. Drop back in the morning. Karen will have some tax file forms to fill out, and I’ll need to do a little induction.” Finn got to his feet, so I followed suit. “This is a largely male-dominated workplace,” Kelly said, “but we have had very few incidents. I keep it that way by making certain all employees are aware of the processes.” God, was she talking to me? Was my interest in my boss that obvious? It was hard to tell as her gaze shifted slightly, so I wasn’t sure if me or Finn was the intended recipient.
“Of course, what would be a good time for you?” I asked.
“Come see me around 9 am, and welcome aboard.”
“Out this way, Julie,” Finn said, opening the front door of the reception building. As we walked out, I saw the receptionist’s eyes jerk up and follow us, or rather Finn. I empathised with her. My eyes wandered over to a strand of hair that had gotten free from its tie, falling down the side of his face, and felt a completely irrational desire to smooth it behind his ear. Instead, I clenched my hands into fists. He turned and smiled, probably wondering why I was just standing there. He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring a little, the smile widening then smoothing away, as if he was trying to stop from laughing. “You coming?”