Bending, I grab the whole mass in both arms. A surge of hope fills me. Now all I have to do is find Rachel and dump these flowers on her.
I hesitate. This next exchange could determine my entire future. The rest of my life. I need to make sure this goes my way. If she were my mate - I feel a flush of hunger and desire run through me - I would bring her a fresh kill. A large doe, the meat still steaming. But humans don't eat raw meat. They like to cook it brown like leather. And anyways, where would I get a fresh deer? I could maybe rustle up a half dozen mice from the garden, but that wouldn't be very impressive. What kind of alpha offers vermin?
Still thinking, I let myself into the kitchen and drop the flowers onto the breakfast table. It's still weird being in Honeycomb Hall without feeling Mama B's dominating presence in the air. The house feels like a frail shell without her. Shaking off the gloomy feeling, trying to tell myself I don't miss the old witch on some level, I open the fridge. If I can't bring Rachel a deer, maybe I can make her some kind of human meal. Something simple. The fridge is almost empty, but I see some eggs, cold cuts, cheese, and sauces in different bottles on the shelves. A word comes to me: sandwich. Feeling proud of myself, I grab everything I can, and set about making a sandwich worthy of an alpha's mate.
I fry up three eggs, toast four slices of bread, and then carefully construct my tower of food. Roast beef, cheddar cheese, mustard, spinach, another piece of toast, plenty of ketchup and mustard, then ham, more cheese, some sliced pickles, another piece of bread, some white creamy stuff, some barbecue sauce (which smells pretty good), the rest of the roast beef, sliced tomatoes, the last egg, and... I scour the fridge and find a plastic box with the name 'Mac & Cheese' written on the label. I dump a good amount of that on top of the sandwich, top it with a final slice of bread, and admire my work.
It looks fucking great.
I scoop up the flowers under one arm, grab the plate with the second, and head cautiously into the silent Honeycomb Hall. "Ms. Wilder?" My voice echoes. "Ms. Wilder? Where are you?"
I poke my head in the study. Nothing. The living room. Empty. I don't find her anywhere. My heart begins to sink. Has she fled? Driven away in a panic? Losing hope, I open the library door and see her standing behind the huge armchair by the fireplace, pointing an antique gun at me.
"Don't come any closer." Her voice is shaking like an autumn leaf.
I pause. I don't know much about guns, but I know the one she's holding is a fake. A replica. Mama B made that clear when I eyed it for too long one day. "I brought you flowers?" I frown, hating the way I made it sound like a question. "And food."
Rachel's eyes go wide. She lowers the gun. "Flowers? I thought - I mean - you're not here to eat me?"
Not in the way you're afraid of, my wolf immediately thinks, and I fight to keep my expression clean. "No, ma'am. Why would I eat you?"
"Because - well - you're a shifter. A werewolf. Isn't that - what... you do?" I can see her getting more and more embarrassed as she completes the sentence, the last few words barely a whisper.
"Well, no." I move forward slowly. "My kind eats fresh prey, true. But that's deer, rabbits, that kind of thing. Not people. Never people."
"Oh." Her face has gone bright red, making her look adorable. She quickly sets the gun down on a side table. "I'm sorry. I - uh - I've never actually met a shifter. I've just seen the movies."
"Ah." I know the movies she's talking about. What shifter doesn't? Hunted by the Killer Wolf, or Ravished by the Deadly Weretiger. "Those aren't exactly based on reality."
"No, I guess not."
We stand there, and she seems to feel as incredibly awkward as I do. Her gaze moves up and down my body. Then I smell it. Her arousal. A rich, intoxicating scent. I fight the rumble that wants to sound in my chest. Who would have guessed Mama B's granddaughter would be so insanely hot? I want to place my hands on her delectable, curvy body and bring it close to mine.
I force myself to focus. Time to press my advantage. "Here. I brought you some flowers."
Rachel stares at the large bunch under my arm. "Oh, thank you. That's... really sweet."
I nod. "I know." I dump them on the floor, and then step over to hand her the plate. "And food. I bet you're hungry from the long drive here, right?"
Rachel's eyes go wider as she examines the sandwich. I can tell she's impressed, and feel some small flicker of pride. "Wow. That's... one hell of a sandwich."
I shrug, as if it's no big thing, but I can tell things are going exactly according to plan. I step back, though every instinct tells me to step closer. I link my hands behind my back so they don't get me in trouble. Time for small talk. Humans love that. God, I feel so sophisticated. Maybe my years spent trapped here are finally paying off. "So, are you a witch like your grandma?"
Rachel drops the plate onto the side table, the upper half of the sandwich toppling off. She goes to grab it, then jerks her hands back as if the sandwich were a live fire, and sauces, egg yolk, and cold cuts go everywhere. I fight the urge not to scowl. That's like bringing a fresh deer to a mate only to watch her pee on it. Humans. I force a smile and wait.
"Uh - I - um - no?" She looks shaken up, and suddenly won't meet my eye. Damn. My cheerful mood crashes and burns. If she's not a witch, then she can't help me. There goes my plan. All my desire to impress her slides right out the window as I feel the bars of my prison come slamming back home. I sigh and slump into the chair across from Rachel's.
She sits tentatively on the edge of her seat and looks at me in what looks like concern. "Should I be sorry for not being a witch?"
I fight the urge to just stalk right out of the room. It isn't her fault. She isn't her grandmother. She didn't do this to me. "I was hoping you could free me. Undo the curse."
"Curse?" Rachel sounds surprised.
"Nobody told you?" I laugh, bitterness entering my voice. "Great. Not only did she forget to remove the hex ward before she died, but she didn't even tell you about the 'gardener'. Thanks, Mama B. Great."
"Why are you cursed? Is that what that light was, the one that kept you from leaving?"
"Yeah." I stare into the dead fireplace. "Mama B placed a ward around all of Honeycomb Hall. I can't leave until it goes down."
Rachel actually seems shocked. That warms me to some degree. Finally, somebody that realizes how cruel my imprisonment is. "And you've been trapped here two years?"
I nod.
"But - why? What did you do?"
I sigh. "I was stupid." It feels almost good to admit it after all these years. "Rash. Young. I tried to steal her staff. There was another wolf in my pack who was going to challenge me for the alpha position. I thought that stealing the staff would prove my bravery." I smile bitterly. "Now I realize I should have just beaten him in combat. Too late. Mrs. Wilder caught me and trapped me here to teach me a lesson. Now Maric runs my pack." The old anger coils within me. "He's out there right now. Leading them."
"Oh." Rachel bites her knuckle, thinking. "And there's nothing we can do?"
I shake my head slowly. "Not that I know of. My hope was that you'd be able to do your grandmother's magic. That you'd be able to set me free."
"I'm sorry." She actually does sound apologetic. Then she pauses. "Wait. Is that why you brought me the flowers and the food?"
"Uh." I sit up and frown at the dead fireplace. "No? I was being, you know. Friendly. Neighborly."
"Right." She looks amused. Relaxed, even. My pride prickles, but before I can say something rash, she reaches out and places her hand on my wrist. Her touch sends an pulse of electricity racing through me. "Blake. I promise you, if I can find a way to set you free, I will."
I look her square in her beautiful eyes. It feels like sinking into an ocean of chocolate. They're filled with hidden depths, and hint at a rich personality I've only guessed at. More, I can see she's being serious. Absolutely so.
"Thank you, Rachel." I realize that I believe her. It doesn't matter that she can't help. Her intentions are
real. That's when I realize how close she is, her face inches from my own. And that we're all alone in this large room, in this huge house. There's nobody here to watch us. To prevent us from doing whatever we want to do. I smell her arousal again, and it makes me almost lightheaded. My cock stirs, growing rock hard, and her touch on my wrist is sending shock waves through me.
She doesn't look away. Her eyes are wide, her breath coming quickly. Then, driving me insane, she licks her lower lip. By the Earth Mother. It makes me want to kiss her, and bite that luscious lower lip. Explore those wicked curves, each and every one, and see just how perfectly her body would mold to mine. Her pulse is racing. Mine is too. I can't breathe. The wolf within me is fighting to take control. Urging me to act. To take her. To devour her, mate with her right here on the rug before the fireplace. To lick and explore her body, taste her, dominate her, make her whimper, make her scream.
Rachel swallows, her face growing flushed. "I, um." She blinks. "What were you saying?"
It takes all the willpower I have to pull back. Slowly, stiffly, I lean back into the armchair. It almost hurts. But she's my only hope of escape. I can't ruin that. I can't presume. She's not a shifter, she's a human. Mating for them means something different. Unless I were to take her as my alpha mate, which of course, I can't. I don't have a pack. I'm not an alpha any more. It would be cruel. Locking her into a permanent relationship with a trapped wolf. No. I won't do that to her. No matter how much I want to. Need to.
I take a ragged breath. "You were telling me about your plans." She wasn't, but I'm curious.
"Oh. Right." She also sits back. Eyes the sandwich. I can tell she's hungry, but for some reason she doesn't try to pick it up. "I majored in hospitality in school. I was working at the Shintai Hotel in New York. Have you heard of it?" I can tell the question is reflexive, a point of pride.
"It must be a famous hotel. But no." I smile and try not to sound bitter. "I don't get out much."
"Oh, of course. Sorry." She blushes all over again. "Stupid question. But I really like what I do. So I was thinking of exploring that option here."
"There's no hotel in Honeycomb Falls," I say, confused.
"Not yet." She smiles excitedly. "But the idea came to me like a flash of lightning. Honeycomb Hall would make a fabulous bed and breakfast. There are six bedrooms. The kitchen and dining area are huge. It's perfect." Her eyes gleam with excitement. "Mama B left me a little money. Enough to fix the place up. Get the right permits, hire some help, and start advertising. Bring some real life back to the place."
"A bed and breakfast?" I blink.
Rachel nods enthusiastically. "Just think. What else could I do here? I know the hospitality industry like the back of my hand, and this place, Honeycomb Hall - it'd be amazing!"
I rub at the scruff on my jaw. "Honeycomb Hall. A bed and breakfast."
Rachel nods eagerly, hands laced in her lap, eyes glowing.
I shake my head. "I don't know if you've thought this through all the way. You'd have better luck getting the shifters to stay here than humans." I try to be gentle. "You clearly don't know this place's reputation."
Rachel frowns. "What? Why?"
"Your grandma had a reputation. Dealings with the supernatural. Regular folks wouldn't want to spend the night here."
"Oh." Rachel slumps. I hate seeing the light go out of her eye. "I didn't know that."
I try to search for a solution. My mind races. "Though, you know what? There's no Lodge at the local Cairn." She stares at me, clearly not understanding. "Cairn," I repeat. "A mystical gathering place for shifters of all kinds? There's a really big one in the mountains close by. And it doesn't have a Lodge. Or didn't, last I checked. An official place for passing guests to stay."
Rachel's eyes light right back up again. "You think Honeycomb Hall could serve as the Lodge?"
I shrug. "Maybe? Shifters wouldn't mind staying here. In fact, most would probably like it. But you'd need permission from the Cairn Elder."
Rachel jumps to her feet and begins pacing. "Exclusive clientele. I could make each room themed. You know, a tiger room, a wolf room. Provide special breakfasts. Word of mouth marketing. And if I got official endorsement from the Cairn Elder, I'd be set!"
"If you get endorsement," I say. "That's not guaranteed."
"Well, I can make a great case. I'm Mama B's granddaughter, after all." She plops back down and smiles at me. "How do I go about getting permission?"
I watch her. I love how animated she is. The vitality her enthusiasm gives her. She's positively glowing, alight with energy and determination. It takes her sexy looks and makes her outright beautiful. "I can call a member of my old pack and ask them to ask the Elder. Mara would probably do me the favor."
"Perfect! Would you? You take care of that, and I'll start with the rest. We're going to need cleaning services, permits, a cook, a gardener - sorry, I mean, a second gardener - new sheets, a kitchen inspection. I'll form an S-Corp for tax purposes, a bank account -" She throws her hands up in the air with a grin. "So much to do!"
I blink. None of that really makes any sense. "That sounds... like a lot."
She smiles and bounces out of her seat. "It is. And I can't wait to tackle it. You reach out to your friends. I'm going to finish exploring the house, and then starting writing up a list of things we need to do. Just you wait. When I'm done with Honeycomb Hall, you won't even recognize it."
Then, before I can react, she leans over and kisses me on the cheek, her lips warm and soft on my skin. I freeze, and for a moment she does as well, her body responding on a primal level to our connection. She hesitates, curls her hair behind her ear, then grins shyly and straightens.
"Yes, ma'am," I say, returning her smile.
For the first time in two years, things don't look so grim. Rachel laughs huskily, takes a deep breath, and steps back. For a moment I think she's going to say something more, something personal, something maybe she shouldn't, but then she flashes me another smile, turns, and leaves the room.
Chapter Four
I haven't had a chance to open Mama B's letter. It's burning a hole in my pocket, just like Blake's burning up my panties. God damn! I must have done something insanely right to end up with my own imprisoned hot-as-sin shifter. I mean, I really did feel bad for him, and I meant it when I vowed to release him the moment I found out how, but until then, whoa. I'm going to enjoy watching him walk around with those low-slung jeans, that predatory air, those searing eyes, those lips, oh those lips...
And. If I'm not mistaken, he wasn't completely unaffected by my own charms. I know that not every man has the taste for a full-figured woman, but forget the fools who don't. Forget assholes like Paul. Just ten minutes with Blake has completely reversed the dour mood I was in when I left NYC. Over the years I've fought my battles with my self-image. Sure, maybe my thighs are a little bigger than most women's, and I know I've got a tush that draws eyes from across the street. My tummy's soft, and my hips are wide, but these days a glass of wine, some good music and a hot man who digs me is all I need to feel as sexy as sin.
Not that I've had much great sex recently. Paul might have a hot body, but there was something about the way he made love that always made me feel alone. As if he were doing me a favor when he fucked me. Fuck that. I'm done with men who think I should be grateful. From now on, I want more men like Blake. Men who look at me with a raw and dangerous hunger that makes me feel at once nervous, excited, and all kinds of crazy.
Something tells me that Blake wouldn't be all slick and impersonal like that. He's all wolf. A bit clueless about social niceties – what's up with that bush of flowers he dumped on the floor? - but oh, the things I bet he can do with that tongue of his, those hands... He'd be fully present, his body burning up the room, with those muscles, oh those muscles...
Imagining his body naked makes me think of the vibrator stashed in my luggage. With him walking around, that vibrator is going to be getting lots of use. That is, unless things work o
ut between us... Oh boy. Smiling, I walk into Mama B's bedroom, and stop. My horniness washes away, and suddenly I feel all kinds of disrespectful. Here I am fantasizing about the hot wolf downstairs, and paying no mind to my departed grandma.
"Sorry, Mama B," I say, drifting forward to sit on her bed. It's a massive four poster monstrosity, large enough for a family of six. I look around her room, taking in all the photographs, her desk, the ancient chest at the foot of the bed, the armchair by the window, her wardrobe and chest of drawers. Everything is silent. Mama B really is gone. With a heavy heart I open her letter. Draw forth the elegant sheet of paper, and hold it up to the light.
Welcome to Honeycomb Hall, my love. You've no doubt met Mr. Hanscomb, who has covered all the boring particulars. He's a dear. Don't hesitate to reach out to him for help. Now, let's get down to the juicy parts. There's a certain wolf prowling around the premises who goes by the name of Blake. He is a handful, but I believe he'll be a perfect match for you. Now, don't go looking at this letter like that. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't know what's best for you. Blake is a good man, a totally wild shifter, and were I fifty years younger, I wouldn't have saved him for you.
I blink and look up. Goodness gracious, Mama B was quite the woman. It's eerie how she seemed to have known what was going to happen when she wrote this letter. Heart thumping, I read on.
Now, as to your plans to turn Honeycomb Hall into a shifter bed and breakfast -
Den and Breakfast: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Honeycomb Falls Book 1) Page 3