by Noah Harris
The Carpenter’s Dilemma
Noah Harris
Text copyright © 2017 Noah Harris
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all invented. Any similarities to real places, events or people, living or dead, are unintentional.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Notes from the author
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY.
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chapter
One
How did he get here?
Trees pressed in from every direction, bearing down on him with an ominous air. The woods at night had always felt strangely foreboding to him, even as a child. During the day they were quiet, relaxing, and at times, even a little wondrous. At night however, the woods felt more quietly menacing, as if deep in the shadows the trees themselves were telling him that he wasn’t welcome there. But these woods—these woods were even worse.
Everything here was extra dark, enveloped in deeper shadows than he knew there should be. Night in these woods was windless, yet even with no wind, but he could still hear the branches and leaves shifting around him. Faint light leaked down through the canopy above, providing just enough illumination for him to get around. As his bare feet pressed into the ground the scent of rich earth filled his nose.
He wasn’t alone in these woods, he knew that much. Something else was out there, and it was watching him intently. He’d been wandering around for a while now, but he hadn’t found anything more than the constant press of the wild woods on all sides. Whatever was out there had been following him for ages, and it was finally letting him know that it was close. That fact alone had his heart beating at an accelerated rate, well beyond what the hike and darkened forest warranted.
Not knowing where or what it was, he made a move in a seemingly random direction, hoping he could escape it. His senses easily picked up the movements behind him, as if it was purposely making noise as it followed. It wasn’t far away, so why wasn’t it attacking?
Survival instincts warred with common sense in the darkness of the woods. He knew that he shouldn’t run, that was exactly what itwanted him to do. The minute he ran, the true chase would be on. His pace quickened even at the thought, his body reacting without permission. His nasty stalker was eagerly waiting for him to bolt, he was certain of it. If he just kept his pace as it was, he would be fine. If he didn’t run, the sick little game would never really begin, and hopefully he would be safe.
That thought was washed away at the rustle of brush and a low, horrible snarl that cut his breath short. All attempts to stay calm, along with his ability for rational thought, fled with him at that moment as he darted forward. Fear pushed his body through the forest, legs pumping as he blindly barreled through the poorly lit wilderness surrounding him. There was nothing around to hide in or to save him, not that he could tell anyway, only the never-ending forest around him and the eager threat at his back.
He could actually feel the savage joy of whatever ran behind him. No matter how many times he looked back, he could never see precisely what it was. Only that it was large, dangerous, and so very eager to taste his blood. Teeth nipped at his legs flooding him with fear based adrenaline, driving him to run harder than he would have ever thought he could manage.
A sudden shift in the air alerted him, and he could almost feel the thing coiling up, preparing to strike. The moment had come, and the hard body leaped from behind him. The weight of It slammed him to the ground, forcing him to roll as he landed. Terrified, he stared up at the snarling monster that had pinned him to the dirt. Absurdly sharp fangs flashed even in the dim light, aimed right at his throat. His dry lips were barely able to let out a cry.
A sharp noise jarred him awake, his eyes flooded with light as they snapped open. He stared at the ceiling above for a moment, watching the bright slivers of sunlight spreading across the wood. A dream, that’s all it had been, an incredibly vivid, horrible and terrifying dream. He would just have to wait for his heart rate to slow, and his breathing to feel less sharp and short, that was all.
He glanced sideways, the bright hazel eyes that suddenly filled his vision sending his still fear-addled brain and body flailing. Mikael’s startled face disappeared from view as Dean flopped over the edge of the bed, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Jax, from somewhere else on the bed, leaped up with a startled howl, probably glancing about frantically for the source of the noise.
“Ow,” he managed pitifully as he lamented his close view of the wood grain of the floor.
“You-uh, okay?”
Dean sighed at the mixture of concern and humor in Mikael’s tone, “Yeah, just injured my pride a bit on the way down is all.”
Rolling over, he looked up at the man peering down at him, seeing the genuine concern etched on his handsome features. Even while still feeling shaky from the dream and the rude wake-up, Dean found himself dazzled by the other man. The weeks spent together had done nothing to diminish the sheer power the other man had over him. Just that display of concern on Mikael’s face made Dean’s chest feel tight, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss the worries right off that face.
“Another dream?”
Dean grunted in response, pushing himself up off the floor. He reached out and trailed a finger down Mikael’s jaw, before padding to the bathroom, accepting his fate. Ever since he moved to the farm, he’d been having vivid and memorable dreams. Unfortunately, as vivid and memorable as each dream was, none of them made any sense. This one made sense marginally, in that he was actually able to put together what was going on, unlike many of the others he’d had since the move. Admittedly, he preferred the dreams that consisted of vivid and disconnected sounds and images, to the one he’d had tonight.
“Was it a nightmare this time?”
Dean glanced over his shoulder toward the bathroom door, seeing that same concern still on Mikael’s face. Snorting, he spat the foamy toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth before finally addressing the other man. Dean could feel the tension in Mikael’s body relax as he pressed against him, kissing the other man with his now fresh and minty breath. Dean had never felt that kind of tension in his lover before and smiled to himself as he felt
the stress in Mikael’s body ease against his own. He could get used to the fact that this big, strong man was soothed by his touch and kiss.
“Not the first I’ve had in my life, and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” Dean assured the man quietly, smiling slightly.
It was obvious that Mikael didn’t want to be mollified over this. Dean’s dreams had been getting more dark and violent over the past couple of weeks, and Mikael’s concern had been obvious. Dean reasoned that the other man was afraid that the dreams had a deeper meaning. Honestly, Mikael’s suspicions were not unreasonable considering his previous life experience on the other side of the looking glass. Because of that past, Mikael was always a little too willing to believe there was more to every little thing than there really was. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Dean was having nightmares about big furry creatures trying to kill him in the woods at night. That very same thing had happened not more than a handful of weeks ago, and he doubted his mind was going to let him forget it so quickly.
“Coffee,” he said firmly, as he reminded the other man of the house rule—no serious conversation before Dean had been sufficiently caffeinated. The fact that they were often distracted by other things by the time Dean was awake enough to talk seriously was just a bonus. He knew that eventually, Mikael would find a way to pin him down to talk about it, but he was hoping to evade it just a little longer. There was no real need to rehash a bad dream after all.
Mikael answered the reminder with a grunt of his own, bowing before the demands of the rules he had agreed to. With a smile, Dean gave the man another kiss before padding out and down to the kitchen, where his coffee had already been brewed by the machine. The amazing smell filled the house, and he gratefully poured himself a hot fresh cup, watching the steam roll up from the surface. He allowed himself a few lazy sips before he got moving, first letting the dog outside to do his business and probably raise some hell. After that came preparing their breakfast and working on Mikael’s lunch.
It hadn’t been much of a surprise that after a couple weeks of Mikael staying with him, the other man had resumed work. As much as Dean would have loved to live in the bliss of just being together, the reality was a little too persistent for that. Dean still had a farm to care for, and Mikael could never be content staying at home. The other man had always loved his work, loved it enough to have fought against the protests of his family to pursue it. So, when Mikael started taking work again, Dean had been a little sad, but mostly happy for the man all the same.
The domestic aspects of their life together had come surprisingly easy to both of them. Both men could cook and hated doing dishes, so they traded off on those chores whenever the mood struck them. Mikael was less fond of organizing, but he was a fair hand at cleaning for the most part. This meant that the detail work was left to Dean, while Mikael just made sure everything stayed clean. Yet, no matter whose turn it was to do what, Dean always made sure the other man went off with a hearty lunch in hand. He knew full well how much the other man could put away and wasn’t about to let him leave with just a little sandwich in hand.
As if on cue, he heard Mikael’s chuckle behind him, “I’m pretty sure you’re just trying to make me so fat I can’t fit through the door.”
Dean leaned away from the stove to eye the other man, “Are you telling me you aren’t going to eat all of this, plus every scrap of your lunch?”
Mikael grinned, pouring himself a cup of coffee before Dean inevitably drank the whole pot, “Let’s not get crazy now.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean grunted, with an attitude they both knew was fake. It wasn’t like they couldn’t spare the food after all. Dean still had sufficient money saved up from years of careful spending. He also made a little money here and there now from the fresh eggs and milk he got from the animals. The real money would come in when the crops could be sold, but he was fine financially until then.
“Don’t forget to give me a list,” Mikael reminded him, before slipping out of Dean’s way while he cooked.
“It’s already in your small toolbox,” Dean told the man, with a real huff this time. Dean, while happy to have the man share in the work around the house, had been less than thrilled about Mikael putting his own money into anything. Their first real disagreement had been over Dean not wanting Mikael to spend his money on the day-to-day household expenses. The fact that Dean suspected Mikael’s obstinacy on the subject came from feeling like he was a guest in Dean’s home didn’t sit very well with him, so he acquiesced.
“Awesome,” Mikael replied happily, wiping away all traces of Dean’s annoyance. Even if Dean still didn’t like the idea on principle, he wasn’t about to deny the man something that made him so genuinely pleased. It was apparent to him that Mikael was exceptionally happy with their domestic arrangements. It made Dean even more curious about what kind of home life Mikael had really had before.
Actually; they were going to have to address that really soon.
He could accept that he was living with a werewolf. Hell, he could even admit that he was in love with a werewolf. It had taken him longer than he may have liked to admit it, but he’d finally accepted the evidence that had been literally staring him in the face. He just so happened to be in love and cohabitating with a man who could turn into a large, dangerous, and beautiful predator. Not something he would have thought to put on his bucket list, but by now Mikael was Mikael, he just . . . came with a couple of extra features.
What Dean was not comfortable with was the fact that the other man was still quite tight-lipped about his family. There was only so much Dean could figure out on his own before Mikael needed to start filling in the blanks. He wasn’t normally one to be pushy about that sort of thing, especially since it was so obvious that there was a lot of bad blood in that particular family. Yet, he also knew that Mikael’s family wasn’t about to let him stay away either, they had made that plain in previous encounters. Which meant that the last few peaceful weeks had only occurred because Mikael’s family members were biding their time until they made up their minds on what to do. Once they decided on a new plan, they would undoubtedly come thundering back and disrupt the tranquil lifestyle Dean and Mikael had come to enjoy on the farm.
Dean knew all of that, yet watching Mikael dig into breakfast, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Maybe that was the same reason Mikael hadn’t pushed about the dreams. Like Dean, perhaps Mikael hadn’t wanted to taint their time together with unpleasant realities. The other man looked so damned content as he ate his breakfast, even stroking Jax on the back as the dog sauntered past him through the kitchen.
Yeah, there was a dark cloud hanging over their heads, threatening to crash down at any time. They were essentially playing house until that storm finally struck. Dean ran his fingers through Mikael’s hair, kissing his stubbly jaw affectionately, and getting a warm look from the other man that sent his stomach flipping.
Well, maybe they could ignore it just a little longer.
chapter
Two
The afternoon sun beat down on Dean steadily as he worked through the fields. The crops were coming along nicely, and he aimed to keep it that way. In the short amount of time since he’d last worked this section, the wild plants had worked hard trying to grow in the fertile, well-tilled dirt. Dean certainly wished that his crops grew just as quickly, he would never have to worry about money again.
Still, the heat of the afternoon was a strong indicator that it was time for him to take his lunch break. While in the early parts of the growing season he could take a lunch break whenever he pleased, it was a little different at the height of summer. With the days getting increasingly hotter, he was forced to time his lunch breaks around the hottest part of the day. While he could have soldiered through if need be, he preferred to waste a little time eating and lounging rather than forcing himself to sweat through the work.
He had barely managed to get into the house and pull a few things out for a sandwich when
he heard a car coming up the drive. It wasn’t Mikael’s truck; he realized that from the sound of the engine. When he looked out the screen of the front door, it took a moment to place the car. Then Davis stepped out of the car, and Dean felt himself relax. The older lawyer glanced around as he stood in the afternoon sun, probably taking stock of all the changes.
Dean pushed through the screen, keeping Jax at bay and calling to Davis, “You don’t have to stand out there and cook in this heat. C’mon in.”
Davis smiled, creases forming at the corner of his eyes, “Well, good afternoon Dean, thanks for the greeting. I won’t argue with that invitation though. It’s been getting pretty hot out lately.”
“Precisely why I keep iced tea in the fridge at all times,” Dean laughed, “Mrs. Williams’ recipe.”
Davis raised a brow as he stepped into the shade of the porch, “And how did you manage to get that from her? Kind woman, but she holds onto her recipes with an iron grip.”
“I gave her my grandma’s recipe for strawberry lemonade,” Dean answered brightly, opening the door for the older man.
“Ah, now that would do it,” Davis chuckled, as he stepped into the house. “Ain’t too many people around here ever tasted that and didn’t want to get their hands on it. Though as I recall, she was a bit friendlier with her recipes than Grace.”
Dean nodded, smiling a little to himself as he led Davis into the kitchen to pour them both a glass of tea. Most of what he knew about his grandmother came through the stories that had been passed to him from others. She had died when he was young, leaving him with only a few dim memories. He remembered her warmth and her sense of humor and play. He also remembered that his grandfather was always a little different after she passed. The man had gone on with his life with barely a pause, but he had seemed . . . dimmer somehow.
“Here you are,” Dean slid the glass over to Davis, who had removed his hat and was fanning himself.