Happily Ever Alpha: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance

by Catherine Vale

  “I was,” Arya insisted, “but for some reason I decided I wanted to be alone. I thought the woods would be a nice place to get some time to myself, and I hadn’t a chance to explore them before. That’s likely why I got so turned around.” She laughed ruefully, hoping that she sounded more convincing that she felt.

  “I see.” Her aunt stared at her a long moment. “Are you okay? You look so pale.”

  “Yes… I’m fine.” Arya frowned.

  Eve shook her head. “Well, you’re back now and that’s all that matters.” She smiled slightly, but the look in her eyes made Arya wonder whether her aunt knew something she wasn’t letting on. “Still, I would prefer if you didn’t venture in the woods, Arya. It can be very dangerous.”

  “Oh, I definitely don’t plan on going back,” Arya said fervently. “At least not by myself,” she amended hastily as her aunt gave her another suspicious look.

  “Alright then. Let’s get started with the evening chores. If we hurry we can get everything done before the sun sets.”

  Arya debated whether or not she should press her aunt—it really did seem as if she knew something—but that would be admitting that she held an interest in what went on beneath those trees. And she didn’t. Not anymore. Her curiosity had been piqued by that howling, but now that she’d met the shifters and been told that outlandish story about mating, she had no desire to ever go back there again. She was a normal woman, and that sounded far too much like the stuff faery tales were made of.

  And everyone knew that faery tales were often dark, and did not always have happy endings.

  * * *

  The days passed on as normal. Arya busied herself with farm chores, and entertained herself during her daily visits with Lucas’s family. Amelia seemed to be genuinely warming to her, and Jamie was such fun to be around. Arya was an only child and did not have much experience with youngsters, but the boy was easy to please and not very demanding.

  As for Lucas’s older brothers, they were constantly teasing him about his ‘new girlfriend’, making jokes and telling her all kinds of tales.

  “You know I remember the time he woke up to find a farm rat sitting next to him on his pillow,” Tyler, the eldest, said one day. “It was the middle of the night, and I don’t think anyone got a wink of sleep after that.”

  “Refused to go back to bed until we set a dozen traps,” Byron, the second oldest, chortled. “Came running down the hall to our parents’ room like the fires of hell were chasing him.”

  “Not true,” Lucas said, laughing, but his cheeks were scarlet.

  “Yes, it is!” Tom, the youngest, piped up. “I ought to remember since you and I shared the same room. I don’t think I’d ever seen you run so fast before.”

  Arya was unable to keep from laughing as Lucas cuffed Tom over the head.

  Lucas grinned at her. “I think it’s time to go,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Before they convince you that I’m afraid of my own shadow.”

  Arya really wanted to fall in love with Lucas. He was such an incredibly good man, and she knew that a marriage to him would provide her with a sense of financial security and a stable family she could one day call her own. He also seemed to care for her, and she knew from the looks he sometimes cast her way when she thought he wasn’t looking that he wanted her as his own.

  But try as she might to forget Kellan, she found herself dreaming more and more about the shifter in the forest. At first it was the nightmares, where her house was being ransacked and burned, and he would come around the corner in place of the man that would always try to murder her right before she woke up. But instead of simply grinning at her, he would take her by the hand, and she would feel a sense of security envelope her instead of the fear she knew she should.

  “Come,” he would say, pulling her along, and he would lead her to safety, avoiding falling debris and passing rebels when he could, and striking them down when he couldn’t. But when they stepped out into the fresh air, it was always into the woods, and not the manicured grounds that belonged to her father’s estate. They would be inside the maze, standing at the heart of it, but the walls would look different, and Arya would be unable to find her way out.

  “Help me,” she would say to Kellan, “you must know the way out. Why won’t you help me find the way out?”

  He would shake his head at her. “You must decide your own fate and find your own way. Whether or not you will choose me, or whatever it is that is waiting for you outside these trees. Despite your fear, you already know somewhere inside you that I will not let harm come to you, that I will protect you. The call will lead you back to me when you are ready to follow it.”

  He would always disappear, and she would wake up and stare at the ceiling, wondering if it was truly just her subconscious speaking, or if he was somehow able to speak to her through her dreams. The only way to find out for certain was if she asked him, and since that would require going back into the woods, it wasn’t an option.

  One day, shortly before noon, Lucas showed up at her doorstep with a picnic basket looped over one of his sturdy arms. “I’m sorry to just show up unannounced,” he told Eve with a cheeky grin that belied his statement, “but I was hoping to surprise her. Would you mind if I steal your niece away for a few hours this afternoon?”

  If she’d still been living amongst the gentry, and had one of those proper, highborn mothers who were sticklers for the rules, Lucas would have been shooed away instantly just for the idea. A young man escorting a lady for an afternoon alone in the countryside, without a single servant or chaperone in attendance? It was the stuff scandals were made of. But out here it was normal, almost expected even, and so her Aunt Eve simply smiled, looking very pleased.

  “I’m sure Arya would love to go.”

  “Are you certain?” Arya asked, stepping forward. “I know you’d planned to have me help with the wash today.”

  Her Aunt shook her head briskly. “Nonsense. I’ve been doing the wash by myself longer than you’ve been alive. I assure you I can make it through the day without your help, as much as I do love your company.” She winked at Arya affectionately. “Now hurry and get ready. I’m sure Lucas doesn’t want to be kept waiting long.”

  Shaking her head, Arya did as she was told, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “I do believe my aunt is doing her best to see that I spend as much time with you as possible,” she said after her Aunt had shut the door, hooking her arm around his as they walked through the grass.

  “Well, good,” Lucas said, squeezing her arm affectionately.

  “Oh, you…” Arya began, and then stopped at the sight of the fully saddled workhorse standing a few feet away. His nose was buried in the grass as he munched, his long tail swishing lazily, and his black coat gleamed in the sunlight. “You brought Ahern?”

  “The place I had in mind is a little far for a walk,” Lucas admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Arya shook her head. “It’s been a few months since I’ve last been in the saddle,” she said as he mounted. “It will be nice to feel horseflesh beneath me again.”

  She allowed him to pull her up and settle her between his legs, and though it was a little uncomfortable sitting sideways without a sidesaddle, she was able to lean against his chest, which more than made up for it. Cradling the picnic basket in her hands, she listened to his heartbeat as they trotted through the fields and down a dirt path. His chest was warm and sturdy beneath her cheek, and he smelled like sweet hay and the freshly baked bread from his mother’s kitchen.

  With a little sigh of contentment, she watched the tall grass waving lazily in the summer breeze, listened to the birds twittering and the sound of small animals scampering about. Closing her eyes, she allowed peace to envelope her.

  “We’re here, sleeping beauty.”

  She jerked up with a start, nearly hitting the top of her head against Lucas’s chin. They were standing near the base of a hill, overlooking a small pond tucked against a g
athering of apple trees and blackberry bushes. The sweetness of the berries, which were about ripe to bursting at this time of year, wafted to her on the warm breeze, and the sunlight sparkled off the clear water.

  “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, and then recalled his words. “Did I really fall asleep?”

  “You did.” Lucas helped her dismount, and then slid smoothly to the ground himself. “Snored all the way here.”

  She smacked his chest even as she caught the twinkle in his eye. “I don’t snore!” she exclaimed indignantly, but she was half-laughing as he said it.

  “I know. I just love riling you.” He grinned widely. “Your cheeks flush and your eyes sparkle.”

  Arya could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks at his words, and she looked away. “Now you’re just flattering me.” Before he could respond, she picked up the basket and walked over to a spot beneath one of the apple trees. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

  They spread a blanket out, and then removed what turned out to be a veritable feast—cold ham, cheese, buttery rolls, pickles, and sweet strawberry tarts. “Are you certain we aren’t missing someone?” she teased. “This is enough to feed a small army!”

  “Believe you me, Arya,” Lucas said as he tucked away two rolls piled high with meat and cheese, “I eat enough for at least one army. Farm work burns a lot of energy.”

  Arya studied him over her own sandwich. He was wearing a green shirt, trousers and boots—simple attire, and yet Arya had no doubt that if he walked into a ballroom, every single lady would swoon. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open so she caught a glimpse of his broad chest and the muscles that lay beneath it.

  Surely she should be more attracted to him, shouldn’t she? He was funny, intelligent, extremely good looking, and he paid attention to her—real attention, as if she were not just a woman, but a person too. Many of the men she knew back home had admired her looks, but hadn’t been willing to give her the time of day when she tried to engage them in stimulating conversation. As far as they were concerned, women were to look pretty and make babies, not use their minds.

  “Your mother makes the best tarts I’ve ever tasted,” Arya told Lucas after biting into one and savoring the flaky pastry and juicing strawberry filling as it saturated her tongue. “I really must nag her for the recipe some time.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to teach you how to make them sometime.” Lucas smiled, and then his eyes turned serious. “Arya, I’ve noticed that you’re looking a bit… peaky, lately. Is everything alright? I hope you’re not getting ill.”

  Arya reached up to touch her face. There weren’t any mirrors in her aunt’s house, so she hadn’t really paid much attention to her appearance as of late. Glancing over at the water, she studied her reflection and winced mentally. ‘Peaky’ was an understatement. Her face was pale, her eyes heavy and rounded with dark circles. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked like such.

  “I… I had no idea,” she murmured, wondering why her aunt had never mentioned it. “I… I suppose it’s because I haven’t been sleeping very much lately.”

  Lucas frowned. “Why not?”

  Arya hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him about her dreams of Kellan, or how the wolf howling kept her awake at night because she had to fight not to leave her bed and head back into the woods. It seemed as though the call, as Kellan had spoken of it, was strengthening with each night, along with the intensity of the dreams. It was maddening, as she didn’t want anything to do with it, yet she was helpless to it.

  “I’ve been having nightmares,” she decided to tell him, which was partially true—she did sometimes still have the nightmares, though the endings were very different from what they were before she moved out here. “I still dream about the night the rebels attacked, and when I wake up, I can’t get back to sleep.”

  Lucas’s face softened in sympathy, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry, Arya,” he said gently. “I can’t imagine how it would feel to lose my entire family in the course of a single night.”

  Tears filled her eyes suddenly, and she blinked them back. Forcing a smile, she picked up her half-eaten tart. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? It’s a beautiful day, and I don’t want to dwell on things I cannot change.”

  “Of course,” Lucas said, but Arya caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes—he wanted her to confide in him, she realized. It would be nice if she could lean her head against his chest like she’d done before, and unload her emotional baggage onto his sturdy shoulders.

  But something in her heart held her back—something she didn’t fully understand since she knew Lucas wouldn’t begrudge her for it. And it infuriated her more than anything else that she couldn’t seem to take her heart in her hands and give it to someone of her own choosing.

  * * *

  His senses on high alert, the man crept silently through the darkness, crouching through the trees. His body stiffened as he heard a branch crack behind him, but when he turned it was only one of his hunters. Biting back a curse at the man’s clumsiness, he motioned with his fingers for silence, then continued to inch forward, sweeping his surroundings with a keen gaze, searching for prey.

  Years of practice had honed his eyes so that he could see in the dark as well as any night animal, and his other senses were heightened as well—he could hear each breath his men took, smell every scent the wind brought to him on her wings. He’d worked hard to hone his skills, and the number of kills under his belt signified just how much that had paid off.

  Finally they reached their destination, and crouched behind the bushes some distance away to wait. The sliver of moonlight illuminated the man slumped under a tree, seemingly asleep. A trickle of blood burned brightly in the night, like a beacon, and the man tensed as he readied his weapon, banking that it would draw the right kind of predator forward—the one that they were looking for.

  Just when his legs were beginning to go stiff from crouching motionless for so long, a figure stepped out of the shadows. He appeared a normal man, dressed in a jerkin and leggings, but his extraordinary pale face and red eyes gleaming out of the darkness gave him away—he was a monster, and exactly the kind of creature he and his men fought to eradicate from this world. Because of his group, the country people lived in relative peace, undisturbed by the horrors lurking in the shadows.

  The man crouched down on his haunches, tucking two pale fingers beneath the other man’s chin and pushing it up to expose his throat. He opened his mouth to reveal the long fangs that marked his kind—vampire. Filthy, foul, bloodsucking vermin. Spawn of the devil.

  As the vampire leaned down to feast, the man hidden in the shadows released the bolt from his crossbow. It pierced the vampire’s chest, who let out a keening howl and toppled backward. As he did so, the ‘unconscious’ man leaped forward, pulling a stake from his sleeve, and drove it into the vampire’s heart.

  Smiling with grim satisfaction, the man motioned for his group to stand, then crossed over to the one who had made the kill. “That’s very good work.” He clapped him on the back. “You’ve done your ancestors proud.”

  The man smiled, wiping away the blood at his temple. “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome. Now let’s get that bonfire built so we can burn this bastard. I don’t want to leave any chance open for him to come back.”

  * * *

  Arya dragged herself out of bed as the sun came up, gritting her teeth as a headache pounded relentlessly at her temples. She was getting tired of being tired, and her resolve not to heed the wolf call was growing perilously thin. Keeping her teeth clenched so as not to give into the yawns trying to work their way up, she pulled on her clothes, then stumbled outside to the lean-to so she could splash some icy water onto her face.

  Apparently it wasn’t enough, because when she came back inside her Aunt took one look at her before her own face blanched in horror and concern.

  “Arya!” she exclaimed, rushin
g over and placing her small hands on either side of her face. “What on earth is wrong with you, child? Are you ill?” She peered into Arya’s eyes, and then felt her forehead. “You look like death warmed over.”

  Arya tried to crack a smile, but her lips didn’t seem to have enough energy for it. “I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.” She was unable to stifle the yawn this time. “The nightmares… they’ve really taken a toll.”

  “Well why didn’t you say something?” Aunt Eve drew back with a frown. “I would have made you a batch of chamomile tea. It’s always soothed me whenever I’ve had a restless night.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I never really thought about it.” Not quite true, unfortunately—Arya had debated whether or not to try an herbal remedy, but she knew somewhere inside her that her problem wasn’t physical—it was mental. The wolf call was pulling at her soul, and no amount of chamomile tea was going to release its hold on her.

  “Well, I’ll make sure to make you some tonight before bed,” her aunt said firmly. “Now why don’t you go and lie down for a bit?”

  Arya shook her head. “I actually think a walk might do me more good. Clear my head, get the blood flowing. Do you think you would mind if I went out for a bit?”

  That something flickered in her aunt’s eyes again, the same look Arya had caught before when she’d mentioned the woods, but Eve only nodded. “Don’t be too late, child.”

  Arya promised not to be, then grabbed her shoes and bonnet and stepped outside. Unlike her first days here, when she’d walked through the fields with a bounce in her step and the sunshine in her heart, her feet dragged wearily through the grass and the sun seemed to pound as relentlessly as her headache did. Rather than allow herself to be held down, she picked up the pace determinedly, allowing a seed of anger to root itself in her heart as she headed for the woods. By the time she reached the edge of the trees, the anger had become a bud, and had burst into a blossom of rage as she entered the maze.