by V. Vaughn
“Great. You’re taking me to your house on Silver Lake. It will be dark soon. And you know it’s dangerous.” I grin at him so he’ll know I’m joking.
“Maybe I’m the one you should be afraid of.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because when I decide I want something, I get it. And I want you, Raven.”
I thread my fingers through his. “That doesn’t frighten me one bit.”
“Don’t be so sure. You haven’t heard my confession yet.”
He releases my hand and turns the truck onto a dirt road. The shocks squeak as we bounce over the uneven terrain, and I hold up my hand to block the glare of the sun. “Berch Lindholm, I’ve known almost everything about you for most of my life. There’s nothing you can confess that will scare me.”
We turn down a small one-lane road that leads to the water, and trees block the sunset from my view. I glance over at Berch to see his serious gaze as he says, “We’ll see about that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Berch’s house is bigger than I expected, and we pull into the attached two-car garage. The automatic door creaks as it lowers behind us, and I hike up my skirt to step out of the truck quickly. But I’m not fast enough, and Berch gets a glimpse of my bare thighs. He lifts his gaze to my face and wiggles his eyebrows. “I really should let you do this on your own.”
I hit his arm lightly with the back of my hand. “Give me a tour.”
“Right this way.” Berch grabs my hand and leads me through a door that takes us to a small mudroom and then to the kitchen. He flips on lights that glow over the black granite countertop speckled with shimmery silver. Stainless steel appliances stand out against the charcoal-colored cabinets and red walls.
“Great kitchen. Do you like to cook?” I ask.
“I’m getting there. After a few months of takeout, I decided I needed to learn, so I’ve been teaching myself.” Light flashes as he opens the refrigerator. “Wine?”
“Sure.” The counter is cool under my hand as I drag it across the top while I wander toward the great room. “I know what you mean. I got tired of salads in plastic containers and decided the same thing.”
The living space is expansive with a high-peaked ceiling, and I make my way to the sliding glass doors that open to a deck. The sun is halfway below the horizon, making the lake glisten in the orange twilight. “What a gorgeous view.”
I glance out to find a sailboat tied to the dock. It’s appropriate that a quiet man wouldn’t own a motorboat, and I smile. Berch’s feet thud behind me, and I turn to take a glass from him. “So far you’re not scaring me one bit. This house is wonderful.”
“Come.” Berch takes my hand, and we move toward a hallway. He tilts his glass to the right, and I glance into a room that looks like an office. “My study.” He turns to the left. “And this is a guest room.”
I peek into a room decorated in soft shades of blue before we approach the stairs. We pass a bathroom and laundry room on the way, and Berch says, “I know this house is big for just me, but I had it built with a family in mind, because I don’t intend to move.”
Carpet muffles our steps when we get to the second floor, and we walk past three bedrooms and a bathroom before we get to the master suite. The room is huge, and so is the four-poster bed in dark-stained wood. But my eyes are drawn to the picture window that overlooks the lake. The sun has just fallen below the horizon, and I walk over. “It’s even more spectacular up here.”
“What is?”
“The lake.” I turn to Berch. “You must love waking up to this.”
“I do. I’m fortunate that my family owns so much land here.”
Tart white wine coats my tongue when I take a sip, and I return my focus to the water. Berch leans close and points across the lake. “My brother Bosun and his wife live over there.” He moves his hand and says, “And my brother Brindle and his family are there. You can’t see it, but my parents are across from him.”
“So the Lindholms all live on the lake?”
“We do. It’s a nice combination of being close but having enough space if we need it.”
“That is nice.”
Berch’s body is inches from mine, and I lean into him without thinking. He slips an arm around my waist. “Could you imagine living here?” he asks. His glass clinks as he sets it on the windowsill, and he reaches for mine.
With you? Lust rushes through me as he turns me by my hip to face him. I gaze at his mouth, wanting to taste it, and I don’t know how to answer. My voice is low when I finally say, “I’m not sure.”
Berch takes my face in his hands and leans down. He whispers, “Perhaps I need to convince you.”
I grasp his arms to steady myself when Berch Lindholm’s lips meet mine and he finally kisses me. My fantasies flash through my mind, but the real thing is better than I imagined. It’s as if he knows what I like, and our tentative nibbles make way for something hungrier as our tongues join in. My hands move up his arms, and I grip strong biceps, wishing I were touching skin instead of soft cotton.
He breaks away and sighs. “Raven.”
I touch my lips lightly and smile. “Berch.”
“Come. I’m making you dinner.”
“Right.” I take a deep breath and grab the glass he hands me. “Dinner.”
When we get to the kitchen, I’m put to work cutting a sweet onion and sautéing it to caramelize while Berch dresses red snapper with a variety of spices. He asks, “Have you heard from Morgan Stanley?”
I push an onion ring with my tongs and watch the oil coat the translucent slice. “Not yet.” And part of me hopes I don’t, because then I would have to leave Berch. I shake the thought, because that would be giving up.
“If you want a job here, I have a friend who works for a firm downtown. I’d be happy to get you an interview.”
Berch has rolled up his sleeves, and the muscles in his forearm flex as he lifts the tray of fish to make his way out to the grill. The idea of those arms holding me instead clouds my mind, and I say, “Maybe.” Why would I leave now that I have something started with the man I’ve wanted all my life? “Make that a strong maybe.”
I’m rewarded with a huge grin. “I’ll take that as a challenge and do my best to change your answer to a yes.”
What am I saying? I’m not the kind of girl to let go of a career goal for some guy. Even if it’s the one I’ve wanted all my life.
CHAPTER SIX
We eat in front of a fire, and the flames make shadows dance along the walls. I sigh as I push my plate away. “That was the most delicious meal I’ve had in a long time. You put my cooking skills to shame.” I lean back in my chair and swirl the wine in my glass.
“That was a team effort. You make a mean salad.”
I grin. “My placement of the goat cheese and onions was amazing, wasn’t it?”
Berch’s voice lowers, and I lick my lips as he speaks. “I think it was the way you drizzled the honey.”
I’m tempted to yank him onto the table and have him for dessert. I clear my throat as I stand to clear the dishes. Berch follows my lead and says, “Just leave them on the counter. I’ll clean later.”
Plates clash as I set them down, and Berch catches me around my waist before I can return to the table. He pulls me against his chest. “About that honey—” He places his mouth on mine and kisses me. This time it doesn’t start off tentative. No, this kiss is an invitation to more, and I’m breathless when he stops.
Berch says, “Let’s sit by the fire. It’s confession time.”
The leather couch we sink into threatens to swallow me up in a comfortable embrace, so I perch on the edge to give Berch my full attention.
He takes my hand and turns my palm up. His warm finger tickles as he lightly traces a line. “Do you believe in fate?”
“Kind of. I mean, I believe that there are things that will happen to a person no matter what they do.”
“Do you remember the first time you saw me?”
> I shake my head, because I’m sure it was before I can remember.
“I do. We were at the playground, and I was drawn to you. I didn’t know why, but I had to be near you, and I let you play with my trucks.” He grins. “That’s a big deal for a three-year-old.”
“I bet.”
“At dinner that night, my father asked about my day, and I told him I met the girl who would be my wife.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. “My father said he believed me.”
I place my hand on his cheek, and he holds it there. I say, “You said that you never asked me out because it wasn’t our time. What does that mean?”
“It means you’re fated to be my wife. We’re true mates. But I needed you to be ready to accept it.”
I pull my hand back. “True mates? That sound so—”
“Paranormal? Sci-fi?”
“Yes.”
Berch takes my hand again. “That’s because I am paranormal.”
I squint at Berch as if I can see through his skin and find an alien. “How so?”
He squeezes my fingers. “I’m a werewolf, Raven.”
The heat of his skin sears through me as I process his words. “A werewolf? Like, you get hairy on the full moon and go crazy?”
“No. I shift between human and wolf whenever I want.”
The growling at the Diner between Berch and Parker comes back to me. Oh my God. I stand up and walk to the glass doors. Those ghost stories were true? And I’m fated to be married to a werewolf?
Berch follows me, and his hands land softly on my shoulders as he says, “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I turn to him and gaze into the arctic-blue eyes I’d know anywhere. I wonder if his wolf form has them. “It is. I’m not sure what to do with this. Or what it means.”
“Let me explain the Winter Valley wolves to you.” He leads me back to the couch. “Sit, and I’ll get you more wine.”
I nod, because I think I might need it. I shove myself back and let the overstuffed cushions cradle me. Little things about living in this town start to make sense. The group of guys who all hung out in school and seemed to be an inseparable pack really were a pack. I wonder if Parker’s football ability is because he’s a werewolf, too.
My thoughts are interrupted when Berch gives me my drink. The glass is cool in my hand, and I take a sip. The sofa dips as he sits next to me. “The Winter Valley pack has about one hundred members. The majority of them are men who were born werewolves. Most of our women were changed into werewolves.”
“Werewolves don’t have girl children?”
“It can happen, but it’s rare.”
The reality of his words slaps me in the face. Oh no. I take a deep breath. “Do you want to change me into a werewolf?”
Berch touches my leg. “Only if you want me to.” His grip tightens in contradiction to his next words. “If you decide you can’t be with me, then I’ll let you go.”
“So what if I want to be with you but don’t want to be a werewolf?”
“We can do that too. But.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “Eventually I’d have to leave you. I’m obligated to the pack to have children, and you need to be a werewolf for that to happen.”
“Oh.” I take another sip of wine and let the alcohol burn as I hold it in my mouth before swallowing. I finally have the man of my dreams at my fingertips, only to learn I’ve been in love with a werewolf all my life. And I have to become one to keep him forever?
I’m not sure what to think, but the apprehension on Berch’s face makes me speak. “Um. So what’s it like?”
Berch’s concern makes way for a huge smile. “It’s awesome.” He leans toward me. “There’s nothing like running as a wolf. You’re fast and agile, and so—” His eyes flash with intensity. “Free.”
His joy is contagious, and I smile back. I ask, “Does it hurt to shift?”
“No. The hardest part is remembering to return to your clothes when you’re done being a wolf.”
Naked Berch. “Hmm. Maybe I need a demonstration.”
He jumps up and speaks with little-boy excitement. It makes me think he’s wanted to tell me this for years. “Do you want to see my wolf?” he asks.
“Sure.”
Metal clinks as he removes his belt, and when he begins to unzip his jeans, he stops. “Are you okay with me getting naked?”
I bite my lower lip, and realization spreads on his face. “I’m going to pretend you don’t have a different reason for wanting me to shift. Oh, wait.” He winks at me. “No I’m not.”
Berch leaves his pants open and removes his shirt. I take a slow, deep breath when he reveals a well-defined chest. I change my position on the couch, and the leather creaks as a flush of desire rises in me.
When Berch returns to his pants a blush covers his face, too. He shrugs and lowers them to reveal his erection. “I have an active imagination.” As soon as he steps out of his jeans, an odd cracking noise sounds as his body changes shape, and he drops to the ground. Fur grows at warp speed as I watch in amazement.
The wolf jumps up on the couch next to me as if he’s a pet, and I squeal. I gaze into eyes the same color as Berch’s. I reach out, and he tilts his head toward my hand. “Oh my God.” His fur is pale gray, with darker coloring around his snout and eyes. I stroke him, and the hair is silky in my fingers. “You’re incredible.”
The wolf—Berch nuzzles my neck, and I giggle when his wet nose tickles me. He jumps off the sofa and shifts back. This time I get a good look at his firm butt as he bends down to step into his pants. The zipper grinds as he turns to me. “So what do you think?”
“You’re beautiful.” As a man and as a wolf. I gaze at Berch’s face and know he’s asking more, but I’m not ready to answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sunday mornings with my mom usually mean fresh-baked donuts, and I wake to the aroma of fried goodness and coffee. After some serious kissing last night, Berch brought me home around midnight, and my mother was already in bed. I’m sure she’s dying for the juicy details and knows baked goods are the perfect bribe.
I stumble to the bathroom before making my way downstairs. Sugar covers my lips when I sink my teeth into a homemade donut. The sweetness makes me moan. “Oh, Mom. These are heavenly.”
My mother deposits more pastries on the cooling rack and slaps my hand as I reach for another to keep me from burning myself. She says, “And so is that boy you were with. Tell me all about it.”
The barstool is cool under my thighs as I slide onto it to sit at the counter. “Coffee?” I ask in a sheepish voice, knowing my mom will comply.
“Not until you answer a question. Did you kiss him?”
A huge grin covers my face. “Um-hmm.”
A steaming mug clunks down before me as she asks, “Was it all you ever dreamed it would be?”
I lift the hot liquid toward my mouth and blow before I answer, “Better.”
Mom leans on her forearms, “Really?”
“Really.” I’m trying to be coy, but I fail miserably. “So much better. Berch finally wants me.”
“Oh honey, I think he’s always wanted you.”
I frown. “Then why am I the last to know?”
My mother stands up and turns her back to me. “Because you weren’t ready to know.”
“Mother.” I get the sense she’s hiding something, and I bet it’s the fact the Lindholms are werewolves. A hint of betrayal makes me prickle. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She turns back and gazes at me for a moment. “Did Berch share anything important last night?”
“You know.” I bolt up off the stool. “How could you have known all these years and never told me?”
My mom holds up her hand so her palm faces me. “Hang on a second. The secret is carefully guarded, and very few humans who aren’t part of the pack know it.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And you know it because?”
“Because Gloria Lindholm wants you t
o be with her son as much as I do. She didn’t want you to worry about what I would think, so she told me.” My mother shakes her head as she rolls her eyes. “But it wasn’t news to me. Your father never kept things from me.”
My dad was the town pediatrician, and it occurs to me that he may have been privy to the truth due to his profession. I take a sip of hot coffee while I process the discovery. I ask, “So you’re okay with me dating a werewolf?”
My mom chuckles before she answers. “Date? I believe ‘marry’ is a better word. And yes. I don’t think I have a choice.”
I shake my head. “Why is it I feel like I’ve walked into a surprise party you’ve all been planning for years?” I’m annoyed that nobody thought I should be aware that Berch and I would end up together.
“Because you needed to be ready to accept your fate. The last thing Berch wanted was for you to wonder what could have been if you hadn’t left Winter Valley.”
I imagine what it must have been like for Berch to watch me make foolish mistakes, waiting for the day I’d be ready for what he’s known all along.
A knock on the door distracts me from my thoughts. I’d forgotten Berch was going to send his two sisters-in-law over to talk to me. “Hey Mom, Brindle and Bosun’s wives are coming to visit.”
She grins at me. “Good thing I made donuts. I’ll put on more coffee.”
“Thanks,” I call out as I make my way to the door.
I open up to a petite brunette and a taller blonde. They look about my age and speak in unison. “Hey there.” The blonde giggles, and the other girl says, “I’m Katie and this is Devon.”
“Hi. Come on in. My mom made donuts, and we have fresh coffee.” I glance down at my T-shirt and boxer shorts. “I kind of forgot you were coming. I’m going to go change and be right back.”
When I return from dressing, the girls are telling my mother I need her most amazing recipe for some potluck dinner competition. They spend the next hour explaining what being a werewolf is like after growing up human. I learn that Katie spent a year regretting her decision to change, and Devon struggled with the choice to do it, too. They make me feel normal about my reaction, and by the end of the conversation, I’m glad they came to see me.