Stonybrooke Shifters: The Complete Collection

by Leela Ash

  “Enough of this nonsense. It’s not like the girl is dying,” Jeffers exclaimed. “I’ve always had a fondness for this one, so rest assured, I will screen the men.”

  Molly’s father said nothing in response, and Jeffers gave him another bright smile.

  “You should be happy, man! This beautiful girl just saved your ass! Smile or something!”

  “I won’t smile again until I know, for sure, that my daughter is all right.”

  “Sure, sure,” Jeffers said, waving his hand dismissively. “Come on, Molly. We have to get your ad set up. Time is of the essence. Especially for virgin brides.”

  Molly cringed at the shrill laugh that escaped Jeffers’ lips, surprised when they were halted at the door by her father’s body.

  “She stays with us until she’s placed, Jeffers. You get no alone time with her.”

  Jeffers laughed edgily, clearly disappointed by the boundary.

  “Of course!” he said, clearing his throat and glaring at Molly’s father. “I wouldn’t want anybody desecrating the poor thing. It would completely ruin her market value.”

  Molly’s whole body shook with rage. She almost couldn’t believe what she was doing, but she had meant every word she had spoken to her father. She would do anything to make sure her family was all right. Even if that meant spending the rest of her life with a man she didn’t love.

  4.

  Greyson shoved the bar doors open and sat down heavily on one of the bright red stools.

  “I need a stiff one,” Greyson grumbled, pulling Thursday’s newspaper toward himself and flipping through it miserably. He had been on three other dates, with three more women he couldn’t picture himself kissing, let alone marrying. What the hell was wrong with the world? Was he just not meant to be with a decent woman?

  “Here you go, Grey,” the bartender, an acquaintance from Greyson’s high school, said, sliding his drink to him from across the bar.

  “Thanks, Mikey,” Greyson said, sighing before he downed his drink. The Serah ceremony was coming up quickly, and if he was going to be any kind of testament to his bloodline, he should have a mate by then. The whole situation was weighing heavily on him. Why couldn’t he just pick somebody already? Was he really meant to just be alone for the rest of his life?

  Suddenly, he turned the page of the newspaper and his heart palpitated. In the personals section, there was a picture of a stunningly beautiful young woman, with gentle eyes and the sweetest smile he had ever seen. All the blood rushed to Greyson’s groin, and he devoured the picture again and again, the wolf inside of him demanding he go out and find this beautiful girl at all costs and make her his own.

  He had never had such a strong reaction to any woman before, let alone the simple image of one in a newspaper, and Greyson gritted his teeth. It wasn’t like it meant anything, though. He was just desperate to end this headache about the Serah ceremony. Still, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander through the words beneath the astonishingly beautiful girl’s picture.

  Her name was Molly Ferguson. She was seeking a kind, caring man to take care of her for the rest of her life. She was twenty-three years old, and she was a virgin.

  The wolf once again urged Greyson forward and he growled back at it, telling it to know its place. The whole damned thing was cursed as far as he could tell. None of the women he had met were anything close to the perfection he was looking for in a mate. He might as well just give up then and there.

  Throughout the night, he drank until he could barely walk, and then drank some more, all the while holding the image of Molly Ferguson in his mind. She could very well be the answer to his problems. Even if she wasn’t someone he was fated to be with; at the very least, being a mail order bride meant there was no love expected from either party. They could just do their best to tolerate each other until the ceremony was over, and if things didn’t work out, they could go their separate ways.

  The more he thought about it, the more tempting it seemed, until, finally, he staggered to the pay phone at the bar and fumbled with the numbers, the ad for the girl crumpled up in his hand. He would find Molly Ferguson and, with the money in his trust fund, he would pay for her to come to Stonybrooke and be his wife.

  ***

  Greyson woke up on the couch of his huge estate with a pounding headache. He had really let himself drink too much the night before. All the pressure about the Serah ceremony was starting to get to him. He would just have to lay off the alcohol for the next few weeks until the stupid thing was all over with.

  When he staggered to his feet a wadded up piece of paper fell to the floor. He leaned down to pick it up, but before he had a chance to examine it, the doorbell rang. It sounded like sledgehammers in his ears, and he growled, darting to the door to open it as quickly as he could to make the noise stop.

  “Greyson Bleuth?”

  Greyson was shocked by the gentle voice that reached his ears, and stood rigidly in the doorway, suddenly very embarrassed to realize that he had pulled his shirt off before falling asleep on his couch and that his thick black hair, normally neatly groomed, was a mess on top of his head.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, squinting at the door. But the light was just too hellishly bright, and his head seared in pain. “Get inside.”

  He gripped the girl’s wrist and pulled her in, slamming the door behind her. “What are you doing here? Did my mother send you?”

  “No,” the girl said, her gentle voice surprised. “You did.”

  Suddenly, the fragment of a memory struck Greyson and he inhaled sharply. The girl from the ad. He had actually called her that night. He could remember fumbling with his wallet at the payphone, reciting the numbers of his credit card for everybody and their fucking grandmother to hear. What had he been thinking?

  “Shit,” he mumbled, sitting heavily down on the couch. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  He could sense the girl coming slowly toward him, a comfortable presence that expected nothing from him either way.

  “I did what you said,” her beautiful voice said. He was still too hungover to keep his eyes open, and he thrust his arm over them as he listened to her speak. “I didn’t bring very many things. You told me I should get acclimated to shifter life. You were very insistent about that. Telling me to leave my human troubles behind…”

  Greyson scoffed. “You are my human troubles.”

  He could tell without looking that the comment hurt the girl, and he wished he could find it within himself to regret it. But he simply couldn’t. The truth was, Greyson had made a horrendous mistake the night before. It wasn’t her fault that she was there. Still, the fact that it was her there was unbelievably irritating.

  “Well, if you’re going to stay, you might as well make yourself useful,” he grumbled. “I need a glass of water.”

  The girl seemed frozen in place, and Greyson gritted his teeth. Was she stupid or something? “I didn’t pay that much for you to just stand around and look at me like you don’t understand the words coming out of my mouth. I’m thirsty!”

  He knew he was acting like a spoiled child, but he hated to be caught by surprise. It riled him up like nothing else. The wolf in him liked everything a certain way, and he was used to getting everything he wanted. He had been the only child of his parents, and they had been very insistent upon giving in to his every whim and fancy. As far as he was concerned, he deserved no less than the best. And right now, being face to face with a woman he had only met because of a drunken call to a newspaper ad, he was not getting the best for himself. He was getting himself good and trapped, and he didn’t like it.

  “All right,” Molly said, her beautiful blue eyes boring into him fiercely. “Where is your kitchen?”

  Greyson tore his eyes away from her, irritated by his own attraction, and gestured behind himself.

  “I’ll get you your water.”

  Molly sat down the small suitcase she had been carrying and removed her shoes before stepping inside the
house. She walked quietly to the kitchen without making any eye contact. It should have made him feel powerful, to be able to command people around like this, but for some reason, it just made him feel like shit.

  When Molly returned, he grabbed the glass from her and downed it unceremoniously, all the while avoiding her eyes. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for him to doubt himself. If he was any kind of lord of the manor, then it was up to him to show her how things were done here.

  It was clear she had never even seen a shifter in her life, and that reality contributed to his bitterness. He wouldn’t go easy on her. She would have to learn the rules, and whether she had to learn them the hard way or not wasn’t his concern. If they were going to be stuck with each other until the stupid ceremony was over and done with, then he was just going to have to make the best of it.

  “I’m going to go upstairs to do some research,” he said, finally looking her in the eye again for the first time now that he had gotten used to the idea of being awake in the presence of a stranger. “I don’t want to be bothered. There are several guest rooms in this house. You should look for the one that makes you the most comfortable. I want to eat lunch at 12:00pm sharp. Come ask me what I’m in the mood for at 11:30am. I’ll receive you then.”

  And with that, Greyson tilted his chin defiantly and marched up the long, spiral staircase, leaving the beautiful girl standing in silence behind him.

  5.

  Molly wrung her hands nervously as she approached Greyson’s study. The last thing she had expected was to be bought and sold to a shifter, and a shockingly handsome one at that. His deep brown eyes made him look as if he had already lived a thousand years, but his face and body were youthful and obnoxiously attractive.

  Greyson looked a little snobby, to be truthful, but behind that, she couldn’t help but be drawn to his chiseled features. Despite clearly being raised in a life of privilege, he was just as rugged as she would have expected any other shifter man to be, and it made her heart hammer nervously in her chest at the idea of having to spend so much of her time with him. She could only hope he would be more hospitable as time went on.

  Then again, she shouldn’t hope for much. Molly had been raised in a small, conservative town, where everybody seemed to know everybody else. And the one thing they all seemed to agree upon was that shifters were bad news, and it was a horrible idea to get mixed up with them. In fact, Molly had always heard they were dangerous and unpredictable, and arriving in Stonybrooke had only confirmed her deepest fears.

  Shifter men had leered at her from the train station, and several people had tried to intercept her on the way to Greyson’s estate. Which, as it turned out, was shockingly huge. She had thought he might live with his parents or something like she did, but Jeffers had quickly laughed off the notion. Shifter men were independent as soon as they could be. Greyson had his own home, his own property, and a whole lot of people who wanted to wait on him hand and foot.

  But Greyson was a strange man, Jeffers had cautioned, and it was best not to get on his bad side. Molly feared she had already gotten on Greyson’s bad side, and now she was terrified about what might happen to her for the rest of her stay. It was impossible to know just how safe she really was, despite Jeffers reassuring both Molly and her father again and again that the union was perfectly safe.

  But what would Jeffers care about Molly’s safety when he had all of Greyson’s money in his pockets? The thought brought a fiery anger to Molly’s chest and she knocked firmly on Greyson’s study door. Enough of this pointless fear. She was just going to have to make the most of her situation. What else was there to do? Her family was counting on her to make this work.

  “Greyson, it’s time to make lunch,” she said, stepping into the study when he refused to answer. She was shocked by how dark and musty the room was, as if it hadn’t been used in centuries. Greyson could be heard shuffling through papers, the faint light of a candle burning deep in the room, behind a huge row of book shelves. “Greyson!”

  Greyson abruptly stopped what he was doing and glared at her, his eyes flashing bright green. Molly gasped and backed away, fighting the urge to flee. It was her job to make this work and give back to her parents what they had put in to raise Molly and her siblings. She would have to fight through the fear, no matter what the cost.

  “What are you doing in here?” Greyson asked, his voice a deep growl. Molly’s hands tremored, but she swallowed and looked at Greyson resolutely.

  “You wanted me to ask what you’d like to eat for lunch. I’ve been knocking.”

  Greyson grew quiet, and Molly felt a cold chill rise up her spine. She had certainly gotten herself into quite the mess. Hopefully, she would be able to manage the challenges that being with Greyson would ultimately cause her to face.

  “Meat,” was all he said, turning his eyes away from her and back to the papers in front of him. “Just meat.”

  “Meat,” Molly said with a nod. “I’ll go see what you have in the kitchen.”

  Greyson ignored her and she walked out the door, letting it slam shut behind herself. She had never met such an ill-mannered man in all her life. She would think that having so much money in his family would have allowed him to afford proper grooming, maybe an etiquette course or two?

  But that was possibly why everybody had always rumored the shifters to be ill-bred heathens, barely worthy of a second thought when it came right down to it. Molly wasn’t getting the greatest impression of them so far. And if nobody managed to give her a reason otherwise, she was worried she would return to the world a hardened woman of harsh opinions. She couldn’t think of anything more reprehensible than that. It had always been her goal to try to accept everybody. But some people did everything they could to make that impossible.

  Molly made her way back to the kitchen, mildly agitated that all she had done so far was to fetch this annoying rich boy water and food from the kitchen. Didn’t he have servants who helped him with this kind of a thing? Surely, shifter culture wasn’t so backward that they still believed a woman’s place was in the kitchen!

  “Good afternoon, miss.”

  A voice from across the kitchen made Molly jump, and she frowned as she peered inside, suddenly seeing the face of a gaunt old man in a sharp grey suit.

  “Hello,” Molly said rigidly.

  “Baron is the name,” the man said, bowing gracefully. “Who, might I ask, are you?”

  “My name is Molly,” she replied with a sigh, heading toward the ice box and peering inside. “I’m supposed to be getting lunch ready for Greyson.”

  “Ah, Master Bleuth has hired another cook?”

  Molly scoffed. “Not exactly. I don’t really work here… I think. I don’t know yet, honestly.”

  Understanding dawned on the old man’s face and he nodded grimly. “I see. In that case, madam, let me know what Master Bleuth expects you to fetch for him and I will prepare it accordingly,” hesaid. And then, “He is very particular.”

  “So I’ve gathered,” Molly said with a sigh. “He just said ‘meat.’ It’s not much to go on, but…”

  Before the words were fully out of Molly’s mouth, Baron was already digging through the cupboards and preparing the chopping block.

  “If you’ll excuse me, madam, I’m going to have to get this finished quickly. It’s already nearly lunch time. You understand.”

  He spoke as he worked in an efficient frenzy, and Molly nodded, backing out of the kitchen without another word.

  She headed into the vast sitting room and sat heavily upon one of the velvety chairs. She couldn’t believe how out of place she felt here. Greyson was an utter jerk, and Baron could apparently manage things on his own without Molly in the way. Just what was she doing here? Why would a man like this answer a newspaper ad for a mail order bride? It felt like the whole thing was nothing but a cruel joke.

  It’s not that she was expecting to get shipped away and meet the love of her life or anything. Quite the contrary, in fact
. But still, maybe she did have some hope held out for the kind of man she would be spending the rest of her life with. Even with of his money, the fancy estate, and his incredible looks, this whole situation, somehow, left Molly feeling very… underwhelmed. But how could she be disappointed? She’d only heard Greyson’s voice for a moment on the speakerphone as Jeffers answered the call and made the arrangements. Was that really enough time for her to get a good idea of the man she was to be married to?

  Jeffers wouldn’t get the whole payment until Molly and Greyson were officially wed. Right now, it seemed they were doing a trial run, and judging by the way Greyson was treating her so far, things weren’t exactly going very well. But if she messed this up, Jeffers had told her that it was likely people would argue the point of her virginity. How could she have spent so much time with a man alone in his home without something happening? It was Greyson or nobody. She had to make sure this worked out properly. If she didn’t end up Mrs. Molly Bleuth soon, her family was going to be doomed.

  ***

  Late that night, Molly had finally chosen to settle in to a guest room that looked extravagant enough to host a queen, while still somehow managing to be the most modest of the elaborate rooms on Greyson’s estate. She was just getting her small suitcase unpacked when she felt as if she were being watched.

  When she glanced over her shoulder, she realized she had left the bedroom door open, and standing outside, staring at her with an intense look in his deep brown eyes, was Greyson.

  Heat inadvertently made its way to her loins, and she was shocked by the power of her longing. She’d never felt this way before, not for anybody. If she had, she probably would have found it much more difficult to hang on to her virginity. But Greyson was darkly sexy and came into the room without a word.

  “We are to be wed,” he said, as if he could hardly believe it himself. “And yet, I have never even kissed the bride to be.”