Entwined Secrets (BBW Shifter Romance): Sorcery & Shifters Book 1

by Briar, Robin

  It’s a white lie, but it still breaks my heart deceiving him like this. There’s been no precedent for it between us, but I can’t have him knowing about the spellcasting. That’s not my decision to make.

  Mason mulls the excuse over, not sure what make of it. I could almost cry watching him trying to reconcile the lie.

  “I suppose, but it didn’t seem that way. I can’t recall the specifics, but it felt like I simply took what I wanted. You. All of you. I only cared about what I wanted.”

  And you would be right to think that, Mason. That’s exactly what happened, after all. So I apologize now, but the deception I’m spinning is a necessary one. You can’t know that I’m a witch.

  “Don’t get me wrong. You were assertive, but also gentle, as if you knew I could only handle so much. My welfare never seemed to stray far from your mind. Perhaps you have more control over yourself than you realize?”

  And now I’ve graduated from white lies to bold-faced lies, but there’s no getting around it. I have to protect my secret. Who I am and what my coven can do. The pact that binds the three of together is bound by secrecy. Kumi knows, but she’s the one exception. Not even Trixie has any idea.

  I’m sorry, Mason, I say to myself. I swore to keep this secret from everybody, and that includes you. Not for my sake, but at the instance of my mentors. That was the deal when Candice and Saffron bought me into the coven. I accepted those terms then and now.

  Mason exhales, relaxing for the first time since he bolted awake.

  “I’m so relieved to hear that.”

  Good, it looks like he’s buying it—for now, at least.

  “Do you know what this means, Jess?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “It means that I can finally be myself. I don’t have to run anymore. I don’t have to slip away when people start to suspect my true nature, when I can’t hide it anymore. I’d almost given up on meeting somebody like you.”

  Mason wraps his arms around my body and holds me close, already brimming with shifter strength again.

  I’ve drained men to unconsciousness before, mortal men, but never completely. I always left them with something. Even so, they were rendered comatose for hours. Not Mason. I drained him dry today and he was lucid ten minutes later. It’s uncanny. Werewolves are truly creatures of inexhaustible stamina.

  For now, Mason is overwhelmed with emotion. He isn’t thinking about the fact that he’s a shifter anymore, or that I’m okay with it, which was my goal. This is our moment, a time to celebrate finding each other. Mason is ecstatic, and his happiness is infectious.

  This must be what it feels like to be in a loving relationship, I tell myself—to share in each other’s highs and lows. I still have questions, but I’ll ask them later, without being easygoing about it. I need to act like this all a big, exciting discovery, as if I knew nothing about werewolves beforehand.

  I’ll start by asking about his tattoo. The pendant too. They both seem to hold some kind of sway over him, and I’d like to know how exactly, but later. Not now.

  As fate would have it, I don’t have to wait long before my questions are answered.

  “I think it’s time I told you my story.”

  12. Tale of Two Tails

  He was in Norway when it happened, there to see The Scream, Madonna, and Woman in Three Stages with his parents. All works by Edvard Munch. I have to smile inwardly when he mentions that last painting.

  At the time, Mason was a teenager who couldn’t care less about paintings. Neither did Sylvia. They were left to their own devices, as usual, but in Oslo. It was summer and they decided to escape the city. There was a mountain nearby, rumored to be the home of trolls in local folklore, so of course that was where they headed.

  Lured by the stories, they went for a hike, but what they discovered was no troll. Mason heard the cry of a large beast. It wasn’t far off the trail. He ran off to investigate it, much like I did recently, and left his sister behind.

  That was when he came upon the largest wolf he had ever seen, feasting on the carcass of a freshly killed elk. The wolf had eyes the color of blood.

  Mason tried to back away, knowing that animals don’t abandon a fresh kill. The smartest thing to do is leave them to it, but this was no ordinary animal. The wolf charged, mouth open, teeth slavering, and hit Mason like a brick wall.

  He didn’t remember how he got there, but he was on his back, barely able to breathe. His sister was there too. Yelling something he couldn’t make out. All he could recall was that she sounded fiercely angry. The wolf growled back, hot breath in his face.

  Sylvia had a branch in her hands. She was swinging it wildly at the creature that dwarfed her slight teenage body. That was when all sound began to muffle, becoming white noise in his mind. Mason felt himself dying and there was nothing he could do. He was helpless, but he could see everything vividly.

  The wolf was sizing up Sylvia. Not with concern, but irritation. Making up its mind about the threat she posed, unhurried. Taking all the time in the world. The wolf was deciding if she was worth the trouble. Sylvia was fearless against the creature.

  Finally the wolf let him go. Mason didn’t even realize he was being held down. Massive teeth, dripping saliva, withdrew from his shoulder, and blood spurted from the wound in gushing waves. The creature loped back to the elk and dragged the carcass away.

  Then Sylvia was there, pressing her hands against his body, calling out to other hikers for help.

  The next few days were a fevered blur. His body was racked with pain. Each day was more agonizing than the last. His insides felt like they were changing. Bones moving around, muscles tightening, knitting into something else. He was in a Norwegian hospital at the time. The doctors had no idea what was happening.

  Then it all became clear on a full moon.

  Mason slipped out of his bed and ran into the streets before he completely shifted for the first time. He still has no memory of that night, waking up in the forest alone. The same forest where he had been bitten, covered in blood that wasn’t his own.

  He’s been living with the wolf ever since.

  Mason tells me the whole story without interruption. I listen quietly and give him my undivided attention. I reach out to him during the difficult parts.

  What he doesn’t realize is how much I already know about shifters. I’ve never met any, but Candice fought plenty in her day, back when she was still a spear maiden. As I understand it, werewolves are either born into their lineage or created.

  The shifters that are created have a tougher go of it, especially if they aren’t guided by their own kind. Somebody who can explain the bloodlust, to help them master the wolf within. It sounds like Mason figured out much of it on his own.

  Mason describes his memories of being a half-man, half-wolf as vague. He can barely recall what he does as a wolf, if at all, which means he hasn’t conquered the feral side yet. Mason freely admits that his emotions get the better of him. They bring on the change even when it’s not a full moon.

  Shifters who are born into their heritage have a pack to show them the way. Created shifters like Mason must rely on any tricks they learn along the way. Trying to stay calm when riled is the hardest part, Mason tells me.

  He tried to stay with his family at first, but ended up running away shortly after they returned to the United States. Mason felt it was too dangerous to be around his parents and sister after that. He was still he a young man at the time, barely out of puberty, but also dealing with his affliction.

  My heart goes out to him during this part of his story. He’s been on his own ever since, returning to see his sister on occasion, but when it’s safe to do so. Recently, however, Mason returned to Norway in search of the wolf that turned him.

  He wasn’t successful, but he did track down a woman in Romania who was rumored to help werewolves like him, but for a price. She inked the tattoo on his chest and gave him the matching silver pendant to wear. It didn’t come cheaply, bu
t the two combined have a powerful effect.

  When the pendant is worn over the tattoo, Mason can almost resist changing on a full moon. It’s difficult, but he’s done it a few times. Any other time and the pendant and tattoo are absolute in their control. They leave him utterly calm and indifferent to his surroundings. The problem is… he can’t even get aroused.

  Remove the pendant and he immediately feels like himself again, but the wolf returns as well.

  If I understand correctly, the Romanian woman made the silver pendant a focus component for the tattoo, but only when in close proximity to each other. Separated, they do nothing.

  This explains so much.

  Not only do I now understand why Mason ritualistically takes his pendant off before sex, but also why he’s so sedate while wearing it. Calmer than any man I’ve ever known. The pendant makes him that way.

  Remove the pendant, and he’s voracious again.

  When Mason finishes telling me the story, he waits for my reaction. I have to be careful now. He’s seen me take his transformation in stride, like an everyday occurrence, but I have to watch that. This is bizarre doings for normal folk. He might begin to suspect there’s more to me than meets the eye.

  “So what brought on the change today?” I ask, concerned.

  “The painting you were looking at. The character Artemis. She’s meaningful to me. For all the reasons I told you. Artemis is the unrivaled hunter. The moon goddess of animals and the wildlands. She’s kind of the patron saint of werewolves.”

  That makes sense. All the parallels between her and shifters. I believe in patron saints, after a fashion, but I don’t tell him that. The gods Candice, Saffron, and I pay homage to vary wildly depending on our objective. We aren’t bound to just one.

  “That painting, The Vision of Endymion,” Mason continues, “it strikes a chord with me. Ever since I was turned. Whenever I looked at that painting, it made me feel hopeful, that there might be somebody out there who could accept me this way. I won’t lie to you, Jess. I’ve been wondering if that person might be you. I had no way of knowing for sure, not until you saw me change. So when you stopped on that picture today, I decided to take a chance and risk it all. I couldn’t hold back anymore.”

  “Indeed you didn’t,” I say with a sly grin.

  I’m still feeling guilty about the deception earlier, but now I feel even worse. I didn’t just stop on that picture by accident. I knew exactly what I was doing, thanks to Sylvia. She knew it would be a trigger for Mason.

  Still, we’re past that now. Whether I was the sole reason Mason found me appealing, or my interest in his favorite painting sealed the deal, what we feel about each other at this point is no less real.

  The painting is only an enticement, whereas I’m the real prize, or so I hope. It is a beautiful painting, after all. I’ll start recreating it in my free time at work. That will cause Mason to stop by more often. To be seen as a couple by people we know. There’s a novelty to that which I think I’ll like.

  It’s amazing how a relationship can change your entire outlook.

  * * *

  Sure enough, my elderly neighbors knock on the door, but a few hours later. They ask if I heard the howling earlier. Their hearing isn’t the best, so I put them at ease by suggesting that maybe a coyote wandered into the back alley.

  It didn’t sound like any coyote they had ever heard before. I share in their confusion and agree that it was unusually loud for a coyote. We decide to keep a lookout for the next little while.

  “Is your gentleman caller still staying with you?” the wife asks just before I close the door.

  She knows perfectly well Mason has been staying with me. More than that, she knows who he is. She probably watched him grow up in this town. Their hearing might not be the greatest, but we’ve been knocking boots more than a few times while they were home.

  “He is. Sorry if we’ve been shaking the house lately. Mason and I will try to keep the earthquakes to a minimum,” I say with a wink.

  The wife’s face goes slack. At the same time, Mason drops a utensil in the kitchen behind me. It clatters on the ground.

  Country folk are so easily flustered. Bless them.

  “That would be him in the kitchen. He’s trying to salvage the dinner he was making before we got distracted. Probably why we didn’t hear all that howling outside. You know how it is.”

  The wife is in shock. Her husband picks up the conversation.

  “Come on, mother,” he says to his wife, “leave the kids alone. Have a good evening, Jess. You and Mason take care now.”

  I close the door and walk back to the kitchen. Mason is already staring at me with an incredulous look on his face. The remains of my table are neatly piled in a corner.

  “I could hear that poor woman’s heart skip a beat from here.”

  “I bet it did. Was I awful? Sorry. I just didn’t feel like holding back. Should I have told her that you’re a werewolf as well?”

  “Definitely not. That couple, like most people in this town, have lived here for generations.”

  Mason reaches out, grabs me around the waist, and pulls me in close. He’s fast, more so than normal, like he’s not holding back anymore. I glance over my shoulder. The pendant is still hanging on the wall beside my oven mitts.

  “So, could you really hear her heart beating from over here?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He looks at me like I’m going to be his next meal. Not the venison he’s cooking.

  “If you’re not careful, you’re going to ruin dinner again,” I tell him, not trying to get away.

  “Would that be so awful?” he asks.

  “It will be if my neighbors call the Wildlife Rescue Society and report that there’s a wolf in the area.”

  “They wouldn’t believe them. Wolves aren’t native to these parts,” Mason says with a cheeky smile.

  A deep growl erupts out of his throat. He leans in close, burying his face against my neck, and inhales. His mouth opens. Lips brush against my skin lightly. It excites me more than I care to admit, but then I don’t have to admit it. Mason can probably smell my arousal.

  “The more fool them. I know better.”

  Mason lifts me up off the ground. His hands on my ass.

  Well, there goes dinner.

  I want this too, but I have to wonder. Will I get Mason the wolf or Mason the man this time? Actually, forget that. I don’t want to know ahead of time. I prefer the surprise. It’s like playing with fire that way, seeing how high I can stoke the flames.

  A thought leaps into my head, one that hadn’t occurred to me until just this second. Surprising, considering how obvious it is.

  “Are you the only werewolf in these parts?”

  Mason stops kissing me, but doesn’t answer right away.

  “I mean, make me the object of your affection, by all means, but surely another werewolf would have accepted you as you are. Has there ever been anybody else like that in your life?”

  Mason lowers me to the ground. There’s a resolved look in his eyes, like he anticipated this question, just not this second.

  “Mason, what is it?” I ask.

  “I promised myself that if you ever found out about me and embraced what I am, I would answer any questions you asked. So no, there isn’t another werewolf in these parts, but there is somebody else who accepts me as I am.”

  Mason lets his answer stand without elaborating. If I want to know more, I have to ask. Whoever this person is… it’s a woman. I know that much already, which raises my hackles unexpectedly. Is this what it’s like to feel possessive? That’s a new sensation.

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  Mason takes a deep breath and steels himself before answering.

  “Sylvia. My twin sister.”

  “Sylvia’s your twin?”

  Mason nods.

  “Well that’s a surprise, but no big deal,” I say with relief. “I noticed some similarities before, but you’re clearly not i
dentical twins. You had me concerned there for a second. I thought it was something else.”

  “There is something else. I haven’t told you everything yet.”

  “Oh? What else haven’t you told me, then?” I ask with a little dread.

  “You asked if there was anybody who accepted me as I am. There has been somebody like that in my life.”

  “Well, that only makes sense. I mean, you are a catch,” I say, trying to sound lighthearted.

  Mason shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. You have to understand, we grew up together. Traveled everywhere together. There was nobody else in our lives for the longest time.”

  I suddenly realize what Mason is trying to tell me. There’s an implied meaning to his words, something I can’t hide from now if I tried.

  “It only made sense that we were so close,” he continues. “We looked out for each other when nobody else did. I was her protector and she was mine. Our parents had no idea. They were always too busy to notice. They still don’t know, but you asked, Jess, so I’m telling you.”

  My heart sinks. This answers a lot. The intimate knowledge she has about her brother. The way she wants me to secure his presence in town. I’m just a tool to Sylvia. A way to settle her brother down in one place, close to her reach.

  “You haven’t told me anything yet, Mason. I need to hear the words.”

  “Sylvia and I… we have a special bond.”

  “Of course you do,” I say, and storm out of the kitchen.

  ENTWINED SECRETS

  Sorcery & Shifters

  Book 1

  You've just finished reading Sorcery & Shifters Book 1, Entwined Secrets. The story continues in Book 2, ENTWINED DESTINIES.

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