Perfect Mate (Book Two: A Werewolf BBW Shifter Romance)

by Aubrey Rose

  "Wait, no," Julia said, her excitement bubbling up through her. "It's Damien. He bought the house."

  Dee knitted her eyebrows together.

  "Damien?"

  "The guy who came over. The blind man."

  Granny Dee's face dropped, and for a moment Julia thought that she would explode. Her face twisted into a grimace, then back to a more neutral expression as she calmed herself.

  "It's not like that," Julia hastened to explain. "He says that we can still live here. They just want to build cabins on the land."

  "Why?" Dee hissed. Julia paused, shocked by her reaction.

  "Why? Be-because he likes me. He wanted to help."

  "By buying a house?" Granny Dee's frown wrinkled her brow. "That's more than just help. What did you promise him?"

  "Me? I didn't promise anything! He likes me, that's all! And I like him. And... and..." Julia stuttered, unable to tell her grandmother the raw truth behind the decision. On the surface, it must certainly seem strange that Damien would be so accommodating. It must seem like she had done something else for him. Julia flushed a fire engine red as she realized the implication of her grandmother's words.

  "It's not like that, Granny Dee, I swear!"

  "How is this even possible?" Dee muttered, half to herself. Julia couldn't believe what she was hearing.

  "What do you mean? Are you saying someone like him couldn't like me?" Tears welled in Julia's eyes. "I know I'm not beautiful—"

  "Shh, no, child, that's not what I mean," Granny Dee said, her face softening. "Forget I said anything. But we can't live here with them alongside us. We'll have to move."

  "But—"

  "If they move in, we move out, and that's final," Dee said.

  "But WHY?"

  Julia's shout was louder than she had intended. Indeed, she'd never screamed at Granny Dee before, and it took her by surprise as much as it did the older woman. Dee reached across the table and took her hand. Her grandmother's skin felt papery and thin under her fingers, and she immediately regretted raising her voice.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, bending her head down. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I don't want to annoy the guests."

  "There's nobody here today," Dee said, sighing. Julia blinked back her tears and wiped her eyes with one hand. No guests. It wasn't any surprise that they were being foreclosed on. But if only Granny Dee would let Damien help...

  "I just want to protect you," Dee said. "It has nothing to do with who likes you or not, child. That's not the reason we're here."

  "But if Damien—"

  "Enough about that man," Dee said, in a voice that said she would brook no opposition. "He's dangerous, and we won't take his charity."

  "Dangerous?" Julia was aghast. Damien was the kindest, most gentle man she'd ever met. Sure, he'd fought the wolf and injured him, but that was self-defense. She couldn't imagine him ever hurting her intentionally, not in any way.

  Dee stood up from the table. Her hands were shaking as she smoothed the folds of her apron down.

  "We'll plan to leave this week," she said. "I don't want you to see Damien again."

  "That's not fair!" Julia's face turned hot with anger. The injustice of it all! Granny Dee had always supported her. When she was bullied in school and came home crying that no boys would ever like her, Dee told her that one day she would find true love. And now that she had found it...

  "Child," Dee said. Her wrinkled face sagged. "You must trust me on this."

  "I don't understand," Julia said, her heart tearing between Damien and her grandmother. "Please."

  Granny Dee shook her head, her gaze absentminded. She seemed to be remembering something else.

  "Put the apple crumble away when you're done with it," Dee said. Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.

  "I'm not hungry," Julia said, to nobody in particular. Her stomach turned at the thought of food. She felt like a prisoner trapped inside of the cozy walls of the house. Her grandmother spoke as though she knew Damien's intentions were bad. She hadn't even given him a chance. Julia felt a wetness on her cheek, and wiped away the tears that seeped out of her eyes unwillingly. One tear made it through her fingers and tickled her chin, and this small agony made her want to give up.

  She walked to the kitchen window and looked out at the backyard, over to where the meadow ended and the forest began. There, just inside the line of trees, Katherine and Kyle were waiting, ordered to protect her, on guard.

  But on guard for what?

  CHAPTER SIX

  In the car, Damien tapped his fingers against the window impatiently.

  "You're the world's worst percussionist," Jordan said. "I thought you were supposed to make up for being blind with heightened senses. Or did that not include a sense of rhythm?"

  "I wish I didn't have a sense of smell, sitting here next to your ungroomed pelt," Damien retorted. The joke was half-hearted, and he knew it, but he didn't care. He wasn't in the mood to tease.

  "My pelt is excellently coiffed, thank you very much," Jordan said.

  "Do you think they're really after her?" Damien asked.

  Jordan paused.

  "I'm not sure. It sounded like it from the way the shifter was talking. But who knows? He could have been crazy. You saw him kill himself shifting."

  "Mmm," Damien said noncommittally.

  Jordan pulled the car off to the side of the road. "I think this is it. What did Kyle say? Green car?"

  "Green Toyota," Damien said.

  "This is it, alright," Jordan said. He turned off the ignition. The sound of the keys jangling in his hand struck Damien's nerves. He wanted to snatch them up, to cease the high-pitched clanging. He realized that his adrenaline was flowing, and his hearing had begun to pick up the most minute sounds. The buzz of a mosquito just outside the car window. The low hum of their car cooling down, the pings of metal in the engine. "You ready to go, detective?"

  Damien took a deep breath and opened the car door, swinging his legs out. The scent of wolf made him tense, even though he recognized the smell as being from the dead shifter. The dead shifter. The one he had killed. The fight—

  "Looks like it's locked," Jordan said, trying the last door of the Toyota. "Windows aren't open. Let's see if there's a rock around here somewhere."

  "Let me try something first," Damien said. He opened the trunk of the rental car and dug through to find what he thought was inside.

  "You know, you can ask me to help you find things," Jordan said, leaning against the side of the car. "My ungroomed pelt isn't all that useless."

  Damien emerged from the trunk, holding a wire hanger up over his head in triumph. The search had distracted him from his black thoughts.

  "Aha!"

  "Did you find that using a magical sense of magnetism?" Jordan asked.

  "No, that's how I find the ladies," Damien said, grinning. "Or rather, how they find me."

  "Such dazzling charm," Jordan said. Damien could almost hear his eyes rolling in his head.

  "Watch a pro," Damien said. He bent the coat hanger into a hook and slid it expertly down into the window's small gap. Letting the hanger wander, he focused his attention on the vibrations coming through the metal into his fingers. If he could only find the latch—there!

  With a flourish, he pulled up on the coat hanger and in a single smooth moment opened the car door.

  "Abracadabra," he said. "Open sesame."

  "Do you want to tell me how a wolf knows how to break into a car?" Jordan asked, climbing into the open door.

  "It's just my magic touch," Damien said, wiggling his fingers. "That, and I read a book on it once."

  "He read a book on it once," Jordan echoed. He opened up the glove compartment and a shuffle of papers fell out.

  "Anything interesting?" Damien asked, irritated at his inability to see.

  "Registration, proof of insurance, napkins," Jordan listed. "ID: Trevor Gordan. He's from around here, address is a P.O. Box, though. O
h hey, here's something."

  "What? What is it?"

  "Hotel key." Damien could hear the faint clicking as Jordan tapped the plastic card against his knuckle. "Guess who's staying at the Holiday Inn across town from us?"

  "No kidding," Damien said. "Suppose we should have scouted inside the city."

  "We drove through the main highway," Jordan said. "And Kyle can scent anything for miles around when he's in wolf form. I'm guessing he showed up not too long ago. After we scouted."

  "Let's see," Damien said. "You'll have to get into the room first."

  "Me? You're the one with the magic locksmith fingers."

  "We don't need locksmith fingers," Damien said. "We have the key. We just need the room number."

  "There's no envelope thing for the key," Jordan said.

  "Then you'll have to go in and ask. Pretend you lost the key and forgot the room number."

  "What, you want me to pretend I'm Trevor Gordan?" Jordan laughed aloud. "No way. I look nothing like this guy. You pretend to be him."

  "I'm blind!" Damien said. They both paused for a moment.

  "Alright," Jordan said. "Alright. You win."

  "Glad to hear you've decided to listen to your alpha," Damien teased.

  "Darling, if I get thrown in jail for impersonating someone you'd better bail me out."

  Getting into the hotel turned out to be easier than either of them had guessed. Jordan got a new card and room number from the bored receptionist who was watching a soap opera at the desk. Damien waited outside of the lobby until Jordan came back, holding the key up.

  "She was painting her nails. Didn't even bother asking for ID," Jordan said. "It's room 207."

  They stood outside of the door and listened, but heard nothing.

  "I can smell his scent," Jordan said. He slapped his forehead with his hand. "We should have just walked through the hall to smell the right room!"

  "Hindsight and all that," Damien said, tapping his foot anxiously. "Let's go."

  Jordan pushed the door open with one foot, stepping in cautiously. Damien listened intently, but the only noise was the low hum of a fan.

  "Doesn't look like he left much," Jordan said. "There's just the one suitcase."

  Damien walked into the room, letting his hands run over the top of the table, the bed.

  "Nothing here," Jordan said, zipping the last of the suitcase pockets. "Dead end."

  "Shh," Damien said.

  "What is it?"

  "It's time to be quiet, that's what it is," Damien said, turning his head in the direction of the sound. The hum he'd heard wasn't coming from the air conditioner at all. He knelt down by the bed and felt underneath the frame. His hands encountered a smooth surface, and he pulled out a laptop.

  "Have I ever told you you'd make a great private detective?" Jordan asked, taking the laptop from Damien and opening it up.

  "Flattery will get you everywhere," Damien said, his mind racing as he imagined what was inside of the computer. "Can you see if he's logged into his email?"

  "Password saved," Jordan said, clucking his tongue. "People really ought to be more careful with their security."

  "Good thing they're not," Damien said, leaning over as though being closer to the laptop screen would enable him to detect what was on it. "Anything important?"

  "One second," Jordan said. "I'm not a speed reader."

  Damien waited as Jordan clicked through.

  "Here's something," Jordan said. "Wait, this can't be right."

  "What is it?"

  Damien heard Jordan inhale through his teeth.

  "Ok, let me read this to you. It's from a few days ago." He cleared his throat.

  "Hi Trevor,

  I found the girl. Red hair, and she has the marks on the back of her left hand. Her address is—it's Julia's address. Come soon. Let me know if you need help taking her. I can't wait to be back in the pack. See you soon, Kyle."

  A rushing sound filled Damien's ears. He couldn't have heard that right.

  "Kyle? Not our Kyle."

  "It's his email. It's Kyle." Jordan clicked back. "Let me see if I can find anything else."

  Damien's fingers turned white gripping the table as he realized the mistake he had made.

  "Kyle? And Katherine..." he murmured.

  "You think he's going to kidnap Katherine too?" Jordan asked.

  "I think she might be helping him," Damien said. He breathed deeply, trying to sort out his thoughts.

  "She loves you."

  "She loves Kyle. She's called to Kyle."

  "You saved her life," Jordan insisted. "She was going to mate with you, for gods' sake."

  "I need to call her," he said, fumbling for his phone.

  "Call who?"

  "Julia. She's with him."

  "Shit," Jordan said. "We have to get back there." He slammed the laptop closed.

  As they hurried back to the car, Damien dialed Julia's number with shaky fingers. The phone rang once, then twice.

  "Please pick up," Damien said, his mind racing with horrible images. "Julia, pick up."

  Jordan turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, tires squealing as they drove towards Julia's house. The phone seemed to ring forever, and he repeated the same words under his breath as he waited for her to answer.

  "Please, please don't let me be too late."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Julia sat in her room. She had run out of tears, and now her imagination bubbled with ideas for how to stay with Damien. She could always ignore Granny Dee and run away with Damien... well, run away by staying at the house, she supposed. Surely Granny Dee wouldn't leave by herself if Julia insisted on staying.

  The thought of losing Granny Dee made the tears start back up all over again. Dee had raised her since she was a little kid, after her parents died in the accident. As far back as she could remember, she'd sat next to her grandmother in the kitchen and helped her roll out the dough for cookies and pies. It was her grandmother who had told her stories, her grandmother who had raised her. When she was too young to understand, she had watched Granny Dee lose her husband to cancer, and had crawled into her lap and hugged her, and told her that it was okay, that they would always be together.

  Always.

  She didn't know how she would tell Granny Dee about Damien's... condition. Would she ever need to? Perhaps that was what Dee sensed in Damien, something strange that made her hesitant about accepting him. The first time they'd met, she seemed to get along with him just fine, but now it was as though she'd had a complete change of heart.

  A knock on the door interrupted Julia's thoughts.

  "Julia?" Granny Dee's voice came through the door. "I need to go to the store for groceries. Will you come with me?"

  "I'm not really feeling that well," Julia said, choking back her tears.

  There was a pause, and Julia thought that Dee might have left before she heard her voice again.

  "Please don't be mad, Julia. I just want to do what's right. Will you be here when I get back?"

  "Don't worry," Julia said with a sigh. "I'll be right here in my room."

  "Thank you," Dee said. "Julia, I hope you know that I love you, and I just want to keep you safe."

  "I love you too," Julia said softly. She turned over and buried her face into her pillow as Granny Dee's footsteps tapped down the stairs. Then the car drove away, and the house was silent. Julia wondered if Granny Dee had seen Kyle and Katherine's car at the end of their driveway, parked on the side of the road. She might be suspicious.

  "Let her be suspicious," Julia muttered into her pillow. "She doesn't trust my choices anyway."

  House arrest. That's what this felt like. Nobody wanted her to go anywhere. She had guards outside of the house protecting her from some vague threat. Julia tossed her pillow to the foot of the bed. A hot shower would make her feel better. It always did.

  The water washed through her red hair and she slicked it back. Normally her curls were out of co
ntrol, but whenever she took a shower she would pretend for those brief minutes that she had straight hair that did what she told it to do. She rubbed her body with soap, feeling the curves of her breasts. She remembered in the lake when Damien had touched her, held her close and wrapped one arm around her. She'd felt weightless, like she could float anywhere with him. His hand had touched her...there. His tongue had slid into her... there. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like if she was him. If she was blind, touching her body. What would she feel like?

  Her hands slid over her soapy skin, pausing in spots to caress, stroking long, harder against her muscles. She leaned her head back against the tiles and moved one hand to her throat, where he had held her tightly without hurting, the other hand down between her legs, exploring the hot folds there. A soft moan escaped her lips as she slid her hand back and forth, finding pleasure in the memory of him taking her, being inside of her. Other girls had told her that it would hurt, but even with his size she'd felt only pleasure, sharp pleasure that took the pain and turned it into something beautiful and desirable. Her body, desirable not just for its shape or smoothness, no, desirable because it belonged to her and he wanted her. She imagined his desire as she smoothed her hand down the front of her chest and cupped herself, feeling the weight of her breast as her other hand moved deeper inside of her, her fingers trembling as they shivered her nerves.

  Damien...

  The ringing of her phone brought her sharply out of her reverie. Turning off the water, she opened the shower door and pulled the towel off of the rack to dry her hand. The towel slipped from her grasp as she reached for her phone, landing on the bottom of the shower.

  "Damn it," Julia swore, picking up the now-wet towel and slinging it over the side of the shower curtain rod. The phone rang loudly on the counter.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming," Julia said. She stepped out of the shower, water dripping from her dark red hair onto the floor. Wiping her hand dry on the crumpled up dress she'd taken off earlier, she answered the phone and held it an inch away from her ear.

  "Hello?"

  "Hello? Julia?"

  "Hi, Damien," Julia said. "Sorry it took so long to answer. I was just—"