Secret Wolf: A Steamy Werewolf Romance

by Dancer Vane

  I took the trays up and organised the display, breathing in the sweet scent of sugar and warm baked goods, that soon overtook the faint remains of the disinfectant from the day before. I managed to turn on the coffee machine and got an angry gurgle in answer, but it seemed I hadn’t broken it yet.

  I was worried I might not have change for the cash register, but downstairs I found, in a neat little box on the countertop, the money he gave me every morning for the register.

  So he had known he wouldn’t be there to take it from the safe for me. That felt vaguely reassuring. Not that I had been worried about him… I knew Blake could take care of himself. Still. It was good to know that he had known in advance he wouldn’t be there to open the shop with me.

  Upstairs, I counted the change and the bills while putting them in the register’s drawer, and unlocked the glass door to the street. People were starting to appear, and as every one wanted a coffee with their cinnamon roll or their breakfast muffin, I was kept pretty busy.

  There was more of a line that usual, with me alone to serve and also man the register.

  Normally, one of us would touch the money and the other prepare the coffees, and I didn’t like doing both. I touched the coffee cups as little as I could, worried about hygiene. It didn’t seem like Blake to forget about something like that. I washed my hands every time there was a lull in demand, but was kept pretty busy for the first couple of hours.

  After the early morning rush, I finally had a clear line of sight between the cash register and the door. I let out a sigh of relief, washed my hands again and surveyed the room.

  Only three people sitting at the small tables, one of them with a laptop and a coffee long cold. The others seemed fine. The display looked good, tidy. We weren’t short on anything. Only one almond croissant was left, but the new raspberry confection had found takers even for breakfast. I still hadn’t tried it.

  I brought a fresh mug of coffee to the laptop guy, who looked vaguely surprised, as if he had forgotten he was in a public place, and took the cold one back with me.

  A young woman came in, a jogger, and bought a small coffee and the last almond croissant.

  Then Farnwood was at the till, looking quite impressive, tall and confident. He looked more like a famous actor than a businessman, I thought, but he was friendly. He took his time choosing an assortment of the most outlandish pastries, the French ones with salted caramel and other with pistacchio, and asked me if we did deliveries.

  “Hum, not really. I would have if it’s not too far, but I’m alone in the shop this morning.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll send someone to take it, if you can keep it for me. I’ll have a coffee, too. Here. It’s cold outside. Where is Blake?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Just a coffee? Would you like to try a raspberry tart or some other treat?”

  He grinned at me. “Some other treat? That’s the company line?”

  I grinned back. “I’m trying different lines to see what works best. But I do recommend the raspberry thingies. They’re new. I haven’t seen Blake this morning, so I can’t tell you what flavour the cream is. That’s why I call it Raspberry Surprise. He must have created this last night.”

  Farnwood glanced at them and smiled, a small, somewhat wistful smile. “I’ll try one. I like surprises.”

  I rang the register, took his bill and counted his change. He left all of it in the tip jar.

  “So, inventing new recipes,” he said. “He does that sometimes when he’s nervous.”

  Blake, nervous? I shot Farnwood a curious glance. He took the coffee cup in one hand, and I assured him I would take the plate to his table, while I gathered the cutlery. I brought it all to him. He thanked me and started checking messages on his phone.

  I hadn’t had time yet to think about the night before, and I was glad about that. I still wasn’t sure it had been real, but I had the bruises to prove it. And it was deeply worrying that I felt so weirdly proud about bruises.

  The bell jingled, and a new customer entered the shop.

  The mayor. Just what I needed. He looked at me, and his obvious hostility made my spine crawl. I stood straighter behind the counter, readying myself for his attack.

  But there was no way he could afford to attack me, in the shop, in broad daylight, was there? Still, I felt relieved Farnwood was close, still talking softly on the phone. His charisma, I guess, was enough to make me feel safe.

  The mayor went directly to Farnwood, and they greeted each other briefly, before the billionaire returned to his conversation.

  The mayor wanted an espresso. He hated to ask for it, apparently, but he spat his order anyway. The coffee machine gurgled and hissed angrily while I tried to remain cool.

  I wasn’t shy. I wasn’t impressed by men who threw their weight around. I could hold my own, and Blake must have trusted I could, if he had left me alone in the shop a whole morning.

  Yet there was a naked hostility there, that made me uncomfortable. His dark gaze reminded me of all the ways I should feel inferior to him, and unprotected. There were many.

  “Where is your boss?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied smoothly, mustering a friendly smile.

  I’m a professional.

  “You alone here?”

  “He’s coming back any minute now.”

  He fixed his gaze on me, swallowing a sip of hot coffee, standing in front of the register. And that was a feat, because he had asked for an espresso and that must have been scalding hot.

  “We don’t want trouble in this community,” he said coldly.

  “I don’t either,” I replied easily. I looked pointedly behind him, but there was no queue.

  “Girls like you are trouble.” I held his gaze. No way was I going to look afraid of him.

  “I look after my community,” he added, and his eyes narrowed at me as if that sentence was meaningful, instead of an empty campaign promise. Or was it a threat?

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’m part of your community.”

  “No you aren’t.”

  Well, that was clear, at least. The man looked a bit like a bull-dog, and he was behaving like a bull-dog too.

  He was radiating hostility, and of course that made me uncomfortable. I even checked mentally that my papers were good. I was not a minor anymore. I was officially employed. I had nothing to fear.

  “And I won’t let you bring trouble to this town.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Would you like something else?”

  I didn’t offer him a Raspberry Surprise. Blake had made these with love. It seemed like a waste on this guy.

  Farnwood was still on the phone, but glancing at us from time to time. His gaze was sharp.

  The mayor lowered his voice.

  “So, you’re trying your charms on him now?” he asked, with a jerk of his head towards the local billionaire.

  I had already used the “I wouldn’t dream of it” line. So I went for:

  “He’s got a girlfriend.”

  Farnwood was too far away, and my voice too low, for him to hear us, but I saw his lips curve. For a moment, the man looked… happy.

  “Girls like you don’t stop at these considerations. So, where is your boss this morning? I’m looking for him.”

  I didn’t want to let the “girls like you” comment slide. But I was at work, and people came to the shop for a sweet, happy break in their day, not to hear the waitress bickering with some guy. So I bit my lip and refrained from answering this.

  Farnwood stood, slowly, unfolding from the ridiculously cute chairs we had in the shop; ridiculous next to his tall stature, his obvious strength.

  And of course, this shouldn’t have mattered, because the billionaire wasn’t going to physically assault anyone, but somehow… it did matter. Because the mayor took him in and seemed to physically shrink. Almost… cower? Was that possible?

  He couldn’t be physically afraid of Farnwood. Super rich or not, the man wasn’t going to touch him. Ye
t he looked up at Farwood almost sheepishly.

  But when the billionaire spoke, his tone was easy — with an undercurrent that sounded almost like a growl.

  “Now, this is a nice town,” he said. “We don’t bully girls at their workplace.”

  “Nobody is bullying her.”

  “That’s good. Because we don’t want that kind of reputation for the town. We want young women to go to work without fear. To know they’re safe here.”

  The man nodded first, and then made his case:

  “She’s bringing bad people into town. And she lives at Blake’s. She could let someone in when he’s not home.”

  “I’m sure they have their own understanding about that.”

  I frowned. What was he afraid of? That I had accomplices that would rob Blake’s house in his absence?

  But the house was empty. The man basically owned clothes, a super-expensive kitchen range, and a few pieces of modern art that didn’t do much to make the house feel like a home. Okay, maybe the modern art would be worth something, in the right hands. But those were not mine.

  “He’s trusting her with the shop,” Farnwood said easily. “That’s good enough for me. Blake is no fool. Let’s let her to do her job in peace.”

  “Not a fool? He’s not thinking with his head, if you see what I mean.”

  Yeah. We all did.

  He turned to me, and his eyes were hard, but his voice was a tad closer to polite:

  “You don’t know where I could find him this morning? Does he have a girlfriend? At her place maybe?”

  After the previous night, that took me by surprise. Did he? I didn’t think so; what I had seen in the kitchen had been somehow different… had felt different… from what had happened the night before. But that didn’t mean anything, she could perfectly be his girlfriend.

  If the night before had even happened… It seemed so impossible, so outlandish, like a weird, vivid dream. But the sheer memory of it warmed me. It didn’t change my answer, though:

  “I don’t know. He’s my boss, not my best friend. We don’t talk about his private life.”

  “Come on, you live there.”

  “In a separate house.” I was about to add that I was renting it legally, but it was none of his business.

  “Come on,” said Farnwood with quiet authority. His tone was friendly enough, but he was physically taking the man from facing me. A friendly arm around his shoulder, but if his arms were as hard and strong as Blake’s, there was no resisting this.

  Farnwood released him for a minute to gather his wallet and phone from the small table, and winked at me. It was odd and made him look younger, and I remembered the happiness on his face when I had said he had a girlfriend.

  Hmm. Maybe he thought me closer to Lianne than I really was. I hoped I hadn’t created a misunderstanding, because she had never confided in me, and never would.

  But then, I remembered them arguing softly near his car, the night my trailer burnt. I had had no doubt, at that moment, that they were a couple. He listened to her thoughtfully, respectfully, even if he clearly didn’t agree, and she made her case with confidence, although in too soft a voice for me to hear anything.

  Good for them. I liked them both. And it was a relief to see the mayor gently pushed out of the shop. I let out a sigh of relief, and heard an echo of it. Surprised, I looked up: laptop guy, whom I had completely forgotten, was smiling at me.

  “What an asshole,” he muttered.

  I smiled and shrugged. Like, all in a day’s work.

  Yeah. I’m becoming a professional alright. Three months ago, I would probably have ranted loudly in much the same general line.

  I wondered what the mayor had meant about me bringing bad people to the town. I didn’t have a crowd of followers. I was pretty much alone in the world.

  But before I had time to feel worried about it, a nice older neighbour came in, her three grandchildren in tow, and as the kids tried to make up their mind and changed it three times each, I asked about her health, and soon completely forgot about the mayor.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BLAKE

  I felt pretty good that night, when I woke up after dozing a bit in the cool, wet grass.

  I moved away from Alanna without waking her, and put on my clothes. Then I fished her keys and phone from the pocket of her jeans, and took the girl to her house and her bed.

  I felt pretty good still as I looked at her, asleep on her pillow, warm and soft, relaxed, almost smiling.

  And looking so young it made me cringe.

  It didn’t matter… yet. I was still pumped full of endorphins.

  I went back to the place where we had had sex, finally, finally, and retrieved the knife. I had left her key on her kitchen table before I closed the door, so I brought the knife to my own house with me.

  I almost pushed the door before I noticed the red blinking light. The alarm. I punched in the code to deactivate it, and walked inside.

  I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I was looking forward to a hot shower, clean clothes, and then it would be time to drive to the bakery. Most of what we sold during the day was baked at night. And that suited me fine.

  The paper was lying inside on the floor. Pushed through the slim gap under the door, probably. But that didn’t occur to me at first; I thought it must have fallen from Cari’s purse, or from my own pocket. I didn’t picture anyone coming this far into my property, so far as to reach my house and slip some paper inside.

  I bent and retrieved the paper. A page torn from a pad. Something scribbled in a blue pen, in all caps: “I know your little secret.”

  I felt cold sweat bloom on my skin.

  Between worried and furious, I tried to get the scent of the intruder, but didn’t manage much.

  I turned around and looked, as if I expected the intruder to be still waiting, anxious to see my face.

  I know your little secret.

  I cursed. Loudly.

  I couldn’t afford this. Nobody could know my little secret. There’s too much at stake. Too many people in this town who are going to burn me at the stake if they suspect I’m not quite human. Not human all the time.

  Fear receded. I’m not easily scared. But then, I don’t have many secrets. I have one. One. And if it goes out I’m going to get lynched by the good people of the town.

  One of us was stoned to death in a valley nearby fifty years ago. And yes, fifty years can seem like a long time. Except, not when it’s your hide that is at stake.

  I looked at the paper again. Turned it around in case there was something else on the other side. The bastard wasn’t asking for money. Wasn’t asking for anything, or threatening; but of course I felt threatened.

  He knew, and so he could tell. I could pay him for his silence; but then, I would be at his mercy. Always. I knew how blackmail went. If you started paying, you never stopped — and sometimes it didn’t stop your secret from getting out anyway.

  Standing at the door, I turned around to watch the woods and the path, fresh and quiet in the night. The moon was closer to the end of her journey. I sent her a silent salute.

  I could move to another city. Here, there were legends. People believed. They said they didn’t — not that I talked about this with anyone; but accuse someone of being a monster, and the pyre or the stones were never far away.

  These people had killed the Indian tribes, humans like them. They had burned witches who were perfectly human as well, they were not going to have scruples if they learnt there was a monster among them.

  Not one. But various. Not only was I in danger; I was putting all of us in danger.

  I could move to a large city, someplace modern where nobody would believe that kind of stories. I could run once a week, spend week-ends in the countryside and run only then. And die slowly.

  And forget about the pastry shop I had created, and loved.

  About Alanna.

  No way.

  I couldn’t tell her why I had to leave. I tho
ught that she might her suspicions, but it was a lot easier on her if she didn’t know.

  God, and I had brought her here, to live with me! If the good people of the town turned against me, she would be on the front line.

  Mobs aren’t picky, but they tend to chose the same victims. A pretty girl. A foreigner. She would be in danger as much as I was. The good citizens — in other words, the mob — would have a field day.

  I gave a last look at the silent woods outside, at the clear sky, breathed in the damp, cold air, and walked inside.

  I locked myself inside the house and set the alarm again. I wanted a hot shower. Then I would go and bake something, so the people who might or might not try and lynch me someday would have something sweet to eat.

  I felt sick to my stomach. I had been careful, felt reasonably safe, and I hadn’t expected this at all. And now — now every person I met during the day could be the author of this scribbled note. I know your little secret.

  Soon another note would come, asking for money. And I would have to decide quickly if I was going to pay or not. Once you start paying… However, I wasn’t helpless. I could find the blackmailer and make sure he wasn’t a danger anymore.

  I would get help. Farnwood and Deckler would be as anxious as I was to get the guy, or the woman, who was behind this note.

  It would be worse if he, or she, didn’t ask for money. If their motivation was only to scare the monster, and their hate too intense to let me live.

  In this case, if they didn’t make contact again, they would be a lot harder to find, and I might not have any time. Who knew how long they would enjoy their own little secret, before turning the town against me ? And that wouldn’t be very difficult.

  There were so many precedents, so many accusations that had ended with the monster dead. Even people who were no monsters at all, humans who were a bit special for a reason or another, ended up dead. Mobs were a very strange, a very scary, thing. Good people could turn righteous and angry in the blink of an eye when they were scared.

  And for a moment or two, I was the one who was scared.