Den and Breakfast: BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (Honeycomb Falls Book 1) (8 page)

When I'm done, I realize two things. For one, it's lunch time. Two, I think Honeycomb Hall is in good shape to pass all the requirements without too much remodeling.

I leave the study and immediately see that Hui's returned and is already hard at work. All the windows are open, the heavy drapes drawn back, and all the rugs and carpets have been taken outside and beaten. She's mopping the entry hall floor, suds everywhere, when I wave and interrupt her. She stops, blinking and frowning.

"Lunch time!" I say, and point at the kitchen. She gives me a curt nod, and I leave her straining the mop into the bucket.

Anita's been at work in the kitchen already, not waiting for Hui to come back there and clean, and I see that she's fixed up a large bowl of salad filled with chopped cherry tomatoes and grilled asparagus. It smells divine, perfect on this late summer morning.

I lean my head out the window and see Blake hacking at the undergrowth with a scythe, cutting down large swathes of tall grass.

"Lunch!" I yell, and he looks over his shoulder at me with a hungry expression that I tell myself must be for the salad, but which still sends a shockwave of desire right down to my sore pussy.

Anita sets the breakfast table, and soon the four of us are seated. I can't help but feel a thrill as I look around at their faces. It's beginning. Honeycomb Hall has new life, new energy. I can feel it. We chatter and laugh as Anita serves our plates, and though Blake stares at his salad without much enthusiasm, he still picks up his fork. Something about the delicious honey lemon dressing causes his face to light up, and he begins chewing enthusiastically.

We're halfway through the meal when the doorbell rings. I set my fork down, and motioning for the others to continue, smile and walk toward the door. For some reason Blake joins me. Perhaps to accost me in the hall on the way back, I hope, but when I open the front door I realize that's not the reason why.

There's a large, dangerous-looking man with a narrow face and scraggly facial hair standing outside. He's wearing a biker's jacket and oil-stained jeans, and something about the way he looks me up and down immediately makes me glad Blake's standing right beside me.

"Maric," says Blake, voice cold.

Maric
. The wolf who stole Blake's pack from under him after Mama B trapped him here at Honeycomb Hall.

"Blake." The man grins a yellow-toothed smile. It's not pleasant. "And who's this delicious little thing?"

"My name's Rachel Wilder," I say, stepping forward. "And you're on my property. What can I do for you?" Nobody gets to make me feel like that. Nobody.

"Wilder, eh? Mama B's granddaughter." He looks sideways at Blake. "I've felt pity for you these past few years, Blake, but I never thought I'd feel jealous. You've already claimed her?"

He goes to lean in and sniff at me, but suddenly Blake's hand is wrapped around his throat, and he's forcing Maric back, right to the edge of the steps so that the other wolf finds himself precariously balanced on the tips of his toes, arms flailing for balance.

"Go on, Maric." Blake's voice is lethal. "Give me reason to break your neck."

Maric growls, swipes his arm across Blake's, breaking his hold, then staggers and trips down the steps, almost falling onto his ass as he does so. He growls low, a junkyard dog sound, and then spits. "I came to bring the Cairn Elder's answer to your request. When I heard it, I demanded to be the one to bring the news."

My heart sinks. Oh no.

Maric grins. "You've been denied. The Cairn won't sanction Honeycomb Hall to acts as its Lodge. Which is too bad, given the Convocation that's taking place this weekend. Sorry, Blake. Too bad."

"But why?" I take a step forward. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Maric sneers. "You're no witch. You've got no power. How would you control the packs and shifters under your own roof? How would you keep the peace?" His sneer turns into a malicious smile. "You can't."

"I'll help her," says Blake. "I'll keep the peace here."

"You? Nobody even remembers who you are, Blake. You're a wannabe alpha who got turned into a kennel dog by Mama B. No. If you want this plan to work, sweetheart, ask me and my pack to move in and help. We'll keep the peace. If you'll agree to suck my -"

Blake roars and leaps forward, shifting into his werewolf warform in the blink of an eye. Suddenly nine feet tall and covered in iron gray fur, he backhands Maric across the face with punishing strength, sending the man tumbling down onto the gravel, where he rolls and comes up in his own warform. As tall as Blake but not nearly as muscled and broad, he crouches, lips snarling back from his yellowed fangs.

The two wolves stare at each other, eyes locked, both snarling in the ugliest, most terrifying manner. I back away slowly, not wanting to draw attention to myself, and hide behind one of the porch columns. Are they going to kill each other? They continue to stare and snarl, and then I realize it's a match of wills. A fight for dominance. The tension in the air is so thick it's hard to breathe.

Finally Maric looks away and shifts down into his human form, wiping his hand across his bloodied lip. "You're not worth fighting, Blake." His voice is mean and curdled with anger. "You're just a jumped-up gardener. Not worth my time."

Blake also shifts back into his human form. "You step foot on these grounds again, I'll tear your spine out. You hear me, Maric?"

"Whatever. Why would I come here? Why would any shifter come here? This place will never be the Lodge. You'll never convince the Cairn." He looks at me in contempt. "You'd have better luck turning this place into a brothel. If you'll spread your legs for Blake, why not make an extra dollar -"

But Blake's warning growl cuts him off, and Maric backpedals, hustling for the front gate. He manages to catch himself and slow down, fighting for dignity, though he keeps shooting worried looks over his shoulder even as he steps out onto the street and disappears.

I sink onto the porch steps. Blake stands still, watching the gate, stiff and furious, and then slowly turns to me. I see concern in his handsome face, mingled with sadness. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm so sorry."

Anita steps out onto the porch, followed by Hui, their faces pale. "What does this mean?"

"It means it's over," I say, voice leaden, heart breaking. I can't look anybody in the face. Did I think this was going to work? Did I experience a moment of true happiness just moments ago around the breakfast table? "If I can't convince the Cairn Elder, then my dream for Honeycomb Hall is dead before it even gets started."

Chapter Eight

They all look at me with different expressions on their faces. Anita looks horrified. Blake looks furious and frustrated both. Hui appears inscrutable, but I can see a tightness in her eyes that speaks of a world of disappointment.

"There may be a way," I say. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to go there. But what choice do I have?

"What way?" Blake's voice is tight, suspicious.

"I'll be back." I stand up, suddenly resolute. I owe it to them to explore every option. I owe it to Mama B and her hopes for me. I owe it to myself.

Turning, ignoring the questions on their faces, I march into the hall, stepping over Hui's mop, and climb the stairs to the broad landing. Walk down the hall to Mama B's room, and close her bedroom door behind me. Press my back against it, heart hammering against my ribs like a rubber mallet. Do I want to open that chest? Hell no. Do I have a choice? Not that I can tell.

I take a deep breath. Open and close my hands, bite my lower lip, then step forward and throw the chest open before I can change my mind.

There it is. Mama B's staff. Dark wood and blood red crystal. I bite my lower lip again, frozen. What will happen when I touch it? Will I change? Is there any going back? I gulp. I've never done anything more magical than have a tarot reading done for me. Now here, lying in front of me, is something of real power.

I reach down. Hesitate, my fingertips an inch from the wood, and then grab it. I close my eyes, holding it as far from me as I can - and nothing happens. I crack open one eye, then the other. What the hell? I hold it closer. I don't feel anything. No zing of magic. No zap of power. I give it an experimental shake. Nothing.

"What the hell? Are you kidding me?"

I assure you, I rarely jest.

I let out a yelp and drop the staff, darting across the room to hide behind the wardrobe. The staff bounces and rattles on the floorboards. Silence. I try to stuff myself out of sight. My eyes dart back and forth.

What. Or - who? Who said that?

"Hello?"

Nothing. I gulp. Peer around the wardrobe. Nothing. Nobody there. Just the staff lying on the floor. I take a deep breath. OK. I can do this. I'm a tough chica from NYC. I've got attitude, a hell of a booty, and I'm tougher than cheap diner steak.

I tiptoe closer and prod the staff with my shoe. Nothing. So I crouch down and pick it up again.

"Hello?"

To be honest, this is proving to be an awkward introduction. Please don't drop me again.

The old gentleman's voice sounds inside my head, complete with a posh British accent. "Who are you?"

Not who, but what. I am a staff of power, once the possession of Simon Trimagister, who made a copy of his mind and implanted it in the wood that you hold.

"You were once a person?" I'm doing my best not to sway, my knees weak.

A copy of one, yes.

"And - wow." Not the most eloquent thing I've ever said. I sit down on the bed. "Can you help me?"

With what, exactly?

"I need to convince the Cairn Elder to let me turn Honeycomb Hall into the Cairn Lodge. He doesn't think I can control my shifter guests."

Control? Control them how? Like puppets?

"No! I mean, stop them from fighting, or, I don't know, clawing up the bedposts." I'm not exactly sure what kind of trouble shifters can get into. "You know, like keep the peace."

Ah. Authority. I can indeed help you with that. There are many ways of impressing others into behaving.

"You can?" I almost bounce on the bed. "How would you do that?"

It depends on the style you wish to adopt. You could call lightning down upon a tree, blasting it apart and making them fear you. You could charm their senses, making them worship you as a queen. Intimidation or love. Which would you prefer?

I shiver. Power. I look at the staff, holding it in both hands. Real power. "I don't want people to be afraid of me. But I don't want them worshiping me either. Can I just punish people if they step out of line? But, like, fairly?"

It is up to you to determine what is fair, but absolutely. As long as you wield me, you wield the means toward whichever end you desire.

I gulp. I'm almost afraid. As if I'm standing on the edge of a building and looking down at the street far below. Power.

"Erm, thank you. Thank you very much." I stand and put the staff back in the chest and close the lid. Holding it gives me ideas. Dangerous ideas. Ideas that aren't quite in line with who I am. Like hunting down Paul and turning him into a frog. Or asking the staff to conjure up a pile of cash. Or -

No. I leave the room and skip down the stairs. The others have returned to the breakfast table and are eating in silence, looking downcast. I step into the room and beam at them. They look puzzled, completely surprised by my sudden change in mood.

"We're back in business! Blake, I need you to find out which is the most dangerous pack that's coming for this weekend's Convocation. And invite them to stay here, free of charge."

"What?" His eyes go wide and he pushes back from the table. "The most dangerous pack? Staying here?"

I nod and sit down, picking up my fork. "I think we can be ready for them. Hui? Anita? Do you think you could be ready for guests by this Saturday?"

They exchange a glance, and then nod, determined.

"Great. If we can show the Cairn Elder that we can handle the most dangerous pack there is, then he'll have no reason to doubt our ability to be a Lodge."

"Yes," says Blake, speaking slowly. His golden eyes are still wide. "But... we can't handle the most dangerous pack. I could maybe handle one or two of them, but all seven? At once? Here?"

I reach out and grab his large hand. "I've figured it out. Mama B left me her staff of power. I just checked. It's confident we can handle anything they throw our way."

Everybody stares at me. I munch on a forkful of salad and asparagus. It's divine.

"Rach," says Blake. "I don't think you know what you're asking for here. The Blood Moons... they're not civilized. They're animals. They have no respect for anything. They live for war. They'll trash the place. Take advantage of you in every way possible."

I hesitate. "Yes. But. We have one huge advantage. Everybody knew of Mama B, right?"

They all nod.

"And nobody in their right mind would mess with her, right?"

Blake blushes, but they all nod again.

I smile. "So I let people know that I've inherited her power, and that if they step out of line they'll be turned into newts. The best thing is, as long as I give a little display at the beginning, and convince them of my power, they won't test me. Why would they? They'll all behave, and we'll be set."

Anita, Hui, and Blake exchange looks. I wait, confident in my plan.

"I'm in," says Anita, face pale. "I trust you."

"Me too." Hui's declaration is firm.

"Shit." Blake rubs his face vigorously. "The Blood Moons. Well, if you can handle them, you can handle anybody." He holds my gaze, and I feel myself drowning in his golden eyes. "Of course I'm in." He laughs. "It's not like I can leave."

"Thank you," I say. "All of you."

But I only look at Blake. At this handsome, powerful wolf who will remain by my side throughout this all. With him here, I feel like I can tackle anything. With him by my side, I feel invincible, beautiful, full of power.