Following Fabian (18 page)

“I’m pretty sure she’s already had Drea make you a file. Dana usually gets what she wants.”

“And I want to make sure you get what you want from now on, too. Follow you around like a little puppy you can’t shake off.”

She liked hearing those words coming from his lips. Who needed a ball and chain when she had a Castillo?

“I want you to shave. How about we start there?”

He crooked up one eyebrow and leaned across the center console to whisper, “I think you’ll find me more stimulating if I don’t shave just yet.”

It took a moment for the impact of his words to settle into her brain.

His talented mouth. Her needy body.

Oh God.

“O-okay. Maybe…shave later.”

He nipped her earlobe between his teeth and pulled. “Much later, I think.”

She started the car.

Oh God, yes. Much later.

Eric Falk stuffed his hands into his hoodie’s pockets and paced in front of the commercial stove in the lodge’s kitchen. “Astrid thinks I did it on purpose.”

A hearty soup started from scratch earlier in the day bubbled beneath an askew lid, and just from a whiff of it, he knew he’d over-peppered it this time. Would have to add some stock later.

The gathering of men on the other side of the prep tables leaned against the metal surface and watched him pace, but said nothing.

“When she gets back, she’s going to kick my ass from here to kingdom come, and when she’s done with that, she’ll curse at me until my ears bleed.”

None of the men said anything, because there was nothing they could say that could assuage his fears. They all knew the truth. Patrick, the Were-cat Alpha, was married to Dana. Bryan, the alpha Bear, had Tamara has a mate. Peter and Soren were Tamara’s brothers and knew of the Romanian Shrew’s mercurial moods all too well.

The men didn’t say a word, because they already knew that when a Shrew was pissed, it was better to let her work it out of her system. Eventually, she’d come down, but the period while she burned off the emotions was going to be rough stuff.

“Nobody would want to be
this
on purpose, right?” Idly, Eric scratched the bandage over the forearm one of Gene’s Bears had gnawed two weeks ago. The damned scab just wouldn’t heal. Bryan said it probably wouldn’t until he shifted.

“Nobody would want to be a weak Bear underling.”

“Maybe you won’t be weak,” Bryan said. “Patrick’s not weak.”

“Patrick’s not a Bear. You said it yourself. Cats don’t follow the same rules.”

“Still, it’s unpredictable,” Soren said. “It’s hard to know what kind of Bear you’ll make until the beast comes out that first time.”

“But you all can smell it on me. You all know I’m just a phony.”

Bryan blew a ragged exhale and rubbed his eyes. Bryan was born-Bear, and that gave him certain strengths and responsibilities made-Bears didn’t have. But, the born-Bears had grown soft and sentimental in recent years and the clan had been taken over by an outsider—a made-Bear sociopath named Gene whom Bryan and the Shrews were now trying to force out.

“Yeah, I can smell it in your blood. Everyone who knows beasts will know what you are, but we’re trying to fix it so it’s not a curse to be Bear. Until then, find some way to make it a blessing.”

“I’ll accept any suggestions you have for that, because when Astrid gets back here, it’s going to feel like the complete opposite.”

“She was very nearly a lawyer,” Patrick said. He set down the bottle opener he’d been wielding and took a long swig of his dark ale. “Appeal to her argumentative nature. Give her a sound, logical reason why this could be a good thing, and have answers ready in advance for all her rebuttals. She’ll tell you that integrating into the Bear group would be dangerous for you. Well, you tell her you’ll be stronger this way. You’ll have someone watching your back. That sort of thing.”

“Does that work for you? When you’re about to go out for runs with the Cats, do you tell Dana everything is going to be hunky-dory because you’re a supernatural aberration and hard to kill? Somehow, I suspect she doesn’t buy it.”

“Aye, you’d be right. There isn’t a full moon that goes by that she doesn’t fret. She may not seem anxious to you, but I know her like I know myself. She worries something will happen—that the cat will take over and the man will lose control and not come home to her. Being worried is part of her nature, as it is Astrid’s. If they didn’t worry, they wouldn’t be so damned good at what they do. You’ve got to give them space to do it, even if it means you get yelled at on occasion.”

He’d been yelled at plenty already. Three Shrews had screamed in his face, and the other two did a pretty fair job of it over the phone. Guess that meant they cared.

He scoffed.

“I do have to admit, I’ve felt a bit like a hanger-on since Astrid became a Shrew. A mascot,” Eric said. He pulled the refrigerator door open and located the canister of stock. “More so when the lodge became this fucking halfway house for the preternatural. It’s weird having everyone around you be special, and you’re just a cook. A guy who takes reservations.”

“I didn’t just hear that come out of your mouth.”

They all turned toward the sound of the feminine voice near the swinging double doors.

Maria stood with her arms crossed, and pretty face bunched into a scowl.

“Oh, boy,” Patrick mumbled. He gathered up his beer bottle and headed toward the gathering room, giving Maria a wide berth. Before putting his back against the door, he mouthed to Eric, “Good luck.”

“Here we go,” Eric muttered through clenched teeth.

“You forgetting I have mutant hearing?” she asked.

“I forget it every damn day. That’s why I’m constantly in trouble with you brats.” He turned his back to the room and lifted the lid off the pot.

Behind him, one of the Ursu brothers mumbled something in Romanian, and suddenly Soren, Peter, and Bryan filed out the back door, with Bryan calling over his shoulder. “Going for a run. Gotta expend some energy.”

Eric called back, “Cowards!” before the door closed behind them. He picked up the soup ladle and stirred in the stock as Maria edged up to the stove.

She didn’t say anything, but was distracting all the same. She didn’t have to say anything. Shrews didn’t have to talk for people to be able to figure out they were pissed. Most people, as evidenced by the suddenly empty kitchen, were smart enough to run away.

Eric couldn’t run. He had soup to deal with. Guests to feed.

While food was on his mind, he pre-heated the oven for the bread.

“Come on. Spit it out,” he said, and finally met her narrowed brown stare. “Give me my daily head-shrinking and let’s get it out of the way. I’ve got a busy afternoon ahead.”

“Uh-huh. Playing cook and taking reservations, right?”

“That about sums it up.”

“A job you’ve been doing more than competently for years, and now you suddenly have a problem with it? It’s not a good enough job for you all of a sudden?”

He sighed and tossed the ladle onto the counter with more force than was probably necessary.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t jump back. Just stared.

Typical Shrew.

“You know as well as I do that what I do here is more or less driving the Zamboni across the ice after two hockey teams have a bloody fight.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

He put his hand against his forehead and feigned swooning. “Strong words coming from
you
, Granola. I didn’t know you had that one in your vocabulary.”

“Yeah, I’ve got that one and a bunch more I’ll be more than happy to shake the dust off if I thought they’d do you some good, but let me tell you this.” She didn’t raise her voice above its usual moderate, slightly singsong tone, but there was an edge to it. She meant business, and when the flower child meant business, people
listened
because the alternative came with scary consequences.

“You think there’s something wrong with being normal, Eric? Do you know what I’d give to be plain-old Maria, and not have to worry about squeezing someone’s hand too hard when I shake it because I could accidentally break their bones? Or being anxious about the fact I probably won’t get to nurse and raise all those babies I thought I’d have? Be thankful. Always be thankful for what you are at the moment. Be glad you’re upright and breathing the air, and not flat on your back on the way out of this life. Count your blessings and pay them back.”

She gave him a quick tap to the shoulder that was probably meant to merely accentuate her point, but it hurt bad enough for him to hiss and grab the bruised joint.

“Shit, woman.”

She turned her back to him and strode to the door. “When your bear wakes up, that won’t hurt so much.”

“Thank fuck.”

“So, I’ll hit you harder then.”

She grabbed a banana out the fruit bowl and left the kitchen without another word.

He rubbed his shoulder some more and picked up the ladle he’d tossed.

“Count my blessings, indeed.” Now he remembered why he’d slept with her all those months ago. When she got bossy, all the blood drained from his head and shot straight to his cock.

The back door swung open, and the shifters filled the kitchen again.

“Eric, call your sister,” Bryan said, patting his rumpled clothes in search of something. He found his phone, tapped in a number, and put it to his ear.

“Gene’s bears have been on the property, and this time they left us a warning. Call her
now
, innkeeper, and put some fucking silver in your shotgun.”

The End

* * *

Look for the fifth installment in the Shrew saga—
Eric’s Edge
—in late 2015.

CONTEMPORARY & EROTIC CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Den of Sin

Two Strikes

Ménage à Troys

As Sweet

O for Two

Winterball

Three Strikes

Hearts and Minds

Saint and Scholar

Calculated Exposure

Seeing Red

Storafalt Stories

Back to Storafalt

Teaching the Cowboy

Gift from Carolina

Non-series Books

Colleen’s Choice

My Nora

Sold As Is

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

Afótama Legacy

The Viking Queen’s Men

Non-series Books

Love by Premonition

Mrs. Roth’s Merry Christmas

Shrew & Company

The Problem with Paddy

Framing Felipe

Bryan’s Betrayal

Sons of Gulielmus

A Demon in Waiting

A Demoness Matched (
Melt My Heart
anthology)

A Demon in Love

A Demon Found

A Demon Bewitched

An Angel Fallen

For Holley’s complete backlist, including free reads, please visit her website
http://www.holleytrent.com
.

Holley Trent is a Carolina girl gone west. Raised in rural coastal North Carolina, she’s a lady with Southern sensibilities, but in 2011 her adventurous spirit drove her to Colorado for new experiences. She lives on the Front Range with her husband, two kids, and two cats.

She writes snarky contemporary and paranormal romances ranging from sensual to erotic that are usually set in her home state. Her humor is sometimes subtle, often ribald, and regularly inappropriate. If any of her stories seem overly serious at first glance–keep reading.

She’s a winner of the inaugural CIM-RWA Abalone Award (for
My Nora
) and a three-time Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence finalist (
My Nora
,
Calculated Exposure
, and
A Demon in Waiting
).
A Demon in Waiting
was a RomCon Readers’ Crown finalist in 2014.

For Holley’s complete backlist, including titles from Musa Publishing, Crimson Romance, and Lyrical Press/Kensington Publishing please visit her website at
http://www.holleytrent.com
.

Want to chat about
Following Fabian
or another Holley Trent title? Catch her online on Twitter where she tweets under the handle
@holleytrent
or fan her
Facebook
page.

If you’d like to be notified of Holley’s new paranormal romance releases,
subscribe to her newsletter
.

©Holley Trent

Published 10 February 2015

All Rights Reserved.

Following Fabian
is a work of complete fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictional or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Photography credits:

Woman: ©Maksim Toome via fotolia.com

Man: ©Yuri Arcurs via fotolia.com

Magnifying glass: ©Paul Barker via stock.xchng

WARNING: this story contains adult situations including sex and strong language. It is not intended for consumption by minors (age of majority as specified by your territory of residence).