Her Legacy (Reigning Folklore Book 1), page 44
“I didn’t see that coming,” she murmured to herself as she disconnected the call. She turned to look at him and her eyes widened as though she had forgotten he was there. Moreover, she seemed surprised to see him doing exactly what he had stated he would be doing. Drawing her angular profile and trying to respect the sweet perk of her button nose.
“Look forward for me,” he instructed her with a critical eye on the tiny upturn of her nose. When she obeyed, he smiled. “Good girl. Why are you so surprised with Wanda?”
“She’s a doctor. I would have assumed she’d be the hardest to convince of this world. She’s a woman of science. Most analytical minds aren’t geared towards the ‘unknown’.” Her lips pinched for a long few seconds before she puffed out a breath. “Not to mention she was ready to pummel them with a sheet pan last night.”
“A cast iron skillet would not have kept them away from her, babygirl. Once a Shifter finds their Locke, there is no truly separating them. It would take significant blunt force to stop a charging male. Or even a Shifter female for that matter.” He chuckled lowly to himself. “Most Normal Lockes are females to Shifter males, but on occasion there will be a male Normal to a female Shifter or even another male Shifter. My grandfather was a Normal male while my grandmother was of Shifter-kind. To speak plainly, my grandmother was well known to be a beast of a female with a bone-shattering right hook.”
“I could only imagine.” The smile she gifted him with was both sweet and beautiful. He flipped his page quickly in an effort to capture the expression with his chosen medium.
“Will you tell me about your parents?” When her smile fell a notch, he instantly regretted his request for knowledge, but he did not recall the words. He thirsted for this very important part of her. “Please? You speak often of your sister, but I do not know much of your parents. I would think they have to be incredible people to have a daughter such as you.”
“That’s very sweet,” she whispered quietly before brushing absently at the same lock of hair that had had to be moved from her cheek earlier. That stray curling wisp tempted his control like little else. It begged for him to caress its owner. “My mother…she died when I was little. I was just past four years old when we lost her. I don’t remember a whole lot about her other than she was sad a lot. Very sad. She was so pretty, like one of those statues you’d see of a Grecian goddess. My sister looks a lot like her.
“I took after my dad. He was great. Still is. His job had us moving a lot, but he always made time for me and Jude. He bought me my first camera. You know those instant-photo jobs that you had to wait for the film to set? We used to take vacations all the time and I think I practically lived through the lens on our hikes. Ended up with more than a few twisted ankles.” She smiled wistfully. “He was always so strong and had a quick wit. He suffered a series of strokes some years ago, though, and it took a lot of him away. He has a hard time getting around and his speech is slurred most of the time.”
“I am sorry, Addie.” And he was. He could see how deeply she loved her father and his sickness wounded her deeply. Almost timidly, he ventured to ask, “is there anything that can be done?” He wanted to help the man that had raised this beautiful woman before him. He wanted to thank him in some way. Regardless, he wanted to see that the man was taken care of so that the burden was off of her shoulders.
Her head shook minutely in the negative.
“It’s too far from when the strokes happened to do anything now. Besides, he had very good care when it happened. The doctors did everything they could and he has come a long way. He is at a stage close to mid-stage Parkinson’s.” She eyed him sternly then. “I know what you’re thinking and don’t ask. I can take care of my father. He’s at a good facility where he’s warm and happy. That’s all that matters.”
Hawk would bring the conversation up later because he knew without a doubt that he and his Brothers would be taking over the man’s care. He belonged to Addie and anything that was hers was their responsibility and pleasure to see to in her stead.
He watched her eyelids blink quickly as she finally caught sight of the large screen across the room. Without so much as a word, only a gasp of awe, she crawled quickly off of the couch to hustle to the device. Her fingers shook as they hovered reverently over the screen.
“Is this…”
“It is. A Verglas Studio. Would you like to tinker with it?” At her wide-eyed stare, he laughed outright. He set his sketchpad onto the short table beside his chair to retrieve the screen and stand for her. “Back to the fainting couch with you. Shoo. I will bring a tray over so that you can play.”
“But…”
“No buts. Do not make me spank that rump of yours to get you moving.” His member hardened painfully even under the comparatively loose fabric of his shorts. Had he been in jeans, he would have groaned in abject misery. “Go go go.”
He followed her back to the couch, grabbing up a carved breakfast tray from beside the door along the way. He had her neatly settled in moments with the legs of the tray branched over her lap and the screen tilted towards her. Normally, he would have the Studio set up on a table with her chair pulled a short distance away from it, but he needed her on the couch to take full advantage of the muted late morning sunlight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and doors. The light was almost as magnificent reflecting off of the pool and the not-so-distant sea as it was when sunset came over the Cliffs.
For the next few hours, Hawk buried himself in his work. Addie, to his delight, lost herself in the touchscreen drawing programs of the Studio. He could not wait to see what she drew with his own backdoor access to the computer.
Underhanded, yes, but he never said he would play fair when it came to his Locke.
All was fair in love and war, and the battle to win even half of the love he felt for his beautiful mate was worth every hardship that life was sure to bring him. Including her ire.
Adeline
Addie squealed indignantly as a wet nose nudged the nape of her neck as she rounded the wellhouse, her fingers hooked around the corner stud to keep her balance and momentum at the same time. Cheerful voices rose up all around the Manor’s garden-village as they laughed joyously.
“Run, Prim,” one of the men encouraged her earnestly. “Run!”
She ran.
Hot on her heels was Grant and Isaac. Or rather, Isaac’s startling white wolf was on her tail while Grant was doubtlessly planning her ambush. Predators to their core, they knew the hunt far better than she did and thrice already they’d cornered her off.
“Right, momma,” Puck directed her from above, his sleek, multicolored body winging effortlessly through the air. He was her eyes through the maze of buildings, gardens, and woods. She suspected, though, that he allowed her men to pin her down as much as they did because he sensed her giddy delight at being ‘trapped’ by them.
She’d donned a pair of speckled grey and sky blue running shoes, dark-wash skinny jeans, and a way oversized, long-sleeved grey Henley. The shoes and jeans had come from the outrageously large walk-in closet of the master bedroom while the Henley belonged to Hawk.
Somewhere between her first coming to see the Manor and the night of the party – which was only just last night – they’d stocked the closet to brimming with a wide assortment of clothes, all in her size. Dresses from summer-style to gala-worthy. Jeans. Shorts. Pajamas. Shoes ranging from flats to pumps and boots. Sexy undergarments. All manner of tops to wear around the house or others to business meetings.
Most of the clothes, too, held labels from Revelry. Trina Macomber’s exclusive line seemed fit to brimming in the space with a smattering of Betsey Johnson, Guess, and an array of shoe brands thrown in. They included Manolo Blahnik, Gucci, and Christian Louboutin. The high-end shoes she more or less ignored despite how insanely gorgeous they were, but the clothes were impossible to snub. She wondered how they could have known her obsession with Betsey and Guess – or her adoration of Converse – nor how they, being men, could so aptly pin down her style.
And they had. Nothing was too risqué and everything would accent her body to a ‘t’. There were stand-out colors as well as more subdued, calming neutrals. Trina Macomber, a fashion designer so far out of her budget that it wasn’t even laughable, catered to a wide variety of body types and most of her collections featured items that Addie would have been proud to wear anytime and all of the time.
“W-what?” she’d stuttered as she took in the closet’s contents. Her hastily packed bag was there, yes, but the filled-to-the-brim closet stole all of her attention.
“It is yours.” Grant, when he’d arrived back to the Manor, couldn’t have known that she’d all but swallowed her tongue and had been unable to speak for the shock, but he continued to introduce her to the expansive wardrobe as though she’d given voice to her internal complaints. Complaints that hadn’t risen due to her shock. “You do not have to wear anything now, but you will accept these as a show of our commitment to caring for you. Simply know that it would please us greatly to see you wearing items that we diligently chose for you. If there is anything else that you would like or any items that you hate, let us know and we will correct it.”
So, after the shock subsided to manageable levels, Addie fell prey to her inner shopaholic and dove wholeheartedly into the veritable cornucopia of clothes. There was no harm in it, right?
While she looked for the drawer with socks, she happened on a custom cherry-wood case that had enough jewelry to give her a brain aneurism. Those, too, came from White Peak; Divine to be specific. Isaac’s meticulously crafted jewelry. Her hands shook when she carefully closed the drawer she’d opened with priceless earrings nestled into cream velvet. Curiosity proving to kill the cat, she’d peeked into the other drawers to find bracelets, bangles, necklaces, chokers, rings, and hairpieces.
She didn’t dare ask exactly how much money worth of jewelry was so lovingly stored in the case as tall and wide as she was. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer.
Vaulting over a raised bed of crocus, buttercups, and forget-me-nots, Addie was jarred back into the present. She’d almost blundered right into the stone-rimmed bed. Isaac’s aggravated snort carried up behind her, most likely peeved at her inattention and near-miss with disaster.
Chortling despite her almost fall, she diverted into the wood.
The greenhouse had been a wonder when Clarice, true to her word, had escorted her across the property to the gardens. That was after she’d had a long nap in Hawk’s studio, however.
She wouldn’t admit it to the man, though she did thank him, that he’d been right. She hadn’t been ready to go outside so soon after her…stint.
The estate which Glimmerglass Manor was set on, beyond allowing the landscape to flourish for close to ninety percent of the year, also laid claim to an anomaly in climate. The Manor, it seemed, was nestled under a bubble of Magicks. The air rarely dipped to below sixty-degrees Fahrenheit. Even the heavy rainfall of the Northwestern coast was diminished as the innate Magicks of the land dispersed the bulk of the harsher weather. It kept the landscape lush even outside of the protective barrier of the greenhouse.
That weather made it so that she was able to run around quite comfortably in jeans and a large men’s shirt rather than a coat and boots.
Pine and moss assaulted her senses as soon as she broke the tree line and only amplified as she ran deeper. Puck, keen to keep close to her, weaved through the branches with regal grace. He called out directions to her smoothly and she complied easily.
A Big Leaf Maple called her name from ahead and she put on a burst of speed to reach it. Limber with happiness, Addie was able to launch herself into the air and latch onto a lower hanging branch. With a grunt, she marshaled her energies and hauled her dangling body up over the roughened bark. Her muscles were honed from years of hands-on labor as a Caretaker. Still, she was grateful that she was leaner rather than curvier as it was no easy thing to use one’s upper body singularly to attain upward movement.
The sleeves of the Henley dropped back down well above her elbows as her chin met the upper swell of the branch. By the time she’d brought her abdomen up onto the branch, she was panting minutely.
She didn’t take time to pause and instead jumped a short distance to another spiraling branch that was an added few feet higher than the one she’d first latched onto. Addie had never been an A+ student in gym class, but she adored the week of gymnastics when that time came around every year. The uneven bars were her absolute favorites and even after so many years she still knew all of her vaults, pirouettes, transitions and releases. Had she not chosen to work for OVA, she might have pursued a career as a gymnast.
But then again, the stress of it was a bit much. She’d attempted a half a year of after-school classes for gymnastics and hadn’t been able to stomach more. The coach was a perfectionist and sucked every ounce of fun out of it. If there was one thing Addie believed, it was that if it destroyed your enjoyment of a hobby, it wasn’t worth doing.
She couldn’t do a ‘trick’ due to the hard bark, but her transition skills helped her to clear the wide space with grace she often lacked safe on the ground. As she pulled herself fully onto the thicker branch, the sleeves once again dropping down over her wrists – her hands would be buried as soon as she removed them from the bark – she looked down to the ground.
Isaac stood under her tiny shadow staring up at her with ice-chip eyes. He growled at her and dropped the blanket-bundle to the grassy, moss-riddled floor. He used a single paw to roll the plush fabric out from its previously trundled position. He looked between her pointedly and the impromptu carpet.
“Absolutely not,” she sniffed in faux disdain as Puck alighted on a higher branch. He began to preen himself with methodical slowness. Some of his Shine rained down to the ground when he fluffed his wings.
Isaac whimpered sorrowfully, settling his head down onto his paws with his haunches high up in the air. He tilted his head adorably so that he was looking up at her with a single blue eye locked onto her form. She smothered the urge to fawn over him like a love-sick fangirl. He was as massive as a grizzly in muscle with the height of a Shire horse. It didn’t make sense that she found a creature so massive with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth adorable. But she did.
Hello common sense. My name is twisted desires. Nice to meet you.
“That won’t work, puppy.” She mockingly frowned at him, but genuinely scowled at the lilac-hued comforter. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and shame on me. I’m not getting suckered back onto that thing.”
Isaac’s wagging tail and bum slammed against the earth with magnificent force and another whimper wrenched from his maw. He cried piteously as he gazed up at her with sad eyes. Addie had to bite her lip and look to the tree trunk nearby to maintain her resolve. That kicked-puppy persona he affected had her wanting nothing more than to snuggle up into his furry chest, push him onto his back, and rub vigorously at his silky-soft tummy. He knew that.
She’d fallen for it once already and had her cheeks bathed with wolfy slobber for her troubles.
“You big faker, you,” she chided him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite her desire to portray a stern air, her twitchingly smiling lips gave her away. “I am not coming back down. Now go fetch a stick or something.”
Her ears perked when they caught the faint sound of rustling leaves. Before she could even turn to look, she felt something slightly cold and wet skim across her left ankle. She squealed disagreeably, snapped her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arm around the tree trunk for support, and glared down to where she thought Isaac would be.
He was exactly where he had been before, only now he was standing up on his back paws, the fronts braced on the trunk of her hideout with his nose extremely close to her branch. It was his nose that she had felt against her ankle, then.
The man could crush whole armies in this form.
Isaac’s claws lightly scraped her tree as he released a high-pitched whimper, stretching his nose even closer to her, but just barely able to touch the base of her branch. The poor puppy was too short to reach her.
Ha ha, the inner her taunted, dancing on her tiptoes as she watched the wolf try…and fail…to apprehend her.
After another minute of trying unsuccessfully to reach her, Isaac chuffed, his hot breath blooming out and around her raised body, before dropping down to his four paws. His eyes seemed to squint as he looked up at her. He was analyzing the situation. He paced around the tree looking for flaws, she supposed. He stopped dead, however, several moments into his study. Her brows furrowed as he turned his attention to the woods further out before bringing his focus back to her and her perch.
She knew what he had stiffened over once she saw another wolf, slightly smaller than Isaac, come waltzing through the undergrowth. Its sandy fur sported minuscule specks of gold along its ridge and haunches. Its face immediately zeroed in on her. She could have sworn she saw the male’s lips tip up in a wolfish smirk.
“Oh no,” she began, pointing her finger at the new arrival and then at her current hunter, “go away, Grant. This isn’t right. It’s not fair. Two against one is not fair.”
It wasn’t, either. She could find herself easily corralled by just one of them…with two she stood little to no chance of getting her way. Even in wolf form they had her hopelessly dependent on them. What was worse was that the most basic part of her didn’t want to fight that feeling of rightness with them. It appeared that in their oversized wolf forms she was even more entranced by them and wanted them all the more.
Her affection for them all had grown exponentially over the weeks – far quicker than she’d become attached to Richard – and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would soon cave in to her desire for them. No woman with a working libido could resist for long and especially not under the onslaught of their sweet and gentle caring. They were genuinely good men, each and every one of them, and she would be fool not to want them.
