Dream Weaver, page 1
DREAM WEAVER
DREAM MATES
BOOK ONE
M. FRANCIS HASTINGS
Copyright © 2024 by M. Francis Hastings
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
1. RenFest
2. Amber Eyes
3. Believer
4. Cry Wolf
5. Dinner and Dessert
6. Take Me Home
7. All in the Family
8. Disapproval
9. Shot in the Dark
10. Two and a Half Hours
11. Cold Reception
12. Monsters and Men
13. Sucker Punch
14. Home Sweet Home
15. Just a Kiss
16. Bad Call
17. Beta
18. Succession
19. Making Up
20. Love Woes
21. The Bite
22. Seeing Doc Again
23. Earth Shattering
24. Breakfast Time
25. Mated
26. Stupid Is
27. Misadventure
28. Home in the Rearview
29. What’s Coming to Them
30. Fooled or Foolish?
31. The Call
32. Loggerheads
33. Melee
34. Breaking In, Breaking Out
35. Werewolf Down
36. Death Defying
37. Deal Making
38. Deal Breaking
39. Done
40. Guilt
41. Back Home
42. Life and Death
43. A Man Walked into a Bar
44. Melting Moments
45. Getting Ready
46. She Said Yes
47. Kiss Kiss Kiss!
48. What If?
49. Up to Fate
50. Knowing
51. The Gift
Also by M. Francis Hastings
1
RENFEST
Carly
It was hot.
That was what most people didn't get, and what surprised traveling vendors at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival. In summer, Minnesota was HOT. Not an "it's fifty degrees in Florida and now I need a coat" type of thing, but an "it's 95 degrees and you could swim in the humidity" hot. Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes, actually had more than 13,000 of them, and all of them were quite happy to add to the heavy moisture in the air.
Carolyn "Carly" Waite of "Dream Weaver" was fanning herself with a hand wool carder, sweating in the shade of the booth she shared with her friend Dawn Price. Dawn was a weaver and was working at a large loom in the shade of the shop. Carly was leaning over the rustic counter, trying to attract customers to their stall. Carly spun and dyed yarn, but right now, the skeins were in the kettle soaking. She'd run out of fiber to spin, and carding at high noon on this particular day was heatstroke waiting to happen.
It didn't help that they were in their garb—peasant-type clothes, complete with fitted bodices. Carly's breasts were nearly spilling out of the top, covered loosely by a white peasant blouse. Her long black hair was plaited into a braid down her back, and a crown of dried baby's breath completed the ensemble.
Sweat beaded on her skin ran between her overflowing cleavage and also and down her back and legs. If the costumes weren't so thick, she'd look like a wet mop.
At least she wasn't one of the characters who needed to be meandering out in the sun among the press of the first-day crowd. Then, the heavy costume might just have killed her.
"How's it going, sis?" a teasing voice asked before her younger brother, Matthew, came into view down the dusty path. He leaned on the counter, giving Carly a wink and Dawn a taste of his come-on-and-date-me smile.
"Same old, same old," Carly said, suppressing a smile as Dawn ignored her brother, per usual. "Another year, another heatwave. Global warming is real."
"True," Matthew said. "But hey, when the icebergs melt, we'll finally have beachfront property."
"Ha-ha," Carly replied. "So, what brings you in… shorts and a t-shirt… to our humble booth?"
Matthew made a face. "You're never gonna get me in tights, sorry, sis." He slung a backpack off his shoulder. "Mom wanted me to give you this." He plunked a cooler down on the counter. "Ham sandwiches and Jell-O salad, just enough for two." He made big puppy eyes at her.
"Oh, go get a turkey leg, you," Carly said. "You know Mom made them for Dawn and me."
"Bring some salted nut rolls back while you're at it," Dawn chimed in from her loom.
"You got it," Matthew said, perking up a bit now that Dawn had actually spoken to him.
Both women watched Matthew disappear into the crowd, Carly envying his cool outfit, Dawn checking out other assets.
Dawn gave a loud sigh. "Damn your brother is fine."
"Then why won't you go out with him?" Carly asked.
"It's the principle of the thing. If I wanted to be another notch on a bedpost, I'd still be with Eric," Dawn sniffed.
Ah yes. The cheating ex-husband. Just seeing Dawn's harrowing experience with that asshole was enough to make Carly swear off love for the rest of her life. That and the stiff relationship her parents had with each other had turned Carly off the idea of happily ever after. She'd much rather sit at home and spin than deal with all the headache—and heartache—of a relationship.
"Men take too much care and feeding," Carly agreed with a sigh.
"That's right," Dawn said. "If I need something that needs cleaning up after and its ego stroked, I'll get a cat."
Carly burst out laughing at that, "you have a cat."
"I could always get another six before going head first stupid into another—" Dawn trailed off, something catching her eye.
Carly turned around and found herself face-to-face with the most beautiful pair of amber eyes she had ever seen.
"Oh," she said once she found her words again. "Hello. Can I help you?"
"Yes," his deep voice rumbled, almost setting the counter to vibrating as he leaned across it. He sniffed the air and inclined his head, "I think you can."
Kiernan
Mate.
That had been the drumbeat of Kiernan Peters' whole morning.
Mate.
Mate.
MATE.
Usually, Kiernan would be at the Wisconsin Renaissance Festival this time of year, but circumstances had conspired against him being ready for it, so he'd opted for the later-opening Minnesota equivalent.
He had his tent. He had his woodworking wares. He had a vending spot. He had everything planned and prepared for the new venue, except for one major, unforeseen problem. Somehow, someway, this black-haired, green-eyed, porcelain-skinned beauty had activated his inner wolf with the oldest genetically ingrained imperative his people had.
Mate!
"Are you looking for yarn? Maybe a rug or a blanket? We've also got some nice table runners and..."
Kiernan didn't catch the rest, basking in the sound of her voice rather than the words. When she paused, it took him a moment to realize she was asking a question. Her soft words made his wolf rollover with a sigh and beg to be petted. If it hadn't been for the morning’s influx of customers, Kiernan would have been glued to this booth the moment he’d first scented her.
As it was, the scent had gotten stronger and stronger until finally, at noon, Kiernan couldn't take it anymore. Though it was probably one of the peak times for customers to meander over to his tent, his wolf's mating call had gotten so overpowering that Kiernan felt lucky he hadn't shifted. Now, he saw why. She was sweating, pretty little rolling drops he longed to catch on his tongue.
"Sir?" his mate asked.
"Yes," Kiernan said, pulling his eyes from her cleavage back up to her face.
His porcelain beauty was blushing. "Um... yarn?" she asked again.
"Right," Kiernan said. She was normal, he could smell it, not a were-shifter of any kind. She also gave off a tang that made him frown. It brought back memories, bad ones. But he couldn't in his right mind believe that Fate would have given him a mate who was also a Hunter.
2
AMBER EYES
Carly
Carly was fairly certain he'd just checked out her assets and not the ones in her stall. She didn't know whether to be pleased or offended. The sandy-haired hulk of a man was also staring at her expectantly, as though he'd asked for something. But he hadn't. At least, not that Carly could recall.
He smelled like cedar and cinnamon and was practically molded into his black pants, wearing a loose-fitting black shirt that was open at the collar and high boots. He looked something like the Dread Pirate Roberts from "The Princess Bride." She'd always liked Wesley. The only difference was the eyes.
"So... what kind of yarn were you looking for?" Carly asked. She figured if he could ogle, so could she.
The stranger smiled slowly. "What kind do you make?" he asked in his oh-so-sexy deep voice.
"Um... I use a variety of fibers, actually. Most people are looking for wool or cotton yarn… do you have a preference of color or combination of colors?" Carly asked. He wasn't sweating, and she had no idea how that was possible. Not a drop hindered her view of the delicious deep V in his shirt.
"I like wool," the stranger said. He tipped Carly's chin up so she was looking him in the eye again. "Reminds me of sheep."
"Well, that's where it comes from," Carly said lamely.
Dawn snorted in the background. "She's also got some nice alpaca back here."
The stranger flicked his gaze briefly to the auburn-haired, blue-eyed, curvy Dawn. Carly thought for a moment she was in the clear and could tamp down on the heart-pounding sensation in her chest. But his eyes came back to hers almost immediately. He might as well have put a NOT INTERESTED sign over Dawn's head. This was an incredibly unusual occurrence. Men tended to favor Dawn, as a rule.
"I'm Kiernan," the stranger said, extending his hand.
Carly self-consciously wiped her hand on her skirt and shook Kiernan's hand. The touch was so electric she wondered if there'd been a static shock between them.
"Carly," she said after staring at their hands a moment, belatedly pulling away. "So... wool yarn? Any particular color?"
"What's your favorite?" Kiernan asked.
This was by far the weirdest conversation Carly'd had with a customer. "I... er... scarlet?"
"Nice," Kiernan said. "It would go well with your skin tone."
"Uh... thanks?" Kiernan's slow smile made Carly's mouth go dry. "Do you mean you'd like a commission?"
"What do you make?" Kiernan asked.
To distract herself from the tantalizing V in his shirt, Carly began ticking items off on her fingers. "I make all kinds of things. Sweaters. Dolls. I crochet and knit."
"How about a scarlet sweater," Kiernan said. "My size."
"Oh, right, great," Carly said. "If you could just come back here and I can take your measurements..." She swallowed again, realizing she was going to get to touch him.
Carly felt Kiernan's rumbling laugh all the way down to her core. "I think I'd like that," Kiernan said with a wink.
"So much for getting a cat," Dawn chuckled behind her.
Kiernan
Kiernan knew he was missing some kind of inside joke, but wasn't that bothered by it, especially when the redhead stood up and said she was taking her lunch. He could have hugged the woman for her perfect timing. Now, he'd get to go into the booth with his mate alone. Well, not exactly alone—he doubted the red-haired friend would have allowed that. There were people bustling outside the stall, and the open counter left them in full view of the public.
"No funny business, then," Kiernan lamented aloud, his eyes twinkling at Carly.
"Uh..." Carly said.
"Relax," Kiernan said, holding up his hands. "I'm just kidding." For now.
"Right," Carly said, and she blushed again.
Everything in Kiernan wanted to see her flushed with pleasure while she lay underneath him, screaming his name while he marked her as his. It made his wolf howl inside, and Kiernan had to remind himself Carly wasn't a wolf. She was Normal. There was nothing inside her telling her anything right now except perhaps that he was a stalker. The idea made Kiernan laugh.
"What?" Carly asked, opening the booth's swinging counter door for him.
"Nothing." Kiernan stepped inside. This close, he couldn't help but notice how he dwarfed her small frame.
Apparently, she couldn't either, because Carly's eyes had gone wide as saucers.
Kiernan decided to have mercy on her and took a respectful step back. "I'm not going to eat you," he said.
"Right, no, of course not," Carly said with a nervous laugh. She stepped to the middle of the stall and got out a tape measure. "Um... would you mind removing your shirt?"
"With pleasure," Kiernan said, whipping the black pirate-esque shirt over his head. The way she stared at his body made his wolf give a self-satisfied growl.
"Yeah..." Carly said, shaking her head. "Right, measurements." Then she began pressing the tape measure across his shoulders, waist, and arms.
Kiernan wished she wouldn't be so professional about it. He wouldn't have minded one bit if that flicker of desire in her eyes had caused her to linger over her measurements. But, he also had to respect his mate for her businesslike demeanor. He certainly wasn't holding a whole lot back.
"I'm a woodworker," Kiernan said, breathing in her scent as she worked around him. There was that subtle, strange tang again that worried him, but her overreaching scent of citrus, sage, and something smoky and nice drowned it out. "You should come visit my tent sometime."
"Oh, I love woodwork! I thought you smelled like cedar," Carly said, then clamped a hand over her mouth.
So, his mate had scented him. Kiernan's wolf purred. "I'll bet I do. I work with a lot of cedar."
"That would make sense, yeah," Carly said. She finished notating down his measurements and put the tape measure away, much to Kiernan's disappointment.
"I'm just down the road there," Kiernan said, pointing. "I've got some comfortable chairs. We could sit and chat awhile." He pulled his shirt back on.
"Uh... sure," Carly said, her blush returning.
Kiernan beamed. "It's a date."
3
BELIEVER
Carly
Before Carly could respond to that final revelation, Kiernan was gone, whistling to himself as he wandered back down the path.
Dawn materialized out of nowhere, making Carly jump. "So," Dawn said. "How was your time with Mr. Tight Pants?"
"Kiernan," Carly said, still blinking in bewilderment. "I... I think he may have asked me out."
"Well, duh, yeah, I figured that much," Dawn said eagerly. "Details, woman! Is he as hot as I think he is under that shirt?"
"It's not like it left a lot to the imagination," Carly said with a blush. "You didn't miss much."
"Bullshit," Dawn said. "I may be divorced and jaded, but that was one YUMMY specimen of a man."
"No argument here," Carly said. "But he's a bit out of my league, don't you think?"
Dawn took Carly by the shoulders. "Listen you. You're always putting yourself down. You're a gorgeous, smart, talented woman and he'd be a fool not to want to date you."
"Date me? As in more than one date?" Carly squeaked. "Oh God, and here I thought I'd just go sit in an Adirondack chair for a minute and shoot the breeze with him."
"I think you should go sit on his lap and..." Dawn said.
Matthew arrived then with salted nut rolls. He frowned at Dawn. "Who's sitting on whose lap?"
"Carly's got a da-ate," Dawn grinned, snatching her salted nut roll from him and sitting down to munch. "Cashews! You remembered!"
"How could I forget?" Matthew said. He turned to Carly. "Don't go sitting in the guy's lap right away. Make him work for it," he teased.
"You two really are made for each other," Carly grumbled, going to check on the yarn she was kettle dyeing.
"Could you tell Dawn that? 'Cuz I don't think she's gotten on the Matt train," Matthew said.
"Oh, so it's a train and not a wagon?" Dawn sniffed.
Matthew grinned. "You'd better believe it, babe."
"Gross," Carly said. She reached in the cooler and handed Dawn her sandwich and Jell-O salad. "How's about we eat lunch."
"Sounds great. I'll eat here. You go see Mr. Tight Pants at his tent. I scoped it out already. He has some nice stuff," Dawn said, taking a big bite of sandwich.
"He's a vendor? Awesome, I'll come with you. I've gotta approve him before he gets all handsy on you," Matthew said, sticking Carly's salted nut roll in the cooler and waving her out from behind the counter.
"Matt, I'm going alone," Carly said.
