Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place by Cassie Wright Read Free Book Online Page A

he kick me out on my ear? Please, lord, no. I'm already feeling fragile after the nightmare of last night. My conversation with Hanscomb and Julia from Harrowgate this morning, along with my family's presence, have tentatively put me on track, but I can't take another blow.
    I almost leave in a panic. I almost just get up and run away. Jump on my bike and race home. But I can't, obviously. So I wander back and forth like a ghost, haunting the mill, trying to collect my thoughts and failing miserably, time and again.
    Each time the front door opens I jump and spin around, only to see a random person coming in and giving me a startled look. I don't blame them. The way I stare must be unnerving. Some go upstairs, some go into the various studios. I sigh each time and try to calm down. Run through little mantras I learned in yoga classes over the years. Nothing helps.
    Finally the front door opens, and it's him. Tall, broad, with a narrow waist and a face to die for. Was he this handsome back when we were young? No. He was cute, for sure, incredibly cute, but now he's stunningly hot. All shifters are, but it's hard to believe just how big a difference the six years have made. His body has filled out, his face grown stern and strong, and a summer storm roils in his blue eyes, making me weak at the knees and tight at the throat.
    "Kiera." He almost stops in the doorway, then forces himself to approach. With some reluctance, I note.
    "Hi," I say, giving my stupid little wave. It's a habit of mine I've tried to break, but each time I'm nervous I wave my hand in a way that I always think will be disarming. I doubt it is.
    Drake stops in front of me, close enough that I could reach out to touch his muscled chest. He's wearing a worn navy shirt, a little tight across the shoulders in a way I totally don't mind, and frayed black jeans. Simple. Devastatingly hot. He could have shown up in a bathrobe and I'd be hooked. He searches my face as if it's a particularly annoying treasure map that's missing the large 'X'. "What are you doing?"
    My eyebrows shoot up. What's wrong with me? I force a serious expression, banishing all dreamy, wide-eyed looks to the basement. "What am I doing? I'm looking for a studio." I try to say this as if it's both simple and obvious.
    "No." He sounds impatient. Is that a growl I hear in the undertones of his voice? "What are you doing, showing up now, and playing these games?"
    "Games?" My eyebrows try to go a little higher. "What are you talking about?"
    "What do you mean, what am I talking about?" He throws up a hand in exasperation and rakes his fingers through his long hair. "You. In Honeycomb Falls, now. After all these years. Just as we're about to be mated. Hanging out at Fool's Gold like nothing ever happened. Showing up here wanting to rent a space. Are you seriously telling me this is a coincidence?"
    I stare into his eyes. He never used to be able to keep a secret from me. I used to be able to read Drake like writing on the wall. Dean, never. But Drake? He was an open book. I see pain. Confusion. Anger. And something else. Something I can't quite identify. Something that makes my pulse race.
    "Drake." I take a deep breath. "My boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - told me last night that he's stolen my company and my art away from me through some kind of legal shenanigans. I came back to hide in my old bedroom at my parents' house."
    Drake's eyes go wide as he processes this. "He stole Iron and Roses?"
    "You - how do you know about Iron and Roses?"
    Drake immediately trips over his tongue. "I - well, it's not like - I mean -"
    I fight the urge to hug him. "Yes. Marv stole Iron and Roses. I'm going to fight him, but it's probably going to take a whole year of legal battles. In the meantime, I need studio space so I can make new art." Another deep breath. It's still not easy saying this. "Because he's trying to sell my art to an international dealer, and I need to win the nomination to prevent him from doing