Bite the Big Heartache: Werewolf Shifter Romance (A Monstrana Paranormal Romance Book 2)

by Lacy Andersen

  “I was sent here by my boss to interview you,” she said in a rush. “She wants a story on the alpha who returned home from America without a pack. I swear, I didn’t know it was you when I took the assignment. I never would’ve...”

  She cut herself off. Even if she’d known it was Billy from the get go, she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t have taken the job. The urge to succeed in her career was too great. Even now, standing this close to him brought back an old ache to her chest. But, she couldn’t let that get in her way.

  “You want to interview me?” He stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “Yes, to get the story on what happened to you in America.” She splayed her hands out in front of her. “The rumors are already out there. I know reporters have visited Molodoy. It’s only a matter of time before someone publishes the story. We just want to set things straight. With an exclusive interview on Lochness Broadcasting’s channel, you can do that. Put those stories to rest and end the stream of reporters knocking at your door.”

  He blew a puff of air out his lips and closed his eyes. “So, let me get this straight. You’re bribing me with the car of my dreams to do an interview with you?”

  “It’s not a bribe. It’s an incentive.” She cringed at her choice of words. Viktor would laugh at her and tell her that she was talking like a royal. That just wasn’t her. “The car is yours to fix, either way. But if you accept my proposal, I’ll spend a couple days getting the details on your story and then we’ll do an official filmed version. Simple and quick. You control the story. When it’s all done, you never have to see me again.”

  He turned back to gaze at the car. “You always did want to work in television.”

  She laughed softly. “You remembered.”

  “I also remember how stubborn you were. Never would take no for an answer.”

  She didn’t respond, but smiled to herself. There weren’t many people who would argue that point with him.

  “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’re never going to leave me alone, are you?” He worked his jaw, the muscles tensing and releasing.

  “Never.” She couldn’t hide the laughter in her voice. “I could get used to living in Molodoy again. Your sister is a lot of fun.”

  With a heavy sigh, he started back toward the garage. Stasia rushed to keep up with him. He stopped in front of the doors, with his back to her, and pressed a hand to the metal surface.

  “For the record, I’m doing this for the car, not for you. And for the peace and quiet.”

  She danced a little jig and smiled so hard it felt like her cheeks were going to burst. Suddenly, he turned to glare at her and she paused mid dance move.

  “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Of course not.” She saluted him with two fingers and grinned. “Were-scouts’ honor.”

  He frowned disapprovingly. “You were never in were-scouts. You can’t use them to back your promises.”

  “Right you are.” The grin faded from her face. “But you know, if we’re going to get through the next few days without killing each other, I’d suggest we put a pause on our issues from the past. Pretend like we just met. I know nothing about you and you know nothing about me. Including, whether or not I was in were-scouts as a cub.”

  Raking a hand through his unkempt hair, he rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s for the best.”

  “Great.” Her hand shot out into the empty space between them. “I’m Anastasia Pavlosky. Editor, producer, and occasional writer for Lochness Broadcasting. Friends call me Stasia. Strangers call me Princess.”

  He stared at her hand as if he’d rather slather it in diesel and light it on fire. But he surprised her by clasping his big hand over hers and squeezing. She gasped as a shock went up her skin and traveled down her spine.

  “William Finley. Friends call me Billy. Auto-mechanic and small town boy.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Billy,” she said, dropping his hand quickly. “We’ll start the interview process tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” he echoed.

  He watched her closely, but Stasia couldn’t read the expression on his face. She was too busy reeling from the excitement of her sudden success and the unsolicited feelings his touch had stirred inside her gut.

  Despite their promises of putting a pause on the past, she wasn’t sure working with Billy was going to be as easy as all that. History had an awful way of repeating itself. She couldn’t let that happen.

  She wouldn’t.

  Chapter Six

  Billy pulled in front of his childhood home and cut the engine. Green vinyl siding covered the ranch-style home and a circular white gravel driveway took up most of the front yard. A single pine tree stood encircled by the drive. It felt good to Billy to know that some things never changed. His parents may be gone, but the family house still stood. And now, his sister owned it.

  He grabbed a plastic bag full of drinks and chips and wandered up to the door. A bass speaker shook the walls as music played somewhere deep inside. He let himself in and followed the familiar hallways toward the kitchen. Sunday lunches were a regular at the Finley house for family and friends alike. A time to unwind and forget your troubles. Just what he needed.

  Straying into the kitchen, Billy came to a full stop and stared across the room, his jaw dropping. Speaking of troubles — Stasia Pavlosky sat perched upon his mother’s prized kitchen countertop, wearing a soft cotton white skirt and her alluring long legs crossed. She was laughing and chatting with his sister as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her hair had been pulled off her slender neck into a high ponytail and glistening stones swung from her ears.

  Again, he was suddenly reminded of how time had been good to her and just how little it took to make a red-blooded wolf’s pulse race. He couldn’t help but stare at her until she looked up and their eyes met across the room. Blood rushed to the tips of his ears and he tore his gaze away.

  “Hi beautiful.” He plopped the bag on the counter and went to kiss his sister on the cheek.

  A smile stretched across her face and she patted him softly on the back. “Glad you could make it. Stasia and I are making fish tacos for lunch. You’re going to love them.”

  He tried to smother his disbelieving grin. Ashley had never been much of a cook. In fact, his mother had banned her from the kitchen when she was seventeen and declared her a hopeless case. Most of the time, he didn’t expect to eat much during her Sunday lunches. It was safer that way.

  “Stasia.” He tilted his head stiffly in her direction.

  She mimicked his posture. “Billy.”

  It was as much conversation as he could take. Retreating to the dining table to plop down in a seat next to a lounging Garret, he willed his heartbeat to slow. Yes, he’d agreed yesterday to do the interview with Stasia and pretend like they didn’t have a history, but that was going to be impossible if she kept popping up in every aspect of his life. He just needed to close his eyes and picture that Chevy Chevelle sitting in his garage, and his blood pressure would begin to return to normal.

  “Hey buddy, how about a game of darts?” Garret asked, dropping his feet from the nearby chair he’d been using as a footrest. “I’ve been practicing down at the bar. Might actually hit the board this time.”

  Billy’s eyes snapped open and he grinned. A distraction away from the ladies was exactly what he needed. “Lead the way.”

  They didn’t have far to travel. Ashley had replaced their parents’ old hutch and raggedy living room couch with a foosball table, air hockey, and a dart board. Billy fetched the darts and stood behind a line drawn with masking tape on the shaggy brown carpet. With one eye closed, he focused on the bullseye of the target and readied his dart.

  “Ashley says you agreed to do an interview with Princess Stasia,” Garret said out of the blue, interrupting Billy’s concentration. He fiddled with the darts in his hand, his eyes glued to them. “I thought you weren’t going to do that. They’ve been turning away reporters down at the Mini
-Mart for weeks.”

  Billy lowered his dart and ran a hand over his scraggly beard. “If I don’t do it, that woman will hound me forever. This way, I can tell her as little of the story as I want and then everyone will be satisfied and leave me alone.”

  Raising the dart again, he tensed when Garret coughed and cleared his throat.

  “What?” Billy asked, lowering the dart and looking over his shoulder.

  “Do you really think she’ll let you get away with giving her the bare bones of the story?” Garret leaned against the wall, his large arms crossed. Humor danced in his eyes. “I may not be the smartest man in Monstrana, but I’m smart enough to know that woman isn’t going down without dragging the whole story out of you.”

  Billy huffed and threw his darts, each one landing far from the bullseye. He shot a dissatisfied look at his friend and went to fetch them.

  Garret didn’t know what he was talking about. Stasia may be clever, but he was the one holding the cards at the moment. He would reveal only what he was comfortable with and nothing more. The facts.

  He’d gone to America to take on the alpha role in a dying werewolf pack. A group of supernatural hunters had tracked them down and attempted to wipe them off the face of the Earth. He’d managed to save them.

  Well, most of them. But she didn’t need to know that one last painful detail. The part of the story that still caused him to wake up during the dead of the night in a cold sweat, his claws slashing at an invisible enemy.

  “Garret, honey, our money’s on you,” Ashley called in a sickly sweet voice from the kitchen. “Don’t let me down.”

  Garret stood at the line with his darts in hand and a stupid expression on his face. He grinned through the open doorway to the kitchen and let loose his first dart. Billy didn’t have a chance to jump out of the way. The metal tip of the dangerous toy sunk into his flesh and blood began to trickle from the wound.

  ❖

  Stasia leapt from the countertop when she heard Billy cry out. Sprinting to the living room, she witnessed him grasping at his back, attempting to dislodge the dart that had made itself firmly at home within his muscles. If it hadn’t been for the tiny bit of blood soaking into his white t-shirt, it would’ve been a comical sight. Billy spun in an effort to grab it, having no success.

  “I’m so sorry, man.” Garret backed away from the scene, his round cheeks as red as apples. His gaze flickered to Ashley, who’d followed Stasia into the room. “I didn’t see him there.”

  “That’s because you were too busy making goo goo eyes,” Billy shot back, frustration tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  Stasia stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. “Relax, Billy. I’m sure Garret hasn’t maimed you.”

  “How do you know?” Billy raised his eyebrows in a challenge. A teasing glint flashed in his eyes. “Those darts are decades old. I could have tetanus.”

  “Because you’re a werewolf.” She rolled her eyes as she strolled toward him. “And that wound will be gone in less than thirty seconds, just as soon as you hold still long enough for me to get the dart.”

  He smirked, but willingly turned to present his back to her. Sure enough, it wasn’t much to be concerned about. A human might be sore for a few days, but a werewolf could shrug it off in no time.

  She placed a hand on his back and felt his muscles twitch beneath her touch. A sudden appreciation of the male form entered her head, fixated especially on the man in front of her. In his adult years, he’d put on a thick layer of muscle that rippled with his every movement. It looked good on him. Too good. She could feel her body responding as her hand traveled to his shoulder, heat cascading down her arm and settling uncomfortably in her gut.

  “Just give me a second,” she said through clenched teeth. As quick as a flash, she plucked the dart from his back and put at least three feet between them.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. Turning to Garret, he shrugged. “No harm done, but I think we’d better give the darts a rest. Feel like a drink on the back porch? Let the ladies cook in peace?”

  “Definitely,” Garret said a little too quickly, a silly grin on his face. He hopped to attention and led the way through the French doors leading to the backyard. The sound of the door slamming shut was the final clue that the girls had been abandoned for the peace of the outdoors.

  “I’m sorry about Billy,” Ashley said from the doorway. She’d donned the customary hairstyle of two wild buns on top of her head. A purple satin tank top and a tight denim skirt were the only things she wore. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the carpet. “He’s been in a terrible mood since he came back from Alaska.”

  “What was so bad about Alaska?” Stasia asked, propping herself up on the edge of the foosball table.

  She’d always liked to go there, but hadn’t found the time. Most of her life had been consumed by her driving need to make a name for herself in the entertainment world before royal duties took precedence. Travel would come later.

  “Paranormal hunters,” Ashley whispered, her green eyes opening wide. “They caught news of the weakened pack. Decided the time was right to strike. If it hadn’t been for Billy, the whole pack would’ve died.”

  Stasia gripped the top of the table for support. The word hunter struck a chord deep down in the heart of any supernatural creature. For as long as werewolves, vampires, and any other supernatural creature had existed, so had the hunters. They were a small group of humans, bent on ridding the world of anything they deemed to be unnatural. The news of their attack angered Stasia to her core.

  “If he saved the pack, why didn’t he stay in Alaska?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek. “Why leave them defenseless?”

  “After the attack, Billy decided to dissolve the pack,” Ashley answered with a shrug. She leaned against the door frame and placed her foot against the wall. “Guess he didn’t feel like he had a right to lead them after his fiancée died.”

  Stasia fell off the table and caught herself just in time to avoid a face plant on the edge of the hockey table. She stared at Ashley with disbelief and horror. “Billy was engaged?”

  “Well, yeah.” Ashley shrugged. “She was the daughter of the old alpha. And the only one to die in the attack. Sad, really. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for not saving her.”

  She strode off into the kitchen to leave Stasia panting under the weight of this new information. Never in a million years had she suspected that Billy Finley had a fiancée. The thought never crossed her mind. But even now, she could see how foolish that had been.

  A figure crossed in front of the living room window. It was Billy, standing with a drink in one hand and Frisbee in the other. He tossed it and threw his head back in laughter, a response to some unheard joke. Stasia crossed the room and watched him from the shadows of the heavy drapery surrounding the double-pane windows. There was so much she no longer knew about the man standing in the front yard. Years and experience separated them. What else would their time together reveal?

  Garret threw the Frisbee back and Billy had to chase after it, sending him straight into a thorny hedgerow. Stasia giggled as she watched him mouth several dissatisfied words and throw the Frisbee on the ground in frustration. He managed to temper himself long enough to pat a worried Garret on the back and abandon the game for a safer activity in the back of the house.

  Stasia turned away from the window and rested the back of her head on the wall. Of course, a man like Billy would eventually marry. Most werewolves did to ensure the future of their pack. And Billy certainly had the good looks and innate strength to have his pick out of most packs. She shouldn’t have been so surprised to learn that he’d had a fiancée waiting for him in America. It was only natural.

  She’d just never imagined him as a man in love.

  Chapter Seven

  Billy wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped a hand across the steamy mirror in his bathroom. His face appeared in the streaked reflective surface,
a harsh reminder of the years that had passed. With a grimace, he finished brushing his teeth and went to fetch his clothes.

  A good day’s work lay ahead of him. He couldn’t wait to finish the truck so that all his attention could be focused on the Chevelle. Several plans swirled around in his head for the rusted classic. The starting point all depended on her current state. He just needed to crack her open to see what was going on underneath the surface before diving in too deep.

  A noise in his living room made him pause at his bedroom door. It sounded like someone was inside, shuffling through his belongings. Alarm bells went off in his head. There had been a few thefts in town recently. Billy had brushed them off as the work of a bunch of foolish teenagers. But if they dared come into his house, his domain, they were going to feel the wrath of an angry werewolf.

  He rushed through the doorway and shouted, brandishing a rolled-up newspaper in his right hand. Two pairs of eyes looked up at him in shock. A young man with shaggy blond hair lounged in his favorite spot on the couch with the TV on, an overconfident smirk taking over his face. He was just the sort of thief that Billy had imagined. A young man whose parents had neglected to teach manners. Billy would set him right.

  Before he could deliver his smack-down, his attention was diverted by the second pair of eyes. A familiar mop of curly hair bounced around in his tiny kitchen. Stasia carried an armful of dirty dishes and was in the process of dumping them unceremoniously into the sink. A gush of water ran out of the faucet and a warm bath of soapy water awaited in the other side of the sink.

  “Don’t you knock?” Billy demanded, clutching at the towel slipping dangerously low on his hips. He pointed the newspaper accusingly at her.

  “Don’t you lock your doors?” she shot back with a grin. Grabbing a sponge from the soap dish, she turned to scrub at his moldy cereal bowls. “Billy Finley, meet my brother, Maxim.”