Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (Honeycomb Falls Book 4) Read online

  Contents

  Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  Copyright

  Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place

  Honeycomb Falls Series, Book 4

  By Cassie Wright

  Chapter 1

  It takes every ounce of my willpower to control the anger that's bubbling through my veins. When did my boyfriend become such a complete and utterly obnoxious asshole? I glance up at his face and look away quickly, as if the sight of his handsome, arrogant looks scalds my eyes.

  "What?" His voice is slightly thickened by the wine. "Don't tell me you're mad at me."

  I can see our hotel ahead of us, a mere two blocks up the Manhattan avenue. We splurged in order to celebrate tonight. Now I'm dreading the thought of spending the night in that luxurious room.

  "Kiera?" Marv comes to a stop and swings me around to face him. "Really? You're mad at me?"

  His tone is insufferable. He's already sliding into victim mode.

  "Let's talk inside," I say. I don't meet his eyes. I'm worried that if I do, I really will lose control, and our fight will break out right here on the street.

  "No. Tell me. Right to my face. Tell me how my standing up for your rights as an artist was wrong."

  "Standing up for my rights?" My resolution to hold back vanishes before my astonishment. "How does calling Arianna's gallery a 'filthy little hole' defend my rights?"

  Marv shrugs one shoulder. "What? It's true. She's got no reason to get all high and mighty. As if she was doing us a favor showing your work. The Feather & Quill is a crap gallery. She should have been kissing our shoes for having us."

  "A crap gallery? The Feather & Quill?" I can't believe the words I'm hearing. "Marv. It's my first gallery ever. She was doing me a favor letting me be the main exhibit. And -"

  He's not listening. He's standing there, hands on his hips, looking up and off to the side, shaking his head. He always gets like this when I'm 'lecturing' him, as he calls it. I trail off. I'm tired of trying to get through to him. Tired of trying to make him understand.

  "Look," he says, trying to sound confident and authoritative. "People will only respect you as much as you respect yourself. And if you're not going to tell people how much you're worth, then I will." He gives his one-shouldered shrug again. "Just don't get mad at me for caring."

  It makes me want to scream. I stride off down the sidewalk. I hoped tonight would change things. That my first real and tangible sign of success in the New York City art world would bring us closer together. Would heal the old wounds, would allow us to rise above the petty arguments. I held on grimly to this idea as my patience for Marv wore thinner by the week. I hoped against hope that he'd relax, become that fascinating guy again, the mysterious handsome art connoisseur who had seduced me when I first arrived in the City. Instead, tonight has been a complete and utter disaster.

  "Hey," he yells, running to catch up with me. "Hey, are you really that mad?"

  "Yes, Marv," I say, staring straight ahead. The hotel door is only one block away. "I am really that mad."

  "Well, fine. I'm sorry." He says it like he's throwing it in my face, his tone completely undercutting the words. "I'm sorry I care so much. I'm sorry I'm trying to look out for you."

  I can't help it. I turn around again and poke my finger right into his chest. "Are you serious? How does insulting the visitors to the gallery count as protecting my rights? Oh wait, let me guess. Their offering to buy my pieces for the prices I set makes them thieves?"

  "Your work is worth ten times what you're asking for, Kiera!" He sounds almost pleading. "You're pissing money away! For that guy to try to haggle was an insult! How weren't you insulted? I was doing you a favor when I kicked him out!"

  "No, you were humiliating me and Arianna when you started yelling and shoved that old gentleman out the door." Now I'm furious. "Do you know how mortified I was? Leaving my own gallery before somebody called the police to come arrest you?"

  "OK, fine, so I got a little carried away." It's amazing. My anger slides off him like water off a duck's back. "I thought it was a good PR move. Impress everybody else as to how seriously we take your art. But fine, maybe I shouldn't have touched the guy."

  "Maybe?" I turn and stride toward the hotel once more, shove my way through the revolving doors and into the luxurious lobby. I'm going to break up with him. The realization hits me like a hammer blow. Upstairs. This just isn't working, and I can't lie to myself any more. I can't keep making excuses for Marv. Telling people he's got the right intentions, a good heart, that he just has a big mouth and snap temper. Enough. Tonight didn't fix things. Tonight only showed just how broken we are.

  We ride up to our floor in silence, Marv sullen and clearly waiting for me to apologize. In the past I might have. I've always been the peacemaker, hating to see him hurt. But this time I don't. When the door dings open, I walk with long, angry strides to our door, slide in the keycard, and enter our suite.

  What a waste. The view is spectacular. All of Midtown lies spread out before us, a glittering garden of magic and wonder. New York City. I hoped we'd grab drinks at a great bar after the gallery, maybe even go dancing like we used to when we first met, then come back here for some wicked lovemaking. I want to laugh scornfully. Wishful, deluded thinking.

  Marv locks himself in the bathroom, so I stand by the huge window, arms crossed, staring out through my reflection at the city. It had to be tonight. I already knew how Marv would take it. Every time we've had a serious argument, he's pointed out how much he helped me when I arrived. How he introduced me to everyone. How he helped me find the studio space for my glassblowing company, Iron and Roses.

  But that was three years ago. I feel exhausted. That first year was bliss. Marv was charming, experienced, and knew all the great places to go. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, he changed. Or did I change? His charm wore thin. His connections had led me to other people, people he didn't know. And didn't feel confident around. And my success... I had to accept it. The more successful I became, the more controlling and jealous he became. Until recently I'd been feeling positively claustrophobic around him.

  No. This has to end. Tonight.

  The bathroom door opens, and Marv steps out wearing only a bathrobe. He grins at me, and heads straight to the champagne bottle.

  "Marv. Don't. We have to talk."

  "I know we do, babe." He pops the cork and pours two glasses. "We have to celebrate."

  "No. We have to talk. About us."

  He makes a face. "Whatever. Tonight was just - was just an off night. Fine, I overreacted. I was a jerk. A complete ass. I'll send Arianna a dozen roses tomorrow to apologize. I'll find that old guy and give him a kiss on the cheek. Water under the bridge, Kiera. We've got bigger things to celebrate."

  I take the champagne glass, frowning. Marv's wearing that confident grin that I haven't seen in ages. "What are you talking about?"

  He digs into the pocket of his robe a
nd draws out his cell phone. Waggles it in the air and grins. "Guess who texted me?"

  I'm completely at sea here. Has he scored a job of his own, finally? "Your mother?"

  "Ha ha. No. Two words. Harrogate Studios." His grin gets wider. "You have my permission to orgasm."

  Harrowgate Studios? My eyes go wide.

  Marv grins. "Yep. That's right. Ol' Marv isn't such a useless lump after all. Paris. Tokyo. London. San Francisco. Sao Paulo. I've just received word that they're interested in showing your work in all their stores." He raises his champagne glass, eyes alight with a feverish joy. "So drink up! We're going freaking international!"

  I literally don't know what to say. My heart skips a beat, and my stomach clenches. I take a sip of the champagne without even tasting it, and then shake my head. "Wait. Wait wait wait. What?"

  Marv laughs and sets his glass down, then sprawls out on the bed and unbelts his robe, spreading it wide and taking hold of his cock. "Come on. Come here and show your gratitude."

  "Wait. How?" I set my glass down as well. "How did this happen?"

  Marv slowly strokes himself, clearly feeling like the king of the world. "Now do you understand why I called the Quill & Feather a filthy little hole? Yeah? 'Cause it is. Compared to Harrowgate, Arianna's got nothing."

  "Marv." I move to the edge of the bed. My shock is giving way to unease. "What's going on here? How did this happen without my knowing?"

  "It was a surprise. What, you don't like surprises any more?"

  "No, no, I love surprises. But - this is my art. I want - I need - to be involved with every conversation about my work."

  He scowls. "You don't trust me? Of course you don't. But Kiera, oh, you are going to suck my cock so hard when you hear the prices I got them to list your work at. We're going to be rich. We are going to be so fucking rich you won't believe it."

  I press my fingers to my temples. "Wait. Prices? You negotiated prices without me?"

  "Mmm-hmm. Your smallest piece? Two thousand dollars. Your biggest? Ten thousand. I'm telling you, babe, we're set."

  I feel the room starting to spin. I sit down, trembling. "No. I've told you. I've told you a million times. I don't want to price my pieces that way. I want them to be accessible."

  He stops stroking his cock and sits up. "Accessible? You need to wake up, babe, and smell the money. I can tolerate you pissing away our profit at a little dump like Arianna's, but Harrowgate? We're talking international! You need to think big!"

  "Marv. Stop. Whatever deal you've made with Harrowgate, I'm going to need to change it. I won't charge that much." I think of my parents back home, good people who live simply. When I create my art, I think of them. I think of people like them being able to buy one of my pieces and enjoy it as much as someone wealthy would.

  Marv's expression hardens. "How did I know you wouldn't be able to enjoy a good thing? That you'd want to ruin it?"

  "Marv, this is my freaking art! You can't do this! You can't act like you own it."

  "Can't I?" His smile sends ice water through my veins. "Are you so sure?"

  I stare at him as if he's suddenly turned into a stranger. "What are you talking about?"

  He stands up and closes his robe in an almost businesslike manner. "I knew things would come to this. That you'd try to ruin us with your lack of vision. Remember that restructuring we did of Iron and Roses?"

  I did. Marv convinced me to turn my company from a sole proprietorship to an S Corporation. His attorney had explained all the tax benefits. "Yes...?"

  "Well, maybe you should have read the fine print. When we restructured it, I gained a controlling interest." Marv places his hands on his hips and stares defiantly at me.

  "Controlling interest?" My voice sounds weak. I feel like I'm falling down a hole.

  "That's right. What I say, goes. And I say we charge those high prices. Look, think of it this way. You're the talent, I'm the brains. You produce the art, and I make sure we get paid. In a way, nothing has to change."

  He steps across the room and kneels before me, taking my hands in his. I can't quite focus on his face; I think I'm in shock. He looks up at me, eyes wide, hopeful. "Kiera, this is going to be great. For both of us. You can just focus on creating. Leave everything else to me. You know I love you. I'll take care of us, and stop you from making any more stupid-ass mistakes. Just trust in me, and we'll do great."

  "Trust in you?" I laugh weakly. "After you stole my company right out from under me?"

  He frowns. "Hey, you were the one who signed the papers. Nobody forced you."

  Ouch. He's right. I hate that kind of technical stuff. I trusted him. Marv was extra charming and loving that day. I trusted him, and he played me for a fool.

  My fury makes my previous anger pale in comparison. It's sudden and violent. I lift my foot, place it squarely against his chest, and shove. Marv goes sprawling with a yell, clutching at the bedspread as he goes down on his ass.

  I jerk to my feet, incandescent with rage. He's stolen Iron and Roses from me. "You lying!" I snatch up the lamp and throw it at his head. He yells and ducks. "Stealing!" The TV remote goes next, bouncing off his shoulder. "No good!" My champagne glass misses him, but barely. "Asshole!" I grab the champagne bottle by the neck, and hurl it at him with everything I have. Marv's eyes go wide and he dives for cover behind the bed, crouching down and out of sight.

  "Get out!" I yell. "Get the hell out! We're done! I'm breaking up with you, you sorry piece of crap! I should have done this years ago, but now it's over! Get out NOW!"

  He rises slowly from behind the bed with a weak smile on his face. "Actually, this room is rented under the corporation's name, Kiera." His smile is pathetic. "So if anybody has to leave, it's you."

  I stand there swaying. Under the corporation's name. Like my apartment in Brooklyn. Like my car. Everything was streamlined and placed under the name of Iron and Roses. Which now belongs to Marv.

  It hits me like a blow to the chest. I've lost everything. Not just my art. Not just my studio. But my apartment. My car. My business savings account. All gone.

  The room is spinning. Marv says something, but I can't begin to understand his words.

  I pick up my purse and head for the door. I feel nauseous. Everything I've worked for since I arrived in New York. The last three years of my life. All my successes. Gone. Yanked out from under my feet. By Marv, of all people. The man I felt sorry for.

  I open the door and stumble out into the hallway. Marv follows a couple of steps behind. "Kiera, listen. If you change your mind, I'd be happy to take you back. There'll always be a place for you at Iron and Roses, yeah? Don't be too proud. I'd love to have you as part of the team."

  I turn around and stare at him. Something in my face makes him take a step back and turn pale. "You are a despicable human being, Marvin Travis. You'll be hearing from my attorney."

  Then I turn and head toward the elevators. Never mind that I don't have an attorney. Or the money, now, to hire one. I hit the button and wait, feeling Marv watching me from the doorway of what used to be our room. I stare woodenly at nothing, trying to fight back the tears. The feeling that my whole world has crashed down around my ears.

  "Hey, Kiera." Marv's voice is tight and ugly. "You're going to need some spending cash. Come back here and let me fuck you in the ass, and I'll pay you fifty bucks. Should be enough for you to get a cab home."

  I stiffen, but mercifully the elevator doors open. I step inside and don't want to turn around, but I have to press the Lobby button. Marv is standing in the doorway, grinning at me and giving me the finger. Tears spill over and run down my cheeks. The doors close, and the elevator sinks down. I stumble through the lobby, then out into the Manhattan night.

  Oh god. What am I going to do? I've got little over a thousand dollars in my personal checking account. Should I transfer money out of the Iron and Roses savings? I laugh bitterly. Knowing Marv, he's already changed the access code.

/>   I feel lost. Bereft. My night of success has turned into the night my every dream has shattered. I feel sick. I press my hand to my forehead. I can't go home. It's not even my home anymore. That, and I don't want to see the space I've shared with Marv these past several years. The memories, good and bad.

  "Ma'am?" The valet steps forward hesitantly.

  I dig into my purse and pull out my ticket. "Here."

  He's a handsome kid, and I look away from his concern. He runs off. It's not my car anymore, but I'll let Marv come after it. But where am I going to go? I can't stand the thought of talking to my New York friends. Trying to explain to them how Marv just screwed me. How stupid I've been. How incredibly, mind-blowingly naive.

  I think of my parents. It's only a little past nine o'clock. My dad will be reading by the fireplace, my mother probably working on her latest knitting project, one of the weird sweaters that nobody ever wants to wear. I think of home, and I'm swamped by a sudden, almost violent desire to go back there. Home to western Massachusetts. It's only a three hour drive.

  The valet drives up with my Volkswagen and jumps out. I get in, and he closes the door, then leans into the open window. "Ma'am, I don't know who he is, but trust me when I say he's not worth it."

  I glance up at him in surprise, but all I can do is nod and drive away. I can't handle even basic human interactions right now. I have to go somewhere safe. I have to go home.

  Back to Honeycomb Falls.

  Chapter 2

  To say I'm distraught by the time I reach Honeycomb Falls is to put it way too lightly. There's nothing worse than spending three hours in your own company, trapped in a dark car with nothing to do but go over every mistake, every chance I had missed to avoid this fate. Several times I wanted to pull over and puke, just thinking about Marv, about the many times I should have broken up with him. Everybody goes on about hindsight being 20/20, but hindsight was blinding me. So many obvious times I should have dumped him! I lost friends because of him, ruined business opportunities. Who knows how much quicker I might have scored a gallery showing without him?