Cinder's Wolf: A Shifter Retelling of Cinderella (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 2) (19 page)

“Why?” Rex said. “Glad that I was finally able to shift? Worried I was too weak for the pack?”

His brother pivoted in surprise. “Too weak for the pack?”

Rex remained silent, already realizing he had given up too much.

“Did you ever actually listen to anything Father said that didn’t involve stocks?” Samson asked.

“No.”

“Well. Father always told me the mark of a werewolf’s strength isn’t their ability to shift, but their ability not to.”

“Platitudes." Rex’s gaze was drawn to the darkness in the thickening forest off the path. The shadows and nooks where Luther, Samson and their father had so often stalked their prey while Rex sat alone inside. “He was as quick to use his werecall as anyone else.”

“He knew his faults.” Some of Samson’s werecall infused his word, as if it was a command. Although Rex wasn’t exactly sure what his brother was trying to command him to do. “Gods. Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you, Rex?”

Rex raised an eyebrow. “You’ve always seemed perfectly content living like a lumberjack.”

Samson shook his head. “I don’t mean your money. I mean your control.” He ran a hand through his untamed mane, shadows moving across his face as an owl winged overhead, landing on a nearby branch. “If I had half the control you did, I would’ve never lost Bel in the first place. I wouldn’t have yelled at her and…” He frowned. “God knows if our father had been half the wolf you are…”

What Rex would’ve given to hear his brother say those words only a few scant weeks ago, but now they felt hollow. In the distance the owl hooted a long cry that belonged to more to winter than spring.

“I had all the control in the world, Samson. I lost my mate anyway,” Rex said. “Then I didn’t have any control, and I found her. Controlling ourselves doesn’t mean we can control the world around us.”

“I suppose…”

They rounded a corner out of the woods, completing their circle back to the house. Rex sighed. There was one more thing he had to tell his brother. “I’m going to change for her tomorrow.”

“Good luck.” Samson nodded and slapped Rex on the back with more force than was necessary. It would’ve sent a human sprawling to their feet.

As it was, Rex merely rocked, glaring at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “What if she leaves?”

Samson sighed, both of their gazes rising up to the moon again, now free from the still skeletal fingers of the trees. “Then you let her.”

“How?” Rex rasped. “How did you know that Bel would come back? How could you let her go?” Both knew neither one was just talking about Bel.

“I don’t know.” Samson’s sad smile looked strangely familiar. Rex realized it reminded him of his mother’s. “I didn’t have any other choice.”

The loamy fresh earth gave way to the tighter packed texture of their driveway as they made their way to the foot of the porch. Before entering the house, both men turned for one last time to gaze at the moon, but it had disappeared behind the greenhouse, illuminating the glass panes.

Samson clapped a hand on Rex’s shoulder, lighter this time, and said, “Mates are like the moon, brother. They leave, but they always come back.”

Rex just nodded.

He didn’t reply with what was on the tip of his tongue. That while the moon was full tonight, tomorrow it would wane.
Because nothing lasts forever.

C
ynthia always woke
up earlier than usual when she was in Crystal Creek. Even when sleeping in a farmhouse she had long thought was probably inhabited by serial murderers… or ghosts. The lack of city chatter and light pollution made her slumber heavy, and when the sunlight pierced the floral curtains hanging over the window opposite the bed in the morning, staying in bed was impossible. Cynthia blinked away crustiness at the edge of her eyelids.

The clock on the bedside table read six AM. It actually had hands and a bell on top. The rest of the room was just as quaint, although she had been too tired last night to appreciate the lowness of the ceiling or the bed-and-breakfast homey quilt on the brass-knobbed twin bed.

But the first and most pressing detail about the room had nothing to do with the house at all. It was that Rex wasn’t in it. If Cynthia was honest with herself, she had known that even before she opened her eyes.

The comforter rustled as she scooted up in bed, grabbing her smartphone from the side table. Despite the lumpiness and thinness of the mattress, her muscles felt fluid against her bones. Her heart drooped in her chest.

Something was going to change today between her and Rex—she knew it. And even if it didn’t, by Monday, her world would be drastically different. Boxes & Broom would be gone.

Flipping over to the Excel document on her phone, she checked the numbers one last time, hoping for one final miracle to appear hidden in the red-and-green columns and line graphs. She even went over the detailed workflow and time tracking of her employees’ cleaning process, from travel, to arrival, to the steps of organizing, taking out the client’s things, parsing them into categories, and then rearranging. But there was no way to streamline the process any further without sacrificing quality. It was a paradox. She needed one employee to be able to do the work of two, or to pay two employees the salary of one. Maybe the model itself was just unworkable. Maybe that was why no one had done it before.

Cynthia pushed down the niggling certainty that she was missing something. Even if she was, it didn’t matter. It was too late to fix anything. She pulled up her email app and began to draft her company’s obituary.

T
o
: egolden@
boxesandbroom.com
, msherwood@
boxesandbroom.com
, [email protected]
RE: The Company.

D
ear Marian
, Emma, and Hikari,

This isn’t an email I wanted to write. I’m sure this isn’t an email you wanted to read. But before I say anything else, I want to say thank you. Each of you has done tremendous work for this company. Marian, your ability to get Boxes & Broom’s web presence working is a miracle I wish I better understood. Emma, your tireless pursuit of perfect branding impresses me every day. And Hikari, without your calm presence and beautiful singing voice, our books and our souls would be much less tidy.
But sometimes, you do everything you can and things just don’t work out. I wish I could say I tried everything I could to get the company working, but the truth is that I didn’t. I refused to make the hard choice to slash salaries when I had the chance. Instead, I encouraged our employees to speed up their cleaning and organizing processes, sacrificing quality as a result.

No one but me has led our company to this spot, and I take full responsibility for it. I apologize for expressing these thoughts in an email, which I know isn’t the best form. But this has been weighing on me for a long time. Before I make an official announcement to the entire company, I wanted you all to know how much I love and appreciate you. None of this is any of your faults.

Thanks,

Cynthia Cinders

CEO of Boxes & Broom

Her thumb hovered over the send button. This was it. This was the end. Why postpone it?

Someone knocked at the door.

“H-hello?” Cynthia stuttered, her phone falling from her fingers and onto the bed, bouncing once. She dove after it. The message still remained unsent when she swiped the phone back on.

“Cynthia, would you like to come down for breakfast?”

It was Rex. She frowned, glad that the door separated them so he couldn’t see how worried she looked. Maybe it was silly, but she was still unnerved by the fact that he hadn’t told her he loved her too last night. And this whole trip was so strange. He had said he needed to show her something. But what? What could be so terrible that he couldn't explain it?

Her gaze slid to the phone and her unsent email full of excuses.

“Sure,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, but ending up sounding strained. “Just let me get dressed and ready.”

“Wear the jeans and hiking boots I packed for you.”

Cynthia stood up from the bed. It creaked. “Hiking boots?”

He didn’t respond.

Not really caring that she was clothed still in her dress from last night, she padded over to the door and opened it. When she did, all she got was an empty hallway. Needles danced on the back of he knees and her chest felt pulled tight. Realizing that Rex’s brother might pop out of the door at any minute, she scurried back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Not because she was worried he would see her undressed, but because she didn't want anyone to see her looking so morose. So lost.

Her phone stared back at her from the bed, resting innocuously on the messy covers. She made the bed first, tucking in the corners neatly, straightening her shoes at the foot of it. After, she took the phone in her hand once again, flicking one of the plastic rabbit ears on the top of it.

She didn’t unlock the home screen.

If Rex could be brave enough to show her whatever was wrong with him, she would be brave enough to look the members of her company in the eye when she let them go.

M
orning coursed
through the pure blue sky above Rex, clear, clean, and bright. Below him, the cobblestones on the path leading to his mother’s greenhouse were overgrown with moss, but the greenhouse was well maintained and the windows as translucent as the sky, revealing the rows of plants inside. Samson had done a good job with the grounds. He may have inherited his father’s temper, but he also received his mother’s green thumb.

Rex wondered as he gazed at the glass house if he would have an urge to garden now that he had come to peace with his wolf. His mother always said that the scents of life were the one thing that could calm the beast’s hunger for death.

That was why he had planned on taking Cynthia for a hike through the woods before finishing back at the greenhouse and transforming there, but as he took in a deep breath and relished the aroma of the wild weeds and strange new growths emerging from the thawing earth in the woods beyond their yard, he decided that he would save the greenhouse for another time.

Today was for them. Whatever happened. Whether it was his last memory of them together before Cynthia left him, or the first of their new life together. It was theirs.

Rex glanced over his shoulder to see his mate. Her look of jeans and thick boots didn’t really fit her, with the exception of her sporty ponytail, which bounced as she took the stairs down from the porch two at a time to join him by the gate.

“Rex.”

His heart swelled up like a balloon in his chest, so full he felt like it would burst looking at her. “I wanted to show you something.”

“I know. I’m here. Show away.” She gestured out into the woods, and, as if in reply, a light breeze ruffled through the few trees that had already grown leaves. Then they were off.

The first part of their hike they took in silence. Cynthia, because she was still waking up, and Rex, because he was, surprisingly, enjoying the forest. Even with the trees here mostly new growth, the foliage felt denser than it did in Manhattan. The quiet was authentic too, unbroken by honks or sirens. No chemical smells or car exhaust burned his nose. There was only nature.

And her.

Rex glanced over his shoulder to see how his mate was faring. She was further back than he thought. “Cynthia?”

She glared at a rotted fallen log crossing the trail. Once it might’ve presented a serious obstacle, but now, it was almost completely decomposed. That didn’t stop her from staring at it like it was the Great Wall of China, though.

“Coming,” she huffed before stepping over it.

Rex frowned.

From the first moment he met Cynthia, he had known she wasn’t an outdoorsy person. But it was only now occurring to him what that meant. She wasn’t like his brother’s mate, Bel. She wasn’t fascinated with werebeasts or the woods. She hated mess and chaos of any kind.

When she sees you in your wolf form, she’ll leave you. She should. You’ll only hurt her.

Rex closed his eyes and inhaled the crisp, slowly warming morning air, as if that could dispel the dark thought. It couldn’t. But her scent did. Her orange aroma was softened by the other smells of the woods, mingling in harmony. He breathed in deeper. If this was his last hit of her, he wanted it to be a good one.

“Rex?”

Her touch joined her scent as she caressed the side of his face. He let her, relishing the velvety texture of the pads of her fingertips against his five o’clock shadow. He had forgotten to shave. “Thank you,” he whispered, always expecting her touch to slip away.

But she lingered. “For what?”

Still, he couldn’t bear to open his eyes. “For being here, with me,” he said. “For giving me a chance.”

“You didn’t tell me you loved me too last night, you know,” she said lightly.

“I love you.” His hands found the small of her back, and he pressed his palm against it. He liked these small, vulnerable parts of her. He liked the idea of a part that only he would know. “Gods, I love you so much, Cynthia.” Only he would taste. He kissed her one last time, loosening his grip, but he still couldn’t make himself let go.

One. Two. Three.

On ten, I will let her go and show her.

He got to thirty before he opened his eyes and started walking again. He never gave up her hand, but held it fast in his own. “Come on,” he said. “Just a little further.”
Looking back as he guided her down the path to the clearing where he would change wasn’t an option. Just feeling how fast her pulse was on her wrist made him nervous.

Finally, they reached the end of the trail. It was a small clearing, made from the storm the night before they had met almost twelve years ago. Sunlight poured in from the sky above, bright enough that it made the leaves look like pieces of green stained glass.

He took one last look at the pure cloudless sky before turning back to Cynthia. He must’ve moved quicker than she anticipated because he caught her staring too. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. Her ponytail was tight and high, revealing every nuance of her curious, slightly awestruck expression. Caught. His.

She cocked her head, “Are we role playing?” She put her hand up to her forehead, mock swooning. “Oh, strange man in the woods. I’ll go with you this time, I promise.” When he didn’t respond, she dropped the act. “Or is your big secret that you like you hiking? While I have to say I’m not the world’s biggest fan, I guess I can get my lazy butt in gear every once in a while.”

“That’s not what I came here to show you.”

Slowly, button by button, he began to undo his shirt. He was glad his hands weren’t trembling. It helped with the way she looked at him. A flush crept up her neck, and her plump, pink tongue wet her lips.

When he undid the final button and slipped his outer and undershirt over his head at once, she took in a short breath of surprise. She didn’t let it out until he placed both pieces of clothing beside him, folded into neat squares. Rex could smell her arousal as he slipped out of his pants and boxers in a single neat motion. The air, which had felt warm against his back, was cool against his manhood.

She loves me. And I love her.

In another life, he wouldn’t have had to ruin it, but all they had was this life.
Rex gave in to the low call of the wolf inside of his chest. Dropping to his knees, he let his spine contract and shift. He let the fur sprout onto his skin. He let his eyes lose their sensitivity to color, turning all the leaves above him into dull shades. But he never let go of the smell of her.

The cleanness of it.

He held onto it, even after he opened his muzzle and whined.

He wished he could say her name.

All that came out was a howl.