Hunting For A Mate 4 (BBW Shifter Menage Romance)

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Hunting For A Mate 4

by

Becca Fanning

I opened my eyes, and took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. The Helmut’s breathing and Sven’s snoring reverberated through the room. I stifled a yawn and lay my head back against the pillow, but I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep.

I’d not slept well in the recent weeks. Something kept stirring me awake at obscenely early hours. It wasn’t like I was being kept up by nightmares. It was something else. I’d wake up with a fleeting sense of unease, but there was nothing specific to grasp onto. It was frustrating and upsetting, and I’d lay in bed for hours waiting for the sun to come up.

If you wanted something to change, you had to be the change. With a tiny nod only to myself, I slowly pulled the sheets off me. Sven’s arm lay against me, a hot musclebound log wrapped in tribal tattoos. I shimmied out from under it, my nightie pulling up over my head in a display I was happy they were not awake to see. Our Seneschal’s snoring paused for a moment, then continued as normal.

Helmut was on the other side, sleeping on his side and curled away from me. He tossed and turned most nights, probably from the stress of leading our pack. It wasn’t easy being Alpha. The responsibility was immense, and things hadn’t been easy these recent months. He was breathing deeply now and would probably continue until the first rays of dawn shown through the windows.

I crept out of the bed, a sense of something naughty coming over me. I was sneaking out of politeness for these two lovely men, but just the act of tiptoeing around our bedroom at night made me feel like a cat burglar. I imagined myself slinking around these two, looking for valuables to pocket before disappearing out the window like a ghost. The room was cold, the warmth of the bed calling back to me.

My foot came down painfully on something hard and metallic. I hopped up and down, holding my poor foot. Sven’s belt buckle, tossed carelessly on the floor. I’d have to give him a stern talking to later. Of course he’d bring up the point that it was I who took it off him and threw it to the floor.
 

I grew warm thinking about last night. I’d been hornier than usual, and these poor boys could barely keep up. We’d tumbled all over the bed, wrestling, kissing and licking. Then I got what I wanted. What I needed. Ridden hard into the soft mattress until all of us collapsed in beautiful exhaustion.

I shook my head, clearing those thoughts and tiptoed over to the dresser. I pulled out my track suit and put it on, creeping out of the bedroom with my trail runners in my hands. The stairs were another obstacle. This cabin was gorgeous, but old wood had a way of creaking when you didn’t want it to. I descended in the most gentle way possible, and was proud of myself when I got to the bottom without a sound.

I opened the front door and braced myself against the rush of cold pre-dawn air. It was unreal how cold the world was before the sun came up. A part of my brain protested, insisting I shut the door and run back upstairs. Nestled between my two hunks, warm and comfy. But I knew that I needed to clear my head, and a brisk run would do it better than anything else. Against the insistent voice in my head, I shut the door behind me and embraced the cold Trondheim morning.

The village was dark and sleepy. An owl hooted off in the woods, probably hunting a last minute morsel before the sun came out. I sat down on the rocking chair on the porch and put my trail runners on. After a few seconds, I was no longer cold. My body had come to grips with the new temperature and decided to muscle through it. I hopped off the porch and landed in the gravel and wood chip walkway that wrapped around our cabin.
 

I passed by the dormant rose bushes, whose care was entrusted to me as Grace of the Pack. It was an ancient tradition, one which caused me no little anxiety. I’d never had a green thumb: I’d neglected every plant I’d ever owned to death. I knew this would have to be different: I wouldn’t be dumping these rose bushes into my kitchen garbage can with a shrug. I’d have to learn about watering frequency, nutrients, even soil PH levels.

Passing by my thorny wards, I came to the rear of the cabin where our garden plots were. Three long rows of elevated beds stretched out the length of the yard. At least I’d have help with these. The white beehive was in the corner of the yard, quietly humming. They tended to stay inside their wooden box at night, vibrating their wings to keep themselves warm.

I jogged to the end of the yard, then past a row of spruce trees and out onto one of the rough trails that snaked and forked through our forest. It went for dozens of miles in all directions, the collective land of the pack passed down from generation to generation. A dynasty of natural resources which was ours to tend, utilize and protect for future generations.

I knew it was probably also the biggest source of Helmut’s stress. He had big decisions to make. Everyone knew that there was natural gas and oil on the land, but whether or not to exploit it was a troubling question. There would be ecological damage done, that was unavoidable. But it would also improve the quality of life for everyone in the Pack.

Once I hit the main part of the trail, I picked up my pace. The cold air rushed in and out of my lungs, reinvigorating me with every step. Loose dirt and fallen leaves crunched beneath my feet, a clear sign that fall was coming to an end. Winter was coming, as they loved to say on my favorite show.

The forest trails were anything but flat. Up and down, down and up, it was like whomever decided on these trails chose the most grueling path through the forest possible. It took my full concentration not to overstep on the inclines and fall on my rear on the descents. A broken leg out here would be very bad, even if my Shifter regeneration could mend it.

The forest began to take on a lighter hue. The sky overhead was turning from black to dark blue. Dawn’s magnificent resurgence was fast approaching. I redoubled my efforts, trotting up a steep incline and around a bend.
 

Off to my right the hill descended down into bushes and saplings. To my left was a huge overhang of stone, which lead into a cave. I stopped. I had never seen this before. I couldn’t be sure if I had ever run down this path before, but I’d definitely never seen anything like this cave before.

It was beautiful. The stone was clean and dry, a light gray color and smooth to the touch. It was tall enough inside that you didn’t have to crouch, and it descended deep into the hill. There was light further in, but it was hazy. I listened, making sure I wasn’t going to stumble onto a wild boar or Scandinavian Wolf. Hearing nothing from within, I went into the cave. It soon became a tunnel, twisting and turning, and was soon narrow enough that I was getting claustrophobic. Hard stone scraped against my thighs and chest as I squeezed between a final wedge to emerge into a small room.

A shaft of dim pre-dawn light shone down from a hole in the ceiling of the cave. In the center was of the room was a natural rock formation that rose up from the floor and was hollow in the center. It was filled with water, murky and stagnant. It smelled of mildew and decaying leaves.

“Ahh, it answers the call,” a soft voice said.

I spun around, but there was no one else here. I looked up through the hole, but didn’t see anyone up there. I couldn’t explain it, but the voice came from the water. “Hello?”

“It is polite enough to greet. Yes, polite enough to greet. We shall be polite as well, yes?” the voice said. It was a small voice, and it defied gender. But it did sound very old.

“Umm, hello?” I said, walking around the formation and peering into the water.

“It repeats itself. Has it lost it’s mind? The poor thing is mad!” it said, it’s voice rising in excitement.

“I’m not crazy,” I said. I’m just talking to a puddle, I thought.

“That’s exactly what the mad say! They insist they are not mad! This is most troubling,” the voice said. “Oh stop your noodling around my fountain!” the voice said. Instantly, the smell of black pepper filled my nostrils and a small creature appeared sitting on the rock fountain.

I leapt backwards in surprise, my head smacking hard against the stone wall. Stars swam in front of my eyes, and I had to lean back against the hard stone to let them clear.

It was human in shape, but as small as a toddler. It had huge yellow eyes, pale skin and a long wart covered nose. It wore a green smock and matching pantaloons, with wooden clogs. Atop it’s head was a bright red cap flopped off to the side. It’s huge smile split it’s face, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Touch not my fountain! It is for me and I and myself alone!” It pointed an oddly long finger at me in warning.

“I won’t touch your water!” I said. “What’s happening?” I must still be asleep. I’m back in bed, and Sven’s snoring has inspired some kind of horrible nightmare.

“What’s happening? Why, the leaves are falling, the old fish are dying and the air grows cold at night. A chill. A frost. You feel it. Hahaha!” it laughed maniacally. “And you think it’s because ye don’t have enough wood in the fire! Hahaha!”

“What’s your name?” I said. Might as well get to know my strange dream companion.

It’s laughing ended immediately. “What does it say? What does it say! It wants to know a name? Our name?” it said, standing on the edge of the fountain and stomping its feet in anger. “Why does it want the name?”

“Fine, don’t tell me your name. I don’t care!” I said. “What is this place?”

He relaxed, crossing his arms. “It has too many questions. It is tired. That must be why it is so ugly,” it said.

“Hey, Listen you little…goblin thing,” I said.

“Goblin? It dares call us a goblin! If it wants to be mean and ugly, we won’t tell it why it stirs at night!” it said, turning around to face the fountain.

“Wait…I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a goblin,” I said. “You’re obviously not a goblin. You’re far too…”

The creature lowered its trousers and a thin tinkling stream hit the fountain.

“Polite…to be a goblin,” I said, trying to hide my disgust.

It finished pissing and hoisted it’s pants back up. It turned around to face me again. “Now it is saying the first true words of the day. It should not make new friends when its mouth is full of lies and insults.”

I didn’t know how much longer I could suffer this absurd creature, dream or not. The knot on the back of my head pulsed in real pain. “You’re right, friend. I apologize.”

“Fuh…friend?” it said, a pair of ears erecting from under the cap. “It is…our friend? Hurray!” it said, and began to dance on the edge of the fountain. “It has been so long since we had a friend, even an ugly one!”

“You said I couldn’t sleep. Why is that?” I said.

“It doesn’t know. It doesn’t know!” the creature said, holding it’s hands up to it’s mouth in gleeful consternation. “The void is filled, the heart split twain! The acorn grows, but the oak tree it becomes will split them all asunder!” it said. It’s voice growing higher and it’s eyes going wider. It pointed it’s long finger at me again, “You carry doom with you!” It cackled to the ceiling, jumping up and down on its tiny legs.

“I’ve heard enough!” I said. “I don’t know who you are or what you are, but I’ve heard enough. You’re a repugnant little toad, and I hope you wallow in your piss for all time!” My heart was racing and I stuck my chin out in defiance of this vile little creature.

“Oh we could teach it manners. Yes, we could,” it said, holding both hands out in front of it. An axe appeared in them. “It would not have a tongue to hurt us with. It would not have hands to touch our fountain. It would not have feet to run. It would be our friend forever!” It said, leaping down from the fountain.

I screamed, turning around to flee. The crevice I’d squeezed through was gone, just a flat wall of hard stone. I spun back around to see the small evil creature slowly walking towards me. A veiny purple tongue snaked along it’s razor sharp teeth.

“Oh yes, we-“ it said, then froze. It cocked it’s head, as if hearing something off in the distance. “How? How? How!” it said, stomping it’s feet in rage. Then it leapt high up into the air and dove backwards into the fountain. As it dove in, the cave all around me followed it, like a canvas being torn off a wall.