Roaring for Him (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Wicked in Wilder Book 1) (15 page)

“I need a few bucks, Tilly-girl…” Her mother always had that sickly sweet cajoling tone when she talked to Tilly. As if Verity’s smile and words would have her rolling over in an instant. Well, maybe it was that way before—recently in fact when it came to her freezer—but not any longer. She had Mitchell. While there was still a lot to figure out, a lot they didn’t know about each other, she did know he had her back.

“No.” Tilly shoved her key in the lock and turned it, granting herself entrance into the bakery’s back room. She was quick to disarm the alarm while also holding the door mostly closed so her mother couldn’t follow. “I don’t have anything for you. Not today. Not ever again.”

Anger flashed over Verity’s features. “Is that any way to treat your mother? I gave birth to you. That should get me a little respect.”

Oh, such a wrong thing to say. Tilly stabbed the last button and then threw the back door open with a giant shove. The sudden move had Verity stumbling back and she rushed out of the bakery to crowd the older woman. “Respect? Respect.” She snorted. “It’s hard to respect a woman who abandons her kids. It’s hard to respect a woman who steals from those same children—”

“I’ve never stolen a thing. You gave me—”

“It was a goddamned bribe so you’d stay away from us—so Liv and Phoebe could grow up without any more of your taint. But it was never enough, was it? Do you know what it’s like to feed two growing shifters and be one yourself? Do you have any idea how hard I had to work—how hard all three of us had to work—to keep food on the table and money in the bank?”

She had no idea why she even bothered ranting at Verity, but she couldn’t stop now. “No. You don’t. But you were happy to take and take and take until we had nothing left and I’m done with it. You want money? Get a job that doesn’t involve fucking some random guy for a bed to sleep in.”

Tilly hadn’t seen the slap coming, but she should have. Over the years, her mother hadn’t ever bruised her or broken any bones, but slaps… her mom happily doled those out.

Verity’s face was red with rage. “How dare you—”

Her lioness roared and shoved forward, anxious to rip the woman to shreds. Long ago the cat had decided human ethics and feelings of right and wrong no longer applied to Verity. On those cold nights when little Phee cried for mommy and whined that she was hungry, on those long twenty-hour workdays that left blisters on her feet and those times when Christmas morning was just like any other day… The beast hated
—hated
—Verity Collins, biological egg donor or not.

When Tilly began shifting at thirteen years old, she’d kept a tight rein on her cat. She knew from school that kids were supposed to be good to their parents and letting her lioness bite and scratch her mom was bad. So she never let it out, never let it even approach the surface while Verity was around. Hell, her mom didn’t even know what her beast looked like. She’d never seen Tilly shift.

The lioness didn’t feel like the “be nice to mommy” rule applied any longer and Tilly had to agree. When the cat pushed forward, whined and snarled for freedom, Tilly granted it. She allowed her golden fur to slide free of her pores, embraced the sting in her gums as her fangs grew, and flexed her hands as her fingers formed deadly claws.

“Never. Ever. Do that again.” Tilly didn’t snarl or snap. The words were flat and filled with murderous promise. “Raise your hand, and you’ll lose it.” She snapped her teeth in the air and brought them together with an audible click.

“I am your mother.”

“You’re the bitch who whelped us,” she countered. Tilly may have caved and given in to Verity while she was overcome with fatigue and pain the other day, but that was then. This was now and she was done. “Leave and don’t come back.”

Verity narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like your attitude. I don’t think you’re a good influence on my baby Phoebe. It’s a good thing I came when I did. I’m going to—”

“Do nothing. You’re not doing anything but leaving,” she hissed.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Why you’re refusing to help me.”

Tilly reared back in shock. “Really? You didn’t just say that. After everything you’ve done to us? Everything you’ve taken from us? You don’t…”

Verity shrugged. “It was only fair. You were taking care of Phoebe and Olivia already. You owed me.”

There was no way Tilly came from this woman. “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Verity.”

“It’s Mother. Or Mom. Children shouldn’t—”

“Speak to their parents like that?” She snorted. “They shouldn’t have to go hungry either.” Her mother pressed her lips together so hard they formed a white slash across her face. And Tilly realized she was just… tired. Tired of this woman, of the pain she caused and the stress that festered in her blood. “Leave, Verity.”

“Not yet.” Verity tugged her purse from her shoulder. “You think you can just throw me away like that? Just shove me out of your life, out of my girls’ lives?”

Tilly tensed, wondering what her mother hid within the depths of her bag. There was no telling with the crazed bitch. “I’m not throwing you away.
You
got rid of
us
, remember?”

“I’m thinking I’m tired of being alone.”

“Then pick up another guy to fuck.” The words were flat and emotionless despite the fury coursing through her veins. Her mom was
bored
and decided to come fuck with their shit?

“I don’t like your language,” she snapped.

I don’t like the fact you’re still breathing. Lemme fix that.

Tilly took a slow, deep breath and tried to soothe her cat. She’d made the mistake of letting it out to play a little and now it was fighting for complete control. It was fighting Tilly for a chance to kill her mother. She’d never realized her beast was so bloodthirsty. Then again, after everything they’d endured because of the woman standing not five feet from them… she should have anticipated the lioness’ response.

“You don’t like my language? Tough. Amazing things happen to kids over the years. They grow up. They start making their own decisions and learn to tell others to fuck off.” Damn, that felt good. The entire conversation—confrontation—was giving her a high.

Verity yanked a folded piece of paper from her purse and waved it in the air. “It makes me think you’re not a good influence on my little Phee.”

“Phoebe. To you, she is and always will be Phoebe.”

People who loved Phee got to use the nickname and that definitely didn’t include Verity.

“
Phoebe
,” she drawled. “You’re not a good influence. So take this.” Verity extended her arm, hand trembling as she tried to hand over the sheet. “It’s effective immediately.”

Tilly refused to take it. It was a bitchy, contrary thing, but she refused to snatch it from Verity merely because that’s what the woman wanted. “What is it?”

Verity smirked, the fucking bitch. “I’m revoking the power of attorney.
Phoebe
and I are gonna make a happy little family. Without your influence.”

Somehow Tilly went from merely glaring at Verity to clutching her throat, grip tightening as she dug her nails into the human woman’s vulnerable flesh. “You’re not taking Phee anywhere. I won’t allow it. She’ll never go with you.” She finished the warning with a long hiss.

Instead of fighting Tilly, the older woman merely smiled and bared her human teeth. “Pay me and I’ll leave.”

It was so tempting to kill her. The urge was there, her lioness rode the killing edge and she knew it wouldn’t take much to push her over. One more word, one more shout, and it’d happen.

Tilly would strangle Verity, rip out her throat, and not even feel bad about it. Hell, she might even throw a party.

She used her grip to haul her mother close, to bring the woman’s face inches from hers. The hate and anger and so much fucking pain she’d endured bubbled over and it had only one outlet. One person she could vent her rage upon and luckily for her, that person was also the cause of her emotional tornado.

“Listen, you cunt-faced whore, you’re going to take your piece of paper and your slimy ass out of here. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to smell your breath. I don’t want to hear your name. If you’re smart, you’ll back down and leave and never return because if I see you again, I will kill you.” She tightened her hold and was gratified by the gasp her mother released. “And no one will find your body.”

Tilly shoved her mother away, sending the older woman scrambling over the gravel-littered pavement. When she opened her mouth to speak, Tilly held up a hand. “Not a word. I hear your voice and the cat won’t care about what I just said. You have my number. Leave a message, and it better only be seven words.
I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again.
”

With that, she spun away and stomped toward the back door, intent on locking herself away before her lioness got other ideas. Who was she kidding? It had plenty of bloody, flesh-filled fantasies. She managed to get inside the bakery and tug the door shut behind her, but Verity was such a stupid bitch.

Because she couldn’t just walk away. No, she had to yank on the door and continue shouting at Tilly, trying to continue their conversation. Heh. Right. Continue her plea for money.

The woman had a death wish.

Just when her lioness reached the end of Tilly’s controlling tether, just when she knew the chain would snap and set the cat free, Mitchell arrived.

Arrived and saved her. Because, no matter her fury, she couldn’t kill Verity.

The soft tap-tap-tap of knuckles on glass drew her attention to the front of the shop and dragged her from those recent events. She spied Mitchell standing outside the front door and even with her turbulent swirl of emotions overriding her thoughts, she could recognize he was one gorgeous specimen of man—wolf. Sleep tousled, hair sticking up in every direction and his wrinkled clothes clinging to his muscles like a second skin… he was simply beautiful.

And hers.

She padded toward him, eyes scanning the area outside the bakery, and she released a relieved sigh when she realized Verity was nowhere in sight. A quick flick of the lock allowed her to push the front door open to grant him entrance and he quickly slid into the space. He reached for her with one hand while fiddling with the lock with the other. Tilly didn’t relax until the scrape of metal on metal told her the door was secure once again.

Then she leaned into him, let the large wolf take her weight as what was left of her strength fled her body. Warm, strong arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly as he held her close. She let his nearness sink into her, let his scent and presence soothe her cat until Tilly could breathe—could think—once again. The desire to hunt and attack Verity remained strong, but it was tempered by Mitchell’s supportive company.

He rested his cheek atop her head and nuzzled her, adding his scent to her hair and she shuddered with the pleasure of his touch. Then he lowered his head and rubbed his prickly cheek against hers before finally focusing on her shoulder. Or rather, the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He captured her cloth-covered flesh between his teeth and bit down. Not hard enough to tear through the fabric and pierce her skin, but enough to send a jolt of pain through her body. Enough to remind her who she belonged to.

Him. Only him.

She trembled and relaxed further, her lioness calming beneath her mate’s domination. It wanted nothing more than to submit to him, to bare her belly and hand over her problems. The human half of Tilly objected to that idea—she was a strong, independent woman, dammit—but she
did
recognize her need for him.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Mitchell swung her into his arms and cradled her close as he moved toward the kitchen. He didn’t slow until they’d reached one of her stainless steel worktables. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, he placed her on the solid surface and immediately pushed his way between her thighs. He wasn’t giving her a chance to move away from him, a chance to hide. She both loved and hated that. Sometimes a girl needed to lick her wounds, work through the emotional douche-baggery from her mother alone, and then she’d reemerge into the world.

Mitchell obviously wasn’t having it.

But he didn’t force her to speak, didn’t demand she vomit up a play-by-play. Hell, why should he? He probably got the low down from her own mother.

His hands were warm as he reached around and stroked her back and firm as he encouraged her to rest her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t help but hug him in return, wrapping not just her arms but her legs as well around his body. She clung to him, using his presence as an anchor to reality, to the
now
and not to the cluster fuck that was due to blow up.

Verity wanted Phoebe. She’d ended the power of attorney. Legally, there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it, but she refused to hand Phee over without a fight. Hell, she refused to even
tell
Phee about what their mother was trying to do.

She’d threatened Verity, refused her money, and now she wondered if she should have just given in. Phoebe would be eighteen soon…

“You okay?” he murmured against her ear, his warm breath fanning her face.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Tilly huffed out a small laugh. “No denying that.” She nuzzled his chest and pressed her ear to him. She listened to the steady, monotonous thump of his heart. “I don’t want to tell you I’m not okay.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to tell you that either,” she whispered. Because telling him how much she cared for him, how she wasn’t sure she could live without him, scared the fuck outta her.

One good finger-bang and she was ready to bare her soul and she just… couldn’t. Shouldn’t. She’d already had her life shattered once. She’d already gathered all those pieces, snatched Phoebe’s and Liv’s hands, and created a new home for themselves. If she lost Mitchell before she truly had him, she’d be doing it all over again.

She wouldn’t live through it.

“What if I promise not to laugh?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t concerned with laughter. Hell, it’d be welcome.

“What if I promise not to make fun of you?”