Fresh linen. Artificial, but not sickly or overwhelming. Citrus, but softer, not quite as tart. Bergamot? Probably. And something else, something woodsy. Sandalwood? No, not right. Cedar? Yes, that was it.
It smelled amazing. Enticing. Pulling me forward. I wanted to shift, to search it out. I needed to find it. Find them. My focus narrowed down to just that. The scent. I needed to find out who.
It was crowded, because apparently at the lunch rush at a café was the time for me to find someone who smelled so good that every cell in my body reacted. My wolf howled in my mind, demanding I track down whomever smelled so enticing.
It took me a few minutes to sort out the other scents, the bread and coffee and hundreds of other foods and people. And also to figure out how to not look like a creep or a jerk while discreetly scenting it out. But I was driven to do it, to search, and after what seemed like forever—but was probably only five minutes—I finally located it. Sitting there at the table, a sandwich in front of him.
Huh. That was unexpected. I’d never dated a man. But the person in front of me was clearly male. And Owning it. Clearly comfortable in his skin, and casually beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a chiseled jaw.
And then he looked up. Confusion crossed his features. Probably because I was staring at him like an idiot. After a long moment, he grinned. Looked right at me and smiled widely.
In that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Like literally disappeared. It was only him and me. Our gazes locked. My heart pounded, blood rushing through my veins, butterflies in my stomach. Everything zeroed in on this man, my wolf scratching at my brain, whining and ready to roll over and show our belly.
He stood up, with such grace my mouth went dry. He took a step forward. I stumbled in his direction. And finally I was close enough to catch his scent under the linen and citrus and cedar, I caught the scent of shifter.
Everything in me relaxed. I breathed out. He stepped closer. Touched my neck. My breath stuttered in my lungs. His smile turned soft. My smile was tremulous, but there.
**Here’s a new flash fic, but still PNR, because I can’t seem to stop. It’s all my muse wants to write. Enjoy!**
The wolf in my backyard was not one I recognized, which was saying something because I’d been around the local pack since I was a child. That narrowed it down, though. Either the wolf was one of the relatively new and recent members to join, or he was from a rival pack. Since he was just sitting there, staring at me, with absolutely no aggression, I was guessing the former.
I cocked my head. The big gray wolf mirrored the motion. I smiled and gestured behind me. “You coming in?”
The wolf didn’t move, but I swear I saw his amber eyes narrow. It made me laugh. Because I wasn’t worried about protecting myself if it came to that, and clearly he was there for a reason. Which is exactly what I told him. This time he definitely squinted, and I could practically feel the judgement rolling off him. I didn’t know what that was about but I wasn’t going to play games.
“Look, come in or don’t, it’s up to you.” And with that, I turned on my heel and headed up the steps to the back porch. I hadn’t even made it to the creaky screen door before I heard that familiar sound of paws on wood. I kept my face averted so he wouldn’t see my smirk, and held open the door so he could walk in.
I shut the door behind me, turning to make sure it latched properly, and by the time I turned around, I had a naked man crouched on my kitchen floor. It took me a second, because I’d only met him twice, but my brain finally supplied Gage’s name. I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, staring him down.
“You want clothes?” I asked casually. Some shifters did, but most didn’t. And since I’d been raised around shifters, I viewed nudity as they did. It was just a state of being, and certainly not always a sexual thing.
“Only if you want,” Gage croaked, his voice still not quite ready to work. It happened sometimes with the shift. I’d seen it often enough.
I gestured with my chin toward the table as I turned to rummage in the fridge. I didn’t have much in the way of protein—some cold cuts and the rest of a block of cheddar—but I grabbed that and the sweet tea off the shelf. The sugar would do him good. I dropped my wares on the table, then retrieved some dinner rolls I had and added that, because carbs would help too. Adding a plate and a glass to my collection rounded everything off, and Gage had a veritable feast to replenish his used calories.
“Thanks, Seth,” he whispered, taking the plate and serving himself, such as it was.
And if I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have missed it. But I had been, because I was confused why this man who I’d only met a few times and who had only joined the pack six months ago was stalking me in wolf form. But the way he said my name? I couldn’t put it into words, exactly, the way it made me feel. There was longing there, affection maybe, and almost a reverence. All of that and more I couldn’t even name. And that gave me the biggest clue, even though it seemed impossible.
I let him eat for a few, unabashedly watching him, and Gage didn’t seem to care. At least he met my gaze on occasion and didn’t look embarrassed. His fast metabolism meant that it wouldn’t take him long to gain his strength back. The food disappeared fast, and so did several glasses of tea, before Gage sat back.
“So want to tell me why you were in the backyard?”
Gage shrugged one shoulder. “I can’t help it. I have to be.”
I nodded, knowing where this was going, and not sure how I felt about it. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Probably.” Gage gave me a half smile that died quickly. “Maybe.”
I sighed. I might not be a wolf, but I understood them better than most other humans. I’d been immersed in their culture since I was four. I knew what was happening here.
“Well, perhaps we should get to know each other before we mate, you think?”
That got a small laugh out of Gage, and he shrugged that one shoulder again. I couldn’t decide if the gesture was annoying or endearing, and thought I’d reserve judgement on that.
Gage’s expression turned earnest as he leaned forward. “Whatever you want. You’re mine. I want to make you happy.”
I didn’t comment on that. We’d work on his need to please, because I wasn’t the type to need my partner to cater to every whim. More than that, I wanted him to be happy and fulfilled as well. So we’d deal with that as we got to know one another.
“At least a couple of dates, first. I get that you feel the pull, but it’s not exactly the same for me yeah?” I checked, and he nodded. “But, you know, attraction is definitely there. So we’ll get to know each other and see how we fit.”
Gage’s grin went wide. Mischievous even. “What are you doing tonight?
**A week late, but finally, here’s the conclusion of Jamie and Sean’s story! Thanks so much for following along. If you’ve missed any of the installments, you can check out the tags to catch up. There will be something new next week, but for now, enjoy!**
Were the candles too much? Probably. I didn’t want to put any undue pressure on Jamie—this was a big deal for him, that he was even trying, and he would feel worse if he was unable to go through with it—but I also wanted it to be special. Because he was trying, and he deserved all the pomp and circumstance that went with it.
I’d made his favorite hoping that would make things easier. Spaghetti with homemade meat sauce. Garlic bread. A side Cesar salad. The Pinot Noir was also one of his favorites, and it worked well with the sauce. Everything was set to perfection, to show him how much I cared, how much I wanted this to work. Both the dinner and our relationship.
I just hoped Jamie saw it that way.
I was more nervous about this date than I’d been for any other date before. Which seemed silly considering I knew how solid Jamie and I were. Or at least, how solid we were becoming. We were so much more than this. But I worried about how this would affect Jamie. If he wasn’t able to share a meal with me, would it set him back? Make him feel bad? I was pretty sure I knew the answer.
And I wasn’t certain how to help him if that happened.
I tried to remind myself not to borrow trouble. He’d said he was ready to try, his therapist thought he was as well, and so did I. Going into this with a positive mindset would help, right? Jamie wouldn’t be taking this step if he didn’t think he’d succeed.
But Jamie was mine. My wolf, yes, and under my protection. But my boyfriend too, which added a whole other layer. It was up to me to make sure he was taken care of, and I couldn’t slack for even a moment. I didn’t want to. It was a privilege and an honor to see that Jamie’s needs were met. But meant it was doubly important I made sure that Jamie came through the night unscathed.
Maybe I was putting too much pressure on myself too.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I heard his car pull into the drive. Another glance at the table to make sure everything looked great, and I sprinted to the door to make sure I was there to open it the second he hit the porch. Jamie’s radiant smile was worth the trouble, and when I pulled him into my arms, he came willingly, melting against me with a soft sigh.
The easiness between us was a balm to my soul. I took a breath, let it out slowly, and reveled in the feel of him pressed against me. When Jamie lifted his face, a gleam in his eye, I kissed him, slow and sweet, doing my best to let him know exactly what I was feeling.
When I broke the kiss, Jamie sighed out his contentment. “Sean.”
“Hey babe. How you doing?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to break the mood that had enveloped us.
“Fine. Good.” He glanced at me, a sheepish smile gracing his lips. “Nervous.”
“No reason to be,” I assured him, leading him inside. I kept hold of his hand even as he kicked his shoes off. “It’s all good. We can do this.”
He nodded. “I smell garlic.”
I chuckled and gave him a little tug. “Come see.”
It didn’t take more than a few steps out of the entryway before the table came into view. The pack house was one large open space, rooms that were traditionally separated by walls, seamlessly flowing into one another. The design element had been deliberate, even though open concept floor plans had been all the rage for the past decade or so. This house was much older than that, but wolves were a communal species and we didn’t like to be separated. The house reflected that.
Jamie grinned, and though there was a quick skip in the beat of his heart, it settled quickly. He squeezed my fingers and stepped in closer so our shoulders were touching.
“This looks amazing, Sean. You pulled out all the stops.” The words were teasing, and the tone definitely held a hint of amusement, but his scent was happy and pleased, and I relaxed, knowing I’d made the right choice with the table setting. He liked what he saw and he appreciated the effort I’d made.
“Only the best for you,” I said, meaning every word. Then I didn’t give him a chance to respond, simply led him to the table and pulled out his chair. “Sit, sit. Let me serve you.”
I tried really hard not to make a big deal of it as I poured his wine, filled the small plate with a healthy serving of salad, then heaped spaghetti on the bigger plate. I finished it with a flourish, placing a piece of the warm, buttery garlic bread on the edge of the plate. Once I was done, I served myself and sat next to him.
I’d thought about sitting opposite him, but decided against it when I set the table. I would have loved to watch him, see his face as we conversed, but thought better of it at the last moment. Not only did I not want him to think I was staring at him, and perhaps judging him, but I wanted to be able to touch him.I was a werewolf so I had a thing for touch, but more than that, I as a man had a thing for touching him.
For a second, awkwardness hummed between us. I toyed with the idea of saying something, but in the end, I just dug in and pretended I wasn’t watching him out of the corner of my eye. Between bites, I made silly conversation, relating the story of one of our older packmembers and the trouble he’d found himself in that morning. Jamie laughed at all the right places, and played with his food. Twirling up a bite of spaghetti before letting it go, tearing his bread into smaller pieces and pushing one through the sauce, sipping the wine in the tiniest of motions.
I kept talking and eating, all the while wishing fervently he would take a bite. I was certain that once he did, and the world didn’t crash down around him, he’d be able to take another and another. And then, as I leaned to refill our glasses—though his was only half empty—Jamie did the impossible and take a bite.
I wanted to shout for joy. Tell him how proud I was of him and hug him so tightly he wouldn’t be able to breathe. But something in my stopped me from doing any of that. It was better, I thought, to just go on like it wasn’t a big deal.
At least until the meal was over.
I ate twice as much as Jamie, but it didn’t matter. Because as we talked, he ate. Tiny bites that he he chewed for a long time, but he ate. In front of me. Without having any sort of mental break down.
When I’d cleared a second helping of everything and sat back, Jamie did the same, even though there was still a few bites left of his first helping. He wiped his mouth, and he looked a little green around the gills, but he was smiling too. Tremulous, yes, but a smile nonetheless. His hand shook as he set the napkin down.
When he threw himself into my arms I caught him easily.
He pressed his face down against the skin of my neck, breathing a little fast, so I held him tightly until he calmed somewhat. When he pulled back, his smile was radiant.
“So,” he said with a shaky laugh. “We shared a meal.”
“We sure did.” I couldn’t quite contain the pride in my voice but I figured it didn’t matter. And besides, I wanted him to know how proud I was of him. I cupped his cheek. “The first of many, I hope.”
“Yeah.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Yeah, I think so.”
It was a huge step forward, and we both knew that. It wouldn’t be all smooth sailing, and we’d have setbacks, I was sure. But this was the first meal together, and before long, I had every confidence Jamie would be eating it the pack, able to put the worst of his trauma behind him.
Jamie kissed my neck, then pulled back and gave me an eyebrow waggle. “The important questions is, what’s for dessert?”
Snow and Mistletoe is the story of wolf shifter Adam and his fated mate Colby.
And the beginning of the Cauldron Creek Series!
Wolf shifter Adam White has never worried about finding his mate. If it happens, it happens. Until the moment he lays eyes on Colby Carter and Adam’s entire world shifts. He knows he’s looking at his mate, even if he can’t be sure until all his senses are engaged. But Adam didn’t expect his mate to be human. And he certainly didn’t expect his mate to dismiss his claim so easily.
Colby has a solid reason for saying no, but he can’t deny the pull between them. When the truth comes out, Adam is still willing to get to know Colby, and Colby wants the same. But it’ll take time before they take the leap to solidify their bond. Adam pulls out all the stops, including bringing Christmas to the middle of July heat, to show Colby he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make Colby happy.
When a medical scare forces Colby to reevaluate what he wants, he’s all in. As long as Adam is. Adam knows Colby is meant to be his, and the more he’s gotten to know the man, the more he wants him. Fate may have decreed Adam and Colby were meant to be, but it’s never that simple. Can these two men find their way to a future together?
**Here we are, once again with Jamie and Sean. This episode is from Sean’s POV. I thought this was going to be the last one, but now….well, they definitely have one more in them. Check out the tags if you need to catch up, but otherwise, here’s episode 6. Enjoy!**
The door opened with a creak–I really needed to remember to oil the hinges–and then slammed shut. I set aside my tablet so I could give Jamie my full attention. The sound of his walk was comforting, but more than that, his scent filled my nose. It was never completely absent these days, but always so much stronger when he was with me. I liked it better that way, and from the way he immediately sought out my touch, I knew he felt the same.
Jamie flopped down on the couch next to me, but snuggled into my side, and let out a deep sigh when I pulled him in tight. For a minute or two, we just breathed each other in. it was always that way when we were apart. And I knew, for him, it was especially necessary after where he’d been. I wanted to ask how it went, but I’d learn quickly it was better to let him bring it up. Or at least, to let him settle in first. So I just held him, face pressed against his hair.
“People keep bringing me food,” he grumbled, lips against the skin of my neck.
I fought a laugh and wasn’t entirely successful. “They’re worried about you.”
“They just knock and leave!” He sounded so indignant. “They just keep dropping off dishes with instructions taped to the top. I’m drowning in casseroles!”
This time I let the chuckle out and ignored Jamie when he punched me playfully in the arm.
“The pack wants to make sure you’re fed, sweetheart. But no one wants to make it weird. So they’re doing the best they can.”
“It’s still weird. I eat.” His grumbling was awfully cute, even though, at the same time, I hated to hear the frustration in his tone.
I gripped his hair gently and used my hold to tilt his face up. He didn’t fight it, and when our gazes met, he gave me a smile. I couldn’t help but kiss him, just a light peck, but the way that last bit of tension he’d been holding on to disappeared pleased me to no end.
“We know,” I assured him. “I see the strides you’re making. Never doubt that.”
He nodded. “Rinda helps. I don’t know how you found her, but…” He took a deep breath, and then another, before he was able to speak again. “I’ve done the therapy, I told you that. And it’s been with were counselors too. But none of them have made a difference like she has.”
It had taken some doing, a lot of research and reaching out to different packs across the nation before I’d even broached the subject with Jamie. Because he had told me he’d done therapy before, and that it hadn’t provided him with a long term solution. He’d given up hope after the fourth one, resolved to dealing with the issue on his own for the rest of his life. But I wanted more for him, better. Whatever outcome was best for him was what I wanted, whatever that looked like. But he needed help, far more than I could give him, and that meant I searched until I found a counselor out of a pack in Colorado who honestly felt like she could make a difference in his life.
After a month of twice weekly zoom counseling sessions, it was good to hear Jamie think he was making progress. And I’d seen it too. He still didn’t eat with the pack, but he no longer hid in the corner, doing his best to blend in with the paint while the rest of us ate. He was there and present even if he had his own meal before everyone gathered.
While I wanted him to be able to eat whenever he wanted, including during pack dinners, that wasn’t my end goal. Nor was it his. Instead it was more important to get to the root of his issues and find healing.
Jamie had a good handle on why he couldn’t eat in front of people, but he hadn’t dealt with the feelings and hurts that had caused it. I thought once he did, he’d be able to enjoy food with others again. But I wasn’t an expert.
“I’m glad, Jamie. I really am.”
He huffed out a breath, then adjusted his position so he was no longer looking me in the eye. “Um. So here’s the thing.”
I waited, but after several minutes of silence, it was clear he wasn’t going to continue. I gave him a little squeeze.
“What’s the thing?”
“Rinda said…she asked if I thought I’d be able to share a meal with you if my life wasn’t on the line.”
My heart gave a painful thump as adrenaline coursed through me. Last month, when he’d be on death’s door from the shift and lack of calories had been eye opening for all of us. I didn’t like to think about it. Not only did I feel like a failure for not caring for a pack member, but it cut ten times worse that I hadn’t properly cared for my potential mate. Jamie didn’t see it that way at all, nor did the members of the pack I’d spoken with, but I did. It would take time–and maybe a few sessions with Rinda myself–before I could work through those feelings.
But I pushed that aside for now and focused on Jamie. “And what did you say?”
Another long, pregnant beat of silence. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I think, if it was just you, with no one else around, I could.”
And that caused my adrenaline to surge for an entirely different reason. “Yeah?”
Jamie nodded. “I think so. It feels like I can. Because I’ve already eaten for you and…and I know you don’t judge me in any way and just want what’s best for me, whatever that is.”
I hugged him hard, doing my best to put all my emotions into it so he would know just how much it meant to me that he understood that.
“And really,” he continued, sounding a little breathless, causing me to ease up so he could move air through his lungs. “If you and I are going to have anything lasting, I need to work through that part of it, yeah? It’s not like I can eat separately from you for the rest of our lives.”
That sounded so fucking good, the forever part, that I kissed him, hard and with lots of tongue. Jamie melted into me, taking all I could give him, reveling in it, his body pliant and giving under my touch. I wanted to lay him down right there on the couch and do every last thing to him, but it wasn’t the time and we weren’t ready yet. We’d get there, but not yet.
When I finally pulled back, his lips were red and swollen, and his breath came in fast pants. His glazed eyes and dazed expression were enough to make me want to drag him to the bedroom. But I restrained myself.
“So,” I said, trying for casual and failing miserably. “How about dinner here tomorrow? I’ll cook. And we can try it.”
His breathing stuttered, and he averted his gaze. I didn’t let go of him but neither did I force an answer or put any pressure on him.
“Um, and what if I…what if…”
“If you try and aren’t ready, then we do something else. Simple as that.” I meant it with every fiber of my being. Jamie must have realized that because he relaxed.
“Okay. Let’s do that.” It was a whisper, and I wanted to praise him but I didn’t get a chance. Before I could even draw a breath, he was out of my arms and pulling off his clothes.
“I ate. Lots. Earlier. I promise. Can we shift?”
“Sure,” I agreed easily enough.
I barely got the word out before he was naked and down on all fours. A moment later, he was his wolf. He shook out his fur, settling in place, and I couldn’t help but reach out and rub his ear.
“You’re so dang beautiful. Man or wolf. Seriously sweetheart.”
Jamie gave a soft yip, then trotted to the sliding glass doors. I opened it for him, then stripped, shifted, and joined him for a dusk filled run, our wolves one with each other.
**After the cliff of last week, here’s another episode that picks up right where it left off. This time from Sean’s POV again. Check out the tags to read the first four parts if you’ve missed it. This is the penultimate episode. We’ll wrap things up next week. But for now, enjoy!**
I lunged and caught Jamie before he hit the floor. Thank the gods for my enhanced reflexes. And superior strength, because even though he wasn’t that big, he was dead weight. The thought had panic coursing through me, but no, he wasn’t dead. Just unconscious. He was breathing, though shallowly, and his skin was so pale I could see the veins at his temples.
Before I could really panic though, his eyelids fluttered and he took a deeper breath. I scooped him up and carried him to the nearby couch. Instead of laying him on it though, I kept him in my arms, not wanting to let him go. He needed my body heat, I was sure. I wrapped one of the throws around us–faux fur that was particularly soft–then barked out an order for more water. The rest of the pack was hovering close, though out of sight, on my order.
Kai brought the water, and more food, and set both on a nearby table before scurrying off again. It was just in time too, because Jamie finally cracked his eyes open. His confused expression would have been adorable in any other circumstance but since I was downright scared for him, I’d have to appreciate it later.
“There you are,” I murmured as he blinked at me, working to keep my voice calm and neutral.
“What?” he croaked. His lips moved more, but no sound came out, so I wasn’t sure what he was asking. It didn’t matter.
“You passed out there, sweetheart. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
He just blinked, looked around, then focused on me. He looked like he couldn’t string his thoughts together, and it was no wonder. The brain needed fuel as much as the body did, and he had zero reserves at the moment. Anything he managed to take in as a wolf he’d burned through with shift. I needed to get him to eat,
I knew that wouldn’t happen if I was in the room.
“Here.” I grabbed one of the bottles of water and handed it over. And though he took it, his hands were shaking, so I helped him drink. “Slowly.”
Jamie listened, taking small swallows until the bottle was gone. When I handed over the second one, he was able to hold it and drink it down. Hydration was just as important as calories, and would go a long way to helping him feel better. And already he looked better, not as sallow. But he needed food, and lots of it.
Kai had heaped a plate with a little of everything we’d had at the pack dinner last night, with extra portions of protein and carbs. I eyed it, wondering if he’d let me help, then decided it was better he get the calories in rather than trigger his issues. So reluctantly, I eased him to the couch beside me, made sure he was still tucked under the blanket, and handed over the plate.
“You need to eat.”
Jamie looked down at the plate in his lap, then back up at me. “Sean, I–”
“Later, sweetheart,” I said, not unkindly. My most pressing concern was that he didn’t pass out again. Everything else could wait. “I’ll leave you to it, and then come back and check on you in a while. Please eat as much as you can, okay? You’re safe here.”
I wasn’t sure why I added that last part but it seemed the right thing to say, because Jamie nodded, and took a deep breath, then picked up the fork that had been tucked under the roast beef. But even though he stabbed a bite, he didn’t lift it to his mouth. Instead, he peeked up at me through his lashes.
“I’m sorry, Sean.”
“I know,” I said softly, and leaned down to kiss his head. The soft sigh he let out clued me in that my touch was welcome. So I ran my fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp gently for a minute, before I stepped back and turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Jamie nodded and took a bite.
I gave Jamie almost an hour, but then I couldn’t stand it anymore. Not that I hadn’t stayed close. After I’d gotten dressed, I hung out nearby so I could hear if he got into trouble. But everything sounded fine. I was the one who was antsy to get back in there.
I sent the pack on their way, assuring them all I’d give them an update on Jamie. He wasn’t particularly close with any of the pack members, but they all cared about him. And they were nearly as worried as I was, now that they saw just how much help he needed. Jamie had been good at keeping everyone at arm’s length, making everyone think he was fine. They all fell for it. I had too, to a degree.
But I didn’t want him to be overwhelmed, and I knew he’d feel more comfortable if they weren’t around for the time being, so I shuffled them off to their homes. While the pack house was a gathering place, and my home, no one else lived there full time. So it was easy to shoo them out the door.
When I went back to check on Jamie, I was pleased to see he’d nearly cleared his plate. The only thing left were the pile of peas and a small piece of chicken. I knew he had to have been starving, but I’d been concerned he couldn’t have managed it all. I was ridiculously proud that he had.
He’d gotten dressed too, which was a shame, but now was not the time to be thinking about his lithe, sweet body.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” I asked as I padded barefoot back into the room.
He was startled, and I was surprised, because he was usually so aware of his surroundings. We all were. It was part of being a werewolf. But I supposed he had a lot on his mind, and he was, after all, safe here.
Jamie tried for a smile, failed, and then sighed. I opened my mouth to tell him it was okay, that I was proud of him, but he surprised me and spoke first.
“I was raised in foster care, did you know that?”
It was my turn to blink in confusion. It seemed like a non-sequitur, but clearly he had a reason for bringing it up, so I just shook my head and sat at the other end of the couch. Jamie spared me a glance, but then returned to gazing at the far wall as he pulled the blanket tighter around him.
“A werewolf pup in human care. It was…” he pursed his lips. “Well, it could have been a lot worse, that’s for sure. I knew what I was, but I couldn’t tell anyone. But I was hungry all the time. So hungry. Because I just wasn’t getting enough. Even as a pup, before the first shift, werewolves need more calories.”
My heart broke for him, because with a sinking feeling, I thought I knew where this was headed. But I didn’t interrupt his story, and just acknowledged his statement. “I know.”
He nodded though he still didn’t look for me. “I was in one home where they fed me well. Even took me to the doctor to try to figure out what was wrong. Why I was eating so much but didn’t gain weight. But then the lady got sick and I got moved and…” He looked at me then, the pain in his eyes. “Will you hold me?”
I was across the couch in a flash, wrapping him up tight in my arms. He sighed and clunked his head down on my shoulder. For a few minutes, he just breathed and I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to continue, didn’t have to rip open this old wound, but he’d started this and maybe he needed to get it all out. So I sat quietly, holding him as tightly as I dared, and breathed with him.
Eventually, he started talking again. “That new house was…not great. And they had a bunch of us and it was hard. They constantly berated me because I wanted to eat all the time, until eventually, I stopped.” He blew out a breath and it gusted across my skin. “I only ate when no one was around and only enough so I could survive.”
“Oh, Jamie, sweetheart,” I began, but didn’t know what to say.
“I was fourteen when one of my teachers recognized what I was. He wasn’t a wolf, but his wife was, and he knew I was in foster care, so he was concerned. He told his wife, who told her alpha, who got me out. But by then it was a habit, and habits are hard to break, and every time–” He voice broke, and he swallowed hard. I could feel his heart pounding against me, and I rumbled out a soothing sound that helped him relax. Helped him continue with, “Every time I eat around people, I can’t help but think I’m being judged, even though I know I’m not.”
“You aren’t,” I said fiercely, squeezing him even tighter. “You aren’t, Jamie.”
He nodded, his forehead rubbing against my neck. “I know. I do. But It’s hard.”
“What can I do to help you?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “It’s been a long time and I’ve tried to talk to a therapist, but it only helps for so long. But it’s easier with you. I ate in front of you. I ate from your hand.”
I tucked a finger under his chin and raised his gaze to mine. And when I was sure I had his full attention, I loosened my hold and leaned down, giving him time to pull away if he wanted. But he pushed closer instead, lifting his chin a fraction more.
I kissed him, softly and gentle, even though I wanted to maul him. To wrap him up tight and keep him close and never let him go. But it wasn’t the time for that. And more importantly, he had to know I was there for him.
“We’ll figure it out,” I vowed as our lips parted. “I promise, Jamie. We’ll do whatever we can to help you.”
He nodded, closed his eyes, and pressed his face against my neck. He sucked in a deep breath and within seconds, he was asleep.
There’s all sorts of writers out there, and all sorts of “rules” writers are supposed to follow in order to be “real” writers.
To which I say: bullshit.
Everyone has their own process, and the important thing is to find out what works for you and go with it. If something doesn’t work? Toss it and try something else. Trial and error is the way to go, and eventually, you’ll find the way that works. My point in writing that out is to say that it took me a long time to figure out my process, the way things worked best for me and made it so I was able to write a story.
I’ve been writing stories since I was ten years old. Of course, I had dreams of becoming a famous author and being rich. As I grew up, it morphed into dreams of just being published. And the more I learned about the whole process, the more I realized that it was highly unlikely I’d ever be rich. And just as unlikely that I’d ever be able to make it my sole income.
But when I was a wee baby author, newly published and on the high of that, I knew I wanted to do it more than just occasionally. That first short story was my gateway drug and I knew all the voices in my head had stories that needed to be told.
So I followed those so called rules, and I failed at most of them, and I felt like an idiot who would never publish again. I couldn’t make a story come to life if I wrote every day, or if I just wrote and wrote, and didn’t edit at all until I was done. (These are just two of those “rules” and there are many, many more).
The truth is, there are no rules. There is only what makes it so I can put words on the page. I don’t write every day, and I edit as I go along. I write when the muse strikes, and I listen to the voices in my head that sometimes take me where I didn’t know I was going.
Which brings me to the title of this post. Authors often label themselves as plotters (as in they work the whole story out, plan all the beats, before they even start writing) or pantsers (as in they fly by the seat of their pants and make the whole thing up as they go along). But there’s another subset of us that are often referred to as plantsers (which no, is definitely not the best word).
For me, that means I get an idea for characters or a scene, and I mull on it, try to figure out if it strikes the muse’s fancy (for she is a fickle bitch) and see if the story can come to life in my head. If it does, then I start plotting. Except…it’s a barebones plot. Usually by chapter, a few sentences, maybe a paragraph, of the mood I want to invoke, the beats I want to hit, the high points. I work through the whole book that way and usually can spot plot holes or if the idea I have is going to work at all.
Then I take that barebones plot and I start writing. But here’s where the pantsing comes in…because even though I have an idea of what I want to accomplish with each scene and chapter, I don’t know how I’m going to get there. Until I start letting the characters live and breathe on the page that is. They tell me how they talk and think, and then the story takes off. Within the framework of what I’ve already built, the story has a mind of it’s own.
Sometimes it does what I expect. Sometimes it doesn’t. And if it doesn’t, then that’s just fine. If I need to rework things as I go—add new plot points or get rid of others—then that’s what I do. And I read and reread and go through it all, over and over again, as I’m writing. This ensures that when I finally finish the story, I’m nearly on the final draft (though it gets a few more passes with tweaks and edits and polish after that). And also that the story works, which is the most important thing of all. Because I’m not one who can take a pile of words and rewrite them all to make it work. It needs to happen as I go along.
So yes, I plot and I pants. My characters absolutely have their own voices and own minds, and all I can do is go along and tell their story. I’m working on Cauldron Creek 2 right now, and because I have that barebones plot, I think it’s going to work.
**Let’s join the werewolves again for another episode! Here’s part four of Jamie and Sean. Check out the tags to find the previous episodes if you’ve missed any. And no, we aren’t done with them after this. Enjoy!**
I couldn’t shift. I was so weak, I couldn’t even move. I’d never been stuck as a wolf before, but I could barely think, let alone gather any strength to change forms. Everything hurt, my brain was fuzzy, and though I was being carried, each step jolted through me. Except I couldn’t even whimper out my pain.
I smelled Sean. All around me. Some part of me recognized he was the one carrying me, but my last clear memory had been running in the forest. Before that it had been a long day with the pack, fun and food and sunshine, as we waited for the day to fade into night and the moon to rise.
Sean set me down as gently as possible, and he lifted my lip before swearing.
“Gods, Jamie, you’re so pale,” he whispered. He raised his voice. “Bring me water. Now! And some chicken and rice.”
I laid there on the soft floor—a rug maybe?—and tried to keep breathing. I knew this was my fault, somehow, but I couldn’t get my brain to process. I pushed closer to Sean, and he buried his fingers in the scruff of my neck, squeezing tightly before he rubbed my ears.
His breath ghosted over my fur, the top of my head, and he used his strength to pull me even closer until I was half in his lap, my head pressed against his stomach. He smelled so good, the scent of him strong, but I couldn’t even appreciate it, and I managed another tiny whine.
“I thought you ate, sweetheart. You said you did, but I should have made sure. You can’t run if you don’t—” He made a rough noise which abruptly cut off. Sounds of footsteps, then Sean’s quite murmur of “Thanks.”
He readjusted my position and brought the water close to my muzzle. It took a minute to get everything working but eventually I was able to lap at the bowl. The fresh, clean taste burst over my tongue and I managed to get half the bowl gone before I had to take a break. At least now, I could keep my eyes open for longer than a second.
“Jamie, sweetheart, you need to eat, okay? I know, I know what I’m asking you is huge, but you need to eat this. You can’t shift back if you don’t. I don’t want to force a shift, because I don’t want to do that to you when you can’t consent. But more than that, I’m scared that if I pull you through it, you won’t survive. So, please, for me, just eat this so we can get you back into your human skin.” I heard the desperation and worry in his voice, and it was a testament to just how out of it was because when he held a cupped hand with chicken and rice to my mouth, I ate it.
He made a pleased sound, murmured praise, and fed me another bite. And another. Handful by handful, I ate what he offered because he was my alpha and he was scared, and so was I. Then he urged me to drink more, and I did that too.
Because werewolf metabolism was so fast, it only took minutes for my brain and body to come back online. Even as a wolf, with those instincts riding me, I had my human mind too, and embarrassment, shame, and worry coursed through me. I wasn’t sure if I made a sound or if it was a change in my scent, but Sean quickly soothed me. A rumble in his chest and a shushing sound.
“No, no. You’re fine, it’s all fine. Don’t think about it, don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it when you’re better but right now, do you need more to eat?”
I shook my head, let out a little whine, and tried to back away. Sean wouldn’t let me go, but he was gentle about it, making sure I had his whole attention.
“Jamie. Do you need more to eat?” That tone of voice, commanding but still understanding, had me relaxing just a fraction. Just enough that I could really assess my status.
I didn’t. Not at the moment. I couldn’t make myself eat even if I did, but I was good. I shook my head again, so he would know, and he stared at me for a very long, intense few minutes until he decided I was telling the truth. Finally he let me go, and I stepped back as he stood up.
Sean was naked, but that wasn’t a surprise, and usually I didn’t notice nudity at all. Because as wolves we were constantly getting undressed around each other to shift into our fur. He wasn’t body shy in the least and he definitely wasn’t going anywhere, judging by his firm stance.
It took longer and was much harder than it should be to find my human side, pull it forward, and work through the shift. It hurt until my pain receptors turned off, and felt like forever before I was crouched on all fours, body shivering and shaking, having burned through all the energy I’d just consumed in calories just get into my skin. Cold washed through me, and black spots danced at the corners of my vision.
“I’m so sorry,” I managed to whisper before I passed out.
It’s no secret, because I’ve talked about it before, that I am a series junkie. I absolutely love series. Be it ones that follow the same MCs throughout all their adventures and on their way to their HEA or ones that have a common theme—friend group/family, same town, club, etc.—it doesn’t matter. I love them with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.
It never fails to draw me in and keep my attention. Even when they go off the rails or hang on too long, it takes a lot for me to give up on a series. I absolutely have to see them though. I need to see those MCs get their HEA, or I need to see all the people find their forever…whatever it may be, I need to be there for it all.
Now, I’ve written a lot of standalones. But that doesn’t mean I don’t always think in series. Even those standalones often have a character—or idea—to which a sequel could happen. It probably won’t for most of them at this point but that’s because other series are, in fact, happening.
I’ve written a few series as well. There’s Requiem Inc., which I still love with my whole heart (and I haven’t given up on bringing Tyler’s story to you yet!). This one might be my most creative series, though it sparked from an idea I stole, with permission, the world building is all mine. I love the world I created, and I love the continuing through thread that means these books are best read in order.
And there’s the Landry’s Fall books, which all take place in my fictional town in the Adirondacks, which I will probably never leave completely behind and will revisit again in the future. This one is fun for me in that each story is actually a standalone, but there are fun cameos of previous characters.
There’s the two books I wrote with Nell Iris, in the Family Found series, which I’m hoping to resist and bring you the rest of the guys of V Wilderness Adventures.
Heck, I even brought Pounds and Grounds, and Joshua, from Pumpkin Rolls and Porn Sounds into Gingerbread and Good Tidings. (And we definitely may revisit Pounds and Grounds in the future.)
Basically, series are my true joy. To read and to write. And my hope and intent is that this year, I can focus on sequels. Bring you more of the series I’ve already begun, and the new one I just started. Snow and Mistletoe will be out in July, and that’s the start of the Cauldron Creek series. My notebook is filled with ideas for more.
So if you love series as much as I do, stay tuned. Because I seem to have found my passion again, and it lies in series.