Read Trust: A Twisted Wolf Tale Online
Authors: Rene Folsom
Trust: A Twisted Wolf Tale
Beau Shapiro has spent his whole life being called gorgeous, handsome, sexy… every word imaginable to describe his outer appearance. But despite his popularity, he never once lets it all go to his head. He’s holding out for that one girl that has it all—beauty
and
personality.
While out searching for his father, Beau meets Karoline—a woman cursed to be a beast. Striking a deal with her to save his father’s life, Beau is taken to Karoline’s home deep in the mountainous woods to live with her. During his stay, he finds that there’s beauty within the beast, and slowly, for the first time in his life, falls in love.
Delve into the story of Beau and Karoline, a modern-day retelling of the classic tale Beauty and the Beast.
Warning: This supernatural romance novella contains adult situations and is meant for ages 18+.
Find out more on Rene’s website at
http://renefolsom.com/trust
Copyright © 2015 Rene Folsom
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Editing Services Provided by:
Cynthia Shepp -
www.CynthiaShepp.com
Cover Created by Phycel Designs
www.Phycel.com
For Michael Loring—
who inspired me to bring the wolves out to play.
“Hello there, handsome. Haven’t seen you around in a while. How are you?” a seductive, female voice chimed as she saddled up on the stool beside me. The Ivywood Café used to be a place where I could escape the insanity for a few minutes, curling up in a booth to read a good book and enjoy an equally as good cup of joe.
Now… now, I had to deal with the flock following me here, hence the reason Miss Barbie hadn’t seen me show my face recently.
Fighting off a groan, I put on my most gentleman-like smile before lifting my nose from my book and peering over at what’s-her-face. Damned if I could remember her name, though I’d never let her know just how inconsequential her identity was to me.
Flashing my lone dimple at her, I pretended to seem interested and said, “I’m doing just fine. Been busy with the old man. You?”
She returned my mock enthusiasm with a huge smile, unsurprisingly enamored—Christ only knew why. None of these women knew me… I mean,
really
knew me. They all saw a pretty face and clamored to my side, seemingly hypnotized whenever I smiled or opened my mouth. Most of them were sweet and all, just way too damn clingy for my liking. Unfortunately, I usually didn’t find out about their insane qualities until they got me in bed at least once, and by then, I felt way too sympathetic to just end it.
Most men would probably use their good looks to manipulate women, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew I could have any single girl I wanted in town, as pretentious as that sounded, but I didn’t truly find any of them appealing. Attractive, sure, but none of them were
beautiful
to me
.
And my definition of beauty meant they were just as good on the inside as they were on the outside. Most of these girls who threw themselves at me lacked a certain quality I needed in a companion—that one particular feature that truly made someone attractive—personality.
Growing up in Ivywood, I’d learned that most of the girls in town just didn’t do it for me.
The pretty, blonde chick started rattling on about how her car had given her trouble on one of her most recent excursions out of town and, I swear, I tried to listen. I really did. Or, at least, I pretended to show interest. Nodding at outwardly acceptable intervals, I looked around for an out—some way to kindly walk away and not hurt her feelings.
“Oh, Beau! I almost forgot to tell you that my mom got me a job over at the movie theater, so we can get in for free if you’d like,” she said with a bubbly tone, inching closer to me and placing her hand on my thigh. I jumped at the contact. I may be able to fake interest in her babbling, but the physical contact always had me wound tighter than a goddamned spring.
One of my buds, Chad, was working the counter and thankfully came up to us at that precise moment, probably noticing my discomfort.
“Would you and your girlfriend like to share a piece of pie today, Beau?” he said, a devious, sinister grin wrinkling his zit-covered cheeks. The son of a bitch definitely noticed my discomfort and decided to make it ten times worse, just like any good friend would do.
“Ooh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and nearly bouncing in her stool. “Pie sounds yummy!”
Sighing, I glared at Chad, mentally thinking of all the ways I could return the favor. A nice smack across the skull seemed appropriate. Shaking my head, I closed my book and took out my wallet. “Actually, I have to get going, but go ahead and put her piece of pie on my bill.”
“Do you really have to go?” Blondie asked, her grip tightening on my bicep as I stood. “Maybe we can meet up this weekend for a drink or something?”
“I’m sorry…” I stumbled, searching my brain for her name, feeling flustered when I continued to draw a blank.
“Stacy,” she blurted, a wounded look on her cute little face. She was sweet and all, but I just flat out wasn’t interested. However, I was also way too nice to just shoot her down without throwing a little hope her way. Maybe false hope was crueler than actually telling her the truth, but I just couldn’t find it in my heart to disappoint anyone.
Why do I have to be the one guy in town with an actual heart?
I thought morosely.
“I have to work all weekend at the arcade. Maybe you and your friends can swing by and I’ll slip you a few tokens?” I said, sweetening the deal with a wink as I placed my money on the counter and slid my wallet into my back pocket. I noticed her gaze following my movements, her stare lingering on my backside just a bit too long for comfort.
Her face brightened, her voice altering to a more joyful tone as she said, “It’s a date!”
I nodded, smiling kindly in her direction before looking up at Chad and adding, “Thanks a lot, man.” He knew just what that meant, as evident by the sly grin on his face—not to mention the fact revenge was a dish best served when he least expected it… or maybe when he was trying to make nice with a girl. Yeah, my mind was already plotting his demise.
Stepping outside, my eyes immediately squinted against the bright sun. Using my hand as a shield, I jogged across the street toward the bookstore my dad owned, my copy of
Dehumanized
cradled in my grip. The bell above the door to his shop announced my arrival, and the old crustacean of a man popped up from behind the counter.
“Oh, good, you’re here!” he exclaimed, brushing his hands along his shirt and rounding the counter toward me. “I have to run and pick up the latest order. Do you have time to man the store while I’m gone?”
“Sure thing,” I agreed. Our town was so small, Pop often had to go two towns over to pick up new shipments of books, his love for literature being the reason he preferred to drive instead of having them shipped. The old man enjoyed browsing the shelves while he was there. It was something he used to do with my mother every week. Now that she was gone, he still kept their literary dates as a way of remembering her.
“Don’t wait up!” he shouted as he retreated through the door, his hand over his head in a half wave. I chuckled at my father’s eccentricity. The man was like a toddler being promised a new toy whenever he got the chance to go out to larger bookstores in the surrounding towns.
Taking a deep breath, I reveled in the smell of the old novels lining the shelves. The scent of books made me feel whole, complete, like this was my home away from home. Before Pop bought the store, I used to spend hours in the local library, which basically consisted of a small building shared by the county courthouse. Ivywood wasn’t exactly a thriving metropolis, and our town was lucky to have the single flashing stoplight in the center of the valley.
I remember my father announcing his desire to open the bookstore, stating that a town was not complete without one. He and my mom used every last penny of their savings to buy the property, and it didn’t take long for the store to boom. Practically everyone knew everyone in Ivywood, so when the place officially opened, the town flocked to support my parents the best they could. Although the gathering customers had died down over the years, as the bookstore became a common sight, there were still enough starving minds seeking out a good read to keep the business afloat.
This, in my honest opinion, was a godsend. Without the bookstore, I was certain I would’ve lost my mind in this crazy town years ago.
Taking my place in the chair behind the counter, I reopened my book and lost myself to a completely different, more fascinating world of werewolves.