Bite the Big Heartache (Monstrana Paranormal Romance 2)

His head snapped back and confusion clouded his eyes. He could recall almost every detail of that afternoon together, spent in this very lodge. Stasia had sat next to him on the blanket, their knees touching and sending fiery sensations up his legs. She’d worn a faded yellow tank top and denim shorts. The top half of her hair was pulled half-up into a ponytail. She’d never looked so beautiful. He could even recall the slight scent of lilacs from the flowers she’d picked that morning. Nothing had escaped his notice.

She’d finally confided in him that she was the werewolf princess, next in line for the throne. The shock had caught him off guard. He’d spent weeks thinking she was just a normal girl. As normal as a werewolf kid could be. But the news hadn’t tampered his feelings for her. If anything, he’d felt emboldened by her confidence and thought his own confession would be better received.

“I’m not sure where you got that idea,” he said through gritted teeth, desperately seeking for the correct words to say, “but I didn’t tell anyone your secret. I’m not that kind of guy.”

She threw her hands up in the air and nearly lost control of the blanket. Clasping it to her chest, she sputtered and glared at him. “Of course you did. I’m not stupid. You’re the only person who knew about me. When you found out about the reward money, you couldn’t resist. It’s not that complicated.”

He stretched to his full height and flared his nostrils. “Do you really think so little of me?”

She raised her chin, but he could see the tremor running through her arms. “Billy Finley, I thought the world of you, once upon a time. But life’s no fairy tale and you forced me to realize that.”

He shook his head in amazement and made a bee-line for the exit. There was no reasoning with that woman. She was as stubborn as they came. Honestly, he’d probably missed a bullet. He could just imagine the arguments waiting for them had they ended up as a couple.

How he ever could’ve thought that she was the one for him, was beyond him. There weren’t two people more ill-suited for each other in all the world. And no one made his blood boil like Stasia Pavlosky

“You know what? I don’t have to stick around for this,” he said, yanking the door open.

Something brushed by him and he nearly l

ost his footing.

“No, I’m the one who doesn’t have to stick around for this.” Stasia stomped barefoot out into the forest with the blanket still wrapped around her chest. “You enjoy your shack and everything that goes with it. I’m done with this. Interview over.” She waved a hand over her head and snapped her fingers. “That’s a wrap.”

“Fine, go back to your castle, Princess.” Billy banged his fist on the door frame, scraping his knuckles.

“Maybe I will.” She turned to watch him while she walked backwards. “And I’ll tell you what, it’s a lot better than that dinky little garage you call a home.”

“Yeah, well at least I can do my own laundry.” He cringed at his own words. The insults were flying now and he couldn’t help himself. “And at least I know how to drive a car. I see all those pampered years in a castle and you still haven’t had the guts to get on the road.”

Stasia huffed and threw him a dirty look. Despite his anger, he had to laugh bitterly. She hadn’t been able to drive when they were seventeen and he would bet his garage and everything in it that she still hadn’t learned. She’d been sore about it then. He couldn’t imagine how much it ate at her now that her little brother had his license.

“You know what? I don’t need to listen to this. We’re done, Billy Finley.” She stalked behind a tree and threw the blanket. In a matter of moments, a gorgeous wolf reappeared and sprinted toward town.

Billy leaned against the door frame and sucked in some much-needed oxygen. All the blood that had risen to his bright red face was now beginning to recede. Rage no longer rushed through his veins, but the old wound still festered inside his chest.

Stasia didn’t know anything. She was blaming him for something that wasn’t his fault. He’d never turned her into the palace guard. He would’ve died before giving up her location. To know that she thought that little of him made him want to pour gasoline over all their old photos and strike a match.

Without a can of gasoline handy, he walked over to their old keepsakes and scowled. What a load of junk. Tossing the blanket back inside, he snapped the lid shut and put it back where they’d found it. Maybe, he’d return in a few days and follow-through with that bonfire idea. Or, just maybe, he’d finally let the past fade away and die. Just like he should’ve over a decade ago.

He glanced out the door at the darkening forest and a sullen thought filled his head. If he truly wanted to let the past die, there was one more thing he needed to do.

A last confession that would end this once and for all.

Chapter Thirteen

Stasia tossed herself onto her motel bed, stared up at the peeling yellow paint on the ceiling, and let out a heavy sigh. Tears that she’d been holding back began to leak from the corner of her eyes. She’d wanted to believe that Billy was different. That she could fall into his arms and give into her desires. But he hadn’t even been able to admit what he’d done.

Same stubborn boy.

The cold fingers of doubt niggled at the back of her mind and she turned over to her stomach. What if he’d been telling the truth? Her parents had refused to tell her anything other than the tip came from someone in Molodoy. She’d always assumed it was Billy who’d called the guard and claimed the reward for her return. After all, she’d confided in him only one day before they showed up. No one else knew. And when she went to confront him about it, he hadn’t denied it.

But what if she’d made an incorrect assumption? Could she be wrong?

The crash of her door slamming opening made her spin around. Billy stood in the doorway, his eyes wild and crazy looking. He’d managed to stuff himself back into his clothes, but his shirt was buttoned all wrong and his pant legs crumpled above his tall boots. He marched inside and closed the door behind him, danger flashing in his eyes.

“We’re going to finish this,” he snapped.

Stasia sat up and quickly rubbed away the moisture that had gathered under her eyes. She scowled and clutched the wrinkled comforter in her hands. “This is my room. I want you to get out.”