The BBW and the Beast: A Shifter Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 1) Read Free

growled.
    He said, “Isabella.”
    Her brown eyes widened adorably. There was something familiar about how comically large they seemed under her glasses, but then again, everything about her felt familiar.
    “If you know my name, you must know what I’m here for,” she said quickly.
    I have to get her inside , Samson realized. She was probably freezing, and he liked the idea of her in his home, taking off all of those layers. He leaned against the door, opening it farther. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate, and we’ll talk.”
    “Oh, okay. Sure,” Isabella said, relieved. “And I’m sorry for whatever miscommunication seems to have happened here. I hope we can get it straightened out quickly.”
    Samson gave a gruff chuckle. “I can’t promise to be quick with you.”
    The reality of all this finally sank in. She had returned. To him. His mate mark sang with warmth on his back.
    All that was left was to seal their bond, a prospect Samson was already imagining in vivid detail. He got so caught up in his fantasies that it was only after he had reached the kitchen and put a pot of milk on the stove that he noticed he had lost his mate on the journey.
    Samson retraced his steps and found Isabella peering up at a framed family portrait his mother had commissioned before his father was diagnosed with cancer.
    Rex must have hung it up, the sentimental mutt. One of the conditions Samson had set for returning was that they wouldn’t try to turn the house into a memorial. Their purpose for returning to Crystal Creek was simple: find and subdue Luther. Not relive old memories.
    “This way,” he said.
    She jumped, nodded, and followed him. How high she managed to get in spite of her size reminded him of someone else, but he couldn’t think who.
    A minute later they were both in the kitchen, Isabella sitting at the wooden table, which had been carved out of a tree trunk, and Samuel bent over the antique gas stove, measuring out dollops of cocoa powder into warm milk.
    “This table is amazing. Did you make it yourself?” Isabella rambled. Although there was genuine admiration in her voice, he could sense she was talking out of nervousness. He didn’t blame her. She had probably been brought here by the force of the mark, oblivious to why or how, only knowing that she wanted to see man she had run away from over seven years ago. He’d go slow.
    He plopped two fat marshmallows into the mugs of hot chocolate and carried them over to the table. Samson noticed she still hadn’t undone her coat, although she had taken off her boots at the front door. Her gaze remained fixed on the tabletop, even when he slid a mug in her direction.
    “Thanks,” she said, but didn’t meet his eyes.
    His fingers itched to tip her chin upward so he could kiss her tense, pursed lips. “I think it’s better for both of us if we stop avoiding the inevitable, and talk about why you’re here. You’re probably not even sure yourself. ”
    That made Isabella look up and push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her pulse was audible and fast, even as she nodded in agreement. ”I know it has to do with this.”
    Then she did something so surprising his wolf almost rolled over in shock. She began to unzip her coat.
    It was possible she was just trying to get more comfortable, but with Samson already half-hard from just the scent of her, there was no way he could interpret her gesture as anything other than a seduction. Maybe she knew more about the matemark than he thought and was ready to accept her destiny as his mate. Could it be so easy? It wasn’t until she had reached into an inner pocket and pulled out the flower that he realized the truth.
    There on his table was his stolen rose: drooping stem, crumpled petals and all, imprisoned in a dollar-store mason jar.
    He stared at it in shock for a moment, overwhelmed by the many truths it represented. Isabella hadn’t come back for him. She was the daughter of that fucking idiot trespasser