A Ghostly Menage

Derrick rolled his eyes. Not likely. Woman or not, he’d rip her a new one as soon as they got out of this mess.

She seemed to read his mind. “Oh, please. You’re alphas, you won’t allow this to slide by. No, I have a better plan. You stay in limbo as ghosts, trapped to this house till you decide to do as I say. I figure it might take a few years of floating around, alone and invisible to all, before you come to your senses and do my bidding. That’s okay,” she said with a nasty smile. “I can wait.”

Then she left. They followed her, Derrick cursing her every step, diving at her, hoping each time he lunged that he would connect. However, paying him no mind, she walked out of the house without hesitation. But not the brothers who hit the open doorway and bounced back. Derrick pounded his fists ineffectually against the invisible barrier-one he couldn’t breach and that trapped he and Mark in their home.

Clarissa turned and blew them a kiss. “See you in a year, boys.”

After a few days of raging and disbelief, they looked for an escape. They spent all that first year searching for a way out of the house, to no avail. They tried to communicate with the friends and family who trooped through their house, from the police chief of their town to their great aunt who sniffed the air as if she sensed them, but could not hear them no matter how they yelled. Even worse than their inability to escape, was the loss of their beasts. They couldn’t shift, nor feel the comforting presence of their wolves. Instead, an emptiness lay within them.

But no matter how bleak their existence, year after year, when Clarissa showed up on All Hallows Eve, they refused to become her mates.

My brother and I will find a way to escape this curse, and when we do, that witch will rue the day she was born. And sour bitch or not, he’d taste her blood.

Chapter One

Years later…

Jenna drove her battered excuse for a car away from civilization, the towns getting smaller, the roads getting narrower, till she finally spotted the sign she’d been waiting for.

Twin Dales. Her new home and escape from the crap life had dished her. She drove through the main part of the small town. It had everything she needed for her new life, which wasn’t much. Give me a grocery and hardware store, and I’m good.

She’d never even visited Twin Dales, population nine thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven-make that sixty- eight-when she decided on it as her new home. Small, away from the stupidity that came with city living, and best of all, half a continent away from the asshole she wanted to kill.

Cheating on me with not just one of my best friends, but two. Bastard! She’d toyed with the thought of sleeping with his two best friends-at the same time-to get him back, but unfortunately, she couldn’t stand them. Besides, the sweeter revenge had come when she’d dumped all his shit out in the hall and told him to move. Not much he could do about it since the lease was in her name. Thank God, I didn’t marry the jerk.

Now she wanted time to herself and to write her books. She’d looked online for a new place to live and had settled on the house in Twin Dales after seeing a few pictures and a video. She couldn’t decide what had sealed the deal. Was it the wrap-around porch that begged for a bench swing? The turret that screamed library? Or its five wooded acres on the edge of town? She couldn’t explain exactly how or why, but she fell in love with the place. And then, unlike her usual self, she’d acted like one of the heroines in her books and bought it on a whim, thanks to her inheritance from Grandma Bea.

Being the responsible sort, she hadn’t touched the money all of her adult life, instead saving it for an emergency. And this was definitely an emergency. Besides, the price of the house was unbeatable and she had more than enough left over to renovate. Between that and her writing, she’d live comfortably-alone.

Men were nothing but trouble, and she’d had enough. From now on, she’d have relationships with the men in her books and in her head. At least they knew how to satisfy her, and when the urge for something to fill her up became too strong…well, that’s what dildos were for.

Following the hand-drawn map the realtor had faxed, she made her way through the silent streets of town- eight p.m. and not a thing stirred. She drove through the winding darkness till she finally saw the sign for her street, Changeling Drive, which dead ended at her house.

Excitement gripped her, especially when she caught her first real glimpse of her new place. Even in the bright beams of her car the hundred-plus year-old house had an old-fashioned solidity and beauty that made her smile with pleasure.

I’m home.

The first thing she noticed when she stepped into the vacant house was the lack of dust. Had the realtor had it cleaned? He’d said it’d been vacant for almost six years, but everything-from dishes to furniture-looked great. In fact, it appeared as if the house was waiting for its previous owners to return. That thought gave her a bit of a chill, especially when she recalled the realtor’s joke about it being haunted. At least she’d assumed it was a joke, but then the owners had disappeared and stopped paying their taxes, which was how the place had ended up at auction.

She shook her head. None of that mattered because this treasure was now hers.

The main floor boasted a large entranceway with a high ceiling to accommodate the staircase. On one side, she discovered a spacious living room replete with a fireplace and two brown plaid couches. She crossed the room and entered the turret. Obviously designed as a sitting area, it contained wicker furniture, which seemed incongruous given the previous owners had been men.

At the back of the living room, she went through an archway and found herself in an immense eat-in kitchen. Cupboards lined half the area in an L-shape. More space than she’d ever need in a lifetime. There was a gas stove and a huge fridge, which she opened and found, to her surprise, working. Nestled inside sat a basket of jars and fruit with a tag that read ‘Welcome’.

How quaint. Jenna held in a giggle. She wondered if the neighbors would show up with casseroles and pies just like they did in the movies. Jenna bit her lip. She shouldn’t make fun of her perceived notion of small town hospitality. If she wanted to fit in, and she did, she’d probably have to learn to make cookies or other baked goods so she could return the kindness.

A door led from the kitchen to the hall, and a second archway opened into the dining room. She walked through the dining room, which also had an access door back in the hall. She liked how all the rooms flowed into each other. Now for the second floor.

The wooden stairs curved up into the house with a gorgeous carved handrail. She ran her hand along the wood as she went up to check out the bedrooms. The first door led into a small room with a daybed and a nightstand. She went to the next door and found the bathroom tiled in white with a large claw foot tub. Jenna imagined herself immersed in bubbles to the brim reading a hot romance.

She continued exploring and found a fairly large room with a queen-sized bed and heavy wooden furniture scattered around; a pair of matching nightstands as well as two bureaus, one long, the other tall The size and decor made her think it was the master bedroom, until she checked out the last room, which sat above the living room and flowed into the turret.

She let out a cry of delight. The largest room in the house by a lot, a gorgeous four-poster bed took a place of pride in the center. The round turret section held a pair of wing chairs that looked out the windows into the woods that bordered three sides of the property. Jenna threw herself on the bare mattress, arms flung out. She shivered for it felt like she’d dove right into an icy cloud.

Rubbing her arms, she sat up. Cold drafts or not, this was her room and she couldn’t wait to redecorate it.

Home sweet home.

* * * * *

Mark stared at the woman who entered their home and wanted to howl with the injustice. Derrick had no such restraint and let out a cry of rage. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”