Primal Allure: Book 1 of the Grimmsbrook Tales

  Book 1 of the Grimmsbrook Tales

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and foremost, I thank Heather for being there since the very beginning. Together, we breathed life into the world and characters of the Grimmsbrook universe. She is one of my closests friends, and my partner in crime. Without her, there is no H.D. Fortuna.

  I thank Katharina for being my very first reader. Her input made Primal Allure what it is today, and not even a language barrier could stand in her way!

  I thank the Critters, my rag-tag group of aspiring writers who properly took apart my first draft and helped me recognize my weaknesses. But they never forgot to include my strengths as well.

  A special shout-out to Brooke and Zavier, who read through the entire unpolished monstrosity and without whom Primal Allure would never have made it this far.

  A huge wave of gratitude goes out to my english teacher Gene Eller, who nurtured my writing skills in the earliest stages. He helped me learn to love writing and storytelling.

  Finally, I cannot understate how big a role my parents played in this endeavor. Their love and support spurred me on to take this chance and put myself out there. Also, my dad gifted me my first paranormal romance book without knowing what it was, so this is all his fault anyways!

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only. This and other elements depicted are licensed images that are free to use.

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  To request permission and all other inquiries, contact me at GBU.HDFortuna@gmail.com

  ABOUT PRIMAL ALLURE

  In a rural town nestled in the hills of northern Michigan, Vivienne Ward is about to find her quiet life turned upside down. The appearance of a mysteriously alluring man sparks not only her desire, but a chain of events that will lift the veil from a world she never imagined could exist.

  But this is no fairy tale, and the dangers are very real, especially when the killing starts.

  Achak is a werewolf, his body host to the spirit of a beast with a temperament and will all his own. The wolf has been his only companion for over a hundred years; they are partners, surviving in the wilderness and sharing control as they shift forms. But everything changes when they cross paths with Vivienne. Achak and the wolf struggle to master their attraction to this delectable beauty, an unprecedented temptation that will challenge their partnership. They must also hide their true nature from her, lest she take them for a monster.

  But something far more sinister has also been drawn to this little town- intimidating even a werewolf. Achak and his wolf might be the only ones capable of stopping it.

  PROLOGUE

  The cover of the leather-bound tome closed over its pages with a thud and sense of finality. Bright green eyes looked up at Grandine in wonder at the tale, one of many contained within the book.

  “But they’re just stories, right?” came young Vivienne’s question, a tremor of uncertainty in her voice. “There’s no such thing as demons and monsters and werewolves, right?”

  Gran chuckled, setting the book back in its place on the shelf before she lifted her granddaughter onto her lap.

  “All stories are based in truth, child," she murmured and absently tucked one of Vivienne's stray blonde curls behind her ear. "And just because you haven’t seen any of them, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  The girl nodded, then gave a small start as the distant howl of a wolf reached their ears. “A werewolf?!” she inquired, her voice tight with alarm.

  Gran stroked a finger over the child's cheek as she cooed softly to soothe her.

  “Fret not, little one. It is just a wolf, though you shouldn’t fear his were-kin either.”

  The girl gave her a skeptical look, drawing a caw of laughter from Gran, who reached over and plucked a strawberry bonbon from a bowl and offered it to her.

  “Just remember," Gran whispered, as if telling a secret. "If you ever do meet one, they love sweet things.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Vivienne Ward was convinced that nothing of interest was ever going to happen to her. She was twenty-six years old and still lived in Grimmsbrook, the tiny town in northern Michigan she’d grown up in. Not that she complained; she had a decent job working in a cafe with her best friend. She had no obligations outside of that role, and had long since come to terms with the fact that she wasn't meant to do anything extraordinary. Which was absolutely fine; she liked it that way. Or so she told herself.

  Marc, her manager, was dogged in his pursuit of her - regardless of how many times she shot him down. His advances were usually within the range of tolerability, but could be grating even at the best of times. He, like others in town, thought hers was a typical sob story. Her dad was a deadbeat, and her mom had taken her own life when Viv was barely ten years old. Not that she ever showed how much it had affected her; she didn't need anyone's pity. Besides, growing up with her grandmother had been nice enough, and she had learned everything she knew from her.

  Like how to brew a mean cup of herbal tea. The blend was her own, from the large and thriving greenhouse behind their home. Marc paid her a little more to keep the cafe stocked, and she sorely needed the extra cash. Viv’s grandmother had been repeatedly bedridden in a hospital for the better part of six months. She came home every few weeks, but her condition would worsen and she’d be forced back. This current stretch in the hospital was going on four weeks now, and the bills from the last time hadn’t even been paid yet. She really needed to visit Gran today after her shift.

  Viv's thoughts about her plans for the afternoon were interrupted by Cassandra, her best friend. The other woman drew her attention with an intense stare and accompanying milk-foam moustache. Viv resorted to smothering her guffaw with her hand.

  Viv joined her behind the counter and commented, “You look good with facial hair.”

  “Don’t I?” Cass replied, her lips pursed in a silly expression.

  She accepted the napkin Viv offered her. “It’s slow today," Cass observed.

  Viv nodded in agreement, as she looked around at the handful of customers that graced their little Cafe de Sol. They had renovated not long ago, and the walls had been painted a merry and warm yellow. The decor was given a modern and much-needed update in an attempt to bring in some of Grimmsbrook's youth. Marc had been worri
ed that it would be too modern for their daily clientele, who were a bit on the elderly side. The renovations hadn't provided the cafe with the expected influx of new customers, nor had it discouraged their regulars. They were not so easily swayed from their comfortable routine by a few new pieces of decoration, and remained faithful to the products and staff they loved.

  A hand went up from one of the regulars, flagging Viv down for a refill which she acknowledged with a nod. She ducked into the back room behind the counter to brew up another pot of her ginger lemongrass blend. She reached up to grab the tea canisters with practiced ease. The back room was well-organized - Viv's handiwork - and she savored the assorted aromas of her teas while she worked. Cass followed her into the back room, but remained in the doorway to keep an eye on the rest of the customers.

  “You know, we never do anything anymore,” the redhead complained.

  Viv bent over to grab something from the lower cabinet and swept her hair back when it fell and obscured her view.

  “Of course we do,” she retorted as she straightened. “Just last weekend we went out for drinks at Ronnie’s.”

  Cass dismissed the statement with a flippant wave of her hand. “That’s just what we do when we have nothing else to do.”

  Viv rolled her eyes and continued with her task. She tossed in a dash of chamomile to milden the taste to the customer's preference.

  “And what do you suggest?” Viv asked.

  “I don’t know... something crazy, like run off to a faraway city, go clubbing, get laid with total strangers.” Viv chortled and Cass frowned, folding her arms. “Don’t laugh at me!”

  Sobering, Viv said, “That’s what you did when you went off to college. Didn’t you get that out of your system by now?”

  She swept past Cass, kettle in hand, and accepted the retort she shouted after her with nonchalance.

  “For the record, it wasn't at college; it was a little town in Mexico. No amount of partying would ever make me tired of that glorious place.” She shook her finger at Viv. “And I went to beach parties there, not clubs! I want to go clubbing, woman!”

  Viv shared a laugh with the regular about Cass’s antics, and returned to the register to prepare the bill for another table. Marc sidled up next to her without a sound and announced his presence with a touch at her elbow, her arm jerking forward in surprise. Her deep green eyes flared and brightened with a hint of irritation as she tossed him a stern glance.

  “I’ve told you not to do that, Marc. I don’t like people sneaking up on me.”

  He held up his hands in surrender and smiled. “Sorry, you know I don’t mean to. Say, you never gave me a straight answer about that invite to dinner Friday night.”

  Marc wasn’t such a bad guy. He had decent looks, was well-kept and more or less physically fit, but he could be a bit overbearing at times. It didn’t help that he wasn't capable of accepting a simple refusal. There was also something missing with him, something that made Viv look at him and think ‘boring’. She wasn’t a thrill-seeker like Cass, but she couldn’t see herself with someone as bland and tasteless as Marc.

  Viv's expression tightened as she paused to collect her composure.

  “Marc, you know I need to take care of my Gran and I’m not interested in seeing anyone right now.”

  When he snared her hand in his, the sudden ire she felt towards the man gathered in her throat with the heat and pressure of words better left unspoken. She knew when to hold her tongue, but Marc didn't make it easy for her.

  “Take all the time you need,” he said. “I know how difficult this current situation must be for you. But know that I’ll still be here when you’re ready for that date.”

  Viv tugged her hand back and dryly replied, “Thanks, Marc.”

  Her temper - not something often brought to bear on people - flared when she heard Marc call out to her, “By the way, don’t forget about counting inventory tonight. I need the full list by tomorrow morning.”

  “Viv, just go.” Cass insisted for what felt like the hundredth time.

  It was already two hours after closing, and there was still quite a bit of counting to do. The broad array of individually packaged marmalades they offered in the cafe was spread out around them, a feeble attempt to make taking inventory easier. Visiting hours at the hospital were over; so much for going to see Gran today. Viv stretched the soreness of sitting on the floor out of her legs as she lifted herself to her feet.

  “You sure about this?” Viv asked.

  Cass chucked a pen at her. “I said so, didn’t I? I live here in town, so I don’t have too far to go. It’s gonna be dark soon. Besides, I want to keep my favorite task of counting the cafe’s pens all to my greedy little self.”

  Viv beamed as she slipped into her vibrant red coat. “I owe you one, Cass.”

  “You’ll pay me back by never going out with our creep of a boss.”

  Viv giggled softly. “Deal.”

  She left Cass to do the remaining inventory and climbed into her banged up pickup truck. Hers and Gran’s house was almost ten miles outside of Grimmsbrook, with the nearest neighbor being at least a mile away. Gran had always liked it that way and Viv agreed it was comfortable for her as well. As she took the main road out of town, Viv thought about how her regulars at the cafe adored her sunny and friendly disposition - a battery-charged utility. Viv liked and thrived in social settings when constrained to small doses, but she needed to be able to retreat and 'recharge', which worked out perfectly with her isolated home. If only the quiet wouldn’t always remind her that Gran was missing.

  The road through the valley wound between the gentle swell of forested hills toward the Porcupine Mountains and was fairly well-maintained. This was a popular area for hunting, but the winter season was long over, which made this road less travelled than during the colder months. In Grimmsbrook, March was jokingly called 'poacher season'. It was the time of the year when the local ranger rookies earned their stripes as they caught hunters trying to claim illegal quarry.

  As she drove beneath the birch and evergreens, Viv glanced at the bit of sky that peeked through the boughs above her, trying to judge how much daylight she had left. With a smile and satisfied nod to herself, she turned off the main road down a trail that led her deeper into the woods. Viv bounced in her seat despite being properly secured, savoring every familiar bump and crevice. She came to a stop in a small clearing and climbed out, looking to the sky appraisingly.

  Yes, it seemed she had enough time.

  From here, the ground sloped steeply upward, and footing became unsure. Viv was acquainted with this climb; she knew the most secure footholds, and which scraggly trees would hold her weight when she braced herself against them. Nevertheless, she was a bit winded by the time she made it to the top.

  The trees gave way to a broad outcropping of rock that jutted out of the crest of the hill. The vantage point provided Viv with a front row seat to watch the sun set. This was her spot - the one place nobody knew about - where she could be alone with her thoughts and the view. She came here more often now that Gran was hardly at home. It was as if fleeing to this place helped her cope with the sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her every time Gran's health worsened. She sat down on a log, the wood worn smooth over the years from her rump.

  She watched the sunset grant the forested hills a resplendent halo, outlining the walls of her life. Viv couldn’t linger to watch the display of natural splendor fade entirely. The way down the hill was far more precarious than the climb up, and she needed the swiftly fading light. Letting out a resigned sigh as the last of her stress flowed out of her, Viv mumbled to herself,

  “I'm so glad I came up here…”

  Viv wrapped up the next day quickly and left the cafe an hour early - since it was another slow shift. She made her way to the St. Martin Hospital in the next town, and stopped by a flower shop to pick up a fresh bouquet. Flowers always made Gran a little more coherent.

  As she arrive
d at the hospital, Viv wrinkled her nose at the smell of the place. It was a sterile stink, laced with the distinct fruity permeation of death that clung to the walls. She never got used to it. The woman at the reception desk offered her a saccharine smile in greeting that eased some of her trepidation. Viv paused when she arrived at the door to Gran's room, and took a deep breath to steel herself before she knocked lightly and entered.

  “Gran?” she called out. Viv found her grandmother sitting up in bed, her gaze locked on something beyond the window.

  Viv wasn't entirely sure how old Grandine was. Sixty? Sixty-five? Whenever she asked, the old woman gave vague replies that didn't really answer anything. Regardless, Gran still looked good for her supposed age. The luster of her blonde hair had faded, but hadn't yet turned grey. The barest of wrinkles decorated her face, but what gave her age away were her eyes. They were a stunning pale-green, deep with wisdom that only came from many years spent on this Earth. Maybe that was why the old woman was always so cryptic.

  She turned to look at Viv and beamed, and her tired eyes brightened with happiness and recognition; had she gotten her at a coherent moment? Relief added energy to Viv’s steps as she approached the bed. She saw Grandine’s mouth open, but - for a moment - nothing came out. The older woman gasped with a soft 'ah' as she seemed to catch her voice, only for a glazed curtain to dull her eyes.

  “Hey there sweetie," her grandmother said. "Have you seen John around? He was supposed to bring a few rabbits home for the pie.”

  Vivienne's heart fell, and she tried to keep her expression schooled as she sat down on the bed beside her. She’d tried telling her once that her husband John was long dead - years before Viv had even been born - and that she hadn’t made a rabbit pie in more than a decade. The reaction hadn't been pretty.