Honey leaned against the counter at work. The scent of coffee filled her senses. She could taste it in the air. Since returning to Monterey, life had returned to normal. She toyed with her pendant, daydreaming of vineyards and mansions. She could almost believe the past weekend hadn’t happened. Almost. Thinking back on it made it seem a bit too glamorous, a bit too fantastical.

Like in a lovely dream, her working-class, construction worker boyfriend turned out to be more than he appeared. Perfect pecs, perfect abs, and, of course, insanely wealthy. And a werewolf. But not just any werewolf. An alpha.

It had to be a dream, an extension of some delusion left over from the head injury. They had not left her apartment in a rust bucket of a truck that magically turned into a sleek luxury car. They didn’t arrive at a beautiful expansive mansion. But for the life of her, Honey could not picture anything else. The wedding with the crazy bridesmaids and having to share a bathroom with them—that made perfect sense. Was completely logical. So did the family frowning upon unmarried couples sleeping together. Maybe that disapproving butler person had really been Morgan’s mother, and she didn’t like Honey.

No, that couldn’t have been Morgan’s home. It had to have been a resort in wine country. She had gotten lost in the hotel. That’s what it was.

There were real parts though. They had spent an extra day strolling around in the country, just she and Morgan. They had sneaked off into some vineyards and walked for hours. If it had been a real fairytale, there would have been horses. A horseback ride between rows of grape vines. Honey decided she should see if she could add that little tidbit into her mixed-up memories.

And then, of course, there had been the passing out from mental overload. Clearly, she had been hurt worse than they realized when she was mugged. Everything with Morgan had been so normal up until that point. It was only after she hit her head that things got weird. Maybe she hit her head again, giving her a real concussion. Maybe there had been horses and she had fallen off. A second head injury would explain the crazy dreams of wolves and vampires and Roman gods. But would that explain Morgan saying he loved her? She didn’t want that part to be a dream.

No, that was real enough too. After all, she’d woke up with him in her bed this morning. He had smiled that big toothy smile of his. They had dressed for work and did morning things like eat breakfast together. He had even said he loved her this morning before she left for work first.

“Did you hear?” Seth interrupted her daydreaming. “They caught your guy.”

Honey looked at Seth, confused. “My guy? Who? Morgan?” Honey looked at Seth, confused.

“Wait. You and Morgan? When did that happen?”

“Where have you been, Seth? Yeah, me and Morgan. I went away for the weekend with him.”

“Duh, I know that. I meant that jackass who mugged you. They caught him.”

“Really? Good.” Honey sighed. “How?”

“Idiot wears that stupid yellow jacket everywhere. Some cop saw him in line at a bank or something and recognized him from a description, and that yellow jacket.”

Honey tentatively touched the bandage on her head. The stitches were out now, but she kept the angry red line covered as it still needed to heal. “Oh, wow, that’s a relief. I wonder if they’ll need me to be a witness or something. You think I should call the police?”

“Naw, they’ll call you if they need anything. The radio said this ends a streak that was growing more and more violent.”

Honey worried that he may have hurt someone worse than her. She didn’t want to think about that if he had raped someone.

“They said he had just gotten out of jail, so the attacks violate his parole. You know who’s going back in for a long time. There’s probably an article in the newspaper about it.”

“At least he’s off the streets now.”

The tinkling of the bell over the door interrupted their conversation, one that had brought Honey back to reality. Reality that was coffee and tourists and sweatshirts with Cannery Row stenciled across the chest. Reality that was a construction worker boyfriend who was allergic to chocolate and drank Orangina. Reality that was a bed that was almost too small to fit them both, but they didn’t care as long as they could be together. Honey realized she was going to be okay with this reality, and her fantasy weekend could be a happy delusion.

A line developed at the counter. Honey turned her focus to pouring coffee and plating pastries. When it got busy like this, the only way to survive was not to look at the line but to focus on one person at a time. Make that one person feel special for the few moments she had to serve them.

It was also why Honey didn’t notice Bryce’s sneer until he stepped up to the counter. Honey flinched. Seth had disappeared. She felt stuck. There was no one to trade places with, so she didn’t have to speak to Bryce.

“What no friendly smile, Rachelle?”

“You aren’t supposed to be in here, Bryce.” Knots formed and untied, twisting in her stomach. The fight or flight response in her winding up the adrenaline. She began chanting a mantra in her head. I can handle this, I can handle this, I can handle this.

“I should be done with the meeting I’m in town for by lunch. I want you to have lunch with me. Catch up on our lives.” Bryce patted down his jacket pocket. The tone in his voice betrayed the friendly words. He wasn’t interested in catching up on old times. Controlling and manipulating, yes. Honey knew Bryce’s interests had nothing to do with her current life but were because of what she had been. “I might even have a surprise for you.”

“No, thank you, I have a boyfriend, and I don’t think he would like that.” Honey calmly explained. She knew Morgan would not only hate it, he would hurt Bryce if he knew he was here talking to Honey.

“Letting a man make decisions for you? I thought you claimed that wasn’t your style anymore.” Bryce reached into his inner jacket pocket again.

“It’s not him making decisions. It’s me being honest. He wouldn’t like it, and I respect him enough to not do something that would upset him. I don’t want to have lunch with you either. However, you are more likely to respect my refusal if you know I have a boyfriend, since you aren’t even following the café owner’s orders to stay out of here.”

“You’re not going to serve me?”

“No, I’m not. You need to leave.”

He continued conversationally, “So you’re dating again? Some little artsy type? A painter? Or are you going to tell me you’re still dating models and photographers?”

“It’s none of your business who I date, but since you asked, I’m dating a construction worker. We’re all caught up. You need to go.” Honey leaned to look at the next patron over Bryce’s shoulder. She smiled brightly at the woman behind him. “Hi, have you decided what I can get started for you?”

Honey glared at Bryce, then quickly tilted her head to the side, indicating it was time for him to move.

It wasn’t until a few customers had come and gone before Honey sighed in relief. She had survived a Bryce interaction, and she didn’t feel the urge to hide or throw up.

Lana walked into the shop an hour later with a smirk across her face. “So, Honey, how was your weekend?” Lana asked with a waggle of her eyebrows. Honey could tell she was looking for a juicy story. Lana would be thrilled with the fairytale version of the getaway Honey could remember and not the reality she was certain her brain was purposefully repressing.

“Interesting. I can’t decide if I dreamed the whole thing or not. Parts of it were completely unreal.”

Lana leaned against the counter, her elbow propped against the counter, her chin resting in one hand. “Tell me about the house.”

“Somehow I think you know more than you’re telling me. Have you known who Morgan is this whole time?” Honey asked.

“Not this whole time. But after it looked like you two might be getting together, I looked him up online. He’s quite the catch. I followed a link to a vineyard. The pictures had a glorious mansion in the background. Please tell me that’s where he took you.”

Honey pointed at Lana’s grinning face. “You let me think he was some construction worker, and all the while you knew he was the head of a huge corporation with diversified interests.”

Lana slowly stood up. “Well…” She let the word draw out. “Sort of. Look, Honey, you needed to get to know him on your own anyway. I figured at some point he would tell you.”

“Lana! Oh, my God. He picked me up in this rusted-out old truck. I practically told him I’m in love with him in an old beat-up truck. Then we pull into this mechanic’s yard, and the next thing I know, we’re speeding up the highway in a car that felt like it wasn’t even moving the ride was so smooth. That’s how he told me.”

Lana’s grin was wide and mischievous. “You’re in love.”

“I am, but I’m not even fully convinced that what really happened wasn’t a dream or my brain trying to compensate for an extremely disappointing weekend.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me it was disappointing. I was hoping it was like a fairytale.” Lana’s grin dropped as soon as she thought Honey might have had a bad time.

“So not disappointing. It was actually very much like a fairytale, complete with Prince Charming.”

The shop phone began ringing. Lana pushed off the counter and headed into the office. “I’ve got it.”

Lana emerged from the office. “Hey, Honey, can you run an order up the street for me?”

“Since when do we do deliveries?”

“Since the client promised a nice big tip for whoever would bring him four hot coffees and two hot chocolates.”

“Fine.” Honey sighed and began filling the order.

“Here ya’ go.” Lana placed two drink carriers on the counter for Honey.

“So where am I taking these?”

“Morgan asked you to bring them to the site office on Wave.”

“Lana!” Irritation laced Honey’s tone. “Why didn’t you tell me it was for Morgan.”

“’Cause I wanted to mess with you. I knew you wouldn’t say no anyway.”

“What if I had?” Honey teased.

“That’s easy. Then I would have said it’s for Morgan, and you would have become all fluffy and happy and wagging your metaphorical tail, just like you are now.”

Honey stacked the loaded drink carriers and headed the few blocks up the hill to the construction site on Wave. A short trailer sat on the grounds serving as a portable office. The only person she saw was a plaid-shirted man who approached her.

“I know you. You’re Jim, Morgan’s friend who boarded up my window after my apartment got broken into.”

“Hi. How’s that window? Did they fix it properly for you?” He took the top of the stacked drink carriers.

“They took care of everything nicely. Big new window, and replaced all the window locks too. Thanks for asking. And thanks for your help boarding things up that night.”

Jim nodded. “Which of these are the coffees and which the hot chocolates?”

Honey indicated which drinks were which.

“Thanks,” he said, handing her back one of the coffees. “That one is for Mr. Palatine. He’ll be right in.” Jim guided Honey into the office and closed the door, taking the rest of the drinks with him.

The office was small, claustrophobic. Only two small windows on opposite walls let light in. A small desk, really just a folding table, occupied one corner. Honey assumed it was the desk because of the computer sitting on top. Another folding table, covered in blueprints and yellow legal pads with notes scratched on them took up the center of the space.

The door opened and Bryce stepped in. He looked at Honey then reached for his pocket. “Seriously, if you wanted to talk to me, you could have at the coffee shop. No need to follow me. This is terribly embarrassing for you.”

Jim followed Bryce into the space. “Mr. Palatine will be right in. You okay, Honey?”

“I think I need to leave.” Bile rose in her throat. She had managed him in the café, but there were others present. This office was too small, too confining, to be in it alone with Bryce.

“Is this your construction worker?” Bryce dragged his sneering gaze down Jim, then back up to Jim’s face. “Yes, she needs to leave,” Bryce emphasized.

“No.” Morgan’s voice was low, menacing as he stepped into the office. “Thanks, Jim. I’ve got this.” Morgan’s presence made her feel secure, but the entire situation set her nerves on edge.

Jim nodded and stepped out of the office.

“Sit, Maplecourt,” Morgan demanded.

“The coffee girl needs to go. She doesn’t need to be here.” Bryce tried to gain control, talking louder than necessary for the small space. For once Honey agreed with Bryce. She didn’t need to be here.

“Honey stays.” Morgan dropped a file folder on the table in front of Bryce.

“Open it.”

Bryce flipped open the cover. Honey could see photos of Bryce hitting her. Of her cowering before him. Her stomach lurched, and she clenched her teeth together, focusing on breathing through her nose. She felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Morgan’s voice broke the silence. “Apologize to the lady.”

“Why should I? She deserved that.”

“No, I didn’t.” The sound escaped her before she realized she had spoken out loud.

Morgan stood in front of her, a barrier between her and Bryce.

“Apologize!” Morgan growled.

Honey watched as Morgan’s shoulders thickened. She ran her hand up his back, feeling the thicker muscled as he pulled his wolf to the surface. Gaining confidence with Morgan’s menacing presence, she moved to his side and then said, “This would be my construction worker, Bryce. And I told you he wouldn’t like you talking to me.”

Bryce looked from Honey to Morgan. “What is this? What are you two up to? Palatine, I will have a little chat with your client about this.” His hand reached into his pocket.

“And what?” Morgan scoffed. “You won’t like anything she will have to say to you.” He pointed towards the file. “That also contains copies of certain financial forms. Cyan del Fuego also has copies. One set is the records you have been submitting to the Cyan Group; the other are the ones that contained the real data. She wants to have a little chat with you. She should be pulling in any moment.”

Honey watched Bryce’s face turn red with anger.

“I can tell you right now,” Morgan continued, “that she’s very unhappy with you. Cyan del Fuego does not take well to people who doctor the books or steal her money.”

“I’m not afraid of Del Fuego. She can’t touch me. I have more powerful friends out there. You’ve met them already,” Bryce sneered.

Morgan nodded. “Met them, took care of them. You haven’t seen them around lately, have you?”

Bryce’s eyes widened as his skin paled. “You’re trying to scare me.”

“You should be scared. You have made a very powerful enemy, and I’m going to hand you over all wrapped up with a bow on top,” Morgan snarled.

Bryce stood and attempted to move past Morgan. “I’m out of here. I won’t let you use scare tactics on me.”

“These aren’t scare tactics, Maplecourt. This—this is a scare tactic.” Morgan’s face flashed quickly. Honey cause a glimpse of his brow thickening, his eyes glowing, his cheekbones protruding. It was as truly frightening as the first time she witnessed his transformation, more so because of the added growling.

Bryce made a noise, a gasp with a hint of terrified squeal. His eyes went wide with fear.

“Now, apologize to Honey.” Honey placed her hand on Morgan’s arm, not sure if she needed to touch him for her own personal fortitude or if she thought it would calm him. She knew she should be afraid of the entire situation. Bryce, who was abusive, in close quarters with a man who could turn into a wolf. One man who wanted to control her regardless of any pain he might inflict. The other who could tear her to shreds, but would never hurt her.

Bryce stepped back, away from Morgan. His glance shifted from Morgan to Honey and back again. “I…I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough. Say it like you mean it. Like your life depends on me believing you.”

“I am truly sorry.” Bryce paused.

“Be specific.”

“I am repentant that you were hurt.” His hand patted the jacket pocket again.

Honey watched as Morgan clenched and unclenched his fist and his nails lengthened and fur grew on the backs of his hands. “I don’t like your choice of words,” Morgan growled. “Apologize for your actions.”

Bryce looked nervously at Honey. “I am truly repentant that I hit you, that I ever caused you pain. Will you forgive me?”

Honey opened her mouth, unsure of what she would say. Her initial reaction was to say it was okay, even though she knew it was not.

Morgan replied for her. “No, she does not forgive you. She never will, and neither will I. If I ever see you again, if I ever find out you came within fifty miles of her, I will hunt you down and I will end you.”

“You can’t threaten me.” Bryce squeaked, his hand touched the pocket again.

“I just did,” Morgan growled.

Honey snapped. “What the hell is it with you and that damned pocket?” She reached up and snaked her hand into Bryce’s jacket. Her fingers closed on something flat and metal. She pulled her hand out of the jacket and opened her palm.

A small gold oval glinted in the light. Forza. She flipped it over and saw, Michelangelo’s pattern for the Piazza del Campidoglio.

Honey lashed out and began beating Bryce with closed fists. “You broke into my home. You broke my television.” Her words faded into shrieks and grunts of frustration as she continued to hit him.

Bryce tried to cover himself with his arms as he shrank away from the onslaught.

Morgan eased Honey away from Bryce. Her breathing was heavy, and her skin flushed. She struggled to get at him. “I could kill you.” She spit in his face.

“Touch me again, and I’ll…” Bryce started.

“You’ll do nothing.” Morgan’s voice was a snarl. His face returned to the mask of half wolf, half man.

Bryce started for the door. Morgan growled deep in his chest one last time before stepping out of the way to let Bryce run out the door. A very satisfied evil grin spread across Morgan’s face. He sniffed the air. “I think he pissed his pants.”

“You let him go?” Honey panted.

“He’s not going far. Come.” Morgan led Honey from the office. They watched as a long black limousine stopped in front of Bryce. Bryce started to back away. He turned then stopped when he saw Morgan. The limo door opened. Honey watched as a tall woman with intense green eyes and black hair cut in a severe bob stepped out. A burly man grabbed Bryce and forced him into the back of the car.

“That’s Cyan del Fuego.” Morgan whispered to Honey.

“Thank you for the package delivery,” Cyan said to Morgan. “I look forward to working with your family more in the future.”

Morgan nodded in acknowledgment. He stopped her just as she began to climb back into the car. “Whatever you do with him, don’t let his bones find their way into my foundation. You paid good money for my work. Don’t let that scum undermine it.”

Cyan laughed. Honey thought it was a wicked sound. “I doubt there will be that much left of him.”

The car door closed behind her.

“That. Was. Terrifying, and brilliant.” Honey said, turning to Morgan and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Did you really find something on him? How?”

“I had Dante start an investigation on him when I first found out he abused you. The rest seemed like Maplecourt just handed over the incriminating evidence. Cyan del Fuego does not put up with people trying to double cross her or embezzle her money.”

“He’s not going to jail, is he?” Honey whispered, her throat dry with the realization of Bryce’s future.

“No, he’s not. You going to be okay with that?”

Honey bit her lip. She slowly nodded. “He’ll never hurt me or another person again.”

Morgan nodded.

“That woman—she’s scary.”

Morgan pulled Honey into his arms. “Yes, and she’s a friend.”

“You have scary friends.”

“Is she really going to—?” Honey swallowed, “You know—” She dropped her voice again. “—kill him?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Not really. As long as I never see him again, that will be enough.” Honey sighed and leaned into Morgan. “I don’t want to go back to work.”

“Don’t. Come with me.” Morgan took her hand and led her to his motorcycle.

They rode a few short blocks then parked along the coastal trail. Wordlessly, he helped her off the bike and led her out onto the rocks next to the crashing waves.

Morgan sank to one knee and removed something small from his front pocket. Honey bit into her lip.

Holding up a delicate solitaire diamond ring that sparkled like a thousand stars, Morgan asked, “Honey Rachael Gould, will you accept my ring and agree to be my wife?”

Honey nodded vigorously, her voice caught in her throat.

“Knowing all the shit you know about me, you still want to marry my fat ass?” She wiped tears from her face.

“I want to spend the rest of my life convincing you that your ass is perfect.” Morgan began slipping the ring on her finger. “Yes, Honey, I want to marry you. Knowing all that shit about you makes me want you more. I could ask the same of you. Knowing what you know about me and my family, do you want to join me as my wife in the madness that is our lives?”

“Yes.” Her squeak was barely audible. Finding her voice she continued, “Yes, Morgan I want to marry you.”

Morgan stood, wrapping Honey in his embrace and claiming her lips for his own.