Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Some occasionally came into town, particularly on full moons, so there was a curfew at such times. They’d otherwise attack, mindless in their thirst for blood and violence.
People didn’t kill them unless necessary. They aimed to capture them, where possible. Because the Rabid could ‘come back’ from that state. But not always. It generally depended on how long they’d been that way.
Given that the Rabid were prone to turn on each other, Emberlyn didn’t even know if Michael was still alive. But he was gone either way, really – he’d been Rabid too long, his mental processes would be permanently affected.
People in her position typically declared their mating null and void – breaking the mating tie, as the saying went – after five years. Though she’d moved out of the home they’d shared twelve months ago, she’d waited the extra year before making it all official. She’d also dipped her toe in the dating pool. That hadn’t resulted in more than a brief fling or two. But it was something.
Once again, a distant howl rang out. Maybe it was one of Ripper’s wolves – they were no doubt thrilled to have their land back.
His clan was definitely the toughest of the three. Seriously tough. Driving through Ashwood, where the majority of the clan lived . . . it was like entering a movie set for lumberjack porn.
Genuinely, they were badass. You could send a few out into the wilderness and they’d likely build you a village. And they did what the other clans and the coven wouldn’t – they braved Bloodhill to hunt meat for the town. Meat they sold at their butcher’s shop.
They also ran the brewery, tattoo studio, blacksmiths, diner, mechanic shop, a bar, a restaurant and a landscaping business.
All things considered, they would make great neighbors. Especially to someone with her current problems. Providing that their Alpha didn’t intend to be a dick to her, of course.
She didn’t see why he would, really. There were no frills with Ripper – he was blunt and to the point, but he wasn’t an asshole needlessly. And she hadn’t done anything to him.
The witch who’d targeted his clan all those years ago, though? She’d caused an epically bad situation. As such, Emberlyn could totally understand if he’d keep his distance from her. Especially since she’d cultivated an image of herself that wouldn’t exactly endear her to people. He’d have no reason to assume that not all the rumors about her were true.
She didn’t need people to like or approve of her, she just wanted them to leave her be. If he’d extend that courtesy to her, she’d appreciate it. She had enough drama coming from other angles.
On that note, thanks for this, Grams. Thanks a fucking lot.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sipping her freshly made cup of tea the next morning, Emberlyn tossed her spoon into the sink. She’d slept like the dead last night, which she figured was partly due to her having given the entire house a spiritual cleansing beforehand to rid it of negative energies.
Okay, so she hadn’t cleansed the entire manor. She’d left out the spooky spare room and basement. Those were her no-go areas, and for good reason.
She’d already chowed down a bagel, so she would be heading to work soon. She’d also take some time to go to her apartment and pack the rest of her things.
The majority of the coven’s businesses partially, if not mostly, tended to the needs and wants of witches. Something Emberlyn thought was particularly short-sighted. When three-quarters of the town’s population were werewolves, it made sense to launch a business that would provide an in-demand service for them.
Hence why she’d started Vautier Laundry Hub.
Werewolves were always fighting. More often than not, it was for the rush of it. They even had a bareknuckle fighting ring for such purposes. Then there were minor disputes that escalated into brawls, one-to-one challenges, group fights or even – though it was rare – battles with other clans.
As such, their clothing was regularly stained with blood, dirt and sweat. More, such clothing was often also damaged – whether during violent incidents or the need to shift very quickly. So Emberlyn’s hub not only laundered clothing, it also offered supplemental services such as repairing tears or reattaching buttons.
The place had a lot of customers. Especially since she’d incorporated a little magick, positively guaranteeing that their clothes would return in perfect condition, smelling of whatever scent they’d chosen, and would be soft enough to accommodate their slight skin sensitivity.
As a small add-on service, she even sold werewolf-specific potions at the hub – some sped up the healing process, some were straight-up energy shots, others aided in fighting the moon’s pull. On and on it went.
At one point, the coven had started their own launderette, thinking to cash in on this niche they’d either previously ignored or simply hadn’t seen. But they hadn’t managed to lure Emberlyn’s customers away, and they hadn’t liked how their electricity kept cutting off, their machines kept breaking or their front door kept sticking.