4. Wolfe #2
"And what's that?" My voice comes out harsher than intended.
"That the real monster of Marsden Manor is pure fiction. A character you play. The real Wolfe Marsden is a hero who's been hiding behind a mask so long he's forgotten there's a difference."
Her words strike something deep inside me, something that's been dormant for years. My eyes burn and I stand abruptly, unable to bear the weight of her gaze. "You don't know me."
"But I'd like to," she says simply.
I turn to face her. "Why?"
"Because I'm drawn to you. You’re smart, witty, and artistic.” The honesty in her voice is disarming. “And I think you’re incredibly sexy."
Did she just say sexy ?
I swallow hard.
The tension between us pulls taut like a wire ready to snap. I should remind her that she's here for an assignment, nothing more. I should keep my distance as I have for all this time.
Instead, I hear myself say, "Show me the photos you took today."
She hesitates, confusion on her face, before reaching for her camera. “Sure.”
I move to her chair, leaning over as she activates the display. The first image appears—the gallery fog, ethereal and mysterious, not capturing fear but a strange, otherworldly beauty.
I find myself captivated not by the images themselves, though yes, they are extraordinary, but by how she's captured the manor. Not as a haunted house of horrors, but as a place of dark wonder. Through her lens, the theatrical elements I've created become art rather than mere scares.
"You have a unique perspective," I say, genuinely enthralled.
"I hope so. That's what makes a good photographer." She looks up at me, our faces suddenly very close. "Seeing what others miss."
Her words hang between us. I'm acutely aware of her sweet scent—cutting through the old books and wood smoke. Her eyes drop briefly to my mouth and my heart jumps into my throat.
"Ash," I manage to whisper.
She lifts her hand to touch my mouth and I let out a gasp. Her fingertips stroke over my lower lip and I’m lost.
“I'm going to kiss you,” I hear myself murmur. “Unless you tell me not to.”
Her answer is to close the distance between us, her lips meeting mine with unexpected boldness.
I shudder.
She cradles the unmasked side of my face as I sweep my tongue against the seam of her lips. We both moan loudly as our tongues finally meet and explore, slow and deep. I'm ever-aware of the mask between us, the barrier it creates, but she doesn't seem to care.
I pull her up from the chair without breaking the kiss, gathering her body against me as we perch on the side. She feels like heaven, fitting against me so perfectly. Her arms wind around my neck, fingers threading into my hair as she makes a small desperate sound that has my cock raging.
A sudden, piercing wail cuts through the manor, followed by ghostly blue light flooding through the library windows.
"What the hell?" Ash gasps as we break apart, clutching at me.
"Howie!" I turn my head to roar, recognizing the signature effect of his newest creation—the "Banshee's Lament," a combination of sound and light designed for a nearby room.
Ash is flushed and wide-eyed. I can't remember the last time I wanted someone this badly…or if I ever have.
The door to the library bursts open, revealing Howie's excited face.
"It works! " he shouts over the wailing.
"The backup generator kicked in and triggered the—” He stops abruptly, taking in the scene before him—me still holding Ash, our faces close, bodies entwined.
"Oh. Uh. Sorry, boss. I didn't realize you were. ..uh..."
"Turn. It. Off." I disentangle from Ash slowly.
"Right! Yes! Turning it off!" Howie disappears as quickly as he appeared, and seconds later, the wailing stops, though the blue light continues to pulse through the windows.
Ash steps back, adjusting her top with a nervous laugh. "Howie has impeccable timing."
"He'll be looking for a new job tomorrow," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
She grins. "Don't be too hard on him. His enthusiasm is endearing." She pauses. "Are you…okay?”
I take a deep breath. Am I okay? It’s the first time I've kissed a woman in ages. The first time I’ve let someone this close to my scars, my vulnerability.
"I am. It was..." I search for the right word. "Unexpected."
She bites her lip, her brow furrowing.
"I mean," I clarify quickly, "I didn't expect to feel...so much."
Her smile returns, warming something inside me that's been cold for much too long.
The blue light finally stops, plunging us back into the warm glow of candles and firelight. Outside, the storm continues to rage, but it seems more distant now, less threatening.
A knock at the door interrupts us again. This time it's Dev, looking concerned.
"Sorry to intrude," they say, gaze darting between us curiously, "but we've got a situation."
"What now?" I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
"The creek's overflowed its banks. We're setting up emergency protocols. You both might want to join us in the kitchen."
"We'll be right there," I say, watching Dev retreat with a nod.
When we're alone again, I turn to Ash. "Well, it seems you're stuck with the Beast for longer than anticipated."
She steps closer, fearless as ever. "Is that supposed to scare me off?"
"Maybe."
She reaches up, and gently touches the edge of my mask.
I catch her wrist, suddenly afraid of what might happen if I let this continue. "Ash...this is a bad idea."
"Why? Because I'm here for work? Because you think I'll be repulsed once I see all of you? Or because you're afraid I won't be?"
Her perception is unnerving. I release her, stepping back. “All of the above. Plus, Dev is right. We need to deal with the flooding.”
She nods. “I know.”
We head toward the kitchen in silence, the moment between us not gone but temporarily suspended.
As we walk, Dev appears from a side corridor. “Wolfe, can I have a minute? In private.”
Ash hears that and goes on ahead.
"A word of caution," Dev says quietly. "She's still a journalist with a camera. Whatever is happening between you two...remember she has a story to write and a career to build."
Their words are like ice water down my back.
Of course. What am I doing? Ash isn't here for me; she's here for a feature that could advance her career. The kiss, her interest—could all be a tactic to get better material for her piece. To catch the Beast with his guard down.
I’m letting myself get carried away.
By the time we reach the kitchen, my walls are firmly back in place. The room is bustling with activity: Lee marking areas of concern on a property map, Ghost checking emergency supplies, and Howie fiddling with his cell phone and a battery-powered radio.
"The old maple by the east fence went down," Lee reports as I enter. "Took out part of the power line with it."
"Utility company says it'll be at least twenty-four hours before they can get up here," Ghost adds.
I nod, slipping easily into crisis management mode. This is familiar territory, with problems to solve, actions to take.
Much safer than the uncharted waters of Ash's soft, hot body against mine.
“We need to fix the emergency lights,” I say. “And conserve as much power as possible. Howie, shut down all of the effects systems. Ghost, how’s the west wing?”
“It’s holding for the time being,” Ghost replies.
I nod. “Lee, what’s the food situation like?"
"Plenty of things in the pantry. We were stocking up for the Halloween rush anyway."
"Good." I glance at Ash, who's watching our organized emergency response with interest. "Dev, set Ms. Vaughn up with whatever she needs to be comfortable for a longer stay."
Ash gives me an odd look.
"We should all get some rest," I add. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
Without waiting for a response, I turn and leave the kitchen, retreating to the sanctuary of my workshop. Down here, surrounded by my creations, I can think clearly again.
What was I thinking, kissing her? Opening myself up like that? Dev is right—she's here for a story. “I Kissed the Beast of Marsden Manor” would make quite the headline, wouldn't it?
I lose track of time as I work on a half-finished mask, the familiar motions of sculpting and molding calming my chaotic thoughts. The workshop door creaks open behind me, and I know without looking who it is.
"Go away, Ghost."
"What has your panties in a bunch?” he asks, ignoring my dismissal as usual. He hops onto my worktable.
"Nothing," I reply. "I’m fine."
"Howie said you two were looking pretty cozy in the library."
“That little weasel,” I mutter.
“I don’t see what the problem is here, Wolfe.”
"The problem is she's a journalist here to do a job, and I'm the subject of her assignment. That’s all.”
Ghost sighs heavily. "You know, for someone so smart, you can be remarkably dense."
I look up sharply. "Excuse me?"
"I've seen how she looks at you. It’s not just professional interest."
"It's called acting , Ghost. Some people are good at it."
"Isn’t that what you do? Hide behind all kinds of masks," he counters. “Pretending to be something you’re not?”
I slam down the tool I'm holding. "What exactly do you want from me?
To believe that a beautiful, talented woman is genuinely interested in this?
" I gesture angrily toward my masked face.
"To hope that maybe she sees past it to whatever's left of the man underneath?
And then what? She takes her photos and leaves.
Back to her normal life while I stay here in my monster's lair. "
Ghost waits for my outburst to finish, his expression infuriatingly calm. "Are you done?"
I glare at him.
"Good. Because while you're down here throwing your pity party, that woman is nearly coming to blows with Dev for even suggesting that she might be using you for her story."
This stops me cold. "Really?"
"I had to hold Ash back. She was nearly in tears. She said she’d never do that to a war hero and a true artist. That she's never met anyone like you."
I stare at him, unable to process this information.
“Earlier, I tried to rattle her, too, to be fair. She wasn’t having it from me, either.” He jumps off the table. “So you have two choices. Keep hiding behind your masks and your fears. Or see what happens when you let someone in.”
He leaves without another word, the door closing softly behind him.
I sit motionless among my creations.
Could Ash really see beyond the scars, beyond the Beast I've become?
And if she can...am I brave enough to let her?