Free A Taste of Honeybear Wine (BBW Bear Shifter Standalone Romance Novel) (Bearfield Book 2) by Jacqueline Sweet, Eva Wilder Page A

strong. Michael didn’t know what the truth was, he just knew that it creeped him out. He’d only been in the Rookswood once before, as a child with his father, but the size of the trees made him feel like a child again, lost in the deep dark wood.
    “These are all magnificent,” Alison said in wonder. She kept stopping, kneeling, picking up leaves and studying them. She didn’t see the hunting party creeping above them in the branches. Hell, Michael couldn’t see them either, but he could hear them. He could scent them. Three young raven shifters, wearing something smooth that slithered on their skin. Two females and one male. When was the last time they’d even seen a bear shifter?  
    Alison opened her purse to stuff one of the dinner-plate-sized oak leaves inside but Michael caught her hand.
    “Don’t do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “Steal from the Raven Queen.”
    “I’m not stealing anything. And anyway it’s just a leaf.” There was a fire in her eyes. An indignant strength exploded inside her. Even through the stink of the musk sage Michael could smell the adrenaline on her skin. She was stronger than she looked and quick to defend herself. Good.
    “To you, it’s a leaf. To me, it’s a leaf. But to the Queen of these woods, it’s a pretext. These ravens, they’re tricksters. They once made Augusta Brown serve them for a month and a day because they accused her of stealing their words without permission.” When Alison blinked at him uncomprehendingly, Michael added, “Because she runs our little town paper and she quoted three of them who were in town getting supplies. Afterwards, Marcus and the Queen sat down with an attorney—Matt, actually—and drew up a giant contract between the ravens and the b—” He almost said the bear word.
    “The ravens and the bees?”
    “Between them and us,” Michael said, shrugging sheepishly. He was never a very good liar. He didn’t really see the point in it.  
    Alison put the leaf back down exactly where she’d found it and they continued down the winding narrow path.  
    “What’s in the contract?”
    “Stuff like, you can’t accuse people of stealing your air if they breathe near you. Or stealing your words because they overhear you. You can’t come into town and run con games on the tourists—that was a hard one. Whatever shenanigans they get up to, they don’t do it in Bearfield proper. Maybe they go over to Santa Rosa or down to the city. But the point is, we can’t give them any excuse to take offense and we can’t make any deals or bets with them.”
    “They sound like fairies, from the old stories. My gran, my dad’s mother, grew up in England. She was from Kenya originally, but—y’know, it’s a long story—the point is she grew up with all of these old stories about fairies and boggins and redcaps and she’d tell us all about them on the dark winter nights when she visited. The ravens sound like they could have given the old sidhe courts a run for their money.”
    A woman’s voice, strong and deep, rang out. “A high compliment, my lady. For that alone you have earned safe passage for yourself and your furry companion.” Michael looked around, but couldn’t see anyone. The hunting party was far behind them, in the high branches of an elm. The voice came from someone else, someone he couldn’t see or hear or scent.
    “Umm, thank you?” Alison said and then curtsied. “It was a gift freely given.”
    The woman’s voice laughed, the deepness turning into a harsh squawking cry. “Approach my citadel, Alison of the Meadows. You have our blessing.”
    Alison shot Michael a look, but he didn’t know what it meant. It was portentous. Did she know what she was doing? Was the queen’s blessing a trick to give the inexperienced mortal the shine of authority, so that she’d blunder into some raven’s trick? Michael didn’t have the head for this. He wasn’t a tricky guy at heart. He was a seeker, a finder, and a hunter. They