Caretaker E-Book

A.B. Darling Little

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Delia works a job where she is unappreciated and underpaid. Her social life is nonexistent, her career is a joke, and to top it all off, her apartment is haunted. She's a human in a world owned by Werewolves and it's impossible for her to fit in unless she embraces the lifestyle that werewolves have deemed suitable for fragile humans such as herself, bundled up in swaddles and fed from bottles.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

"Are you hungry, baby?" he asks, reaching back to comb a hand through her hair. "Shh... don't panic. That's just for now, until you get used to your new life. I'm not going to hurt you, baby girl."

Yeah, right! She hopes she can convey her anger through her glare. She's probably failing miserably because he's still gazing at her with a kind of fond look people give to cats doing amusing things. She works herself up into mild panic as the car continues to move forward and she remains trapped, strapped down by leather belts around her torso to keep her from moving.

Tears begin to trail down her cheeks and she's hiccupping and chewing on the pacifier messily, finding comfort in the sucking motion, hands clenching and relaxing so that she feels like she's doing something.

Maybe she'll get lucky and they'll get stopped by the police. He can't just take her off the streets like that! She has rights too! Less rights than normal people, but still! An ugly voice inside whispers that it wouldn't matter who sees them. They're just going to find a stubborn, misbehaving Baby and her new werewolf Daddy.

"Wait there, baby. Daddy's going to stop the car and get you something to eat, okay?" he says and clicks the turn signal on before stopping the car at the side of the road.

Her heart pounds painfully against her chest when he gets out of the car and then he's opening to door to her right and tugging her, seat and all, towards the edge. For one terrifying second, she thinks he's going to yank her straight out of the car and drop her and she would be helpless to do anything as he drives away, but he stops at the edge and peers down at her with a terrifying amount of fondness. A gust of wind blows cold air into the car and she shivers.

"Don't cry, baby girl," he says, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a napkin and then discreetly patting the bottom of her chin to clean her spit as he pulls away. "Daddy's going to take care of everything for you now, okay?"

Not okay. Definitely not okay! She has a life, friends- okay well, one friend and a joke of a life, but it's hers all the same and she's not ready to give it all up.

He ignores her whimpered protests and leans down to brush his fingers against her cheek.

She kind of hates herself a little for leaning into it, chasing the warmth that his palm provides. "Sweet little thing," he coos. "The milk's not very hot now, but it's probably still a little warm?" he reaches past her into a bag beyond her line of sight and retrieves a hot water bottle that he empties into another cup with expert ease. He caps it shut and then reaches a hand towards her.

She flinches away, a whimper slipping out before she can stop it. Her eyes shut and she turns her head into the soft sheet beneath her cheek, trembling uncontrollably.

"Shh... Shh... Don't be frightened, baby. Daddy's just picking you up so you can drink easier," he says.

There's a long pause before she registers that she's being cradled against a firm chest, the werewolf tall and strong enough to hold her with one arm around her bum and part of her upper thigh.

Leseprobe

Werewolf Adoption 1

Caretaker

Copyright 2019 A.B. Darling Little

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. No part in this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without permission of the author or publisher.

Prologue

Delia is eighteen years old and she knows ghosts don't exist so she knows her apartment isn't haunted. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispers that it could very well be why the apartment had dropped into her lap like that, but she pushes it back stubbornly.

She's been eighteen for exactly two days when she's kicked out of the orphanage with barely enough money to get dinner, let alone a place to stay, but the landlady had been very nice. Suspiciously nice. The old lady had told her that she can stay here and in exchange she could get some work done. Nothing too complicated, of course. Delia just need to help with the cleaning crew every weekday. She gets an allowance of two hundred dollars a week too. She thinks it's a fair trade. Two hundred dollars doesn't get her much, but it keeps food on her table, and she'll have a roof over her head.

Except it's only her first night here and she hears the windows rattling, the walls creaking. She hears the wind blowing against the rooftop and footsteps outside the door even though no one's supposed to share this floor with her.

The walls are thin, she tells herself. This neighborhood is a cheap one and it's only makes sense that the walls aren't soundproof.

It's not a big deal.

She gets up half a dozen times before midnight and checks to make sure the doors and windows are locked.

She can't help but feel as though she's being watched.

Delia is only human, a rare thing in this day and age where everyone's looking for the werewolf bite in exchange for the prolonged life and superhuman senses. She thinks there's nothing wrong with being human, especially since she doesn't think she'll amount to anything more than a cleaner. An enhanced sense of smell isn't going to help her there.

She buries her head under the blankets and tells herself there's nothing there even though she fee's someone there, someone watching and waiting.

Only babies believe in monsters and she's- she's most definitely not a baby. She makes herself breathe calmly under the blanket and count backwards from a hundred.

Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety-five-

There's someone in her room with her. She's sure of it.

She wishes she was back in the orphanage. The thought takes her by surprise because she hated it there. She had to share her room with twenty other kids her age and the bathroom is always taken. They're mostly werewolves and they push her around a lot, bully her into doing chores that they don't want to do.

She wants to cry, curling up in the bed with her head hidden. She falls asleep eventually, but only because she's exhausted.

Chapter One: Bad Decisions

Two hundred dollars a week is not enough. Not two days into Winter with a heater that doesn't work, she caves and buys one that manages to push her electricity bill so high up that the additional charges swallow up almost all of the money she's earned by the end of the first week.

The landlady, whom she thought was kind and helpful, had shown her true colors not one week into her new accommodations when she decided that electricity and water has to be billed separately, and if she doesn't do a 'good enough job' cleaning the apartments, she can dock it out of her weekly salary. She ended up with only fifty bucks that first week.

To top it all off, she barely has enough to eat and has to go to sleep hungry more than a few nights of that first week. Going to sleep is another problem altogether. She never gets rid of that feeling she got that first night, like someone's watching, waiting to pounce. She feels on edge all the time, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe it's dropped already and she's just too dense to know it.

Nothing else is working the way she wants it to. It won't surprise her if her apartment is actually haunted and the ghost is just biding it's time. She doesn't remember the last time she slept without that sensation of eyes on her.

It's really not fair too. The only reason why her apartment gets so cold is because she's on the highest floor and the windows don't close properly no matter what she does. It's why her heater has to be cranked up so high for her to feel a difference. The other rooms don't have problem staying warm. It's another obvious reason why she managed to get the room almost free of charge.

It doesn't feel like a blessing now.

Every night she goes to bed, the hair on the back of her neck rises, and she feels as though there's someone just outside the window, someone watching her as she tries to sleep. Even with the blanket wrapped tightly all the way up to her head, hiding her body in it's entirety, she feels watched.

It's crazy.

She tells herself she's just paranoid because she's not used to being on her own. She's not used to the silence that surrounds her apartment, the lack of whispered conversation in the night between the girls in the orphanage, the snores that both annoy her and lulls her into sleep.

Sleep would be harder if she isn't working so hard and her limbs doesn't feel like jelly at the end of the way.

When she does sleep, she feels as though she's floating. Her dreams are always the same.

She had been having the same dream for many nights in a roll and tonight is no different.