Lords of the Hill: BBW Werewolf Erotica (Smut-Shorties Book 3) by Mina Carter

Chapter One
     
    Stone Wolves that came alive at night and became men… Yeah, right. And she was a catwalk model.
    Natalya Larkin huffed, and hitched her bag to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. Although small, it bulged with her camera kit, catching on the brambles as she worked her way through the overgrown gardens of the old manor.
    Another tentacle-like branch tried to wrap itself around her ankles, its prickles like razor-wire. She cursed under her breath and backed up with care. No sense trying to plunge forward, she’d only get tangled up and ripped to shreds by the vicious thorns.
    In fact, these weren’t normal brambles, she decided, they were super-brambles. The kind that had eaten the other vegetation, and maybe some snakes too. They certainly acted like it. Bastard things.
    She walked until the stone walls rose higher above her, majestic and forbidding. Langdon Manor wasn’t the sort of stately home seen in costume dramas on the television. There were no manicured lawns, and long drives. It didn’t sit nestled in a vista designed by a Victorian landscaper but on a hill facing the moors. A fortified house, its position had given it strategic importance. A moat, now drained, had given it a level of protection no other building in the area had owned. Local legend claimed its walls had never fallen to the enemy.
    She looked up as and sighed. Time had been the ultimate destroyer. The west side of the manor was in ruins. From this angle she could see daylight through the roof of the main hall, leaving the interior to the mercy of the elements. The north wing was still habitable and used by the family in the summer, but the rest had been left to nature. Disgust swept through her as she rounded the curve of the wall. It was a crying shame that anyone had let such a gorgeous building fall to ruin.
    Once clear of the brambles, she stepped onto the wide track up to the main gates. Rather than walk the long path that circled the hill, she’d cut across country and through what remained of the gardens. It was a quicker route, and she’d never shied away from exercise. She was staying with her grandmother, so with the huge, home-cooked meals every day, she needed it.
    The main gates came into view, and her steps slowed. Two massive stone wolves flanked either side. Almost as big as the gates themselves, the exquisite carving meant she could make out the details of their faces even from here. The one on the left was stoic, his face set in implacable lines, while the other was caught mid-snarl, teeth bared and expression vicious.
    The Langdon wolves… The alphas her village had once swore fealty to.
    She shivered, remembering her grandmothers warning. The Stone Wolves of Langdon were the last of the line, born centuries before and cursed by a witch to dwell in stone until they found their one true love. One. For both of them.
    Witches. Always had to have the last laugh. It was the reason she stayed the heck away from them. Despite the calls for those with non-human blood to stick together, Nat had never considered herself paranormal.
    Yeah, her passport said she was lycan, but her family had been human for… Well, forever. There were stories of a mad uncle who had ‘episodes’, but according to family legend the last true shifter had been her great-times-four-or-something-grandmother.
    Her steps took her closer to the gates, and their stone guardians. The closer she got, the harder it was to shake off the odd impression that both wolves watched her. She shivered, then shook her head and laughed at her own foolishness.
    “It’s just silly old stories, you know?” She addressed the stoic wolf. Its eyes were in darkness, a shadow cast by the heavy brow and the stonemason’s skill. “My gran said you guys come to life and carry off poor unsuspecting lycan women for nights of mad, passionate sex. Lucky bitches. A little passion in my life would be nice right now.”
    She sighed, patting the stone flanks as