The BBW and the Beast: A Shifter Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 1) by Sylvia Frost

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17
    S amson was beyond sadness , beyond rage, beyond anything but weakness and pain. He was lying on the couch in the living room, trying his best not to move. He only hoped that the symptoms of their mate bond weren’t as physical for her.
    “I don’t know why we aren’t tracking her down,” said Rex, his voice drifting in from the kitchen. “It’s not as if he’s in any state to stop us.”
    “No,” Samson said weakly. “I said no.”
    “He has to figure this stuff out on his own, Rex,” said Luther, who was probably rifling through the refrigerator. Again. He hadn’t stopped eating and doing pushups. Having lost his once extreme muscles, Luther was determined to get them back as soon as possible.
    “Not if figuring it out will kill him. I say—“
    Before Rex could finish, the doorbell rang.
    Samson sat up, fighting through the pain. His muscles loosened and the pounding in his head quieted.
    Rex drifted through the kitchen door, walking with that annoying quiet grace of his. Samson was tired of Rex running things as he had in the week since Isabella had left. That alone gave him energy enough to stand up from the couch.
    Rex paused and raised an eyebrow his way. “You’re up?”
    “I’ll answer the door,” Samson grunted.
    “You might want to button your shirt first.”
    Samson waved Rex away and stumbled to the door. Blinking at the glare of the winter sun, he opened it blearily and gave a groaning, “Hello.”
    “Hi.”
    Instantly, all of Samson’s senses were at attention. He didn’t need to see the owner of the voice to know who it was. He was assaulted by her at every turn. The smell of her was strong, like she hadn’t taken a shower in a couple of days, but sweet. He wanted to bury his face in her chest, cradle her to him and never let her go.
    His Isabella. His Bel.
    He knew he should say something, but he could think of nothing that would express the magnitude of his relief at her appearance.
    “So,” Bel began, “Merry Christmas.”
    She looked uncomfortable as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. There were deep purple bags underneath her eyes, and her normally enticing skin looked sallow. Samson had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He doubted he ever would again. Even if she stayed with him forever, there would never be anything better than this moment.
    When it became clear that he wasn’t yet capable of speech, she continued, “I brought you a present.” From behind her back, she pulled out a book. “You asked me if I would do the ending differently now.”
    With shaking hands, Samson took the book from Bel, but he didn’t open it. He was afraid that if he looked away, she’d be gone when he turned back.
    Her shoulders almost touched her ears as she shrugged them. “I thought that now that I know a werewolf first hand, I should rewrite it.” She twirled a strand of hair around her thumb. “This won’t be the official version mind you. I still have to extend the series as it’s published if I’m going to get another shot with a publisher. But for us I thought maybe we could have our own special ending.”
    Samson didn’t let her finish. He took her in his arms, squeezing her so tightly that she let out a startled yelp. His wolf rejuvenated, finally rising to enough attention to realize that they were wasting valuable seconds. He could’ve been kissing her.
    The book fell to the floor, pages ruffling in the coming winter’s breeze. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the last page and saw that the type had been crossed out and replaced with hastily scribbled pencil marks.
    “Yes,” he growled into her mouth.
    “Yes, what?” Bel mumbled, barely able to speak around the kiss.
    “Yes, I’ll keep you.” Again he kept her from completing her thought, this time by pressing a line of kisses down her neck. Before she could protest further, he swept her off her feet and into his arms, cradling her body against his chest.
    “What are