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    Sweet Scents: Sweet Briar Farm, #2
    Sweet Scents: Sweet Briar Farm, #2
    Sweet Scents: Sweet Briar Farm, #2
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    Sweet Scents: Sweet Briar Farm, #2

    By Hollis Shiloh

    3.5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Jon, 18, is a bunny shifter who's very youthful-looking for his age...and very gay.  He's so happy with life on Sweet Briar Farm, now that he's safe and free from bullies.  

    Fitch, 17, is a skunk shifter who just arrived.  Trusting anyone is hard for him, and he throws up a barrier of assumed toughness.  He's survived a lot of pain and doesn't want more.  But he can't resist Jon's warm friendliness.  

    The two boys are drawn inexplicably to one another.  Will they be friends for life...or more than friends?  And what, precisely, does that mean for two boys who'd never been particularly interested in sex?

    Sweet Briar Farm is a place for them to heal, to find themselves, and to find each other...whatever that means to the two of them.


    A Sweet Briar Farm story

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSpare Words Press
    Release dateOct 23, 2016
    ISBN9781536571448
    Sweet Scents: Sweet Briar Farm, #2

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      Book preview

      Sweet Scents - Hollis Shiloh

      Story copyright September 2016 by Hollis Shiloh. 

      All rights reserved.  Do not reproduce without written permission from the author.  All characters and events are fictitious, and any similarity to real people or events is coincidental. 

      Original art created by TatianaOnegina: www.tatianaonegina.deviantart.com

      Copy-editing and proofreading by Martin O'Hearn.

      ––––––––

      Sign up to hear about my new releases:

      https://madmimi.com/signups/221447/join

      (or write me at Hollis.shiloh@gmail.com)

      ––––––––

      About the story:

      Jon, 18, is a bunny shifter who's very youthful-looking for his age...and very gay.  He's so happy with life on Sweet Briar Farm, now that he's safe and free from bullies. 

      Fitch, 17, is a skunk shifter who just arrived.  Trusting anyone is hard for him, and he throws up a barrier of assumed toughness.  He's survived a lot of pain and doesn't want more.  But he can't resist Jon's warm friendliness. 

      The two boys are drawn inexplicably to one another.  Will they be friends for life...or more than friends?  And what, precisely, does that mean for two boys who'd never been particularly interested in sex?

      Sweet Briar Farm is a place for them to heal, to find themselves, and to find each other...whatever that means to the two of them.

      A Sweet Briar Farm story

      25,000 words

      Heat level: very low

      Keywords: New adult, gay romance, asexuality, shifter tale, rabbit shifter

      Sweet Scents

      (A Sweet Briar Farm story)

      by Hollis Shiloh

      The day the second skunk showed up, Jon had gone for a swim in the lake.  He wasn't expecting a newcomer.

      Sweet Briar Farm had been his home now for the last eighteen months, and it always felt safe to him nowadays — always.  Even in his rabbit form, he didn't get very nervous.  There were people keeping the farm safe all the time.  One of them was the resident skunk shifter, a very grumpy fellow who was fierce enough to chase off probably the worst predators in the world.  He was also armed and looked like he would be willing to use his gun if it came to it. 

      For the first few weeks, Jon had been scared to even look at him.  Now he liked Maurice, for all his harrumphs and grouchy looks.  He was a part of the farm, and Jon liked everything about the farm.

      No predators came here — never.  It was safe to be an herbivore shifter in a world where it usually wasn't.  The grass was lush, the sky was beautiful, and there were meadows, fields, woods, and briars to play in, explore, and run around through.

      Jon had soft gray eyes and floppy, pale hair that was halfway between white and yellow.  It was always too long, and sometimes he let it fall over part of his face (that was mostly when he was first at the farm and afraid to meet anyone's gaze), or jerked it out of the way with a quick movement of his head, tilting his head sideways so he could see. 

      He didn't want to cut it.  It had been cut once when he didn't want it cut, and now growing it long gave him a feeling of independence.  Even knowing it looked messy and too long was a kind of wild freedom in itself. 

      He tended to look quizzical anyway, but with his head tilted like that, and his big gray eyes drinking in the world and the other people in it, he looked more quizzical than ever.

      Nobody thought he was eighteen, though.  He was used to being young-looking, and philosophical about it.  It wasn't as though he wanted a boyfriend anyway — not for a long, long time.  Maybe never.  It was okay with him if he looked like a weedy, half-grown kid for a little longer (or a weedy, half-grown rabbit in his animal form).

      He favored skinny jeans and big, oversized white knit sweaters that made him feel small and safe, wrapped in a cocoon of lovely warm wool.  He loved to roam the farm's acres at all hours of the day or night and all times of year, now that he'd gotten braver here, and it kept him warm even when his breath looked like steam in the cold air.

      But today, today was warm: a beautiful day, a summery day, even though it was very much fall.  Halloween was in a few weeks, and there were pumpkins and falling leaves, and coffee tasted extra good in the chilly mornings.

      Jon had only recently, and with much effort, acquired a taste for coffee.  He was deeply proud of that.

      At any rate, he'd had his coffee and his oatmeal, and with a slice of cherry pie in hand to take along with him on his walk, he waved goodbye to the cook, who'd scowled and shook his head.  Oscar was a groundhog shifter, and the kind of person who thought everybody needed to eat more, and sit down while doing it. 

      With Jon, he kind of had a point, but Jon no longer had to listen to anybody's rules, even sensible ones like that, if he didn't feel like it.  And so he didn't.  It gave him great happiness to finish his breakfast as he was striding off.  He stayed away for hours, and went for a dip as soon as it was remotely warm enough.

      The pond was beautiful, serene, green.  It had fishes in it, and moss, and growing strands of greenery.  He loved the way it smelled, loved the caress of the water against his skin, hugging him as he pushed against it, swimming.  He wasn't a terribly good swimmer in his human form, but that didn't matter.  Nobody was here to watch, and he could just enjoy the sensual, rolling pleasure of it, his awkward dog paddle feeling as special as an Olympic athlete's sleek, fast movements through water.

      What a feeling it was, to be alone and free and out in nature!  He breathed deep, and closed his eyes for a minute, lying back, floating, feeling light and happy.  Already his stomach was rumbling.  It would be lunchtime soon, and he'd have to either head back and waste time eating, or change to his rabbit form and eat while exploring. 

      There were always things to eat when he was a rabbit, and he liked all of them.  Weeds and grass tasted delicious; alfalfa was heavenly and vegetables were pure bliss. 

      Finally, heavy-limbed and feeling almost sleepy, he dragged himself from the water.  An alarmed frog ribbetted and jumped into the water nearby.  He laughed softly.  I won't hurt you, little friend.

      He'd dragged on his jeans with difficulty, squinting in annoyance.  If he'd planned ahead, he could've brought a towel and dried off.  It was messy, being wet and putting on jeans.  But it was also just a little too cold to stay naked and wait till he dried off naturally.

      He worked the zipper up with pruned fingers, gripping tongue between teeth as he concentrated.  A moment later, he smelled a waft of cigarette smoke and looked up in alarm.

      People didn't smoke on the farm; shifters didn't tend to like smoking.  So did that mean...a predator had gotten past Maurice?

      A young man was walking up to his pond, bold as anything, looking around.  He was quite a sight.  He was probably about Jon's age, although even at a glance Jon could see he was far more worldly, bold, and experienced.  He wore tight black skinny jeans with zips in them.  The material outlined his athletic figure sharply.  His t-shirt was tight, clinging to a hard, hot chest, and the leather jacket he wore over that hung open, bristling with zips, dark as a moonless night, looking aggressive.

      The young man's face had a sneer to it, or something close

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