Page 21 of Enemy Wolf

Instead, I got a nose full of dusty, ancient paper and proceeded to have a sneezing fit.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Shiloh slapped a hand to her mouth but too late, she was already laughing her ass off. “Poor baby!”

After sneezing about a dozen times, I took another, more careful whiff of the page and got a familiar scent, faint though it was. I gave Shiloh a curious look, sitting on my haunches and cocking my head to the side. If I was right, this plant grew only on the highest peaks in Vargmore. It definitely wouldn’t be growing along some trail down at this elevation. Not that I knew anything about witchcraft, but what kind of potion would call for such a rare, fickle plant?

Shiloh’s expression turned serious, if even grave. “You know what this is?”

I gave a high-pitched bark and wagged my tail. At least, I was pretty sure.

“You know where it grows?”

My tail wagged harder, and I let out a soft howl at the sky.

“Can you take me there?”

I stopped my tail and pointed my nose at the ground. It would take days of treacherous hiking for a human to get there. No way in hell would I subject Shiloh to that.

But I could make the trip myself in probably a day.

“No?” Shiloh’s face fell. “Please, Orson? I really need this. And I need a lot of it.”

My wolf darted forward and licked her face before I could stop him, and then we were off.

We tore through the woods, a silver shadow on four legs heading north toward the mountain range. Behind me, Shiloh called after us to wait, but she would lose us soon.

We will provide for our mate, my wolf proclaimed. And she will stay safe.

I couldn’t have fought him even if I tried. Just like the first time those protective instincts over Shiloh woke up, the animal drive blended into the human side. His will was my own.

Not even the feral shifter packs deep in Vargmore’s forest went up to those peaks. The climb was brutal even on the clearest, warmest days. But for her, I’d do it without a second thought.

My mate was worth it.

Chapter 8

Shiloh

The moon’s magic affected every living thing in Vargmore. Werewolves were the most obvious expression of magic, but even a blade of grass acted as a sponge, soaking up moonlight every night. Humans and witches were obviously affected too.

My family was said to be some of the first humans in Vargmore, here almost as long as the werewolves were. So we had a long, deep history with moon magic. It flowed through our veins just as potently as the blood that kept us alive.

Which was precisely why, on this full moon night, I was staring at my collection of sex toys with despair.

They were lined up on my coffee table like dead soldiers. Which they were, in the used up and out of juice sense. All of my electrical outlets were filled with chargers and batteries because somehow, none of my battery-operated-boyfriends had been able to make me come.

For the first time ever, literally none of my toys had been able to do their only job.

I fanned my face and paced my tiny studio apartment, gulping down some water while repeating what the fuck? in my head. Being extra horny was expected on the full moon. Pretty much all sexually-reproducing females in their prime felt an extra boost of fertility during this time, whether you were a werewolf, human, witch, rabbit, or a praying mantis.

But this? Burning through the batteries on all of my vibrators and not getting an ounce of relief? This was bullshit.

In the words of some human rock band I saw on TV, I can’t get no satisfaction.

At this point, it just felt like I was making myself more wound up and even hornier. I’d really just been edging myself for the last two hours, even though that wasn’t what I was trying to do. I was hot and my skin was overly sensitive. Even my feet pacing over the floorboards felt like an erotic touch that wouldn’t bring anything out of me.

I turned and looked at my bathroom, wondering if an icy shower would do the trick. It wasn’t a pleasant idea, but I was getting desperate at this point.

My eyes then landed on the tied bundle of long stems with tiny, white-silvery flowers hanging upside down to dry next to the door. A bouquet of silver deadnettle, the main ingredient in Visakari’s Kiss, one which I thought had gone extinct, had just shown up on my doorstep three days ago.

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