Page 116 of The Howl
“No. I can ask around, though.”
“Discreetly,” I said.
“Don’t want the Council catching wind of the fact you’re thinking of using magic?”
“No.”
“A location spell is a good idea, though. And probably something better left to more experienced druids. You might want to mention it to Mr. Quill.”
“I will. But just in case they don’t think one human worth the expense of hiring a professional, can you still ask around?”
“Of course.”
He removed his hands from his pockets and raised his brows expectantly at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Am I going to have to chase you down every time?”
“Chase me? Why?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I understood. “Oh, right. Forget the missing human and the fact that my mom’s still in Uttira and that Adira purposefully put us together in Self-Discovery because said mom thought your lust-smell would do me good. Fenris needs his hug.”
“That’s right, I do.”
He wiggled his fingers and squatted down a little.
“I’m not running into your arms.”
“Come on. Bring it in hard and fast, lightweight. Don’t you want to see if you can knock me over?”
At the moment, knocking his grinning face to the ground did sound a little fun. But I took the dignified route and walked into his embrace.
“One of these days, you’ll come running for a hug,” he said into my hair.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Oh, I’m not.” He inhaled deeply. “New shampoo?”
“Are we done hugging yet?”
“The timer doesn’t start until your hands are on my back. Or lower. Whatever’s more comfortable for you to grab.”
I rolled my eyes and wrapped my arms around his waist. It felt good to be hugged by Fenris.
“So we have your mom to thank for getting us out of real work at the Academy?” he asked against my hair.
“Not that I’d call any of the work there real, but yeah. It was her. And don’t thank her. You should be as upset as I am at being manipulated.”
“I dunno. She got me what I wanted.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, warily easing out of his hold.
“An hour of freedom. Celebrate the small stuff, Eliana. Don’t let the big picture worries drown you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cakes weregreat until they tasted like skunk butt. I spat out the cake and started wiping at my tongue. The taste wouldn’t go away. The dangling cakes did, though. They vanished like popping bubbles as skunks came marching in, two by two, to start humping.
I woke with a gasp and sat straight up in my bed.
