Page 10 of Wishing for a Werewolf
My stomach gives an appreciative growl, and Blue chuckles. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
I nod and turn for the front door, hiding a wince at the thought of my dwindling bank account. Being trapped in our wolf forms meant we lived a simple life in Faerie, and the cu sith haven’t dealt with money for several centuries. In olden times, we used to work as guards for shadow fae royalty, and indeed Severin hired me to protect hisbetrothed for a short while. But now that he’s settled in this quiet human town, my bodyguard services are no longer needed, and I must find a way for my people to make a living on Earth.
Cutting across the green, I head for my favorite evening hangout. Honey-colored wood fills the interior of The Thirsty Tusk, making up the walls, floor, bar, and all of the furniture. The inside looks almost exactly like one of the orc pubs in Faerie, which are formed out of the living wood of heart trees. Even the electric light fixtures mimic the flicker of candles, adding another touch of warmth and comfort.
The combined smell of malty ale and sweet cider blends with the scents of all the various people filling the pub, both human and fae. The only orcs are behind the bar, their tusked, green faces serious as they dole out drinks. It’s not true that all orcs are grumpy—my friend Branikk is as joyous as anyone I know—but you wouldn’t guess it from looking at these two.
“Rune.” Thorvinn dips his chin in welcome and places a tankard of ale in front of one of the empty stools lining the bar.
I grunt a hello and sit, taking a long swig from the tankard before opening the pizza box.
“What do you have this evening?” the orc asks.
“Tell you in a minute.” Melted cheese covers thin circular disks of potato and a green sauce. The first bite is delightfully herby and rich with garlic, offset by the yeasty bread of the crust. When I hum in appreciation, writing appears inside the box’s lid. The pixies bespell the boxes so I never know the name of what I’m eating until after I prove I like it. “It’sroasted-garlic potato and pesto pizza.”
A blur of movement makes my hand snap out to lock around the wrist of the person attempting to steal a slice. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. “Hungry, cat? Get your own.”
“Why should I, hound, when it’s so much more fun to take yours?” Shadow says, laughter thrumming through his voice. The werepanther plops onto the barstool beside me and opens his own box, offering me a slice of pepperoni. “Besides which, I’m willing to share.”
I fight down a grin and grab a slice, shoving the purloined food into my mouth and chewing with relish. “You’re right—it does taste better when I’ve taken it from you.”
As tall as me, Shadow’s built leaner but is still far stronger than any human. His light skin is offset by long hair that shades from deep black at the roots to silver at the tips. He takes a piece of my pizza, his cat-sith grin so wide it looks like it will split his face in two, even in his fae form.
Our nightly ritual concluded, we begin to eat in earnest, soon joined by our third.
A rustle of leathery wings announces Lukendeverner’s arrival. As large as a house in his dragon form, he settles onto the stool to my left as a weredragon. He’s got the body of a man, with tan skin, long auburn hair, and several additions. Two black horns spiral up from his head, and a red-scaled tail matches the wings draping his back. Clawed hands clasp the tankard the orc slides to him, and Luke drains it in one go before knocking on the bar to order another.
“Having a liquid meal tonight?” Shadow teases.
“Hardly.” Luke snorts and flicks a dismissive finger toward our pizzas. “I hunted for meat, not this human…bread product.” He says the last like they’re dirty words.
“Just shows what you know.” Shadow takes a big bite of his pizza, smacking his lips with exaggerated relish. “Cheese is amazing. If you could access your fae form, you’d know exactly how good this ‘human bread product’ is.”
Luke’s lip curls in a snarl, showing off his fangs. He’s unable to shift all the way to a man, stuck in his weredragon form, and it’s obviously a sore spot.
Which is exactly why the panther keeps poking at him about it.
“Ease up.” I elbow Shadow hard enough to make breath whoosh out of his lungs.
“Always the loyal hound.” He rubs his side dramatically but shuts up, for a change. The cat likes to bicker and tease, but he’s not completely cruel to those he considers friends.
Even though the pixies made us large pizzas, the food doesn’t last long, and soon all three of us sit side by side sipping our second round of orc ale. Alcohol is another new thing for me, since it doesn’t appeal when I’m a wolf. Humans find orc ale potent, but my fae constitution means I’ve never drunk enough to get truly intoxicated.
Autumn though… I remember the way her eyes sparkle anytime she has half a tankard of ale, the sound of her laugh, rich and throaty and boisterous.
When the door opens, my eyes flick in that direction, searching for a glimpse of fiery hair.
“It’s just me.” Severin stomps up to the bar, his lips pressed into a thin line. “The women won’t be here thisevening.”
“I wasn’t looking for anyone—” I start to protest, only to be the one to get an elbow to the ribs.
“There’s no point.” Shadow laughs. “He caught all three of us watching the door, and he’s smart enough to know why.”
Luke grunts.
Tall and athletically muscled, the fae king has long black hair and light skin decorated with tattoos that are actually his shadow magic. They stir in agitation as Severin orders a drink and leans against the bar.
“Let me guess,” Shadow says. “Missing the wife tonight?”
