Page 26 of Wishing for a Werewolf
“Hey, now. You don’t really mean me.” She holds up her hands. “That’s the wish swap spell affecting you. You need to ask Rune.”
The shadow fae gives his head a quick shake. “You’re right. I don’t know how long I’ll remember. You’ll probably have to keep reminding me.”
“Can you do another spell like you just did?” I ask. “Banish all kelpies from Earth?”
“No.” He shakes his head, scowling. “I could only banish that one because they’d already threatened to harm someone under my care. I can’t do a banishment until after the fact.”
“Which is kind of too late,” Autumn mutters. “Without Rune here to help, people would definitely have gotten hurt.”
Severin nods, then his eyes glaze for a second. “Autumn, we can’t have that happen again. I want to hire you to protect the town.”
“Me? Don’t you mean Rune?”
“No.” He frowns. “Why would I mean Rune when you’re clearly the person for the job?”
She rolls her eyes with a sigh and shoots me a questioning look.
I grip her arm and walk us several yards away. “There’s no point in fighting against the wish swap spell at this time. Even if we break through its hold on him, it will be temporary, as we just saw.”
“So we roll with it.”
I nod. “I’m the face of your soap business, and you are the face of my security firm. We’ll sort it all out once we break the spell.”
“You got yourself a deal.” We shake hands, and she walks back over to Severin. “I accept, as long as you hire me and my partner.” Autumn hooks a thumb toward me.
“Done,” the king says.
As easy as that, Wild Wolf Security is born.
CHAPTER TEN
Autumn
Severin flies off, leaving me alone on the green with Rune. A very shirtless, we’re-missing-clothes-over-here, half-naked Rune.
I try not to gawk, but who can blame a girl? The guy isbuilt. I knew he filled out a Henley, but without that thin layer of cloth protecting my eyeballs, they latch onto the rippling bulges of his muscles like a goat who’s sunk their teeth into a treat—you aren’t budging them until they’ve had their fill.
Swaying closer, I catch a whiff of his scent, male and pine and something crisp like the forest on a perfect fall evening. I want to make a soap that smells exactly like him.
I want to effingrollin it, soak it into my skin.
Horny Autumn stirs, ready to take over. I jerk away from him, spinning toward CakeMy Day. “I—” My voice cracks, and I swallow and start again. “I need to get some bread for dinner.”
I dart across the street, the shop door opening on top notes of sugar and spice underpinned by the yeasty richness of bread. The delicate pink walls are instantly soothing, and the cute little mix-and-match tables and chairs are painted in a rainbow of pastels. Two large glass display cases wait at the back of the store, one filled with sweet treats, the other with savory breads.
It’s the lull between lunch and dinner, and there are only a few customers in the shop. A gnome and wood nymph sit at one of the tables, holding hands and giggling as they share a frothy pink confection made of bite-sized bubbles so light the treat lifts from the plate to float in midair. Each time one of the women takes a bite, a bubble pops, sending out a new sweet scent and throwing off sparkles of magic, citrus followed by cinnamon followed by chocolate, then anise. They lick their lips and hum in appreciation, getting a burst of the matching flavor.
It looks like such fun and the perfect thing for lovers to share. Especially when they get to the end of the treat, and each of them chases the last few bubbles until their lips meet on the final one. It’s like the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti moment, only a lot more magical.
“That’s my new ‘bubble surprise,’” a woman says. Pepperpot steps out of the backroom, drying her hands on the towel tucked into the front of her apron. The brownie stands about two feet tall, everything about her matching her name: light-brown skin, dark-brown hair and eyes, and clothing made of brown leaves in a patchwork of shades. “Each individual bubble is spelled to deliver the flavors the people eating it most want.”
“It looks amazing,” I say, though I tend to like desserts I can sink my teeth into, and it’s not as if I have anyone to share one of the pink confections with.
The bell above the door chimes, and Rune walks in, still half naked.
Shirtless, Autumn. You need to think of him as shirtless. It’s safer.
I’m lying. There aren’t enough words in this world or any other to make Rune nudity safe.
