Page 3 of Wishing for a Werewolf
“Boy, you are really starting to sound human.” I rub her soft forehead, grateful she doesn’t have horns, since headbutting is her love language. “Those YouTube videos don’t capture half of it.” Most of the ones you find of goats sound like screams or babies crying.
When I reach for her, she scuttles away, one of her hooves clattering against metal. She paws at the ground, unearthing a gleam of silver. Sticking her nose under the edge, she flips the disk my way.
“A silver dollar!” My grandpaused to carry one, the jingle of Pop’s coin pocket always a happy sound, but you don’t see many of them these days.
A shiver of magic hums through the air when I touch it. My head snaps up, and I squint into the trees. Are there fae nearby? But I don’t see anyone. If it wasn’t fae, what caused the magic? Me? I’m supposed to be a witch, which is why I can sense magic, but I have no idea what kind of powers I have. Maybe I’m a metalworker? I rub off the last of the leaf mulch, my thumb gliding over the coin’s embossed surface, but nothing happens. A niggle of disappointment goes through me—guess I’m not some kind of metal witch—but the silver dollar is still interesting. “Huh. It’s from 2000, the year I was born. What a coincidence.”
I scoop my free hand under Babybelle’s soft tummy and stand.
“You.” Her amber eyes meet mine, and she seems to point both her front hooves at the well.
“Oh, why not.” I study the sign again.
“One for joy today. Okay, that’s easy. I wish to win the competition to host the town’s fall hay maze at the family farm.
“One for future happiness. I wish to set up a shop to sell my artisanal soaps in person.
“One for the heart everlasting.” The first two wishes came easily—I didn’t even have to think about them—but this last one… My voice drops to the breath of a whisper as I remember my friend Hannah and the love she’s found with her new fae husband. “I wish for someone to love me,reallylove me, like head over heels, totally gaga love.”
I toss the coin, the wide silver disc spinning through theair, flashes of sunlight reflecting from it. More and more sparkles flicker, too many to be natural, like someone set off a firework at ground level. A whirl of magic sizzles through me in a dizzying rush. The world spins—or I spin—I’m too dazed to tell.
I tip backward, falling, falling, falling. Nothing’s solid anymore.
A long arm wraps around my waist, catching me to a rock-hard chest. Shoulders as wide as the world strain the fabric of a soft cotton Henley, an island of stability I long to cling to.
I look up and up into a ruggedly handsome face, all tan skin and sexy scruff stretched over a jaw so square you can use it to draw right angles. The tease of fangs dents a full bottom lip, and the pointed tips of fae ears emerge from the heavy weight of long, deep-brown hair.
Rune. Gorgeous, huge, sexy werewolf Rune growls and stares down at me with intense golden eyes.
I suck in a shocked breath. He smells like musk and pine, like running through forest on a cool fall evening. He smells like something wild and untamed, like freedom and life.
He finally talks to me, his deep voice reverberating from his chest.
“By the goddess, Autumn.” His big fingers flex on my waist, making my heart skip. “What did you do to me?”
CHAPTER TWO
Rune
Magic, unlike any I’ve felt, sizzles along my nerves as I hold Autumn in my arms for the first time. It converges in the middle of my chest, buzzing with warmth and making my heart race.
She hangs tipped backward, caught mid-fall, as I lean over her. A goat nestles between us, as tiny and adorable as a young pup, but I’m unable to focus on anything but Autumn.
The witch’s bright-blue dress sets off her long red hair, making it gleam like fire, and I’m the moth captivated by its light. Her soft curves press against me in the most distracting fashion, and my hand tightens on her waist, pulling her closer. My nostrils flare, taking in her scent. Even in my fae form, my senses are keener than any human’s, and she smells of cinnamon and ginger with a touch of a flower I can’tname, the combination so sweet and spicy it makes my mouth water.
Her wide eyes meet mine, as green and lovely as the forest stirring to life in spring. Her lips part, tempting in their plumpness. I’ve never kissed before—the cu sith couldn’t shift into their fae forms until the doors of Faerie opened a few months ago. What will it feel like?
Pink darkens her cheeks, setting off the tiny brown dots scattered across her light skin. They’re bewitching. Werewolves have nothing like them in our wolf forms. After seeing Autumn for the first time, I asked one of the other humans what to call the little dots so I could better name my obsession. Freckles. They dust her cheeks, her nose, and the teasing glimpse the vee of her dress offers of the swell of her breasts. Goddess, I long to know if she has freckles everywhere…
Then her eyes narrow. “What do you mean, what didIdo?”
“What spell have you cast over me?” It had to be a spell of some sort. In all the weeks I’ve been on Earth, I’ve been able to keep my distance from her until today.
There I was, exploring the new property I purchased so my pack would have a place on Earth. I’ve lived in one of the apartments in town for the past few weeks, and while I appreciate the proximity to so many excellent new cafés, a wolf belongs in the forest. Besides, I need extra room for when my niece and nephew visit—the pups are far too mischievous to let loose on Ferndale Falls at all hours. The large Victorian mansion buried in the middle of several acres of woods is perfect.
Stumbling across the old well, I pulled out my small sketchpad and tried to capture its lines. I initially started drawing to get used to having hands, since it requires a great deal of dexterity I never had to develop with paws. Yet it soon turned into something I loved, and the well took shape with each stroke of the pencil.
I couldn’t read the human words decorating the sign, but as I traced their outlines, I remembered what the realtor told me. This is the town’s Wishing Well, granting each person three wishes.
