Page 4 of Wishing for a Werewolf
Wishing isn’t a magic my people have, since our powers are tied to our ability to shift. But I live on Earth now and am trying to learn what it means to walk in the form of a man. So I closed my eyes and said, “For joy today, I wish to host the seasonal gourd cutting activity all of the townspeople keep talking about, so I can feel like a member of the community. For future happiness, I wish to start a security business in Ferndale Falls in order to establish a place for my pack on Earth.” Then I admitted my deepest wish. “For my heart everlasting, I wish to find my fated mate.”
Only a few pairs of fated mates exist in my pack, but the old stories say many cu sith found their fated mates by traveling the realms of Faerie and Earth. With the doors of Faerie closed for most of my life, this was impossible, but now they’re open.
Is it fate that brought me to Ferndale Falls?
I faded into the trees the moment I heard footsteps and the soft metallic chimes of bracelets. There’s only one woman who sounds like that—Autumn. Too captivated to leave, I couldn’t help but watch as the redhead appeared and madeher own wishes, though not even my excellent fae hearing could discern her heart wish.
Then her magic grabbed me, pulling me from the forest with an urgency I could not deny. I leaped, reaching to catch her the moment she swooned.
I hold her still, the two of us locked together in a dip.
“Spell? What makes you think I did a spell?” She shifts in my arms, trying to stand upright. “You’re the fae. You guys ooze magic from every pore.”
“Other types of fae have magic that can affect others, but not the cu sith.” I straighten and pull her to standing, where I tower over her by almost a foot. Werewolves are never so short, even our women. The witch’s small size is strangely alluring, filling me with a mixture of protectiveness and antsy anticipation, such as I get when I’ve scented prey during a hunt.
“So whatcanyou do?”
Her green eyes hold a challenge I cannot ignore. Without letting her go, I let my magic slip free to sing through my blood, a song of the night and the deep forest. Tingles rush through my body, and I barely control the shift, halting at my dual form so that I become a werewolf, halfway between man and wolf.
Control should eventually get easier. If Faerie had been whole, I would have grown up constantly shifting between all three of my forms, familiar with each. Instead, I find myself almost thirty and learning new skills like a pup. I do not like it. As one of my pack’s protectors, I never want to be anything less than fully capable.
Black fur coats my body, my werewolf size similarenough to the man’s to not destroy my clothing, even though it’s uncomfortable to have my tail trapped by the thick fabric. The biggest change is to my head, which is now shaped like a wolf’s, with all of my senses increased. My eyesight and hearing sharpen as well as my sense of smell. By the goddess! I want to howl as Autumn’s bewitching scent fills my nose. A low growl rumbles through me, my fingers flexing.
She gasps as my claws press against her, and the worry I’ve hurt her makes me finally let her go.
“Are you all right?” My eyes search her side, relief filling me that her dress shows no damage—my claws didn’t hurt her. Fae are far stronger than humans, and my werewolf form is even more powerful. As a wolf, I know to the tiniest touch the amount of pressure I exert with my claws, but I’m not yet used to this form or its strength.
“I’m fine.” Her startled eyes put the lie to her words as they flicker over me. “You… you’re a werewolf!”
“Exactly. I’m no shadow fae or dragon, able to wield magic against others at a whim.” I let my magic fill me until it races through my body like fire. The shift takes more effort as I push further away from my wolf to once again become a man. “I’m a shifter.”
“So, the magic you felt earlier…” Autumn flaps a hand toward the well. “It was the Wishing Well’s?”
“It was yours.” I frown. How can she not know this? “What kind of spell was it?”
“No idea.” Her shoulders ripple in a shrug, then straighten as she lifts her chin. “I don’t know what kind of witch I am.”
“Ah, yes. I have a friend like that, one of the humanwomen brought to Faerie several months ago. Grace didn’t understand her magic at first.”
“But she figured it out?” A note of longing enters the redhead’s voice.
“She did.” I tip my head.
“How did she—”
The goat snaps into motion, all four legs kicking its hooves as it twists its little body.
“Babybelle, no!”
But it’s too late. The goat slips from Autumn’s grip and drops to the ground. It zooms around the well to circle back to us, plowing forward with its little head lowered until it slams into my leg.
“Oh, god. Did she hurt you? I’m sorry!” Autumn springs forward, arms outstretched. “I’d love to say she’s not usually like this, but she’s always totally like this.”
“I’m unharmed. It was barely a tap.”
The tiny animal darts away from the witch with a playful hop, then bounces back over to headbutt my other calf. As she lets out a high bleat, amber eyes gaze up at me, full of a look I know well from years spent playing with my niece and nephew. Pure, unadulterated mischief.
A chuckle escapes me. “So you want to play, little one?”
