Enchanted By The Wolf

Don’t think about it, man.

Well, hell, he’d not thought about it while in the moment. So maybe he wasn’t feeling as humiliated as he could.

He retrieved his shirt from the moss, and when he stood and accidentally elbowed one of the braided tree branch bedposts, the faery on the bed turned over and stretched out an arm. Her breasts were pert and hard, and sunlight sheened across her pale belly. On the top of her feet the skin was decorated with fancy violet swirls, similar to the bond mark on the back of his hand yet much more elaborate. Everywhere she...glinted.

“Faery dust,” he muttered, and swiped a palm over his forearm, which also glinted faintly. The stuff was fine and not easy to wipe off his skin.

He didn’t want to wake her. He didn’t know how to do the morning thing. Were they supposed to do a morning thing? Generally on dates, if he ended up in the woman’s bed, he slipped out early or else offered to take her out for breakfast, which she usually refused because the getting-ready part always took so long. He knew the drill.

He rubbed his neck, feeling the faintest abrasion from the bite mark. After what she’d done to him last night, he was ready to toss her out and let her sleep in the backyard shed.

But really? The sex had been great. And he’d had more sex with her after the bite. What kind of crazy was that?

He just wished he’d had some warning before the fangs had come out. So he could have defended himself. He’d married a half vampire? Or so she thought she was half vampire. How insane was it not to know for sure? Well, it was obvious. Fangs and a hunger for blood? Sure, there were other species that boasted fangs—even werewolves had thick, fanged canines—but how many sought blood for pleasure?

And what now? Would he develop a nasty hunger for blood? This was not cool. First thing he would do when he returned to Paris would be to look up a wolf doctor and have himself checked out.

Beatrice blocked the sunlight with her hands. “Ugh! The sun!”

“Does it burn you?” He looked about for a curtain beside the windows, but there wasn’t one. The sunlight beamed through the twisted tree canopy. No way to block out nature. “Are you okay?” He grabbed the tangled sheet but wasn’t able to pull it up to cover her.

“Dude, what’s your deal? The sun is not going to burn me. Just...who wakes up so early? Do humans actually tread the earth this time of day?” She pulled the gossamer sheet up over her face and spread out her arms to each side. Putting up one finger, she noted, “I’m only half vamp. Sunlight doesn’t bother me. I much prefer the moonlight, though.”

He did, too. But thanks again for reminding him that he was now married to someone who could give him a nasty taste for blood. Doctor’s appointment? Coming right up.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he said. “And, yes, the mortal realm is up and at ’em.”

“Eight? Oh!” She buried deeper into the sheets and pulled the pillow over her head. “Wake me after high sun.”

“I take it that’s the faery way of saying noon? I have to head into work and stop by the, er...” She didn’t need to know how freaked he was about developing a blood hunger. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Home? I don’t have a home anymore,” she muttered from under the sheet.

“To my house. Er, our house. Can’t stay out here in the middle of the forest forever.”

“In theory, I could,” she said, her voice muffled. “You could leave me in this little cottage and come visit me every once in a while. When you want sex.” She sighed, the sheet billowing above her mouth. “Just so you know, the sex was fantastic.”

“No argument on that one. Next time I hope it’s just the two of us.”

“I can so get behind that one.”

He chuckled at her levity. And, yes, private sex—without the fangs—was something he could look forward to, as well.

“Seriously, Bea, I have to get going. I work six days a week. Today’s no holiday because I got married last night.”

“Yeah, yeah. And as soon as we both step foot outside this place, it’ll cease to exist. So there goes my plans to hole up here all by myself.”

“Really? It’ll disappear?”

“Faery glamour, don’t you know. Is there a change of clothing laid out for me somewhere?”

“There is.” Grabbing a pale green dress laid across the table by the bed, he tossed the garment onto the bed. “Ten minutes. I’m going out to...”

Relieve himself and hope upon hope that his vehicle was still parked nearby and not decorated with shaving cream or crepe streamers.

* * *

An hour later, Kir parked the Lexus—undecorated—in front of his house and led Bea inside. She leaped from the car, not wanting to touch any part of the steel frame, even after he’d suggested that nowadays human-manufactured vehicles were produced with less iron, and none of that was cold iron. Still, she’d been cautious and fearful.

He was already late for work, so he didn’t do the grand tour. He wanted to grab a clean shirt and head out. He needed to get away from Bea and orient himself to what had happened last night. So many things going on in his brain. He had a wife. He’d had sex with a witness watching last night. The sex had been awesome. Until the bite. A bite that he could no longer feel. His skin was healed. Would Jacques notice? Could he get in to see the doc this afternoon?

“You’re on your own today,” he said, striding down the hallway toward the laundry room. “Take a look around the place. I guess it’s your home now, too.”

“Peachy.” She stood in the hallway with arms crossed over the sheer dress that barely hung past her derriere. Barefoot, the markings on her feet drew his eye. “Get a new wife. Toss her in a little box and head back out to your normal life. I get it.”

He was not doing that. Okay, he was, in a manner. He’d have a talk with her later. Didn’t she understand that people needed to work to live and survive in this realm? If she was a faery princess, the concept may be foreign to her.

“I’ll leave my cell number on the kitchen counter if you have any questions. You know what cell phones are?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “It’s those stupid little boxes humans talk into when they don’t want to talk face-to-face. Duh.”

“Or when they can’t be face-to-face but just want to check in on each other.”

“Is there iron in them?”

“I— No. Very little iron, if any, in the house, too.”

“Fine, but rubbing against it burns like a mother.”

Touching iron wouldn’t kill a faery, but it would give them a nasty burn—he knew that much. And frequent contact with iron? Eventually it would bring their death. Kind of like what happened if he came in contact with silver. A nasty burn. And if it entered his bloodstream? Bye-bye, wolf.

“I’ll try to swing by on my afternoon break to see if you need anything,” he said, tugging on a clean shirt and buttoning it up.

“More sleep for me, less wolf. Peaches and cream, buddy. Peaches and cream.”

“Right.” Slapping a hand to his neck, Kir wasn’t so fond of the faery right now, either. Despite the satisfying sex. He headed down the hallway toward the front door. “I’ll see you later.”

“I hate you!” she called out from the kitchen.

“I hate you, too, Short Stick,” he answered.

A smirk lessened any vitriol he felt with that statement. He’d never hated a person in his life. Hate was not good for the soul. But extreme dislike felt damn good when it involved a bloodsucking faery who had no compunctions about taking a bite without asking first.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_e5048f38-2694-51a7-9324-9c75be080557)

The wolf owned a lot of hair products in bottles that listed so many strange ingredients it made Bea’s eyes cross.

“Makes sense,” she said as her eyes wandered over the array of scented shampoos, conditioners, creams, potions and lotions lined up on a glass shelf in the huge walk-in shower. “The guy is a wolf. I wonder if his werewolf ever showers in here?”