Enchanted By The Wolf
Love against all odds... Kirnan Savauterre’s loyalty to his werewolf pack is absolute – which is the only reason he agrees to an arranged marriage. He didn’t expect his bride to be an utterly enticing mystery. Beatrice is half-faery, maybe a little bit vampire, and altogether delightful. But a relationship that began as a political alliance is soon threatened by discord between the Unseelie court and the werewolves of Paris. And Kir’s investigation into Bea’s lineage reveals disturbing truths. Their love is strong – but so are the forces arrayed against them...
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Kir couldn’t concentrate on the words the officiant spoke because beside him stood her.
The woman soon to be named his wife. And after that they would dance and drink, and, well, he’d heard there was a honeymoon cabin erected not far from here.
Much as having sex with a woman he’d only just met didn’t appeal, Kir couldn’t think about that, either. Something sweet, like flowers or fruit, or maybe even sugared fruit topped with flowers, tickled his nostrils. The petite woman who stood beside him, the crown of her head below his shoulders, smelled like dessert.
He did like dessert.
He didn’t want to like her. Because that would mean he was cool with this stupid agreement. One that stuck him with a woman he didn’t know or want.
For the rest of his life.
Werewolves could live three centuries or more. That was a hell of a long time to spend with one woman. Especially a woman he had not chosen.
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries usually populate her stories. And if Michele followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at www.michelehauf.com.
This story is for everyone who believes in faeries.
They believe in you.
Contents
“What’s going on behind closed doors?” Kir asked Jacques Montfort, the pack’s scion, and his best friend. The men stood outside the pack principal’s office door, and Kir had caught Jacques with an ear tilted to listen through the door.
The dark-haired wolf, who was built like an MMA fighter, shrugged back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “An emissary from Faery is in there with my dad.”
Kir whistled and leaned against the concrete-block wall. Etienne Montfort was principal of pack Valoir, an old and revered group of werewolves that had been a cohesive group for centuries. Kir had been born and raised within the pack.
Both men tilted their heads toward the door. With their heightened werewolf senses, they could hear much through thick walls, but something about the conversation was muted. Faery glamour? The idea of a being from Faery visiting their pack was too interesting for either one to stop eavesdropping. And neither could deny they had a tendency to get into trouble together. They’d been raised side by side, more brothers than most siblings could claim.
“You ever meet a faery?” Jacques asked. His blue eyes twinkled with curiosity.
Kir shrugged. “I’ve seen them in the nightclubs. They’re...colorful.”
“That’s for sure. And their wings are freaky. So, you ever...you know.”
Kir knew Jacques’s unspoken implication was that he wanted to know if he’d had sex with a faery. “Haven’t had the pleasure. If you can call dodging wings pleasurable.”
“I hear they’re delicate.”
Smirking, Kir let that one go. Jacques was the one with the fiancée. And a raging curiosity for all things female that had gotten him in more trouble with the little woman than a man should have to deal with. But his bride-to-be was a werewolf, so Jacques won the King of the Perfect Score award in the men’s minds. It wasn’t often werewolves mated with their own kind, because of the rarity of the female. Even those wolves in packs often had to look elsewhere for a mate because most of the female pack members were spoken for upon birth.
Jacques was a lucky wolf.
Kir, on the other hand, had gone without a date for months. The idea of a delicate faery didn’t appeal to him. A match with a fellow wolf would feed his sexual desires perfectly. Beyond his species, the only other option was mortal women. Some proved open to his aggressive needs. He could also withstand the occasional witch, but they tended to be unpredictable and sometimes just plain creepy.
Ah, hell, wasn’t as if he was looking for love anyway. He didn’t believe in love.
Hookups were fine for now. Besides, there was a certain danger involved when pursuing a wolf from another pack. Packs tended to protect their females fiercely.
On the other hand, life wasn’t worth the ride without risk.
“Twenty bucks says he’s trying to negotiate the hunting grounds again,” Jacques said.
Etienne’s goal was to appeal to Faery so the pack could be allowed to hunt in their realm. The more the mortal realm evolved and the cities pushed out into the country, the less safe it became for a werewolf to hunt without risking discovery by humans. Their breed required vast acreage unhampered by hunters with guns and curious human eyes. Faery offered that. And, if a portal to Faery were opened right here in Paris, the trip to the hunt could be quick and easy.
