by Michele Hauf
A lone wolf finds himself forced to wed a faery in a marriage of convenience.
Kirnan Savauterre’s loyalty to his werewolf pack is absolute—which is the only reason he agrees to an arranged marriage. But a marriage borne out of duty soon takes on a whole new spin. For Kir discovers his bride is an utterly enticing mystery. Beatrice is half-faery, maybe a little bit vampire, and altogether delightful. As for Bea, she has this much in common with her new husband: she can’t resist the passion they share.
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 about what she is. Their love is strong—but so are the forces arrayed against them...
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 michelehauf.com.
Books by Michele Hauf
Harlequin Nocturne
The Saint-Pierre Series
The Dark’s Mistress
Ghost Wolf
Moonlight and Diamonds
The Vampire’s Fall
Enchantend by the Wolf
In the Company of Vampires
Beautiful Danger
The Vampire Hunter
Beyond the Moon
HQN Books
Her Vampire Husband
Seducing the Vampire
A Vampire for Christmas
“Monsters Don’t Do Christmas”
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com for more titles.
ENCHANTED BY
THE WOLF
Michele Hauf
Dear Reader,
Some stories are so big, I’m never sure I can fit them on the page. I’m still not sure I managed that with Enchanted by the Wolf, but I hope you’ll enjoy the glimpse I give you of Kir and Bea. I love an arranged marriage story. It’s probably my favorite romance trope. And it’s always fun to pair opposites and watch them battle it out toward a love they never realized they wanted. My hero was so uninterested in marriage that it was a struggle to figure him out, but I think the feisty, flirty faery I hooked him up with managed to change his mind about the idea of love.
The majority of the paranormal romances I write are all set in the same “world.” The realm of Faery I’ve left unexplored because it is so vast and boggles my mind to even begin to try to paint it on the page, but I’ve begun, with this story, to step into that wondrous realm. I believe in faeries! And now my hero does, too.
Happy reading!
Michele
This story is for everyone who believes in faeries.
They believe in you.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Excerpt from The Immortal’s Redemption by Kelli Ireland
Chapter 1
“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.
“Let’s hope, for the sake of the pack, you won that bet,” Kir said, “and that he’s successful.”
* * *
A harpie in human guise sat across the office desk from Etienne. Arriving without notice, she’d waited ten minutes in the office while he’d been summoned on this bright weekday morning that had seen him lingering in bed beside his wife’s warm body.
The visitor was tall, slender, wore her hair in a short black bob, with eyes equally as dark. Her skin was dark brown, smooth and utterly flawless, and yet Etienne avoided staring at her overlong. Look at one of the sidhe the wrong way or too long? A man could sprout horns.
“I’ll get right to the point,” the harpie said. She spoke French with ease. Etienne knew that the sidhe had the ability to pick up languages foreign to them almost as if by magic.
“First, if I might have your name?” Etienne asked carefully. Faeries did not give their full names freely, but he could hardly refer to her as Mademoiselle Harpie.
“You may call me Brit. And you are Etienne Montfort, principal of pack Valoir, oui?”
He nodded. He’d been principal since the 1940s and had witnessed remarkable changes in the mortal realm. But he’d rarely had experience with faeries until lately. Apparently, someone had taken note of his campaign to gain access to hunting grounds.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I have been sent as an emissary representing the Unseelie king, Malrick.”
Etienne sat up straighter. This sounded promising.
The harpie splayed her long, graceful fingers before her over the wood desktop. “You are aware there are portals to Faery here in your mortal realm?”
Etienne nodded. He was aware but had no clue as to their location. Not that he hadn’t, on occasion, considered searching. He did know that unless a portal was marked with faery glamour, it wasn’t visible to any but the sidhe. Yet he would never attempt to breach Faery without permission. He prided himself on maintaining strong alliances with the various species.
“A portal has recently been unlocked by sorcery and it opens directly onto Unseelie territory,” Brit stated in a businesslike tone. “This is a source of much misfortune and annoyance to my kind.”
“I can imagine. Are mortals entering the Faery realm?”
“All sorts. It is, in a word, disgusting. My king, Malrick, requires a guard posted on this side of the portal until specific magics can be conjured to close the portal. It is a difficult task summoning such powerful magic to seal a portal that we did not open, so it will take some time.”
“A guard?” Etienne suddenly sensed the gist to this visit. Perhaps not as fortuitous as he’d hoped.
“On behalf of the Unseelie king, we would request pack Valoir take on the task of guarding the portal. It would not require more than one man posted outside the portal. You could assign shifts. Fighting back curious humans should cause you no more trouble than growling at them.”
“Indeed, it would be a simple post.” And pack Valoir was large enough to provide the wolves for the job. “Have you an estimate on duration?”
“Your mortal time moves much differently than ours.” She shrugged, obviously at a loss.
“We’ll leave it as an open standing agreement.” But Etienne wasn’t about to shake hands just yet. “And what would my pack receive as recompense for taking on such a task?”
The harpie spread her hands on the desk and smiled warmly. Her eyes glowed violet now. Etienne was ever charmed by sidhe eyes. Or was it that their charm was so powerful he could not resist? He had to remind himself not to stare.
“The Unseelie would grant pack Valoir the right to hunt on our land,” she offered.
“In Faery?” Etienne said on a gasp.
“Indeed.”
That was immense. To be allowed such freedom in a realm that offered what was rumored myriad hunting opportunities? Why, it was unprecedented. “Pack Valoir will be allowed free rein. Only, we request you do not hunt as a pack. Only one wolf in timed intervals. A measured means to hunting.”
“That can be done.”
“Do you accept the assignment, Principal Montfort?”
Etienne sat back in his chair, not bothering to hide the grin that curled his mouth. His pack would shout and howl at such fortune. And, truly, the task of guarding the portal would be minimal. It would not disrupt their lives, and he shouldn’t think those who worked enforcement would have to be tasked for the job.
He nodded decisively. “Yes, I agree. On behalf of pack Valoir, I accept the bargain issued by your king, Malrick.”
“Excellent. And know, because of the unique nature of this agreement, my king requests a specific requirement to sealing said contract and to make it binding.”
“Uh... Oh, oh, yes.” Twining his fingers together, Etienne leaned forward. “What exactly is required?”
“It won’t tax your pack, I promise. In fact, it will only require the compliance of one pack member of your choosing.”
Damned faeries were all about ceremony and pomp. And Etienne suspected that one pack member would not like what the harpie next requested. But if it would allow the entire pack to hunt freely? Sacrifices must be made for the good of the pack.
* * *
When the door had opened to let out the visitor, Jacques and Kir shuffled down the hallway. They watched her walk by, and just when they thought the coast was clear to slip around the corner and out of the back door, Etienne called out to Kir.
Damned werewolf senses. No wolf could hide from another’s sense of smell. Jacques nodded to him that he’d see him later.
With the office door closed behind him, Kir waited with hands stuffed in his back pockets.
Etienne paced over to a window that overlooked the Seine in the 16th arrondissement. “You drew the short stick,” he said to Kir.
“I wasn’t aware there was a drawing, Principal Montfort,” Kir said lightly. “What nasty task have I been assigned today?”
“This weekend, actually.” The leader steepled his fingers before his lips. Pale brown eyes assessed. “Sunday. In the forest edging Versailles, where the pack often celebrates midsummer’s eve. Malrick, king of the Unseelie court—”
“A faery?”
“Yes. I’ve just finished speaking with a liaison he sent with a most exciting offer that will benefit the entire pack.”
“You’re bargaining with the sidhe now? Do you think that wise?”
“Of course, if it will grant us access to Faery for hunting.”
Kir’s jaw dropped open. So his guess had been right. Etienne had actually managed to snag hunting rights in Faery!
“That’s a generous offer,” Kir said. “What did you have to offer in return?”
“Kirnan, this deal affects the whole pack.” The sudden serious tone in Etienne’s voice alerted Kir. His principal saved that dour bass tone for announcing bad news or chastising those in need of an attitude adjustment. “Seems Malrick is concerned about a portal from this realm into Faery,” Etienne explained. “It’s been cracked by common humans, and the Unseelie are experiencing an influx of the idiots landing in Faery. He wants our pack to guard the portal until the proper magical spell can be conjured to close it.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not sure. Could be weeks, months. Hell, the way the time is screwy in Faery, it could be years. It is a minimal task, according to the liaison with whom I spoke. And we’ve the manpower. I expect you and Jacques will not be required to hold post, since you both have the enfo
rcing that keeps you busy.”
“The enforcement team is solid. If you should need one or the other of us, I’m sure we could manage a day now and then.”
“Good to know. So in exchange for us guarding the portal—a simple task that will require one-man shifts round the clock—our pack gets to hunt in Faery. In an orderly and scheduled fashion, of course. Malrick doesn’t want the entire pack running loose in his realm, but a few wolves during the days preceding and of the full moon will be tolerated.”
“Of course, you accepted this offer?”
“I would have been foolish not to!” The principal’s enthusiasm spilled out in a gleeful clap of hands.
And Kir was right there with him with the enthusiasm. Until he recalled what Etienne had said to him when he’d entered the office. “So where do I come in holding this short stick?”
The principal’s demeanor drew to a solemn yet regal stance. An uneasy feeling trickled up the back of Kir’s neck. Etienne was a kind, elder wolf who rarely used aggression or faced down his pack members to keep them in line. He left that to his scion, Jacques, who took to such tasks with relish. Yet he sensed in the man now a certain dire reluctance.
“The sidhe have ceremonious ways to seal bargains. Something we merely consider good fortune may be considered a grand boon to them. And the liaison pointed out that this is a unique bargain that must be honored. So to seal this pact, Malrick proposes to offer one of his daughters to marry one from our pack. The couple will bond, thus providing the final seal to the deal.”
“A marriage? That’s...extreme.”
“Not for the sidhe. Their bonding rituals, which are elaborate and varied, are the stamp of approval, so to speak, for such an extraordinary bargain. Either that, or they request a life sacrificed or one of our firstborn. You know how the sidhe can be.”
No, he did not. As he’d indicated to Jacques earlier, Kir hadn’t much contact with the winged ones. Marriage seemed a bit much to ask. On the other hand, a sacrifice or handing over one’s firstborn seemed more extreme.
The poor wolf who had to step forward to marry some faery he’d never seen before would certainly not like it.