Enchanted By The Wolf (Paranormal Romance)

by Michele Hauf

  Kir tromped up the stairs. Stopping in the doorway to the bathroom, he leaned there, hooking a thumb in a belt loop, and looked her over. “I will never get tired of coming home to find a naked faery waiting for me.”

  She stretched out her hand and he went to her, taking it. The bond mark glowed brightly, and it gave her the confidence she would need to tell him her suspicion.

  Walking him backward until his heels met the tub, and Kir sat on the edge of the tub, Bea stood over him and drew her fingers down the side of his face, tracing the line of his beard and back up to his lips, which were warm and soft.

  “You’re such a fine man. So handsome. I’ve even grown to love your beard.”

  He stroked his chin. “You didn’t like it?”

  “Not initially. But now I couldn’t imagine you without it. You’re so good to me. We don’t belong together, you know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Would you have ever chosen a half-breed faery if you’d had the choice?”

  “I wasn’t given a choice. And I’m not at all displeased with the results.”

  “Really? You and your short stick?”

  “Bea, what’s wrong?” He took both her hands in his. “I thought you didn’t mind me calling you that?”

  “Well, it means you got something you didn’t want.”

  “Right. But when I say it now, I say it because I’m glad I still have it.”

  “You are?”

  He clasped her hand and turned it to display the glowing bond mark. “I don’t think this would lie.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. Oh, Kir.” Her heart lightened. Her husband’s regard felt like the sun on her soul. The one thing she’d never thought to possess was now hers. “I’m so happy. Are you happy?”

  “Very. Can you be happy even if we never find your mother?”

  “With you by my side, nothing else matters. Oh, but...” She sat on his lap and took his hand to place on her stomach. “There’s something I have a feeling about.”

  He kissed her shoulder and nuzzled his nose along her skin. A delicious shiver traced her skin. “What is it?”

  “This.” She pressed her palm over his hand. “I’m pretty sure... I feel new life in there.”

  Kir sat up straighter. His arm and chest muscles flexed with excitement. He pressed a palm firmly to her stomach. “Really? Are you sure? How do you know?”

  “I’m not positive. It’s a knowing.”

  “Knowings are good. Right?”

  She shrugged. “Would it be okay with you if I were pregnant?”

  He kissed her so soundly she toppled backward and Kir had to catch her. Then he lost his balance and they both slid into the bathtub, giggling and laughing. With Kir’s legs sticking up high and Bea pressed against him, they made out in the tub like teenagers.

  And she knew from that moment forward, everything was going to be blessed.

  * * *

  Everything was not blessed. Morning sickness was a bitch that Bea wanted to beat with a club and toss into the river Seine. It had been two weeks since she’d told Kir, and her suspicions had been confirmed when she’d woken two mornings ago and rushed into the bathroom to toss her cookies.

  She didn’t like cookies and much preferred cake, but that’s what Kir had called it when he’d heard her.

  The room spun as she wandered back to bed and sort of rolled into a collapse onto the sheets. The roses Kir had brought her last night sat on the nightstand and their fragrance was so strong it made her woozy. They must be pregnant faery kryptonite.

  “Must get rid of pretty things,” she muttered as she swiped for the flowers. But she felt too weak to manage the move that would propel her across the bed toward the flowers.

  Instead, she pulled the sheets over her head and groaned in misery.

  * * *

  Kir felt Bea relax as he worked his hands over her muscles and skin. He’d spent leisurely time on her back, thighs and ankles, and now she had turned over and he kissed her belly. It was still flat. She probably wouldn’t show for months. Kir couldn’t wait to be a father.

  No matter what the child would become? his conscious tossed out there.

  Their child could be werewolf. Their child could be faery. It could be half and half. Any of those he would adore. But as for the demon blood creeping into the mix, he wasn’t sure how to accept that. His father’s involvement with a demon had tainted his perception of the species. And now, though he’d put a tail on Sophie for weeks and had yet to turn up anything related to a V-hub, he still had his suspicions of her. She was not to be trusted. Because she was demon.

  How to accept a demon child? What if it had red eyes?

  Just because the person had a certain species’ blood in their system didn’t make them inevitably evil. He knew that because his wife was perfect, even though she still felt she was not because of her mother’s black blood. Rationale always sounded wise and smart.

  The key was to embrace that rationale.

  “What are you thinking about, Long Stick?”

  “What did you call me?” He rolled over on the bed to stretch out alongside her, smoothing a palm across her bare stomach.

  “Well, if you get to call me Short Stick, then I can call you Long Stick.” She snuggled her face up to his and kissed him. “And it’s not your height I’m referring to.” A squeeze of her hand about his cock hardened his erection instantly.

  “Heh. I actually prefer when you call me big boy.”

  “Well, that’s a given.”

  “You want to take the big boy out for some play?”

  She slid her hand inside his pants and teased the head of his cock. “I thought you’d never ask. Your hands all over me for the past half hour has been great, but you know it’s been a slow, simmering trip to must have, must need, right now, baby, right now.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  She shoved down his pants and climbed on top of him.

  “How long can we continue to have sex? It won’t hurt the baby?” he asked.

  “Please. I think he is the size of a pea right now. ”

  “You think it’s a boy?” His grin was irrepressible. To imagine raising a boy and showing him how to play sports and fix cars made him smile widely. “I’d like a boy. Or a girl. I’d like many of both.”

  “Many?” Bea smirked. “I suspected as much. But, yes, I do think it’s a boy.”

  Straddling him, she slid his cock inside her and Kir groaned and pulsed his hips gently, easing himself in and out of her heat.

  “Want to think of names?” she asked.

  “Not while I’m having sex with my son’s mother,” he said, his jaw tight. “Later. Yes, faster. Ride me, Bea.”

  She rode him to a swift orgasm that saw them both crying out and then snuggling together in a sweaty yet blissful embrace.

  * * *

  Striding through the living room, his destination work, Kir bumped the book on CGI fantasy paintings from the coffee table and picked it up. He loved to browse fine art and was always surprised when an artist got the depiction of a paranormal being right. Were there humans in the know? Or was it that collective consciousness that, sooner or later, imbued the human imagination with a truth they would always believe a fantasy?

  He hoped so.

  Paging through, he found the one piece that disturbed him. The creature was a boy with wings perched on a fallen log in the forest. Small horns jutted from each temple and its eyes were red.

  “Demon faery,” Kir muttered, then slammed the book shut.

  Outside a horn honked. Jacques waited. And Kir put the book on the highest shelf. He’d had enough of fantasy for now. His child would be wolf.

  It had to be or the pack would reject it.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon Kir joined Jacques on a stakeout of a suspected V-hub in the murky streets of Chinatown in the 14th arrondissement. The windows were plastered inside with old newspapers. There was no visible doorknob but, instead, a secur
ity camera above the door.

  They watched for hours, noting that only two demons entered and left, both looking not high but maybe...freaked? Was it the sunlight? Could be, Kir deduced, that drinking vamp blood would do that to a demon. Vamps could go out in the sunlight without instantly frying to a crisp, but they wouldn’t last for long.

  “Did I tell you my turn at the hunt didn’t happen?” Jacques suddenly asked. He set his coffee cup in the cup holder and twisted his gaze toward Kir. “Something wrong with the portal. Couldn’t get through.”

  “Really? That’s strange. The pack have problems with it before?”

  “No one has complained. Dad’s trying to contact the Faery liaison to see what was up. Might have been a snag on the Faery side. Who knows? I was jonesing for the hunt, though. Man, I just want to tear something limb from limb.”

  His friend’s macabre desires didn’t startle Kir. It was innate to their species, that feeling of freedom, of living wild and free of mortal control.

  Jacques suddenly sat up straight and pulled the keys from the ignition, cutting off the low radio. “Check it out.”

  The demon they tracked coming out of the V-hub was Sophie. She was even wearing the iron circlet around her neck as she scanned the street, and her eyes fell onto Kir.

  “She’s been in there the whole time. Didn’t see her walk in earlier. Must be the big cheese. We taking her in?” Jacques asked. He already had the salt blade in hand.

  Kir exhaled long and hard. He hadn’t wanted it to be her. His dad did deserve some happiness. Damn her. Damn the demon.

  Then he nodded. “Yes.”

  Chapter 17

  Bea swung the katana sword through the living room, deftly avoiding the terra-cotta vase that she couldn’t guess why Kir owned. The man wasn’t much for decorations, though he did have some old lanterns and a chest that looked as though it had been tossed from the back of a carriage while the highwayman had made his escape.

  She swung again, this time bringing the tip of the sword oh-so-close to the vase. Just a breath closer...

  “No.” Her imagination blurred away the expectant display of vase shards scattering at her powerful strike. “He must own it for a reason.”

  She quickly shifted her hips and jumped around to face an imaginary attacker, shouting out in warning as her sword connected with gut. The attacker fell. Bea raised her arms in triumph.

  “Can’t sneak up on me. No way.”

  She tapped the floor with the tip of the sword as she decided what next to do today. She was beginning to understand that work, which kept Kir away and busy, was probably a good thing. There was only so much a faery could do in the house all day without craving a hobby or venturing out into the city. And with the pregnancy making her faery magic weak, gardening was out of the question.

  Shopping, though...

  “Too risky with dogs out there.” She shivered. “Unless I had a driver who could take me from store to store? Hmm...”

  She’d have to ask Kir about that one.

  The television was interesting, but when she sat to watch a show she found she tended to remain sitting, and ended up watching things that didn’t even interest her. It was a bad habit, so she strolled into the kitchen. She could try to make some food for her adoring husband. The stuff he brought home in bags or had delivered was excellent, but...

  He had mentioned his mother’s home-cooked meals. On more than one occasion.

  “I’ll give it a go!”

  Scampering into the kitchen, she tugged out the recipe book that Kir kept tucked beside the stove and paged through it.

  * * *

  Supper was interesting.

  Kir sat across from Bea at the dining table. He’d set the bag he’d brought home to surprise her in the hallway after smelling the food. One surprise at a time. And anything Bea did for him would always take precedence. Inordinately excited to watch him dig into the meal she had made for him, his wife wiggled on the chair opposite him. She’d made the food herself. It had taken her all afternoon. She’d followed the directions in the recipe book and was so proud.

  He bit into the crunchy morsel that was supposed to be garlic bread, and— Mercy, that had a lot of garlic. He gagged but kept his expression stoic as he quickly grabbed the water to chase down the tear-inducing bite.

  “You like?” she asked eagerly.

  Kir’s nod got stuck in a head shake. “That’ll keep the vamps away.”

  “Right? Try the spaghetti. I didn’t want to touch the meat, so the sauce is meatless. I chopped tomatoes all day! Well, okay, maybe like an hour. But it felt like all day using that little knife from the drawer. Should have used the katana.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, of course not.”

  He twirled his fork into the strands of spaghetti, noting they were not limp and didn’t coil about his fork. Rather, they rolled on the plate because they were not even close to al dente.

  Thinking conversation was a necessary distraction, he asked, “So what compelled you to cook?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m nesting?”

  “Makes sense.”

  Fearing the worst, but unwilling to let Bea down, he cut through the spaghetti with a knife, then forked in a bite. He chewed the hard noodles, nodding and forcing a smile. The sauce did give the crunchy noodles a bit of slickness.

  “What do you think of the sauce?”

  He swallowed a quick draft of water. “You do like to use garlic.”

  “I wasn’t sure if a clove was the whole thing or just one of those sections that breaks off, so to be safe, I used the whole thing. Is it too much?”

  He winced and slugged down another shot of icy water. “You’ll know later.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It depends on whether or not you’ll be able to kiss me.”

  He forked in another bite. It didn’t taste awful, just...hard and garlicky. He’d eat it. Because he couldn’t imagine pushing the plate away and seeing the disappointment on Bea’s face.

  “You’re not eating?” he asked. She had only a piece of garlic bread on her plate and a puddle of tomato sauce to dip it in. “Still feeling sick?”

  She nodded. “And not just in the mornings. It’s hard to keep food down some days. I hope this passes soon.”

  “Maybe you should see a doctor. The pack has one, but...ah, I don’t think he’s trained to work with faeries. There must be someone in FaeryTown.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I know it’s normal stuff for pregnant women.”

  Wincing, and downing the remaining glass of water, he pushed back from the table and went around to kiss his wife. “Thank you for the amazing meal.” Then he gave her a big, sloppy kiss. He pulled her up into his arms; she wrapped her legs about his torso.

  “Oh, you’re right,” she said. “Garlic!”

  “Ha!” He kissed her again, and this time dipped his tongue across hers.

  “Kir, no! That’s really strong!”

  He blew on her, teasing her with the smell, and then bent to nip at her breast, which, he had noticed, was feeling much firmer lately, maybe a little bigger.

  “You can taste all you like, big boy, but no more kisses until you brush your teeth.”

  “You think your breath is so sweet?” He kissed her again, and even while she squirmed, she pulled him closer.

  Enough of this unpalatable meal—he had something more pleasing in mind. Lifting Bea into his arms, Kir dashed out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

  “The dishes!” Bea called.

  “They can wait. Ah, but I almost forgot.” He veered back into the hallway and snatched the bag from the floor. “I have a surprise for you, too.”

  “Yay!”

  He bounded up the stairs and laid his wife on the bed, tugging off her pants and pushing up her shirt.

  “What about my surprise?”

  “This can’t wait,” he said. “I think your spaghetti made me horny.”

&
nbsp; He kissed her breasts and then nuzzled a path down to her hard, swollen belly. He loved to rub his beard against it, to revel in her giggles. He rested his ear below her belly button.

  “Hear anything?” she asked, her fingers massaging his scalp.

  “Yep, he’s saying, ‘No more garlic! I’m melting!’”

  She slapped his head playfully. “It’s not a vampire, you wicked wolf.”

  “Right. Vamps aren’t repelled by garlic anyway. Though we’d be hard-pressed to find a vamp who would not run from the two of us right now. Oh, I told everyone in the pack today about your being pregnant. They’re very happy for us.”

  “Really? Even your mother?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t she be?”

  Bea propped up on her elbows. “Kir, you know Madeline doesn’t like me.”

  “Eh, my mother comes off as cold. You two haven’t spent enough time together to get to know one another.”

  “Some things a person just knows will never happen. Like your mom liking me.”

  “She’ll love our child.”

  “And that’s supposed to be my consolation prize?”

  “Give her time, Bea. She’s used to being the queen of the family, you know? Right now she’s second in rank to the pack principal’s wife. And with me being married, well...”

  “Do I threaten her? Because seriously?” She splayed her arms to indicate her petite size.

  “Maybe a little. What woman could be good enough for her son?”

  “Especially if that woman is a filthy faery.”

  “A what? Bea?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. What I really want to do...” She sat up and pulled up his head by a scruff of his hair. “Is march you into the bathroom and put a toothbrush in your hand.”

  “You think so, Miss Garlic Breath?”

  He inundated her with tickles to her hips and thighs and there under her breasts where she was really ticklish. His tongue laved and suckled at her, luring her into a purring acceptance, and then his mood shifted to playful again and Bea shrieked with laughter.

  “My precious short stick, I adore you so much.”

  “Then let me look at the surprise!” she said between giggles.

  “All right.” He grabbed the bag and handed it to her. He’d picked it up this morning, before the stakeout. The last thing he wanted to talk about was taking Sophie in for questioning, something he wanted to put off as long as possible. “I was thinking about our son this morning. I couldn’t stop myself when I walked near a baby store.”