“I…” She scratched her head. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Always with the pleasantries, why can’t you humans just hop to it like the rest of the world?” the pixie muttered. He rolled his eyes at her. “My name is Loeg, now get over here and help me.”
Loupe stepped closer, her sorrow temporarily forgotten in her confusion. “How can I help you?” she ventured carefully. She didn’t know much about pixies, but everyone knew it was never wise to cross a fey. Of course, that had all been hypothetical knowledge until now. A few minutes ago she’d never seen an actual fey.
The little blue pixie fluttered his wings as he struggled to lift the edge of the fur he’d been toying with. Loupe blushed. He was most definitely naked. “I need a good piece of this material to make a new loincloth.” He waved a tiny blade in the air. “I can’t cut properly with this thing. It was designed for war, not tailoring, you know.”
Understanding dawned on Loupe. “You’re the one who was in here a few weeks ago! You were poking at the carcass of that fur you’re pulling on now!”
Loeg rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, that was me.” He frowned. “Not sure why you screamed about it. I was only trying to see if the coloring was right for me.”
Now it was Loupe’s turn to glower. “You scared me half to death! I thought it was alive. I was certain there was a predator in the room with me.”
The pixie titled his head. “You thought one of these dead animals was going to leap up and attack you?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Loupe muttered.
“I don’t know what you mean and I don’t care,” the pixie announced. “I want a wolfskin tunic and now that I don’t have to worry about hiding, I can measure this properly.”
Loupe furrowed her brow in puzzlement as the little pixie began to lay a string out along the fur, muttering numbers under his breath.
“What do you mean, now that you don’t have to worry about hiding?”
The pixie spared her a withering glance then turned his attention back to his measuring. “Well, you could hardly begrudge me a little piece of wolfskin after all I’ve done for you, now could you? You must have some gratitude.”
No matter how hard she tried, Loupe could not recall anything the pixie had done that would warrant her gratitude. Her brain flipped through old wives’ tales, struggling to remember what random kindnesses were attributed to the fey. She drew a blank.
“I’m sorry, what did you do for me?” she asked finally, as politely as she could.
Loeg threw down the rope and shot to his feet. “I helped you go to the ball!”
“I’m not going to the ball!” Loupe snapped, her patience finally at an end. In a slightly quieter voice, she added, “I can’t.”
“Don’t be stupid, of course you can,” Loeg argued.
Loupe shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I’m cursed.”
“Yes, yes, yes, a werewolf bit you and now you have the lunacy.” The pixie waved a hand as if it was of no consequence. “That doesn’t mean you can’t go to the ball.”
“It’s tonight! The night of the full moon!” Loupe protested, pushing away her surprise at the pixie’s knowledge of her situation. For all she knew he had magical powers that let him tell such things just by looking at her.
“Yes, so you’d better get out of there before the clock strikes midnight,” the pixie agreed. “The ointment I gave you won’t keep you human once the moon reaches its peak.”
Thoroughly confused, Loupe threw her hands up in the air. “What ointment?”
Loeg flew at her face, pulling a small bottle from a pouch tied to his belt. “This ointment!” he shouted. With a sigh of exasperation, he dropped it in the general direction of her hand.
Loupe caught it. She stared down at the little vial. It was clear glass with a plain cork stopper. The substance inside moved like thick molasses when she tilted it. Tiny sparkles dazzled her eyes as the light caught them. She didn’t know who Loeg was, or what he was talking about, but she couldn’t deny the small part of her that had latched on to his words. She wasn’t going to the ball, she told herself firmly. Still…it couldn’t hurt to take the offering.
“You are certain that this ointment will keep me human at the ball,” she asked, trying to keep the hope from being too obvious in her voice. “I mean, would keep me human. If I were going. Which I’m not.”
“Quite sure. But don’t forget to be out of there by midnight. Not even that ointment will hold the beast inside under the full power of the moon.”
Loupe fell to the floor, sitting there and staring at her body. She could stay human until midnight. Her mind drifted back to Etienne and her heart beat harder. Perhaps he would kiss her again. Suddenly her shoulders sagged. The kisses had been wonderful, both of them. But they couldn’t go anywhere. It wasn’t fair to Etienne to offer something she couldn’t give him.
The little pixie’s face softened and he flew over to land on her shoulder. He patted her head. “I’m going to help you. Here.”
He pulled out a wand. Loupe tilted her head. It was just a little white stick, nothing particularly magic-looking about it. And yet, it vibrated with…promise. Loeg tapped her head and a shiver ran down her spine. Her skin tingled and she looked down at herself to find she was glowing.
Well, not her precisely, but the air around her. It was lit with a beautiful pale blue phosphorescence. Her brain tried to make sense of what was going on, but her eyes couldn’t properly report what was happening. It seemed as if the clothes on her body were melting, shifting, changing into something new. Her hair took on a life of its own, lifting as if in an unseen breeze that twirled each silky strand as it wound around on top of her head.
Loeg flew into the air. “Follow me.”
Dazed and befuddled, Loupe silently did as he’d asked. She climbed the ladder, her clothes still shimmering and shifting around her. When she reached the top of the ladder, her clothes suddenly grew heavier. She stared down at her body, her mouth falling open.
Never in her life had she seen a more beautiful dress. A blue so pale it was almost silver, the material sparkled like a spider’s web in the morning sunlight. The full skirt swayed with her movements and Loupe couldn’t help but smile. She ran her hands over the snug bodice, trailing them up to brush her fingers over the off-the-shoulder sleeves. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she followed Loeg through the house and her breath caught in her throat
Her hair was twisted into an intricate pattern on top of her head, with small ringlets falling around her ears. The strands that had always been a dull straw-like yellow suddenly looked like golden waves of sunlight. Her face had been powdered, her eyes outlined with black kohl, and her lips shaded to the pink of a fresh rose. Never had she seen herself look so…magical. Her stepfamily would never recognize her.
She walked out of the kitchen door into the garden. A few yards away, a pumpkin rose out of the pumpkin patch and floated in the air to land on the other side of the fence. Loupe’s breath caught in her throat as the vines and leaves curled into large circles, turning white as they spun. The pumpkin itself lightened until it was the palest orange she’d ever seen. It grew and grew until it was as large as the royal carriage. Small windows appeared in either side so Loupe could look right through it to the other side.
“Oh, Loeg,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
She turned to see Loeg eyeing the wand like he’d never used it before. She opened her mouth to ask him why he was looking at it like that, but he jerked his head up and the question died on her tongue.
“Oh! One more thing.”
He whistled and a second later a tiny horse flew up from the leaves of the raspberry bush in the corner of the garden. Loupe gasped. It looked like a floating star in the shape of a horse and its whinny brought a smile to her face.
“He’ll pull your new carriage. You don’t need to harness him, the pumpkin will hold on by
itself.”
Loupe raised her eyebrows at the tiny horse, then glanced over at the large carriage. “He must be much stronger than he looks.”
She tentatively reached out a hand to pet the small creature and squealed as it abruptly grew in size. It continued to grow until it stood before her—a full man-sized horse.
“Amazing,” she breathed. She gently stroked the silky fur of the horse’s nose. It whinnied and nudged harder into her hand, apparently eager to be petted. A thrill went through Loupe. It had been a long time since a horse had not shied away from her.
“What a good boy you are,” Loupe cooed. “Yes, you are. You are such a good boy.”
“It is shameful the way he’s throwing himself at you,” Loeg groused. “That miserable glue pot would as soon swallow me as give me the time of day!”
Loupe’s eyebrows shot up as the horse whipped its head around and bared its teeth at Loeg. Its eyes rolled until they were white orbs without pupils, glowing with a faint red light. Loeg growled back and it swung its head back to her, its eyes once again a watery blue. Loupe patted its nose. A fairy horse.
“You can keep the beast,” Loeg snapped. “I’ll be stomped if I’m going to keep the ungrateful creature around me.”
“Oh,” Loupe breathed, eyeing the horse again. It nudged her with its huge head, almost knocking her off her feet. “I couldn’t take your horse from you.”
“What do I need a horse for?” Loeg asked. “I’ve got wings, remember?”
“But…then why do you have a horse?”
His eyes narrowed. “What, I’m not allowed to have a horse?”
One could make a study out of how to avoid arguing with a fey, Loupe decided. She glanced down at the ointment and then back to the horse. But dealing with them is still incredibly worth it.
Chapter 8
Etienne grasped the arms of his throne in a white-knuckled grip. He felt as if the wolf was in his throat, its claws digging in as it tried to crawl out of his body. He couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. He fought not to look down at his body again, resisting the urge to be certain that he was in fact still human. With his wolf growing fainter and fainter as the days went by, the only time he could shift at all was during the full moon. Unfortunately, it was the night of the ball and Etienne had to resist the lunar call for as long as he could.
His beast was less than understanding.
It was as if his beast could sense that this was its last moon, its last chance to feel the grass under its paws and the wind in its fur before it was gone forever. It was taking every ounce of his strength, but Etienne was holding it in. Barely.
Waves of tension rolled over him, coming from the throne next to his. He didn’t need to look to know his father was watching him with concern etched across his features. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and Etienne turned to see his father gesture for the greeting line to stop. The procession of people who had been moving past the thrones, each one greeting the king and queen in turn, paused. His father leaned toward him.
“Etienne, go outside,” he said quietly. “You do not have to do this. Your mother and I will continue the greetings. If someone here is a loup garou we will find them. And no matter what happens, you will always be my son.”
Anger burned through Etienne like a bolt of lightening and he struggled against it. His father meant well. He was trying to comfort Etienne, but all Etienne wanted to do was rage against the curse the damned witch had dared to call a blessing. His senses were at full strength, his wolf ready to burst through his skin. It would be too easy to give in to the emotions raging inside him, to let his beast free and tear through the room looking for the loup garou he needed. Perhaps if all else failed, he would return to the witch and give his wolf one last hunt…
“Etienne.”
His mother’s voice tore him from the violent turn his thoughts had taken. Etienne forced himself to meet his mother’s eyes. Their conversation came back to him. She’d warned him this would happen, warned him not to bottle up his temper. He had to hold himself together. Straightening his spine, Etienne fixed his parents with his most reassuring smile. “Please, don’t worry so much. I am fine. I must have faith in what the witch said. Tonight I will find the person who will end this curse and return me to the prince I have always been.”
His father did not look convinced, but he leaned back in his seat, automatically reaching over to pat his wife’s hand. Etienne forced himself to look at his mother and smile. The worry in her eyes nearly undid him.
Curse the witch, Etienne thought bitterly. I’ve met hundreds of people and not one of them has held even the faintest scent of wolf. I—
His thoughts came to a stuttering halt. Without realizing it, he rose halfway out of his seat, his gaze locked on the entryway at the top of the grand staircase.
Loupe. He didn’t know how he knew it was her. She looked so different it could have been another woman. The plain cotton dresses he’d always seen her in had been replaced by a ballgown that could not have been fashioned by human hands. The fabric glittered and glowed as she moved, a beautiful shine of pale blue. Her long golden hair had been swept up on top of her head, with only a few strands falling in soft curls around her face. And her face… Gone were the smudges he’d grown so used to seeing, put there by muddy wolf pups and self-conscious swipes with her dirty hands. His beautiful Loupe had been polished to an even more glorious shine. A diamond amongst coal.
Yes, she looked different, but Etienne knew without a shadow of a doubt that the woman hesitating at the top of the stairway was the same maiden he’d met in the woods. The one who had come to him in tears over a missing wolf pup, the one he’d kissed with more emotion than he’d ever shown a woman.
The kiss. Etienne thought of the fear in her eyes, the way she’d run away from him. He’d scared her then, he must be careful not to do so now. Besides that, he had no time for romance. He had to find a loup garou, had to assure that his werewolf blood would not be snuffed out by a blessing. He needed to be mingling with his people, not making a beeline for one lonely maiden.
Somehow he’d already crossed half of the room. With every step his blood grew hotter, his determination grew stronger, and his wolf grew more and more aware of the female calling to him. The people dancing around him slowly trailed off, all of them turning to stare at their prince as he practically dove for Loupe. His brain was a jumbled mess, incapable of thinking, only feeling. He hadn’t seen her in so long and he wanted her. Etienne couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t make himself slow down, much less stop. He reached out and closed his hands around her hips, fingers tightening…
“A waltz!” called out the king.
The royal musicians leapt to do his bidding. An explosion of music muffled the mindless chatter and Etienne desperately swung Loupe into the dance. The energy that barreled him across the room toward her was redirected into the passion of the waltz. He held Loupe in his arms, his gaze locked on her eyes as he spun her, swung her, and all but dragged her around the dance floor. She stared back at him, her eyes wide. She held onto him as they danced, her body moving with his no matter how fast he spun them. Every once in a while she would glance down at his mouth. She licked her lips.
His muscles twitched as he fought the urge to swing her off her feet and run outside with her. The sight of her small pink tongue wetting her plump bottom lip brought the memory of their kiss roaring into his brain. He remembered her taste, the sounds of her moans, the feel of her body…. He wanted her.
Now.
Etienne led them, still dancing, to the archway leading to the balcony. His wolf drew up inside him, hungry for the carnality it could sense coming. He had to suck in a deep breath and remind himself to remain in control. He didn’t want to scare her, not again, not while he held her so close. Seconds later, a thick red curtain fell to block the archway. That, Etienne had no doubt, had been at his father’s behest.
Obviously his father thought Etienne had cho
sen to go with plan B, producing a werewolf heir before the witch’s blessing robbed him of that chance. Etienne wanted to brush that thought off as vulgar and uncouth. The wolf inside him thought it was a grand idea.
Once they were away from prying eyes, he drew them to a gentle stop. Loupe rested in his arms, her chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. Every inhale threatened to draw his attention to the perfect mounds of her breasts, but he couldn’t look away from her eyes. She still hadn’t said anything. He waited for her to pull away, but she stayed in his arms. Waiting?
“Loupe,” he whispered.
Her body tensed in his arms, her eyes widening. Etienne wanted to be gentle, wanted to go slow so as not to scare her, but he was ravenous for her. He crushed her to his chest, his mouth descending on hers like a starving man. She gasped and he swallowed the sound, raising a hand to the back of her head to hold her to him. Satisfaction burned inside him as she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, clinging for dear life. His wolf howled inside him, demanding he claim her, mark her as his. His beast wanted a mate—wanted Loupe. His teeth ached to bite her, a visible mark that would show the world she belonged to him. A growl vibrated his chest and Loupe’s breath hitched. Her arousal perfumed the air and it was all Etienne could do not to shred the ballgown and rip it from her body.
Before Midnight (Book 1) (Blood Prince Series) Page 10