by Kailin Gow
Wolf Magic
The Wolf Fey Book 3
kailin gow
Wolf Magic (The Wolf Fey #3)
Published by THE EDGE
THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Kailin Gow
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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First Edition.
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN # 978-1-59748-019-2
A Note from the Author
Thank you for reading Wolf Magic. Although this is the third and final book in the Wolf Fey series of the FROST series, it can be read as a standalone or after The Red Wolf (Wolf Fey #2) or after Frost Fire (Frost #6).
I sincerely hope you enjoy Logan’s point-of-view of Feyland, and please let me know what you think by contacting me at: kailingowbooks[at]aol[dot]com.
Prologue
My princess. My love. It had been months since the truth of my identity had come out, since I had first discovered who I was and who I was meant to be. It had been months since I first held that glowing Wolfstone in my hand, feeling its red warmth spread out through my tingling fingertips. It had been months before that strange, sure voice within me spoke the words I had never dreamed of hearing. I am the Red Wolf. I am the Leader of the Wolf Fey. I will restore the magic to my kingdom. And yet I felt no fear. I felt no shock. I felt only the strange and slow sense that I had always known: who I was. My destiny.
And yet what was my destiny without her? Whenever I fell asleep, I dreamed of her, of my Breena, her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, the porcelain white tones of her flesh made rosy by the force of her desire for me. I dreamed of her as she had been, during those three months of my life when I thought that we were both lifted up into paradise. The three months that Breena had loved me, that she had kissed me, that she had drawn me to her and declared me her own, wrapping her arms around me and rejoicing in the effervescent splendor of our love. At the time, I had believed that she had finally seen me for who I was – that she had finally come to appreciate my impossible love for her, and perhaps discovered deep down within herself that she too had the capacity to feel the same way. At the time, I had embraced hope. I had believed that maybe, just maybe, this exquisite and ethereal creature could love me the way I loved her: totally, completely, admitting nothing and nobody else.
I should have known that it was a spell that made her love me that way, and not the stirrings of her own heart. When unenchanted, Breena never looked at me that way, with eyes spilling over with passionate darkness, brown liquid pools of chocolate or caramel that spent me spinning into ecstasy. No, those eyes were reserved for Kian, her fairy Prince. The man she truly loved. But for those three months, she had turned that gaze on me, her mouth spreading open into the loveliest of smiles, her eyes glimmering with delight. For three months she had kissed me and allowed me to kiss her; she had succumbed to my embraces, to the frenzied and somewhat fumbling pawing that had represented for me the very pinnacle of what I had always wanted, had always adored.
You should have known, you fool.
That's what my dreams always told me. That's what the stirring, nit-picking voice in my subconscious said when it wanted to torment me. You should have known that Breena could never love you, that she would ever want you. You should have known that the look in Breena's eyes was the result of a spell, an enchantment, that she'd never want you for her King Consort, for her co-ruler, for her husband, for the lover that shared her bed. Not as long as Kian was around. You should have known that every time you touched her, every time that you delighted in her body – how smooth and soft it was, how taut the muscles, how firm the breasts, how delicate the fingers and wrists – that you were violating her, making love to a shadow. The real Breena – the true Breena – wasn't even there. She was asleep, rendered passionate by a spell that took over her body. But you didn't see it, did you? You saw only what you wanted to see. The woman of your dreams finally loving you the way you always wanted to be loved. Loving you back.
And you call yourself her best friend? The voice in my head snarled and spat like a vicious dog, like the savage Wolf within me. You were so selfish, so desperate to convince yourself that she loved you, that you overlooked the signs. You didn't even notice that the girl you loved most in the world wasn't herself. That she was possessed...
Or did you notice – and just pretend not to? Did you overlook the things you didn't want to see, try to forget the things you didn't want to believe? Did you pretend to yourself that her look was genuine, that her kisses blazed with genuine passion, that the twists of your tongue as she covered you with words of love were genuine, too? Even when you knew they could never be?
Stupid Wolf – thinking she could ever want a beast like you. When she could have the whole fairy kingdom kneeling and begging at her feet.
Guilt blazed through me; it devoured and consumed me. I couldn't bear the pain and yet I knew I had to bear it, for there wasn't any other choice. I thought of Breena as she had been in those days during which I loved her, during which she allowed me to love her, and as much as I recoiled from the thought – knowing now as I did that her love for me was just an illusion brought on by a maliciously mixed potion – I couldn't stop myself from fantasizing, in my dreams, about those nights that we'd shared. Rationally I knew that my experiences had been with a phantom, that now – cured of her passion when Kian had broken the spell – Breena thought of those nights with a sense of violation and horror. I tried to shut them out of my mind; out of respect for her I tried to push the taste of her flesh out of my thoughts. But I knew I could not. No matter how hard I tried in my waking moments to be the perfect gentleman, the servile Knight, for her, my dreams had other plans for me. I dreamed of her over and over again; I drowned in her flesh; I exulted in the smell and sweat of her caress. I woke up each morning, clouded over by my shame, paralyzed by her absence.
I loved her, after all. And this love floored me.
I'd tried to move on. We'd had to move on together, after all. We'd managed somehow to stave off the Dark Hordes together, her and me and Kian, managed to reunite Summer and Winter under the banner of a United Feyland. And a good thing, too. Political concerns aside, the fact that I no longer needed to fight alongside Breena gave me time to myself, time to consider my own thoughts. Time to focus on my destiny: the one thing that could distract me from the agony of Breena's loss. From the fact that my love was engaged to marry another – that she had been so joyful, so bloody ecstatic, when she looked into Kian's eyes and promised that yes, she would be his for all eternity.
I had to distract myself. I had to focus on my mission. I had to concentrate on the magic of the Wolf Fey. Before my grandfather died he had made me promise to restore the magic of my kind, lost as the result of an unfortunate bargain with a sorceress as ambiguous in her loyalties as she was powerful in skill. I was the leader of the Wolf Fey, destined to bring magic back to my people.
Maybe then you'll be good enough, the dark voice in my head never quite let me go. Maybe then she'll want you. When you can stand next to Kian, side by side, and rival him in magic as well as in looks, in power.
In love for Breena.
I couldn't hate Kian, after all, as much as I wanted to. He was noble; he was kind to her. He treated Breena
well. If he had been less deserving, perhaps, it could have been easier. I could have challenged him to a duel; I could have proved him unworthy of her. But as it stood, I could blame him for nothing. Nothing, except, but the crime of having won Breena's love.
But tonight I did not dream of Breena. Tonight was the first night in many months I did not dream of Breena. Instead I was tossing and turning, as if I were a ship on the crest of a stormy sea, my body soaking the sheets with my sweat. My throat was parched; my whole body tingled and stung as if I were on fire. I was yelping with pain, my cries echoing around my chamber.
I opened my eyes in this dream-world and I was on fire. I scrambled to make sense of my surroundings – I didn't know where I was. I remembered no flame; I remembered no ignition. Everything started and ended here, with these flames – flames no more painful, perhaps, than the torment I had undergone. I yelped and screamed, wolfish cries erupting from my throat, even barks.
I leaped out of the flame and began rolling around on the earth, trying to singe the fire, the heat mingling with the familiar earthy smell of Feyland soil. I looked around for the first time as the flames subsided. I was in Feyland, it seemed. No other forest smelled so sweet; no other trees or their leaves were as green. Nowhere else did the beauty overwhelm me the way it did in Feyland's forested depths.
A splash of water soaked me to the core, dousing the flames and chilling my bones in equal measure. I yelped a lupine yelp as I sprang up in surprise, looking around me to the source of the water. My eyes fell upon a woman's pail.
“So,” the sound of her laugh was deep and crackling like the fire from which I had just escaped. “My meal has hoped to escape from me – what do you think of that?”
“Meal?” My muscles tensed up as my body prepared itself to fight. “What do you mean, meal?”
“I mean meal,” the voice was firm and no-nonsense. “But I've decided that since you've apparently proven yourself capable of showing some gumption, I might as well give you a fighting chance. As it were.”
“What do you mean?” I looked around wildly but could not see the source of the voice.
“If you want your life so badly,” said the voice. “You can fight for it. Or not, as the case may be.”
“Who are you?” I cried out. “What do you want with me?”
“Ask not what I am,” replied the voice. “But rather what you are. Which is to say – meat. I wanted to eat you...” The voice giggled. “But seeing that you are awfully entertaining – and not the least bit unhandsome – I may decide to keep you for my pet instead.”
The hackles rose on my neck, and against myself my animal snarl came out. “I'm nobody's pet,” I said, grimacing.
“Suit yourself....” The voice was light and airy. “I admire your bravery – but I admire your looks far more. I'd like most to keep you obedient, locked up in a cage so that I can look at you every time I want. It's not often that I come across a Fairy Wolf in human form – particularly not one as handsome as you.”
I had to think fast. While my instinct was to fight, my rational mind suggested to me another, wiser course of action. I put on my pleasantest face and looked around. “Then why don't we have a look and see who my admirer is, eh?” I tensed my muscles, ready to turn into a Wolf at the first available opportunity.
“As you wish...”
“Whoa....” I muttered to myself, too distracted to transform.
There came into view a woman in her early twenties – with long dark auburn hair and flashing eyes, easily one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.
She also happened to be a giantess.
Chapter 1
I couldn't transform. My mind went blank with shock. I'd seen plenty of bizarre and extraordinary creatures in my time in Feyland, but I'd never quite come across anything like this. A woman maddeningly lovely, with dark sultry eyes and a flashing smile, with broad shoulders and taut muscles – and easily twenty feet tall. I gaped for a second – overcome by surprise. It was enough time, however, for the Giantess to pick me up between her thumb and forefinger – by the nape of the neck, as if I had been the whelp of a litter, and look me up and down. I struggled against her, but it was evidently to no avail. The Giantess was far stronger than I was.
“Hm...” the Giantess said, considering me. “I like this kind of pet, you know. You're multi-purpose,” she said, drawing out her words as slowly as possible. “You're like a human, a wolf, and a fairy all in one. Not one doll, but three!” She giggled again – a girlish giggle that was all the more unsettling for its contrast with her seductive, entirely adult appearance, and for the fact that she could evidently kill me with her little finger.
“No...” I cried, my voice catching in my throat. “I'm not sure who you are – but I should warn you, Lady, that I am not a pet, nor am I a plaything.”
“Of course you're not...” laughed the Giantess.
My body flushed with the heat of anger. “Let me go!” I cried again. “By the orders of Logan, the Wolf Prince. I am warning you, Lady, unless you want the wrath of all the Wolves of Feyland to crash down upon your head, I advise you to let me go!”
“Maybe I will; maybe I won't,” said the Giantess in a sing-song voice. “Maybe I'll think about it, as soon as...ouch!” I had managed to distract her long enough to bite into the slender, fleshy part of her hand between her thumb and forefinger, which was on her body easily the size of a basketball. I drew blood, which spurted forth in torrents, staining my face and hair.
But it was enough to distract her into loosening her grip, allowing me to tumble – with a painful thud that spilled, with a the sound of a crack, at least two broken bones - to the earth.
I didn't have time to focus on my pain. I sprang to my feet and started transforming into my wolf form as I ran, my body growing stronger and faster as my arms morphed into wolves' legs, my body purpose-made for stealth and speed. I closed my eyes and tried to tap into the telepathic link that unites all Wolves, calling out to my cousins, to my friends, to all of my kind who could help me.
Aid me, soldiers. I am your brother, your cousin, your father. I am the Wolf Prince, and I am in my hour of need. I call upon you, comrades, brothers, sisters, children, parents, to aid me...
I spoke the traditional calling of the Wolf Kind; even my breathlessness would not deter me from making the call in our rich Wolf tongue. I immediately felt a tightening in my chest, like a golden thread netting about my body, drawing me in the direction of my Kind. It was one of many remnants of magic the Wolf Kind possess – they are able, no matter what the circumstances, to identify whether or not there are other Wolves nearby and, if they are proximate, to be pulled towards them.
But behind me I could hear the chilling pounding of large footsteps – making the ground shake as violently as during an earthquake. My bite had paused but not stopped the Giantess; she evidently was not done with me yet. She was chasing me. Adrenaline coursed through me as I sped up, trying not to panic. This woman could take me easily; I was powerless against her. My only strength was in my speed. I had to outrun her, to outmaneuver her through these tangled woods. Otherwise – I was lost.
The beauty of Feyland blurred by me as I passed it. Normally these woods, these branches, these gurgling streams and crystal-shining brooks, would floor me with their loveliness, impelling me to stop and stare. But this time I had no time for beauty. My heart was pounding faster than the drops of rain in a thunderstorm; I had to keep going – as quickly as I could. I was out of breath; my throat – already parched – was screaming for water and release as harsh air flooded through it.
I looked ahead of me and felt my stomach plummet. Somehow I had found myself at the edge of a cliff. There was no way down – except back the way I came – and the Giantess’ footsteps were getting louder and louder with each passing moment. I swallowed hard and turned about, rearing up on my hind legs. There was no help for it. I would just have to fight.
I didn't have to wait long. Soon the Giantess fo
llowed on the path, almost as out of breath as I was. I knew that I couldn't give her an inch; my only advantage now was the benefit of surprise. I leaped forward, howling as I leaped, so that my cries echoed across the plain (and, I hoped, all the way into the ears of my brethren), and jumped on her ear, tearing at the enormous flapping lobe with my wolf's teeth, watching with relief and disgust twinned together as the flesh ripped open.
I hadn't managed to tear the ear clean off, but I'd come awfully close. I lurched down as the flesh flapped over.
The Giantess’ hands closed about my waist as I bit her on the torso, filling my mouth with sickening chunks of her flesh. This fight had now become a struggle to survive. I tried to keep down my dinner at the stench and taste of her. “Let me go, woman,” I snarled, a human voice sounding from my wolfish throat. “What do you want with me?”
Her eyes seemed to gleam over. “I want...” she said, her eyes widening with desire. “I want what you have in your dreams. Lead me to it.”
“What are you talking about, Lady?”
“The red stone...” She closed her eyes and inhaled, as if smelling a delicious perfume. “Lead me to it. Give me the beautiful red stone.”
My eyes grew wide with shock. I had never spoken of the Stone to another person, Wolf or Fey. Nobody knew about it but me. “What stone?” I said carefully, doing my best not to allow my voice to waver. She couldn't suspect the truth – none of them could.
“The stone that you dreamed about,” said the Giantess. “Surely you have it on you. The one that was given to you in the dream.”
“That was a dream,” I said swiftly, biting at her neck. “It wasn't real.”
“Your dreams are real, Wolf,” the Giantess’ eyes glimmered. “All your dreams are real, Red Wolf. For they are not dreams, but visions. You have been granted the gift of Visions, and so reality and fantasy blend in your mind. That is how I was able to summon you here, after all.”