by Debra Dunbar
The boner was back. Which was pretty normal in the mornings, but this was a bit excessive, and had more to do with his acute awareness of a beautiful woman not twenty feet from him as he lay naked in bed. Good thing he’d rolled onto his stomach.
“Breakfast?” She approached and knelt beside the bed, face-to-face with him. Her flowery herbal smell washed over him, her hair like silk on his arm. Her light-green eyes, framed with dark lashes, tilted upward at the outside edges like a kitten’s. God, she was beautiful. All she needed was an ornate silver crown and a bejeweled necklace, and she would look just like every wet dream he’d ever had.
Boner drilling through her mattress to China right now.
“I have berries with cream, and warm bread with butter and honey.”
Breakfast. That’s right, she’d been asking him about breakfast. But that would require him turning over.
“Can I sleep a little longer? And I’d like to clean up a bit before eating, if you don’t mind.” She shouldn’t mind. He probably smelled like a yak at this point. And his breath…good lord his breath must smell like gym socks left in a bag in the sun for a week. And she’d kissed him last night. With not-brushed-my-teeth-because-I-was-unconscious-for-nearly-a-week breath. That was probably the last time she’d kiss him. So much for ever seeing second base, let alone crossing to home.
And now the boner was going down.
She smiled warmly. “You must feel better if you’re wanting to groom yourself. I’ll prepare a bath and enchant it so it stays hot, then go out so you can sleep some more. Rest and heal, my wolf. I will return later.” She kissed the top of his head, which put her breasts right into his face. Annnnd the boner was back.
The next time he awoke, the house was quiet. True to her word, Gwylla had left a big tub over to the side of the bed. The water steamed, smelling of sandalwood and pine. There were soaps, a washcloth and towel, and a stick-like thing that he assumed was supposed to be a toothbrush.
The water felt amazing, the heat seeping into his stiff muscles as he sank into the deep tub. How had she managed to move this heavy thing? Or fill it? Or keep it hot? And where did she store it, because the tub hadn’t been in the house earlier. Dustin imagined some interdimensional pocket, like a ten-by-ten at the storage rental place. Of course none of that explained how strong she must be to have moved it. Or how strong her magic must be.
He suddenly felt very small and weak. In a world of humans, he’d been the one with superior strength and speed, as well as his ability to heal just about any wound in a matter of hours, or days at the most. He didn’t get sick like the humans did. He was a big fish in a very tiny pond. But now…
Angels walking among them. Elves—elves that made werewolves seem like stupid magically inept creatures on steroids. Even this thin, delicate-looking sidhe could probably beat him at arm wrestling in the first three seconds without even trying. Dustin wasn’t an Alpha. He wasn’t even close to being in line for that position behind Jake. His pack mates liked him. They said he was easy to talk to, that he was the sort of guy you could confide in. He wasn’t a leader of wolves, or of men. But being low-middle of the pack of werewolves seemed even lower when surrounded by other supernatural creatures who could not only kick his butt, but could most likely kick his Alpha’s butt as well.
And that was a scary thought. That any being less than an angel could best Jake was a difficult pill to swallow. Their world had been turned upside down by these hunters. It was on the edge of being flipped once more.
Submerging his head in the hot water, Dustin scrubbed himself clean and climbed out of the tub feeling better than he had since he’d been shot. Not recovered enough to run for his life or fight back against anything much stronger than a Chihuahua, but better.
There was a note over in the kitchen area—a picture of a wolf walking through a doorway, then another of a wolf sitting at a picnic spread of food by a stream, small woodland animals by his side.
He was hungry enough to eat those animals, but how the heck did he get out of a hut when didn’t have the magic to open the door? Or even see the door? And then there was his glaring lack of clothing. Looking around, Dustin found a ball of twine that Gwylla must use to hang the herbs from her ceiling. He used his teeth to cut off a piece and tie it around his waist. Then he grabbed one of the towels, draping it over the twine in the front, passing it between his thighs, then draping it over the twine in back. An instant loincloth, although it felt more like a horribly bulky diaper between his legs. It wasn’t like he was going to be running through the forest in his condition, so it would have to do. Taking a few experimental steps around the hut, Dustin cut a second piece of twine to reinforce the first. He didn’t really trust this stuff not to break, but it wasn’t like Gwylla hadn’t seen his goods already.
Clean, and somewhat dressed, he set about trying to find the door, patting the earthen walls around where he’d seen the sidhe come and go the previous two days. He yelped as his hand sank into one spot as if it were a hologram. The door lit silvery-blue around the edges and he found himself facing an opening.
Weird. He hadn’t left this hut in seven days. He barely remembered running into the odd forest that was Gwylla’s sanctuary as a wolf. All he could recall of that panicked, pain-filled flight was the oddity of oaks, maples, and other lower-altitude deciduous trees in what should have been an alpine forest of pines and aspens. Taking a breath, he stepped through the doorway, a bit disconcerted to see it close up behind him, leaving nothing but a hill of soft grass where the dwelling had been seconds ago.
Well, there was nowhere to go but forward. The picture had shown him picnicking by a stream, but he had no idea where that might be. There were several paths branching out in front of him, and when Dustin lifted his head to scent the air, water seemed to be in every direction. He ended up picking the path where water smelled the closest, figuring that she wouldn’t have selected a location requiring a long walk when this was the first he’d been able to truly stand for long, let alone take even a short hike.
Three steps in the world morphed around him, shifting and turning as if he were suddenly hit with vertigo. Dustin grabbed a tree, wondering if he were going to faint. But as quickly as it came on, the dizziness passed and he found himself deep in the forest, the patches of snow giving way to a small mossy clearing with tree-trunk seats, and a spread of food on a white tablecloth. A stream rushed by, dancing over rocks that sparkled with mica and fool’s gold. Sunlight streamed through the leafy canopy, spotlighting the clearing. And sure enough, squirrels and birds, chipmunks and butterflies as well as a doe with a fawn stood around the perimeter, ignoring the food on the white cloth, and instead staring at him.
Of course they were staring at him. He was a wolf, a predator. He was surprised they weren’t running away. He was even more surprised when he walked into the clearing, and their eyes tracked his movement without fear. The fawn flicked a white tail and turned from his mother to drink from the stream.
He sat, lowering himself gingerly onto the mossy ground, careful to not lose his loincloth or break the string holding it on. There was a shimmer of light on the other bank of the stream, and all the animals turned their heads as Gwylla appeared. She walked across the top of the water, bits of frost and ice forming then melting with each footstep. The animals approached, the birds and butterflies hovering around her hair and lighting on her outstretched hand. It was like a live-action Disney movie. She was an ethereal combination of Snow White and Elsa from Frozen.
“Hi.” Idiot. Although, in his defense, it was difficult to know what to say to this fairy princess who walked across water and magicked big tubs of heated water from who-knows-where.
“Greetings. You seem to be feeling much better after your sleep and nap.” Then she tilted her head, looking quizzically at his makeshift loincloth. “What are you…you’re wearing a towel?”
He adjusted said towel, which was becoming even more uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “I can’t keep wa
lking around naked.”
Her green eyes were big and innocent. “Why not? Certainly naked would be more comfortable than having a thick towel bunched up between your legs.”
It would be. And right now, if he was back among his pack, he wouldn’t have thought twice about walking around in the buff. Shapeshifters didn’t have much in the way of body modesty around each other, but it still felt weird to be naked before this woman.
“Well, you’re wearing clothing. It seems rude not to at least make an attempt to do the same.”
She gave him an odd look, as if she didn’t quite believe the excuse. “Would it help if I was naked too? I apologize. I never realized that it might be awkward for you to be unclothed while I wasn’t. Fae use clothing as adornment and don’t have any taboos about nudity, even in formal social situations. It’s always acceptable to be naked, although high-status fae do like to embellish their appearance with cloth, jewels, or precious metals as well as flowers and leaves. I would be happy to take my clothes off if that is the socially proper thing to do among wolf-people.”
“As much as I would love to see you naked, I think it would probably be best if you kept your clothes on. For now. I’m reserving the right to change my mind later,” Dustin choked out. “And I’ll keep the towel on. For now. Although I might take it off later.”
He wanted to take it off now. It was bulky and uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as having an obvious erection constantly popping up in her presence.
She smiled, walking over to him and plopping down on the moss, her hip brushing against his. Then she gestured toward the food. “Eat. And then, if you are up to conversation, we will talk some more.”
Oh he wanted to do a lot more than talk. But the mention of food reminded him about the gnawing empty hole in his stomach. She’d put down a beautiful spread—the berries in cream as well as the bread and honey butter that she’d mentioned earlier. There were little leaf-bowls of candied nuts, and something that looked like oatmeal with blueberries scattered across the top. It looked amazing, but Dustin couldn’t help but eye the doe over by the stream with longing. What he wouldn’t give for a plate of eggs and a huge steak right now. Mmmmm, venison. He was pretty sure that he could consume a big ten-pound roast in two bites.
Gwylla followed his gaze. “Oh, there is no need for concern. The animals in my sanctuary have plenty to eat. They won’t disturb or try to eat the food I’ve prepared for us.”
That was so not what he was thinking as he eyed the doe, but it would probably be horribly impolite to chase down one of her woodland friends and sink his teeth into its hide. So instead, Dustin sighed and turned his attention to the fruit, and nuts, and oatmeal. It was all surprisingly filling, each bite far more flavorful and enjoyable than any food he’d eaten before. Was even the cuisine here enchanted? How much of this was real, and how much a contrived illusion? He looked over at Gwylla, unable to keep his eyes from wandering down her body. Didn’t some legends say that fae were actually hideous creatures who used glamour to appear beautiful? Like magical cosmetics, or something?
“Are you tired?” She shifted, stretching her legs out as she leaned back on her elbows. The white tablecloth with the remains of the food blurred and vanished, soft grass and moss in its place.
“No, not really.” Tired wasn’t the right word. Full. Content. At peace. There was something about this place, something about sitting next to her that made him feel complete, as if all were as it should be, as if the whole world outside could disappear and he wouldn’t even care. Which was wrong. So wrong. What was happening to him?
“How are your wounds?”
He lay back as well and spread out on his side, facing her, his head propped on his arm. “So much better. I can’t believe that I could barely stand last night and I was actually able to bathe and walk here today. I don’t think I’m ready for any long hikes, or to run, but I feel almost like myself again. Thank you.”
Maybe just a little nap. The mossy ground here was so soft, and his stomach was full. Content. And happy. With a beautiful woman laying inches from him. One of the birds began to sing and he felt his eyelids grow heavy.
“You are welcome.”
She snuggled up against him, draping an arm around his waist and positioning her head just under his chin. He could smell the cool floral scent of her hair, feel the softness of her body against his. His arm went around her, and he marveled at how perfectly she fit against him.
Enchantment? Maybe, but he was just going to go with it. He’d leave soon, but for now he’d relish this idyllic moment and let himself have something to dream about, something to hold on to whenever life got hard. Because illusion or not, this moment, this feeling he was experiencing here in Gwylla’s sanctuary with her pressed against him was pure magic.
Chapter 9
Dustin awoke, still feeling that incredible sense of contentment. He’d shifted onto his back, and Gwylla was draped across him, her head resting on the uninjured side of his chest, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his ribs.
“Do you love my sanctuary, Dustin?” she asked with a small smile. “Do you feel the bonds now? Do you long to stay here by my side? I would be happy if you did.”
Something in the soft words gave him pause. In another day or two he’d surely be able to leave this place to find the satellite phone and contact his pack, and maybe he’d be healed enough to head somewhere that they could land a chopper and pick him up. Or at the very least hike to a road and catch a ride to the nearest town. The thought chipped away at that sense of contentment.
“Your home is beautiful, Gwylla. But I don’t belong here. These bonds you talk about aren’t enough to make me ignore the obligations I have to my pack, or throw away the life I have back home. I’m sorry, but this is like a beautiful vacation. Well, aside from getting shot, anyway. Yes, I love it here, but I also love my home, and that’s where I need to be.”
She sighed, her fingers drifting down to his hip, tracing the edge of the towel across his stomach. Oh my. Maybe he could stay here a bit longer. Make a phone call and tell Jake everything he knew, then inform his Alpha that he was taking a two-week vacation to hopefully get laid—a lot. And he’d need a few extra weeks because as much as he wanted to make love to this beautiful woman in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do so without reinjuring himself.
Wait. Had that been her plan? Was this a plot to ensnare him, make sure he never left, or if he did that he’d return? He’d be a fairy princess’s sex slave, or something like that. And as much as certain parts of his body were on board with that, his brain wasn’t.
Actually, his brain kinda was. There were worse ways to live out the remainder of his life. Hadn’t this always been a fantasy of his? And if it hadn’t been for her finding and healing him, he would have been dead. So staying here and eating berries and hopefully having sex four or five times per day shouldn’t be a problem.
Except he hadn’t died. He had a life, a pack, an Alpha, and those last two needed him. But he could come back…and if they got rid of this elf guy, she could even come stay with him at the compound for a while. Would she? Because if she was willing to do that, then she could weave her spells around him all she wanted. Dustin imagined her at the compound, in his home, and just couldn’t see it. Dark jeans and tank top from Old Navy aside, she belonged here in her sanctuary, surrounded by animals and flowers and berries. The idea of Snow White/Elsa living in his house with his pack… His home and life seemed a world removed from this idyllic paradise.
But he wanted her. And that seemed to be overcoming any warnings from his rational side that she might be enchanting him somehow. He shifted on the moss and winced as his chest gave a warning twinge. Clearly sex wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Although maybe she’d give him a blow job. He could lay here, his hands tracing her skin while her mouth brought him the release he was desperately craving. It would probably be rude to suggest it, though. And it would proba
bly be just as rude to reach down and jerk himself off, so Dustin gritted his teeth, thought unsexy thoughts, and once more contemplated a possible death by blue balls.
“Are you still in pain?”
He opened his eyes to find her face close to his, her breasts smashed against his chest. This wasn’t helping.
“Um, not much. I’m okay. I think I’d be better if we both sat up. We could sit here and talk.” Talking was good. That would hopefully get his mind away from the idea of her giving him a blow job.
A mischievous smile curved her lips and she rose, folding her legs as she settled her back against a tree trunk.
“What is your life like, wolf-man?” she asked, scooting close to him as he sat beside her. “You said that you fly the plane around to transport people. What else do you do?”
Eat steak. Drink beer. Play pool or darts with the guys. Go on hunts with the pack. Occasionally go on a date if he found a werewolf who he was fairly certain would say yes. But he got the feeling she was asking for more than those facts.
“You mean my childhood? I grew up in Pennsylvania, the only offspring of a werewolf couple who were right at the end of their fertility. We generally live to be a hundred to a hundred twenty years, and can have kids until we’re about eighty, although it varies by wolf. We’re not very fertile, and many couples can’t get pregnant, so I was a happy surprise.”