Winter Wedding Page 3

  The creature’s breathing slowed as the medication took effect. “Are you sure it’s enough?” she asked, staring at the size of the wolf’s fangs. Nothing like she’d ever seen before. Her heart plummeted to her stomach. This wolf most likely had killed Ralph. That meant he wasn’t worth saving.

  Yet, she desperately needed to know how he fit into Coral’s vision.

  “Let’s get him in the cabin and in the cage,” Chaz said, hovering over the beast’s body, Nico only five paces away. Drew raced off to go change back to his human form.

  Cheryl dropped to her knees in front of the creature. With his fangs, unruly dark coat, and his sheer size, he looked like a monster right out of the human’s stupid movies about paranormal creatures. He was the kind of being that gave werewolves a bad name in the eyes of humans.

  She reached her hand out to touch him, but he let out a puff of air and jerked. She yanked her hand back. “Are you three going to be able to bring this thing inside?”

  Chaz set down a cloth with two wooden rails on the sides. “I’m more concerned he won’t fit through the front door.”

  “That would suck.” She stood, brushing off her jeans. “I’ll be inside, waiting. Don’t take too long. We don’t know how long those tranquilizers will work on a thing that big.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” Nico mumbled.

  She turned on her heels and practically raced through the barrier. Stepping inside, she ignored the rattling vase and started digging through some new material given to her by one of the Royals that had been locked in the vase with Ralph. They all knew where pieces of the puzzle had been hidden, but they didn’t know why or what any of it meant.

  She was determined to find all the answers, even if it meant being locked up with a temperamental fairy and half-dead wolf.

  3

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Cheryl understood Chaz’s concern. She had the same ones now that she was inside the cabin with the wolf and the damn vase that they had to contain in the oven after it went nuts when they caged the beast. Norse had tried to cover the wolf in dust. Cheryl didn’t think that was a good idea, considering her skin still stung from the last encounter she had with the magical dust, so Drew stepped in and did his best to contain as much of the dust as possible.

  “Just go.”

  “We won’t be able to communicate for hours.” Chaz held her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes much like their father had done when they’d been children. Chaz had stepped into his role as Alpha easily, which made her chuckle. Growing up, that was the last thing that Chaz wanted.

  “We need to find out what this wolf wants or needs.” She held up her hand seeing the tension in Chaz’s face. “He understood me out there. I saw it in his eyes.”

  “There is nothing but death in his eyes,” Chaz mumbled. “The only reason I’m allowing this is because Coral has had visions, and none of the outcomes show you dead.”

  “I’ll see you in a few hours.” She shoved Chaz out onto the patio. “I’m ready, Coral.” She waved to her future sister-in-law before slamming the door shut.

  She coughed. “We are going to have to do something about your smell.” She made her way into the kitchen. A good hot mug of tea to stick under her nose for a bit would ease her stomach as well as the stench emulating from the wolf.

  A darkness filled the windows as the protective magic circled the house, sealing them in.

  And everyone else out.

  Cheryl palmed the hot mug as she stood ten feet from the cage. According to one of the witches from the Coven of the Raindrops, nothing could break or bend the bars.

  Nothing, except the magic of the King of the Royal Fairies. Right now, that was her brother, and he had no fairy powers. He also balked at being their king. He’d accepted the role because he had no choice.

  “How long are you going to sleep?” she asked softly, not really wanting to wake the animal.

  His mouth opened, and his tongue darted out, smacking over his large snout. He grunted, snarled, and sneezed. His thick lashes blinked like a hummingbird’s wings. The sound of metal hitting the tile floor clamored in her ears. She glanced over her shoulder. The pot that had been on the stovetop was now on the floor. The oven door shook, popping open an inch and then slamming shut.

  “Norse. You either need to tell me what the hell you want or shut up.” She ran a hand through her long, dark hair and turned.

  She let out a bloodcurdling scream. The hot liquid in her mug splashed against her clothing. The ceramic cup hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

  “You’re awake.” She swallowed, taking a couple of steps backward as she stared into the wolf’s bloodshot eyes.

  He growled, showing his teeth, which were longer than her fingers.

  “I’d be pissed too.” Growing up, her father had always told her to hide her fear as best she could. Other animals and paranormal creatures would sense it. Hell, even her human mother sensed whenever she’d been scared.

  The beast stuck his snout through the bars, deepening his snarl. It vibrated her right into her vocal cords. The wolf scuffed at the floor, hissing like a snake, but breathing like a bull. He raised his paw and slammed it against the hardwood.

  She lost her balance and fell over, hitting her ass on the coffee table. The wood legs snapped, and she dropped to the ground.

  Holding up her hands, she glanced around for something she could use to ease the tension and help her communicate with the beast. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk to you. I have some questions.” One being, did you kill Ralph? And why?

  Actually, she should be asking herself why she believed the wolf was innocent and why she’d go to any length to save it.

  The picture of the wolf! That should help create a more hospitable environment, especially since it showed him wandering in the field between the barn and the main house.

  She shot to her feet, ignoring the ache in her back, and raced to the table. She found the picture and gasped. She could now see herself clearly in the painting. Her white wolf form standing proudly next to the beast.

  He had something to do with the next phase, whatever that was, and she’d do whatever it took to make sure it happened. All of her nieces and nephews, both born and unborn, deserved to live the full life their ancestors went to extreme lengths to create.

  The floor shook as if a herd of elephants were barreling down the mountain, ready to crush the cabin into kindling. Bracing herself against the sofa, she held up the image. “That’s you.” She pointed to the wolf. “This is me.” She tapped the picture and then touched the center of her chest. “I’m a werewolf. Do you understand that?”

  The wolf tilted his head with his paw raised in the air. He glanced between her and the kitchen. Lifting his head, he howled so loudly she dropped to her knees, covering her ears.

  “Please. I know you’re scared and probably angry, but—”

  A threatening growl cut her words off.

  The wolf raised both front paws and pounded on the floor. Books fell from the shelves. Pictures dropped from the wall.

  And the oven door flopped open.

  “Shit.” The last thing she needed was a pissed-off wolf ready to tear her to shreds and an obnoxious fairy burning her with dust. Crawling toward the kitchen, she reached for the vase.

  Before she had a chance to snag it, her feet lifted from the ground. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh…my…God.”

  The wolf had the back of her shirt in his teeth. He carried her as if she were his cub. He could have ripped through her body with one bite and shake of his head. Instead, he gently set her down on the sofa, his snout rubbing against her exposed skin.

  She stood, hoping taking a stand would let him know she wouldn’t be pushed around, but that she was also not a threat.

  He gave her a nudge in the gut with his nose.

  Blinking, she tried to tear her gaze from his dark pools of…of… she leaned a littl
e closer and rubbed her own eyes, but the steady stream of blue, red, orange, and yellow fairy dust flowed from the vase into the wolf’s eyes, filling them with life.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered, mesmerized by the colors swirling around his body. His dark, dirty coat turned thick and shiny, as if he’d not only had a bath, but had been groomed.

  The vase rolled across the floor. He stopped it with his paw. His nails penetrated the glass. It didn’t shatter, but he poked a nice size hole in it.

  She braced herself for the wrath of Norse. He’d yet to really hurt her, and she suspected he didn’t have that kind of power, but she still didn’t like the way he sizzled her skin.

  The wolf opened his mouth wide.

  He could swallow half her body in one bite.

  She scurried back as far as she could, taking in deep breaths. Panicking would not help save her or buy her more time. She needed to reach the wolf. Make him understand her intention was not to put him in harm’s way, even if her brothers wanted him six feet under. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just need to know who you are and what you’re doing here,” she pleaded with the beast.

  The dust gathered inside his jaw, streaming from the vase, circling around his body, until it all disappeared.

  Maybe Norse was protecting her, even though he didn’t like her much, but she had helped stop Apep, who only wanted to kill Norse and destroy the prophecy. And that right there was why she felt such a strong desire to figure out how Norse and this wolf really fit into the future of the Wolfairies.

  Maybe then she could go back to her life in New York City.

  The wolf snapped his mouth shut only inches from her face, keeping all the fairy dust tucked between his razor-sharp teeth.

  Poor Norse.

  So, this is what death looked like.

  The wolf swallowed.

  And then belched.

  Gross.

  “Am I next on the menu?” She wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Last chance to talk. Otherwise, I’m shifting, and trust me, I’m a formidable werewolf.” She stood as tall as her brother Drew, but not as big as her other two brothers, but she suspected she’d only come to this beast’s shoulder, if she was lucky.

  The wolf raised his brows, pushing his ears back.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, she heard a male voice laughing.

  Probably Norse. She wondered how long he could survive inside the digestive tract of a monster.

  “I’m not a monster.” The wolf narrowed his glare and inched so close, his hot breath created perspiration on her forehead. “And Norse likes it here.”

  “So, now you want to talk.” Her heart squeezed, slowing her pulse. Fear left with an exhale, and it was replaced with a sense of awe. Slowly, she lifted her hand for him to smell. She needed to build trust, even though she didn’t trust this creature as far as she could throw a baseball, which wasn’t very far at all.

  “I’m not a dog. And I already know what you smell like.”

  “Yeah? And what’s that?” She could have projected, but she much preferred to use her voice. It was her way of pinching herself because this couldn’t be happening.

  “Peaches and cream.”

  “I’m not a popsicle,” she mumbled. Of course, he knew her scent. He’d been smelling it for the last ten minutes. Most werewolves smelled like some form of the outdoors. Her brothers carried a pine scent with a tinge of spring water. Although, Drew had a sweeter scent.

  Growing up, she had been teased because she didn’t smell like most wolves. She carried a more human scent, and it always made her feel like she didn’t fit in with the rest of the pack. She always had to push harder. Prove she was as good as every other wolf in the pack. Her father used to tell her to slow down. That none of it mattered.

  But it mattered to her. She wanted her place in the family. It wasn’t until she’d gone off to college that she saw what the rest of the world could offer her, and she dived into her work, satisfied she’d found the place where she belonged.

  Then Chaz met and mated with Daphne and everything changed, forcing Cheryl back to the farm.

  “I bet you taste like one.” The wolf stuck his nose against her cheek. He took in a long breath, sucking her skin tight against his nostrils.

  Her body trembled as she turned her face, closing her eyes tight. “Are you going to kill me?” Maybe getting to why he wanted to kill her might buy her some time so she could come up with a plan.

  The roughness of his long, thick tongue glided against her cheek in a blatant sexual advance. Rage filled her heart. She’d been manhandled once, and she swore she’d never let it happen again.

  Not even when death stared her in the eyes.

  Without thinking about the consequences, she coiled her fingers around his tongue and yanked.

  He hissed.

  “Don’t you ever touch me like that again.”

  He shook his head, which pushed her to the floor. He leaned over her, showing his teeth before snagging her shirt again. Her entire body lifted from the ground.

  “Put me down, you Neanderthal.”

  “Wrong species. You know, maybe I’ll cage you now.” He had a low, throaty voice. Deep and sexy with a hint of playfulness and a touch of resentment. “Wonder how you will like being trapped like a rabid animal.”

  “I won’t find out because you broke the damn cage.”

  “Too bad.” Carefully, he set her down on the sofa, his teeth scraping against her skin. “Do you have clothes for me?” He tugged at her shirt.

  “Clothes?” She bit back a chuckle. Laughing in his face would be a bad idea. “Why would you need clothes?”

  “I’ll show you, but first, the clothes.”

  “I don’t have any made for wolves,” she said, allowing the sarcasm to slowly roll off her tongue.

  “Guess I’ll do this naked then.” He raised his head, howling like a werewolf beckoning at the moon. His body convulsed. His fur stood up as if he’d been rubbed with a balloon, making it all static. Skin soon replaced the hair just like she would have if she shifted from wolf to human.

  “No way.” She tried to get off the sofa, but she couldn’t move as she watched the beast turn into a man.

  A tall, dark, and sexy man.

  “Wait. Are you Norse’s other half?”

  “Yes.” The man knelt in front of her, his skin bronzed as if he’d been out in the sun for years. His dark hair matched his eyes, which were still as black as night, but if she looked deep enough, she could see specs of color dance in the background. “I’m Dayton. Now, I need to find a towel or something I can wrap around myself.” He waggled his brow.

  Dayton? The last time she’d heard that name had been when she read about Dayton, the boy who didn’t exist. They hadn’t quite cracked the code for what that meant.

  “Excuse me, but I’d like some clothes, please.”

  “Um, yeah, don’t move.” She jumped from the sofa, tripping over the empty vase, landing on her face. She’d been a klutz most of her childhood, but she’d thought she had outgrown that years ago.

  Guess coming face to face with a man-beast brought back her inability to walk and talk at the same time.

  “Are you okay?”

  Big, strong arms slid under her body, easily flipping her over and lifting her in the air.

  “Whoa!” She flapped her arms about until they landed on his broad shoulders. She dug her nails into his skin, but she didn’t even make a dent “You’ve got to stop picking me up.”

  “I’ll gladly put you down, but need I remind you, I’m naked, so keeping your gaze up here on my face is a little bit more comfortable for our first encounter.”

  “Bedroom,” she said with a huff.

  “I’m not one to turn down a pretty lady when she propositions me, but this might be too soon, don’t you think?”

  “I did not come on to you,” she said, doing her damnedest to draw blood, but his skin was thicker than rawhide. “The bedroom is where the clothes are; now
I demand you put me down.”

  She was in no position to demand anything, but the feeling of being pinned down by a group of frat boys squeezed her throat closed. That was the first and only time she used being a werewolf to terrify anyone, but it was the only way she was going to protect herself, and others, from being raped by those savages.

  They would be in prison for a long time, thanks to her and a couple of her human friends who, unfortunately, hadn’t been as lucky as Cheryl.

  “I’ll put you down when I see something that will cover me. I’m not ashamed of my human form; I’m just not in the mood to be ogled by the likes of you.”

  Heat flared against her cheeks. “My brothers and cousins use this place for hunting. I’m sure there’s something in there you can put on.” Though she wasn’t sure any of it would fit.

  This man had to be six four with thick muscles.

  “There.” She pointed to the open closet. “There are pants and shirts hanging up in there.”

  “Do I need to blindfold you before I set you down?”

  She shook her head as he set her on the mattress. She covered her eyes, even though she wouldn’t mind taking a look at such a specimen of a man.

  He chuckled as if he’d been able to read her thoughts.

  Lifting her forefinger, she took a peek. Nice, round ass. True buns of steel.

  He hiked up a pair of jeans that actually fit his slender waist pretty well. Turning, he pulled a dark shirt over his head. That article of clothing, on the other hand, pulled a little too tight across his chest, but she didn’t mind staring at those defined pecs through the cotton fabric.

  Jesus. She’d turned into the female version of her brothers when they’d been horny teenagers and gawked at all her friends. She cleared her throat. “What happened to Norse?”

  “I’m him. He’s me, but I’m not supposed to go by that name now.”

  “Dayton. Right. Why is that?” Could this really be the boy who didn’t exist? And what exactly did that mean? So many questions and very few answers.