Enchanted By The Wolf (Paranormal Romance)

by Michele Hauf

  She pulled out a tiny blue T-shirt that had a wolf screen-printed on the front. It read I’m a Little Howler in French.

  “Oh, blessed Norns, Kir, this is adorable!” She crushed the T-shirt to her chest and sniffed back tears. “I have never been happier. Thank you,” she said. “For marrying me. And for not running when you probably could have.”

  “If I had run, I might have never known such happiness as lying in your arms. You’re going to make a great mother, Bea.”

  “You think so? I don’t have an example to know if I’ll be doing things right.”

  “I’m guessing it’s an instinctual thing.”

  “Kir, my mother’s instincts were to abandon me.”

  He kissed her quickly to stop the train of thought that could threaten to bring them both to tears. “I adore you. The baby will adore you. That’s all that matters.”

  Chapter 18

  Madeline Sauveterre was gorgeous—and she knew it—and the epitome of class. Bea guessed she wore fitted black dresses and hats with brims that she could look up at you from underneath. She probably wore gloves for fancy occasions. Bea had seen an old movie on television and couldn’t remember the actress’s name, but Madeline had that same cosmopolitan style. And despite being nearly a century in human years, she looked as young as Bea and Kir did. The woman had aged well.

  She’d stopped in for a visit this afternoon, and Bea, surprised as stones about that, led her into the kitchen and opened the fridge, because she couldn’t think what else to do.

  “I’m sure we have some of that fancy bottled water in here somewhere.”

  “Don’t bother, dear. I’ve brought you some flowers.”

  The woman tugged out a bouquet of red roses from her expansive Chanel bag and smiled that straight, false smile that Bea associated with serial killers—so she watched a lot of television; what else was there to do?

  “Oh, they’re so...red.” And the scent poked sharply at her ultrasensitive nose.

  “I’ll put them in a vase for you, dear.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  Madeline found a vase in the cupboard and started playing with the bushy bouquet. Every time she swished a flower, it filled the kitchen with an overpowering heady scent. A scent that would normally invoke most to lean forward to draw in a deep breath.

  Lost in the intrusively cloying perfume, Bea felt her stomach curdle. “I need to sit down.”

  “Not feeling well, dear?” Madeline adjusted the roses. She wouldn’t stop playing with them.

  “I’m sensitive to smells lately. Roses, in particular.”

  “Oh? That’s too bad. Perhaps Kir did mention something about that to me.” Heels clicking dully on the fieldstone floor, Madeline set the vase on the table right next to Bea. “But they are too pretty to toss, don’t you think?”

  Kir had told her roses made her ill? Nice monster-in-law. Not.

  Bea hadn’t the heart to tell her they gave her a woozy head. She’d toss them as soon as she left. Besides, it had been a kind gesture. Had Madeline changed her colors toward her? Maybe having Kir’s baby would bring them closer together.

  “So, Beatrice, how far along are you?”

  “Not sure. Two or three months?”

  “You’ve not been to a doctor?”

  “I’m not sure there are faery doctors in the mortal realm.”

  “Nonsense. I’m sure we can find one in FaeryTown. I can’t believe you’d ignore the baby’s health like that. But what should I expect? You are so...different.”

  And a filthy faery. Bea was surprised she hadn’t dropped that one on her yet. No, she hadn’t changed colors. How silly of her to even dream.

  Oh, those roses. Her head was spinning so wildly she had to clutch the chair arm to not spill over the side.

  “I wonder what the child will be,” Madeline tossed out. “Kir never has told me what you are, exactly. You are a half-breed, of course. It’s evident to look at your odd pink eyes. We’ve all assumed vampire.” She said the word with enough vitriol to drown an entire tribe of vampires.

  Bea shrugged. “If I were half vampire, would that be a problem?”

  She was in no condition to have a conversation, let alone correct her mother-in-law that she could be something worse. Because if Kir held demons as foul because of his father’s affair, then surely Madeline marked them as the most vile, unforgivable creatures to walk this realm.

  “You are aware that if my son’s child were born vampire he’d be banished from the pack?”

  Bea dropped her mouth open. She hadn’t been aware of that. What would they do to him if it were half demon?

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, it’s true. We take our bloodlines very seriously. Keeping them pure is a must.”

  “Then why did Kir’s principal allow him to marry a faery in the first place?”

  “Etienne is a peculiar one. He never thinks things through. Consequences are never fore in that old wolf’s mind. He saw a means to gain access to hunting grounds and...well.” She dusted the air with a dismissive gesture. “Unfortunately, I was not consulted on the matter.”

  “I love your son, Madeline. He loves me. And we will love our child unconditionally, no matter if he’s werewolf, vampire, faery or a crazy mix of all three.”

  Madeline looked as if she smelled a dead fish. “So my son says. He’s another who never looks to the consequences. A half-breed grandchild?” Madeline sniffed. “Unthinkable.”

  “Look, I know you don’t like me— Oh.” Bea reached out to grasp something in an attempt to steady her spinning head. “I really don’t feel well. It’s the morning sickness, which is more like all-day sickness. I need to get into bed. Prone is my favorite position lately.”

  “My son’s bedroom is up the stairs, yes?”

  Bea nodded. Normally, she’d unfurl her wings and flutter up to land in a sobbing heap on the bed, but she had to keep it together. The last thing her judgmental monster-in-law needed to see was the filthy faery in wings.

  “Let me help you up, dear. Wouldn’t want you to take a nasty fall.”

  Bea felt the woman support her across the back and she walked blindly down the hallway, trusting Madeline would help her up the stairs. Nausea crept up her throat and dizziness spun her head.

  “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize Kir’s position in the pack,” Bea managed as the stairs moved slowly beneath her bare feet. “Really.”

  “Yes, well, it’s too late for that, isn’t it? You should have used birth control.”

  “But Kir wants children.”

  And how dare she suggest such a thing? They were married. It wasn’t as though they had done something unforgivable by making a child together. On the other hand, giving Kir a demon child would not keep the bloodline pure. Stones.

  Landing on the top stair, Bea sensed the bed—and a much-needed collapse—loomed close. A renewed wave of rose perfume made her wobble—and Bea didn’t feel Madeline’s arm supporting her.

  “Watch it, dear.”

  “Help me,” Bea managed, before her equilibrium gave out and suddenly she was free-falling.

  Her shoulder hit the stairs hard. She screamed. Her body rolled, taking each step painfully, as if her bones were being knocked out of their sockets. And then she lay sprawled on the floor at the base of the stairs. Warm ichor seeped from her nose.

  The click of Madeline’s heels sounded near her head. “Funny. I always thought faeries could fly.”

  And she walked away, arm swinging the single red rose she held. Her heels echoed in loud clicks until the front door closed, and... Bea blacked out.

  * * *

  Kir’s phone rang as he walked on the sidewalk up to his house. It was Colin. He hadn’t told him yet that he had taken Sophie into custody.

  “Dad,” he answered, and paused before the front door without opening it.

  “Kir, she’s gone. I haven’t seen her in days. I don’t know what’s happened. I know I t
old you I’d call you with anything if I suspected she was dealing the V and... Oh, Kir.”

  “Is she, Dad?”

  He sensed more than heard his father’s reply. It sent a shiver up his spine. But, really, he’d caught Sophie at the scene of the crime. While no vampires had been found inside the hub at the time of arrest, the paraphernalia linking her to drawing blood from vampires had been there.

  “We’ve taken her into custody,” he provided because hearing his father weeping unnerved him.

  “What?”

  “We picked her up at a V-hub, Dad. I’m sorry, I forgot to call you. We’re going to question her soon.”

  “Soon? What does that mean? You’ve had her for days? What are you waiting for? I have to talk to her.”

  “I will call you after we’ve questioned her. I promise.”

  “But, Kir—”

  He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know how to show empathy toward his father. So Kir hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket. It hurt his heart a lot more than he expected it would.

  * * *

  “Bea!”

  Bea came to and realized she was sitting up, supported by Kir’s arms. She looked around. Had she been lying at the bottom of the staircase?

  “Did you fall? What happened?” She could feel his fear and anxiety as his hand moved down her arm, giving her a few testing squeezes, and to her stomach, where his palm pressed as if to divine the heartbeat within. “You need to lie down.”

  He carried her up the stairs and laid her on the bed. Every bone ached, and she cried out as he set her down.

  “What happened?” He touched her forehead, then rubbed the darkened ichor between his fingers. “You’re bleeding from a cut above your eye. And your ichor is dark, not clear. You need a doctor.”

  “Not a wolf doctor,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine. Just...took a tumble.”

  “Down the stairs!”

  Yes, thanks to Madeline. Had her monster-in-law pushed her? Bea had been too woozy to know for sure. The woman had been helping her to climb the stairs, her palm at the small of Bea’s back, and then...it was not. And she remembered wobbling, reaching for something, anything to stop from falling. Madeline hadn’t been there to catch her. And she had left her there at the bottom of the steps. Bea could not get the sound of the woman’s high heels clicking away from her out of her brain.

  “It was...”

  She couldn’t tell Kir his mother had been here. He loved his mom and respected her. And without full knowledge of what had really happened, Bea didn’t dare make accusations.

  “Morning sickness. You know how it makes me dizzy. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I just... Hell. Is the baby okay?”

  “Not sure. I’m sore everywhere. My elbow really hurts.”

  “I need to find a doctor for you.”

  “FaeryTown?”

  “You think? I’ll go there right now. No. I can’t leave you.” He clasped her hand and pressed his forehead to her stomach. The brush of his beard always made her smile, but this time her smile ended in a wince. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. Not when you’ve been feeling so awful. Bea, please forgive me?”

  “It’s not your fault, lover. You have work to do, and I should be more careful. Go to FaeryTown. I’ll be fine as long as I’m on the bed, and it’s not moving. Just bring me some water before you leave?”

  He dashed down the stairs and returned to her side in record time. Sipping the water, she settled into the comforting touches as he stroked the hair from her face. He pulled back his fingers and studied the ichor that glittered there. Did her ichor look a bit foggy? Darker? Hmm...

  “Just bumps and bruises,” she reassured. “With rest, I’ll be peaches and cream.”

  “I’ll find a doctor just the same. Give me an hour or two. I’m not familiar with FaeryTown.”

  “You’re going to need some glamour.”

  “What?”

  “Kir, you can see me because I let you. I don’t wear a glamour. Though I’m not sure I could if I tried. Been feeling so drained lately. I suspect it’s the pregnancy. I also suspect FaeryTown is completely glamorized. You’ll need to see the faeries if you want to talk to them.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “I have some magic for that. Maybe. I’ll give it a shot.”

  She touched the bridge of his nose between his eyes and closed hers. Summoning from her core, she imbued him with the sight. Maybe. Who knew if she could do the simple trick with the way she’d felt so drained lately?

  “I felt something,” he said. “A zing that coursed through me.”

  “Then it worked. The glamour should allow you to see all sidhe, whether or not they wear a glamour. Should stay with you a few hours. Or...minutes, depending on my fading mojo. Hurry back.”

  He pressed his face to her stomach again and she could hear him sniff tearfully. “I won’t be long.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Kir smelled the ichor when he entered the front door to his home. He’d found a faery doctor who had agreed to come within the hour, but she had been on her way to tend a sprite mother who was delivering at that moment. It was the best he could do. So he’d rushed home to be with Bea until the doctor arrived.

  The scent of his wife’s ichor pierced his nostrils sharply. It was too much ichor. Sweet and grassy, overlaid with something darker, like smoke. Not right.

  He dashed down the hallway, punching the wall as he reached the stairs. Letting out a howl, he charged up the stairs. She wasn’t on the bed, tucked within the blankets. He followed the glittering spots of ichor on the floor that led into the bathroom.

  Bea looked up from her position sitting before the bathtub. Her face was covered in ichor. Her hands, as well. On the floor puddled more of the sparkling, clear substance.

  Not so clear, he thought. Darker than usual. But he couldn’t worry over the color right now.

  In that terrible moment Kir knew. He fell to his knees before her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Pain tore up from his lungs and crushed the sweetness living in his heart that could have been his child. Kir howled as he had never howled before.

  Chapter 19

  Kir had failed Bea. And pack Valoir.

  He stuffed the tiny T-shirt he’d purchased weeks ago into a trash bag, tied up the plastic and wandered out to the backyard. The sun was too bright. The birds were too loud. Traffic fumes caught in his lungs. Even the grass, which had turned green under Bea’s attentions, had returned to its usual brown, crunchy state.

  Jacques had called repeatedly. When was he going to question Sophie? Did Kir want him to do it for him? No, just wait, he’d said. He needed...time. Hell, he didn’t know what he needed. But he hadn’t been able to tell Jacques about Bea’s miscarriage.

  Everything was wrong. Too much wrongness. Unbearable to his heart.

  He slammed the garbage bag into the tin can and put the cover on, then kicked the base of it. The can crashed against the wall of the stucco shed and almost toppled over.

  Driving his fingers through his hair, he walked in a tight circle behind the shed, not wanting to risk Bea seeing him in this state. It had been a week since she’d miscarried. They hadn’t talked about it other than him asking how she felt and her nodding and curling up in bed, or lying on the couch to watch television. He hated leaving her alone all day—alone with her morose thoughts—and tried to skip out from work an hour or two early. Sophie needed to be questioned, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything.

  And he cared about everything.

  He didn’t know what else to do. He felt helpless. He wanted to make it better for Bea so she could smile. All he wanted was for his faery wife to smile. She hadn’t danced about the living room naked, wings unfurled, for weeks. And the brightness in her eyes had clouded.

  He figured it would probably take a while for her to grieve and move beyond what had happened, but...

  What abo
ut him? He...needed. Something.

  He needed to wrap his arms about Bea and let loose the tears, to get them all out and scream and whimper and know that he still had her. That’s all he wanted—her. They could try again at having a baby. Had he cursed the unborn child with his thoughts? He regretted thinking how difficult it would be to raise a demon within the pack.

  He peeked around the shed wall. The living room curtains were drawn. She’d been watching TV when he’d come home tonight and had only picked at the salad and croissants he’d brought with him. She would take a bath in a few hours and move into bed without saying good-night to him.

  She was slipping away from him.

  Kir fisted his hands at his sides.

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  * * *

  Bea sat up on the couch as Kir knelt on the floor before her. He took her hands and kissed them, then pressed them over his chest. A heavy inhale lifted his powerful pecs beneath her fingers. The shiver in his breaths as he exhaled startled her. She didn’t understand.

  And then she did. He was struggling. She didn’t know how to help him. She didn’t even know how to help herself. She’d never felt such an immense loss.

  “I’m not going in to work until we figure this out,” he said. “I won’t leave you alone all day to sit and think about what’s happened. It’s not right. I want to be here for you, Bea. For whenever you’re ready to talk about it. Because...I need to talk about it. We need to talk about it.”

  He rested his head on her lap and she stroked her fingers through his soft hair. The man gave her everything she asked for, did not deny her a thing. He’d given her blind trust. He’d given her his very life by agreeing to marry her.

  The pack will banish Kir if the child is a half-breed.

  He’d sacrificed his home and the love of family for the child.

  Bowing her head to his, she closed her eyes and tears spilled down her cheeks and dripped into his hair. “I wanted to give you a child.”