Once Upon a Wolf: Be-Wished, #2

1

It’s only for twenty-four hours.

Universal Wish Fairy Davina Traherne glanced at the wolf sitting on his haunches in front of her. She, the wolf, and Laszlo Urbanek, the cross-agency arbitrator, were meeting in a conference room down the hall from her office.

The wolf hopped down from the oversized chair he’d been sitting in and began pacing, his tail slashing back and forth, his paws making no noise on the plush carpet. On the large wall monitor was a close-up photograph of a woman’s face. She had thick, mahogany hair and arresting brown eyes.

You have to admit, she’s pretty, Davina said to him. That should help.

The wolf stopped and looked at her a moment, shook his head, and then resumed pacing.

Come on, Adam. I thought this would be a slam-dunk. All she wants is one hot night with a werewolf. Just think about it. For once you won’t have to angst over whether to tell her you’re a shapeshifter or not.

Adam made rough growling noise.

And who doesn’t want some nice, no-strings-attached sex? Huh?

Now, Laszlo snorted. No strings attached? Oh, that’s rich, Davina. You Federation people are all about Happily Ever After. You know it and we know it.

Adam did his wolfish version of a laugh.

Davina crossed her arms. And here I thought you were a professional, Laszlo. The Copenhagen Convention clearly established that we can no longer influence human emotions, even if—

Yadda yadda yadda, Laszlo said, working his hand like he was making a sock puppet talk. Don’t bother quoting the Cinderella Accords to me. I know them by heart, too. Besides, he said, slanting a look at her, I hear you got your hand slapped a little while ago for a major violation.

Adam stopped his pacing to glance up at her and she shrugged. It wasn’t all that major, and besides, that’s in the past. We’re talking about the future. Adam’s future.

Which, to reiterate, will not end in marriage. Nothing personal against this Paige person, but my client feels strongly about this.

But love—

Isn’t something Adam is looking for here, not with this human woman. If she was a shapeshifter, that would be one thing, but she’s not. So we want a clause stipulating that this is a temporal wish, twenty-four hours only. After that, you’re out of the picture, Davina. No fairy mumbo-jumbo to push them down the aisle.

Davina wrinkled her nose.

No matter how good their numbers look, Laszlo added.

You’re killing me, Laszlo. Don’t you have one romantic bone in your body?

As a matter of fact, I do, Laszlo said a little stiffly. My incus is romantic.

Your…? Davina blinked. Your incus?

It’s a very small bone in my ear.

You’re making that up.

Am not.

Adam yipped sharply and Laszlo sighed.

Let’s stick to the subject, the arbitrator said. Twenty-four hours. No meddling. No HEA.

If an HEA develops with Adam and Paige, it will not be due to me. Because if I do my job correctly, I’ll have you know, there is no meddling required. Love will find a way. It’s the ultimate force in the universe.

The fairy stared at Laszlo as if daring him to challenge that statement, but he said nothing. So, softening, she turned to Adam. So what do you say, Adam? One sultry night of sex and a free trip to Monterey, California.

Laszlo laughed. Oh, be still my heart. Exotic Monterey. Why don’t you make it Paris or Jamaica or someplace interesting? All there is to see in Monterey are those overhyped sea otters.

That’s not true, Davina protested weakly.

Okay, Laszlo said, Sea otters and kelp.

Now hold on, Davina said, I happen to know that the monarch butterflies migrate there every year around this time. Think of the photographs you could take, Adam. Davina leaned forward. Come on, it’s one night. I’ll owe you.

Adam came to stand in front of Davina, gazing silently at her with his arctic blue eyes. He glanced again at the woman’s face and then, with a soft huff, nodded his head.

Three weeks later, Paige Mahoney paced in her room at the beautiful Hearthstone Inn, with its picture-perfect front garden, classic Victorian architecture, and cobbled walkway. She should have been making the rounds of the hotel and grounds with her three-star checklist, or at the very least, unpacking. But she was in no mood to work at all or bask in the charm of her surroundings. Not even the contents of the honor bar were consoling her. She had a blind date in little less than an hour. But this was no ordinary blind date. No.

Paige had a blind date with an alleged wolf man.

She massaged her temples and laughed. It had all started a little over a year ago on a weekend cruise with her two friends, Mariah and Livvy. They had all bought woven bracelets from a street vendor in Cabo and made wishes on them because of the legend that said when the bracelets fell off naturally, their wishes would come true.

The three of them got pretty drunk that night and their wishes had gotten raunchy. Paige, a voracious reader, had been caught up in a series of werewolf romances at the time, hence, her wish to spend the night with a hot, alpha male shapeshifter, the kind that didn’t go into a killing frenzy during the full moon, a la American Werewolf in London, but just changed forms. Mariah and Livvy had, of course, wanted details, so whipping out her book, Paige had turned to some of the juicier parts and paraphrased several erotic scenarios. After Mariah’s rather tame wish to meet up again with a guy from her past, Paige’s naughty list had cracked them all up.

Yet, Mariah’s wish had miraculously come true just a few months ago. Excited for their friend, Paige and Livvy had pumped her for details, but Mariah had said little about the chance reunion between her and Tucker. All three joked that it must have been the bracelet, but Mariah’s laughter had been restrained and when Paige’s bracelet came off and Davina, the wish fairy, started explaining things, she understood why.

Paige examined her perfect fingernails carefully. Davina had granted her a Good Faith Wish to prove her powers were real. Having been at a wedding at the time and embarrassed as usual about the state of her nails, she’d wished for fingernails that never needed a manicure. Davina had taken care of that in less than an instant. It had been three weeks since then, and still no chips, no nicks, no splits. She found it difficult to argue with such strong evidence.

But werewolves? Paige shook her head as she freshened up. Nice nails or not, she couldn’t suspend her disbelief quite that far. As much as she relished the idea of making it with a literal alpha male, she wondered what he was going to look like. Davina had emailed her a photo, but it was of a wolf, not a man.

Yeah, that fairy was a barrel of laughs.

Unfortunately left to her own imagination, Paige pictured a rough, mountain man with a hairy back and dog breath. With that image in mind, she decided against changing clothes. Her jeans, turtleneck, and shearling jacket were good enough for coffee at a nearby bakery. According to the terms and conditions pamphlet that Davina had given her, Paige wasn’t obligated to go through with the wish. So if this man resembled Old Yeller in any way, shape or form, she was washing her hands of the whole thing.

Adam Jaeger waited patiently outside Crazy Grandma’s Coffeehouse, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face. Davina had been right. Monterey and the adjacent town of Pacific Grove were rife with opportunity for a nature photographer like himself. He’d arrived yesterday and already filled a memory card with shots of the bay and the area’s favorite sea mammal, the otters. The Monarch butterflies would supply even more amazing—

His nostrils flared as the breeze brought him a distinct scent, one that caught his immediate attention. Above the brine, the coffee and pastries, the exhaust from the cars, and dozens of other smells, he detected a tantalizing, feminine perfume. It put his body on alert, like he’d gone from a personal DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 4, or maybe even 3.5.

Looking upwind, he spotted the woman, Paige, walking toward him. He recognized her from her picture. Seeing her in person now, he saw she was very petite, probably no more than five-three. Her straight dark brown hair was thick, but hung only to her jawline. She didn’t swing her hips when she walked, didn’t conduct herself as if she was remotely aware of her femininity. However, even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Nor could he stop himself from inhaling again, hoping for another dose of her intoxicating scent. When it filled his nose, images of her succumbing to him in bed cascaded through his mind. She was on her knees, facing away, legs parted to expose her pale pink pussy, wet, glistening. With her aroma fresh in his nostrils, he easily imagined her taste as he explored those glossy folds, his hands kneading her ass cheeks, his thumbs spreading her lips. In his mind, she was vocal, not porn-star vocal, but expressive enough to add a sultry soundtrack to their escapades, to let him know she was enjoying herself.

When she came on his face, he would relish every moment—the wet pulses, the arch of her back, her throaty cry of passion. Then, he’d take his place behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip, and shove himself inside. He’d fuck her hard from behind, his cock invading her over and over, driving her to orgasm again before he came himself like a goddamned geyser.

The cry of a seagull jolted him out of his fantasy, and he realized Paige was peering up at him quizzically. Despite the October chill, he took off his coat and draped it over his arm in an effort to hide his hard-on.

Pardon me, are you Adam? she asked.

Damn, she had a sexy voice, husky, like a smoker, but her scent held not a whiff of cigarette smoke.

Yes, he said with a smile. And you’re Paige. Davina showed me your picture.

Her own smile was reserved as she glanced at his outstretched hand. I’m sorry. It said in the pamphlet that my wish would start from the moment we touched…

I understand, he said, opening the door for her. Why don’t we go inside and talk?

The café was small, intimate and cheerful. Patrons could sit in cushy armchairs in one nook or at the numerous white wrought iron tables and chairs. Some light R&B played in the background and the place was filled with a variety of vibrant plants. After ordering drinks and pastries, he and Paige sat in a secluded corner.

So, I probably don’t have to tell you how weird this is for me, Paige said, stirring some sweetener into her coffee. You know, I stopped believing in magic around the time I caught my dad playing tooth fairy.

That’s to be expected, he said. We go to great lengths to keep our existence a secret from the general public.

Actually, I was talking about the wish thing, but now that you mention it… She glanced at him, skepticism lurking in her eyes. I’m having a little trouble buying the whole wolf thing. No offense.

He raised his eyebrows, feeling disgruntled. Although intellectually he realized the existence of shapeshifters was a lot for a human to swallow, viscerally he objected to being so categorically mistrusted.

Paige pulled a paper from her jacket pocket and showed it to him. "I mean, Davina emailed me this picture of you—as a wolf—but come on. ‘Self-Portrait’?"

Adam shrugged. Of all the images of his that had been made into art prints, Self-Portrait had sold the most and pushed his income into another tax bracket. Of course, the general public had no idea that it truly was a self-portrait, but clearly something of his human self had come through when he’d looked into the camera that day.

Technically, my assistant clicked the shutter, but I set up the shot ahead of time.

She gave him a deadpan look as she held the picture in front of her, her eyes flicking back and forth between the photo and his face. After a moment, she shrugged. Well, your hair is sort of like the wolf’s fur, and… She leaned forward. Your eyes are the same color, but… She shrugged again. I don’t know. I’m going to have to see more definitive proof than this.

Definitive…? Adam cleared his throat, still perturbed that she was doubting his word. He felt a little like he was on trial. "Let me get this straight. You want me to prove to you I’m a shifter?"

Paige wrinkled her pixie nose at him. Don’t get all huffy. I don’t mean like whip out your werewolf credentials or anything. It’s not like I expect you to have a ‘license to shift’ in your wallet.

‘License to shift’. Funny, he said. Unfortunately, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t prove anything to you until next week.

Paige snorted. That’s convenient. What’s next week? Oh, wait. I know. The full moon, right?

As a matter of fact, yes, he said, crossing his arms.

Paige propped an elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of her pert little nose. "This is so Twilight Zone, I can’t even