Page 6 of Wishing for a Werewolf (Ferndale Falls Forever #2)

“Always the loyal hound.” He rubs his side dramatically but shuts up, for a change. The cat likes to bicker and tease, but he’s not completely cruel to those he considers friends.

Even though the pixies made us large pizzas, the food doesn’t last long, and soon all three of us sit side by side sipping our second round of orc ale.

Alcohol is another new thing for me, since it doesn’t appeal when I’m a wolf.

Humans find orc ale potent, but my fae constitution means I’ve never drunk enough to get truly intoxicated.

Autumn though… I remember the way her eyes sparkle anytime she has half a tankard of ale, the sound of her laugh, rich and throaty and boisterous.

When the door opens, my eyes flick in that direction, searching for a glimpse of fiery hair.

“It’s just me.” Severin stomps up to the bar, his lips pressed into a thin line. “The women won’t be here this evening.”

“I wasn’t looking for anyone—” I start to protest, only to be the one to get an elbow to the ribs.

“There’s no point.” Shadow laughs. “He caught all three of us watching the door, and he’s smart enough to know why.”

Luke grunts.

Tall and athletically muscled, the fae king has long black hair and light skin decorated with tattoos that are actually his shadow magic. They stir in agitation as Severin orders a drink and leans against the bar.

“Let me guess,” Shadow says. “Missing the wife tonight?”

“They’re having one of their witchy book club meetings.” Severin drinks half his ale in one go.

I should be relieved. If Autumn’s doing witchy things, it puts her one step closer to figuring out what spell she cast on me.

So why do I feel only disappointment? It’s not as if I ever talk to her, even when she does visit The Thirsty Tusk. But to see her, chatting and enjoying being with her friends, the way her hair sways like a glorious flame of fire every time she throws her head back in laughter…

My fire.

Shoving the thought aside, I ask Severin about a more pressing issue. “Do you have any more bodyguard jobs coming up?”

“Goddess, I hope not.”

I grunt. It’s not that I want anyone to be in danger, but I don’t see how the cu sith can regain their status as royal bodyguards if the fae kings don’t need bodyguards.

What are my people supposed to do? We can’t go back to living as only wolves, not if we want to live as the shifters we were always meant to be.

The door swings open, banging against the wall, and a group of drunken humans stumble into the pub.

“Yo!” one of the young men with blond hair slurs and waves a fistful of money at Thorvinn. “Whiskey us up!”

“No.” The orc straightens to his full height, crossing his meaty arms over his broad chest. He might not wear a sword here on Earth, but his warrior readiness is clear to see for anyone with even a modicum of common sense.

Which doesn’t happen to be any of these humans.

Another of the men points at the one who tried to order. “Bro, your ass just got denied!”

The others fall against each other, howling with laughter.

The blond’s face twists, turning bright red. He stomps toward the bar. “You can’t tell me no! I’ve got money.”

“I serve who I choose, and I don’t choose you,” Thorvinn growls, his deep voice filled with warning.

Which the human ignores. He opens his mouth, ready to make further demands.

All of my instincts as pack protector spark to life. I slide off my stool, my hand latching onto the human’s shoulder. “Let’s go outside and get some air.”

He half turns, his shoulder twitching as he tries to shake me off, but I keep my hold easily. Then his eyes track upward. The blond is tall for a human.

I’m taller and almost twice as wide, all of it muscle.

With the wooden bar between them, the youth ignored the orc’s size, but he can’t so easily dismiss me as I stand directly in front of him. A spark of awareness cuts through the drunken haze in his eyes. “Shit, man. I didn’t mean nothing.”

“Which means you meant something.” My lips curl.

“Whuh?” His brow creases as if he’s trying to work out a difficult mathematical problem, and I don’t bother to explain his use of a double negative.

My hand tightens, and I propel him toward the door. The rest of his group follows, their steps clumsy. Once out in the cool night air, I keep going, marching them across the pavement and onto the soft grass of the green, where I push the blond down until he slumps onto the ground.

The others plop down all around him, one of them groaning, “Bro, I don’t feel so good.”

“Shouldn’t have chugged the Mad Dog,” another agrees.

I have no idea what a mad dog is, but I know younglings acting above their age when I see them. “First time drinking?”

Mutters of agreement.

“Stay here and let it wear off.” I jab a finger at the ground. “And when you have a horrible headache in the morning, remember that’s what drinking too much is really like.”

Severin and Thorvinn watch me from the door of The Thirsty Tusk, and when I reach them, the orc says, “Thanks. I’m not sure I could have been that gentle with them.”

I grin. It felt good to diffuse the problem, like a natural extension of my protector duties.

“Nicely done.” Severin claps me on the shoulder. “I suppose if we can’t have Autumn here to take care of these types of things, you’re an adequate substitute.”

Autumn? Shock drains away every drop of my self-satisfaction. “What in the goddess’s name did you just say?”