Page 59 of Wishing for a Werewolf

“Ohhh.” Astrid hunkers down on my chest and squirms closer. “That feels so good.”

“I like hands,” Agnar says, his eyes slitting closed as I scratch some more. “Hands are good.”

“Are you ready to have some of your own?” Riselda asks, concern lacing her tone. She’s trying to hide it, but I know my sister well.

I shoot her a questioning look. When I left Faerie over a month ago, the pups hadn’t been able to shift. I hoped things had improved.

Her small headshake says it all. Still no luck.

Well, this is why I came to Earth in the first place, to establish a home where the pups of the pack could be immersed in bipedal life.

We’re starting with my niece and nephew to test out the theory, and because we hope their familiarity with me will cushion the shock of adapting to such a different world.

“You first, Momma!” The pups jump down, allowing me to sit up.

Magic hums in the air as Riselda’s wolf disappears to be replaced by her werewolf form. She stands over six-feet tall, her deep black fur gleaming with health. Alpha of our pack, my sister is a formidable fighter, but you wouldn’t guess it when you see her lean over and tickle her pups’ bellies with her clawed fingers.

They giggle and squirm, rolling on the leaf-covered ground with yips of pure joy.

“Okay, your turn,” Riselda says.

They leap to standing, their little faces screwing up with concentration as they strain. Tiny bursts of magic come from them, but nothing happens, and their ears droop.

“It’s okay,” I say. “We’ve got plenty of time for that later. Who’s ready to try cooked food for breakfast?”

Their chorus of “ewws” makes me laugh. “You only saythat because you haven’t tried pastries.”

I shift to my werewolf form as well, making them gasp.

“Uncle, where’s your tail?” Astrid asks.

Agnar runs rings around me, yipping in confusion.

“It’s trapped in my human pants.” I reach back and pull the end of it up out of the waistband. It’s less comfortable like this instead of running down the length of my thigh, but I don’t want them to worry.

My sister tugs on my tail. “We need to make changes to the clothes so they’ll accommodate our tails better.”

I grunt. I’ve been so focused on fitting in I never thought to alter human clothes.

After taking off my boots, I tie the laces together and drape them around my neck. Then I lope into the woods, skirting around town to head for the house, my clawed feet digging into the soft mulch of fallen leaves. A fierce joy fills me. It’s good to run like this, my family by my side, a little pack together once again.

As we near the house, the wind shifts, blowing directly from the south. The smell of goat scents the air.

“What is that?” Astrid darts forward.

Agnar’s nose lifts, and he takes several audible breaths before charging after her.

“Wait! Don’t!”

But the pups put on a spurt of speed, cutting under rhododendrons and other bushes their mother and I have to go around.

In no time at all, we break out of the trees to find the pups standing with their front paws up on a fence, yipping at the goats in the field beyond.

“Stop that,” I call out. “Those are Autumn’s goats. I promised we wouldn’t touch them.”

“But they smell like breakfast,” Agnar whines.

“Domesticated animals aren’t food for a cu sith. There’s no skill in hunting them,” I say. “In fact, watch this.”