Page 16 of Wedding the Werepanther
“Neither do the dragons,” Naomi adds. “I still remember getting an eyeful ofbothof Luke’s assets.”
“Yep, they’re going to be naked every time they shift from their animal form.” Skye gives a casual shrug. “It’s pretty great.”
“Sounds like a good problem to have.” Violeta winks at me. “Where do I sign up?”
As I finish off the last of my cupcake, I can’t help remembering how Shadow looked as he climbed into bed naked, and my heart races.
Oh, god. If we can’t break this contract, it’s going to be a full month of him getting naked all the damned time. I just know it.
How will I ever survive the temptation?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shadow
As the sound of Kayla’s car fades in the distance, I halt for the evening and store the partially stripped door in the shed. My shoulders thrum with the pleasant ache of labor. Most of the videos I found made it clear humans use power tools for these types of endeavors, but a few people still work wood by hand. The notion appeals on several levels. It gives me a chance to practice my dexterity, since having hands is still somewhat new to me. It’s also satisfying to labor like this, to see something discarded returned to functional beauty using only a few simple tools and my effort—the wood satiny when I check the smoothness of the surface. I know the patience of a good stalk, the effort of hunting to provide meat to fill my pack’s bellies. I know running for miles upon miles to deliver a message. Yet the pleasure of making a physical object is another thing lost to my people when we were unable to shift.
And if doing everything by hand also slows down the process, giving me more time to work shirtless in front of Kayla? And also gives me another few nights with no door between our bedrooms? I smirk. I’m simply playing the game on several levels.
After a quick shower and change, I walk the shadow roads into town, stepping out onto an empty area of the green. A gentle breeze of balmy summer air carries the combined scents of coffee, baked goods, ale, and pizza, yet I’m immediately transfixed by a sweeter note.
Across the lawn, Kayla sits cross-legged on the ground. She’s surrounded by the tulips, pumpkins, and hearts, who’ve stopped their play for the chance to be with her.
As she traces her fingers over each of them, a look of awe softens her face, making it achingly beautiful in the golden evening light. Magic ripples through the air as the pumpkins press close, and the tulips hug her with little leaf arms. The hearts land on her shoulders and purple hair, like a cluster of butterflies lured by her beauty into thinking she’s a flower.
I fade backward into a small stand of dogwoods, unwilling to interrupt this moment of discovery for her. I can’t tear my gaze away, transfixed by Kayla, my talented, powerful wife. Her magic created all these creatures.
A few moments later, the other witches usher her into the bookstore, and I can once again move. A grin splits my face as I enter Slice of Life to be welcomed by the strong scent of garlic and the high cry of, “Pizza!”
Murals of a Faerie forest caught at sunset decorate the walls, and humans and fae fill every wooden table, talking and eating in a happy thrum of sound.
“Shadow!” Blue breaks away from the flock of pixies who just delivered a pizza to fly over to me. She hangs in front of my face, about the size of my hand, everything about her a glowing lightblue, from her skin and hair to her clothes, made from the leaves of the blue birch of Alarria. Even her opaque moth wings glow blue with an inner light. “I heard you moved.”
“Of course you did.” Pixies are the gossips of Faerie.
“You’re not allowed to move.” She wags a tiny finger at me. “You’re one of my best customers!”
“I’m still living in town, and of course I’m still going to buy your pizza.” I make my tone soothing. Pixies might be small, but their fierceness when riled should never be underestimated. “In fact, tonight, I’ll take an extra-large.” Woodworking is hungry business.
She narrows her eyes. “What toppings?”
“Your choice,” I say, knowing she likes trying out new combinations before adding them to the menu.
“Okay!” Her expression brightens, and she zips toward the kitchen, flying so quickly she becomes a streak of light.
While I wait, the pixies deliver a pizza to the wood nymph Eolar and his human boyfriend, the one who’s always cycling everywhere. Six of them ring the circular platter, flying it from the kitchen to deposit it onto the table with an exultant cry of, “Pizza!”
Chuckles fill the restaurant, and I have to wonder what the protection spell makes the non-magical humans see when it comes to a flock of pixies.
They repeat the happy cry as they bring me a flat, square box that smells of basil and garlic.
My mouth waters, and I hurry outside and stride down the sidewalk to The Thirsty Tusk. The orcs recreated one of their pubs here in town, the entire interior finished in a honey-colored wood that resembles their heart tree cottages in Faerie. I weave my way through full tables and chairs to grab a stool at the long wooden bar.
“Shadow.” Jace pivots on the seat beside me. The dragon matches me in height and build if you don’t count the two dark horns spiraling upward from his head. He can shift all the way to a man but chooses not to, so he retains the horns, blue wings, and tail of his weredragon form. I don’t know if it’s because it’s more comfortable for him to keep some of his dragon characteristics or if he does it to match our friend Luke, who can’t shift all the way to his fae form.
“Good evening, Jace. Looking good.”
His creased dress slacks, button-up shirt, and embroidered waistcoat look like they were made at some point in the last century, which is a definite improvement over the three-hundred-year-old garb he wore when he first came to Earth.
