Page 71 of Wedding the Werepanther

“I’m Kayla.”

The smallest launches onto my lap and climbs my chest until a little kitten face hangs right below mine. Huge green eyes blink up at me, and a little girl’s voice says, “I’m Wisp!”

The other two follow, competing for space.

Cats normally make me uncomfortable. I get flustered that I don’t know how to pet them right. But these wiggling balls of floof are so clearly people I figure they’ll tell me if I do it wrong. It takes the pressure off.

“My name’s Slate! I’m oldest.”

The one with fur that shades the brightest silver says, “I’m Dawn.”

Slate tries to knock Wisp off to take her place, but she bats him on the nose. “My human.”

“No, she’s mine,” Shadow says, his voice a growl. Then he shifts into his werepanther form and plucks up two of them in his fur-covered hands. “Rawr!”

They squeal with delight as he stands to his seven-foot height and spins with his arms extended so they move through the air like kids on their own personal carnival ride. When he sets them down, Wisp leaps onto him, demanding her turn, so he does it again, her giddy shrieks filling the clearing.

Four new panthers return, carrying pheasants and dragging a deer.

“Who wants to help me build a fire?” Shadow asks.

Wisp says, “What do we need a fire for?”

“So we can cook for Kayla.”

The kittens chorus: “Ohhh!”

“Who can shift?” Shadow shifts into his fae form and pulls on his jeans and T-shirt so quickly I only get a fast flash of that glorious ass. Then he shifts into a werepanther, then back, flickering between the two forms, his magic a constant buzz in the air.

Watching him shift back and forth like that makes me realize his jeans must be enchanted, because they form a slit for his tail each time he’s a werepanther. That’s such a great idea—I totally need to work it into a game.

Shadow finally settles on his werepanther form. “Who can shift into their dual form and help me?”

“I can!” Slate stands and screws up his eyes, straining.

Wisp leaps to her feet. “No, me!”

Dawn hunkers low to the ground, ears flat and miserable.

I point to her and shoot Shadow a questioning glance.

“Shifting can be really hard.” He runs a hand down her back. “Especially when you’re not used to seeing anyone do it.”

I glance around, only now realizing he’s right—no one else is in their werepanther or fae forms.

“But it’s worth it.” He grins, his tone jovial as he starts to scratch under her chin. “Hands are amazing.”

Her little head lifts, her eyes closing to slits. “That feels good.”

None of the kittens are able to shift, but a couple of the adults turn into werepanthers to help Shadow gather wood.

While he’s gone, another of the adults shifts into a werepanther and starts clearing the ground in front of me to make a fire pit. “I’m Mist, Shadow’s cousin. Are you a witch like Taylor and Naomi?”

“I am.” I haven’t met Taylor, but Naomi’s mentioned her a few times as one of the other human witches brought to Faerie.

Mist picks up a small rock from beside the cave entrance. When Shadow drops off the kindling, she strikes the stone, and magic ripples through the air as the twigs around it catch fire. “This is an orc fire stone. I live part-time in an orc village and have learned the bipedal ways.”

Shadow sets down an armful of logs. “Mist knows almost as much about humans as I do.”