Craved by a Wolf by Felicity Heaton

In fact, the whole fae town resembled Geneva, as if someone had copied it building for building. Although, this immortal town was much smaller than the one topside. It was just as bright and elegant though, with warm sunshine that beat down on the pale sandstone pavement and reflected off the balconied buildings to his right.

Several of them were hotels, and he had been tempted to call into one and secure himself a place to stay, but when he had approached the doorman, the male had looked aghast and Kin had caught his reflection in the revolving door.

Since then, he had been keeping his head down, deeply aware of the way many of the townsfolk paused to stare. He had never felt so conspicuous. He glared at a trio of black-haired females who stood by the shore, their violet eyes and pointed ears betraying their breed as much as their antiquated corseted dresses did. They all stared at him and only one of them looked curious. The other two looked disgusted.

Sure, he was a big male, and he probably had a face like a smacked arse right now because his mood was still deep in a ditch and showed no sign of improving thanks to the attention he was attracting, and his throat looked like someone had used it as a punchbag, but there was really no reason for all the finely dressed males and females to gawp at him.

He levelled a black look at the trio of elves, causing them to turn away.

He heaved a sigh as he looked ahead of him and saw only more nobles, coming and going along the promenade as if it was the fashionable thing to do. The gods only knew it probably was in a town like this one. It reeked of wealth.

Kin denied the urge to keep his head down as he walked, tipped his damned chin up and shoulders back instead, because he wasn’t going to be intimidated or cowed by these noble folk.

His gaze narrowed on a group of pointy eared males ahead of him, ones who wore green leather trousers and white shirts beneath a matching jerkin. Gold glittered around their wrists and adorned their ears, and their finely boned features settled into scowls as they caught sight of him. Kin scowled right back at them, barely leashing the urge that surged through him and had his claws itching to rip into their flesh, to wipe the haughty smirks off their fae faces.

Nymphs.

He growled through his clenched teeth, battling memories that bubbled to the surface. A darkened room. Candles bursting to life. Fae nobles forming a ring around him, seated on opulent gold and velvet chairs as servants scraped and bowed to them.

The crack of a whip.

Pain echoed down his spine, a ghost of his past that continued to taunt him whenever he let the memories come, whenever he wasn’t strong enough to deny them and they slipped free of the box he had locked them away in. It would be days before he had fully rid himself of them, freeing himself of their torment.

The sensible side of him said to move on, to ignore the nymphs because they couldn’t provide him with the information he needed and, therefore, they didn’t matter. The side of him that had been born in that dark part of his past, that refused to be tamed, rose to crush it and he pivoted towards the blond males, unable to stop himself. His claws lengthened further and his fangs bit into his gums as he strode towards them, rapidly crossing the span of flagstones that separated them. His breathing quickened, deepened, sending vital oxygen to his blood as he geared up for a fight.

One of the nymphs noticed him approaching and tapped another on the arm, and before Kin could kick off and grab at least one of them, the whole group had disappeared. Kin stopped where they had been and glared at the rippling blue water of the lake, breathing hard and struggling to rein in his anger and the urge to lash out at everyone who moved behind him. He fixed his focus on the water, staring beyond the surface to pick out the flora and fauna that called the lake home. He tracked a school of small fish, bewitched by how their silver sides made them flash whenever they changed direction and how they moved as one, in perfect symphony.

The scent of herbs and metal filled his nostrils.

MacKinnon turned and looked over his shoulder, seeking the source of it. He pivoted when he spotted two witches strolling along the street. They paused in front of the window of one of the stores.

He crossed the broad stretch of pavement to them, not failing to notice how their slight shoulders tensed beneath their plain black dresses as he closed in. He glanced at his reflection in the window they faced, locking gazes with the one on the left, and swallowed to wet his throat as he ran his hand over his wild dark hair.

“Excuse me, lasses, I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find a witch named Hella.” He made a point of stopping a good six feet from them, attempting to show them that he wasn’t a threat with his body language as well as his gentle tone of voice.

They turned to face him as one, ran an assessing gaze down him and then spoke to him.

In German.

Their tone wasn’t even close to gentle.

It was abrasive, with a dismissive note.

Before he could try again, they hurried away from him.

Kin growled at his reflection in the clothing store’s window, baring his fangs, because he must have asked at least two dozen witches about Hella now and none of them would tell him. He doubted they didn’t know her. There was always a glimmer in their eyes, a spark that betrayed them and said they knew exactly where to find the female he was seeking.

They just didn’t want to tell him.

He took in his appearance. Taller than most witches by a good foot and a half. Probably three times their slender weight in muscle. Scruff on his face. Unkempt hair that looked exactly how it should given how many times he had clawed, raked and shoved his fingers through it in frustration over the last few hours.

Eyes that were currently more gold than grey because his wolf side was at the fore, his temper way beyond his control.

And a pretty black and purple bruise across his throat.

He could hardly blame the witches for not wanting to tell him where to find one of their own.

Kin huffed. Maybe if he schooled his features a little and tried to appear more approachable and less homicidal then they would speak with him.

He doubted it.

Witches were quite protective of their own, but it was worth a shot.

He tried out a few faces, attempting to appear charming as he smiled at his reflection, and probably looking like he was losing his mind. A shiver skated down his spine and his wolf instincts growled at him that someone was watching him. He shifted his gaze to the left, catching the reflection of the three females who lingered a few feet behind him. Pretty wee lasses. All of them wore provocative leather corsets and mini-skirts in glaring colours, designed to draw the attention of males to them.

Succubi.

They sidled over to him and he turned to face them, flashing them all a warm smile that had their eyes brightening. Maybe he could get information on Hella from someone other than a witch. Witches did business with other immortals after all. Chances were high that several people in this town would have gone to Hella for a potion or spell.

The tallest of the succubi, a delicate pink-haired beauty who stood a good foot shorter than him despite her stiletto boots, offered a smile in return and stepped ahead of her sisters. She paused only inches from him and stroked a small hand down his chest as she faux-purred at him.

“You look like you need to let loose,” she murmured, her voice like honey, sweet and tempting him to dip his head and have a taste of what she was offering.

He kept his spine straight and resisted her allure, letting her feather her fingers over his chest to the open vee of his dark grey Henley. She teased the strip of flesh there, her glittering blue eyes growing hooded.

“Been a while since we had one as strong as you in this town. Visiting someone?” She grazed her fingers across the dip between his pectorals.

The shorter of the other two came up beside him and stroked her hand down his forearm and pushed the long sleeve of his top up to reveal skin.

She leaned in and licked it, and groaned. “He tastes like sunshine.”

“No tasting,” the third one barked and pulled her off him, shoving her aside. She grinned wickedly. “At least not unless I can get a lick of this pop too.”

“Lasses, there’s plenty o’ me to go around.” Kin held his hands up and smiled.

The three succubi sank into each other on a sigh.

“Did you hear that voice?” Pink-hair said with a dreamy smile at her sisters.

The shorter, brunette female swayed towards her. “Did I? When was the last time we had a Scot?”

“Makes me ache just hearing it. Do you think he knows how to put it to good use? I could probably feed off him just talking to me!” The older of the three, a pretty button-nosed blonde, edged her hand towards him.

Kin grinned down at them, aware they were saying whatever it took to lure him under their spell and make him part with his coin, but enjoying it nonetheless. “I’m here on business, but perhaps I could be enticed to take a small break from my hunt… if you would be so inclined to help me.”

“Be so inclined?” Pink-hair swayed towards him now, hunger lighting her eyes. “Darling, I’ll do whatever you want if it will get you into my bed for the night.”

“Our bed,” Brunette snapped.

“Yes, our bed.” Blonde licked her lips.

All three of them sidled closer, crowding him as they gazed adoringly at him, as if he had just fallen out of Heaven or a dream. Their scents swirled around him, fogging his head a little, and he focused his mind, on his guard against them because he had no intention of parting with his coin or indulging these succubi in any way.

Mostly because he would probably end up parting with his life.

As strong as he was, he wasn’t sure he could handle three succubi feeding on him.

He drew down a breath as he tried to decide how to ask them about Hella and the fog in his head grew thicker as an intoxicating scent filled his lungs.

Like a blend of fresh rain on heather moorland faintly spiced with cinnamon.

Kin breathed deeper, unable to get enough of the scent, and his muscles clamped down on his bones as his blood heated. His wolf side lunged to the fore and his fangs lengthened, his claws emerging as hunger rolled through him, fiercer than he had ever felt it before.

It was a trick.

A power the succubi were wielding to pull him under their spell and into their bed.

Only when he bent his head to sniff their necks and scent them, it wasn’t any of them who smelled so enticing.

He groaned as his cock stiffened in response to the scent as it grew stronger and seemed to invade every cell in his body and hijack it. His head clouded more rapidly, thoughts blurring and fading to the background as instinct stole control. He desperately scanned the crowd on the promenade, seeking the source of the scent.

And froze when his gaze landed on a stunning, blue-haired lass with emerald eyes.

A chill skated down his spine and his shaft went hard as stone.

It was her.

She was the source of the scent.

She was his fated one.

He felt it in his bones. His soul. This female had been made for him, was meant for only him, and she would be his. He shoved the succubi aside, unaware of them now, the world narrowing down to the beautiful lass fate had created for him.

Hella.

MacKinnon drifted towards her, powerless to resist her pull. The need to be close to her was strong and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. How desperate would he be to be near to her, pressed against her and holding her in his arms when she did see him? The urge to gather her to him was already overwhelming, his awareness of the world coming back as instinct growled that his female was parading down a busy street in a black dress that highlighted her figure.

Drawing the eyes of other males.

She stiffened, her body locking up tight.

Was she aware of him?

He tracked the path of her gaze as she tossed a look over her shoulder.

To a group of bare-chested nymphs.

Her panic hit him like a shockwave, rocking him back on his heels, and he growled and kicked off as the dozen blond males made their move, launching towards her. He wasn’t sure what his female had done to deserve the wrath of a witch or a pack of nymphs, and he didn’t care. Every fibre of his being howled at him to protect her and he would do just that. He charted an intercept course, shoving men and women aside, not caring where they landed as he locked his gaze on the two nymphs leading the charge.

He sensed the female move.

Felt her fear.

Instinct demanded he go to her, had him twisting on his heel and barrelling into two shifter males. The black-haired men went down hard and he leaped over them, ignoring their yells, his gaze wild as he sought the witch.

A larger nymph had her in his clutches and was holding her tightly despite her attempts to break free.

Kin snarled and gnashed his fangs when her fear cranked up a notch and he spotted the reason why.

The bastard had cuffed her.

The bright silver band of metal around her delicate wrist glinted in the sunlight as she desperately struggled.

Kin grabbed a female and pushed her out of his way, into a group of males, his heart hammering as the other nymphs reached Hella.

Her green eyes shone with terror as she looked up at the male who held her, one who towered as tall as Kin and probably weighed as much in muscle. Not that it was going to stop Kin from tearing the male a new one and teaching him the error of his ways.

No one touched his fated female.

Kin cocked his fist as he lunged towards the bastard, aiming at the back of his head, determined to knock his teeth out from behind.

He threw the punch as soon as he was close enough.

And hit nothing but air as the fiend teleported.

Taking his wee witch with him.

Rage burned up Kin’s blood and he couldn’t hold back the feral howl that rolled up his throat, tossed his head back and let loose, pouring all his fury into it as his spine bowed forwards, his claws like talons as he dragged his hands down to his sides and every muscle in his body tensed.

Black fur swept over his skin and he itched all over, his bones aching as anger had him close to shifting, the need to track his female bringing his wolf to the fore. He managed to find the strength to deny it and clung to his mortal form as he twisted towards the succubi who had been flirting with him.

They were huddled together in front of the shop still, a sea of fallen men and women between him and them, all of which looked ready to tear him a new one as he stalked through them, heading for the succubi.

“Where do the nymphs live?” he snarled as soon as he was close enough to his prey, and when none of them answered him quickly enough, he shot his hand out and gripped the throat of the pink-haired one. He dragged her against him and flashed his fangs in her face. “Tell me where the nymphs live in this town.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, her hands coming up to grip his arm as she choked.

“Not here.” The brunette pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. “They don’t live here.”

“Lies,” he spat, because he had seen other nymphs during his search for Hella. They had to have a building or two here in the town somewhere, a place they called home. He snarled, unable to hold it back as he thought of his female at their mercy.

Nymphs were sexual predators, using their beauty and charms to seduce unwitting females. He had seen the breed at work with his own eyes, had watched them pull even unwilling women under their spell, convincing them to surrender to them.

The blonde sank her little claws into his hand, drawing blood and earning herself a glare. “They bore the royal seal. Hella will be in Lucia by now. Let her go!”

Hella.

The confirmation that the ethereal blue-haired female had been the one he had come to find shook him, had his grip on the succubus relaxing against his will as he struggled to keep his mind on the hunt and off how beautiful Hella was.

Was she really his mate?

He shook that thought away with a growl, unwilling to trust his instincts. The feeling she stirred in him was a fabrication, a lie meant to make him do as the witch wanted and a method of punishing Hella for whatever sin she had committed against the one who had cursed him.

He would be a fool to allow himself to believe Hella was his fated one.

Yet he couldn’t stem the need to find her and save her from the nymphs.

Kin shoved the pink-haired female at her companion. “Lucia? Where is that? Somewhere in Switzerland?”

Pink-hair laughed and he had half a mind to grab her and choke her again for mocking his ignorance. She rubbed her throat. “Lucia isn’t a town. It’s not even a country.”

He flexed his fingers, tired of dancing around the answer, because he needed to be moving. He needed to find the nymphs who had taken Hella from him and take her back.

She noticed his subtle threat and blurted, “It’s the faery realm.”

“Fuck,” MacKinnon bit out.

First another country. Now another realm. Add the fact that his wolf instincts had recognised Hella as his fated one and it was all becoming too much. He missed the uncomplicated nature of his home in the Highlands already, ached to return to the clan and rest atop his favourite spot, taking in the rolling moorland that embraced the munros and waiting for the gloaming, when a sense of magic and wonder filled the air.

His mother had held him on her lap many times as a pup to tell him the gloaming was when the faeries came out—in that brief moment between day and night.

Between light and darkness.

Now he was expected to go to a place of faeries and he was unsure what to expect when he got there. There were other stories about fae-kind. Darker stories. The ancient books in his possession, passed to him by his mother, were filled with tales of the seelie and unseelie, and their eternal war.

The thought of stepping into their realm had him hesitating, lingering in the mortal one, where he was safe.

But the vision of his female being held against her will, shackled and stripped of power, and the lingering scent of her that swirled around him had him gearing up for a battle.

He couldn’t bear the thought of her in danger, so he would place himself in the path of it by pursuing her into another world.

Kin flexed his fingers into fists.

He’d had to fight for everything he had ever wanted.

It looked as if this time would be no different.

If it was war the nymphs wanted, it was war he would give them.