The dark-haired wolf, who was built like an MMA fighter, shrugged back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “An emissary from Faery is in there with my dad.”
Kir whistled and leaned against the concrete-block wall. Etienne Montfort was principal of pack Valoir, an old and revered group of werewolves that had been a cohesive group for centuries. Kir had been born and raised within the pack.
Both men tilted their heads toward the door. With their heightened werewolf senses, they could hear much through thick walls, but something about the conversation was muted. Faery glamour? The idea of a being from Faery visiting their pack was too interesting for either one to stop eavesdropping. And neither could deny they had a tendency to get into trouble together. They’d been raised side by side, more brothers than most siblings could claim.
“You ever meet a faery?” Jacques asked. His blue eyes twinkled with curiosity.
Kir shrugged. “I’ve seen them in the nightclubs. They’re...colorful.”
“That’s for sure. And their wings are freaky. So, you ever...you know.”
Kir knew Jacques’s unspoken implication was that he wanted to know if he’d had sex with a faery. “Haven’t had the pleasure. If you can call dodging wings pleasurable.”
“I hear they’re delicate.”
Smirking, Kir let that one go. Jacques was the one with the fiancée. And a raging curiosity for all things female that had gotten him in more trouble with the little woman than a man should have to deal with. But his bride-to-be was a werewolf, so Jacques won the King of the Perfect Score award in the men’s minds. It wasn’t often werewolves mated with their own kind, because of the rarity of the female. Even those wolves in packs often had to look elsewhere for a mate because most of the female pack members were spoken for upon birth.
Jacques was a lucky wolf.
Kir, on the other hand, had gone without a date for months. The idea of a delicate faery didn’t appeal to him. A match with a fellow wolf would feed his sexual desires perfectly. Beyond his species, the only other option was mortal women. Some proved open to his aggressive needs. He could also withstand the occasional witch, but they tended to be unpredictable and sometimes just plain creepy.
Ah, hell, wasn’t as if he was looking for love anyway. He didn’t believe in love.
Hookups were fine for now. Besides, there was a certain danger involved when pursuing a wolf from another pack. Packs tended to protect their females fiercely.
On the other hand, life wasn’t worth the ride without risk.
“Twenty bucks says he’s trying to negotiate the hunting grounds again,” Jacques said.
Etienne’s goal was to appeal to Faery so the pack could be allowed to hunt in their realm. The more the mortal realm evolved and the cities pushed out into the country, the less safe it became for a werewolf to hunt without risking discovery by humans. Their breed required vast acreage unhampered by hunters with guns and curious human eyes. Faery offered that. And, if a portal to Faery were opened right here in Paris, the trip to the hunt could be quick and easy.
“Let’s hope, for the sake of the pack, you won that bet,” Kir said, “and that he’s successful.”
* * *
A harpie in human guise sat across the office desk from Etienne. Arriving without notice, she’d waited ten minutes in the office while he’d been summoned on this bright weekday morning that had seen him lingering in bed beside his wife’s warm body.
The visitor was tall, slender, wore her hair in a short black bob, with eyes equally as dark. Her skin was dark brown, smooth and utterly flawless, and yet Etienne avoided staring at her overlong. Look at one of the sidhe the wrong way or too long? A man could sprout horns.
“I’ll get right to the point,” the harpie said. She spoke French with ease. Etienne knew that the sidhe had the ability to pick up languages foreign to them almost as if by magic.
“First, if I might have your name?” Etienne asked carefully. Faeries did not give their full names freely, but he could hardly refer to her as Mademoiselle Harpie.
“You may call me Brit. And you are Etienne Montfort, principal of pack Valoir, oui?”
He nodded. He’d been principal since the 1940s and had witnessed remarkable changes in the mortal realm. But he’d rarely had experience with faeries until lately. Apparently, someone had taken note of his campaign to gain access to hunting grounds.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I have been sent as an emissary representing the Unseelie king, Malrick.”
Etienne sat up straighter. This sounded promising.
The harpie splayed her long, graceful fingers before her over the wood desktop. “You are aware there are portals to Faery here in your mortal realm?”
Etienne nodded. He was aware but had no clue as to their location. Not that he hadn’t, on occasion, considered searching. He did know that unless a portal was marked with faery glamour, it wasn’t visible to any but the sidhe. Yet he would never attempt to breach Faery without permission. He prided himself on maintaining strong alliances with the various species.
“A portal has recently been unlocked by sorcery and it opens directly onto Unseelie territory,” Brit stated in a businesslike tone. “This is a source of much misfortune and annoyance to my kind.”
“I can imagine. Are mortals entering the Faery realm?”
“All sorts. It is, in a word, disgusting. My king, Malrick, requires a guard posted on this side of the portal until specific magics can be conjured to close the portal. It is a difficult task summoning such powerful magic to seal a portal that we did not open, so it will take some time.”
“A guard?” Etienne suddenly sensed the gist to this visit. Perhaps not as fortuitous as he’d hoped.
“On behalf of the Unseelie king, we would request pack Valoir take on the task of guarding the portal. It would not require more than one man posted outside the portal. You could assign shifts. Fighting back curious humans should cause you no more trouble than growling at them.”
“Indeed, it would be a simple post.” And pack Valoir was large enough to provide the wolves for the job. “Have you an estimate on duration?”
“Your mortal time moves much differently than ours.” She shrugged, obviously at a loss.
“We’ll leave it as an open standing agreement.” But Etienne wasn’t about to shake hands just yet. “And what would my pack receive as recompense for taking on such a task?”
The harpie spread her hands on the desk and smiled warmly. Her eyes glowed violet now. Etienne was ever charmed by sidhe eyes. Or was it that their charm was so powerful he could not resist? He had to remind himself not to stare.
“The Unseelie would grant pack Valoir the right to hunt on our land,” she offered.
“In Faery?” Etienne said on a gasp.
“Indeed.”
That was immense. To be allowed such freedom in a realm that offered what was rumored myriad hunting opportunities? Why, it was unprecedented. “Pack Valoir will be allowed free rein. Only, we request you do not hunt as a pack. Only one wolf in timed intervals. A measured means to hunting.”
“That can be done.”
“Do you accept the assignment, Principal Montfort?”
Etienne sat back in his chair, not bothering to hide the grin that curled his mouth. His pack would shout and howl at such fortune. And, truly, the task of guarding the portal would be minimal. It would not disrupt their lives, and he shouldn’t think those who worked enforcement would have to be tasked for the job.
He