Page 7 of Bewitching the Wolf

Eventually, to further our species, we’ll mate with a fox shifter. Or we can choose to stay un-mated, like my Aunt Felicia, to not have pups at all, but immerse ourselves in the pursuit of the magic that remains elusive for our kind.

There is another story…. Nothing but a fairy tale, quite nonsensical really.

There’s this legend that says our wixen powers originated from mate bonds with werewolf mages, and thus, there were many more wixens in the early days of the Labyrinth. Some say the reason the magic weakened in us is because we no longer mate with wolves.

Of course, it’s make-believe. The truth is, our magic came from a mate bond with a wizard, not a wolf. I mean, yuck. Wolves are so… so… uncouth. All that brawny muscle and fur and those huge fangs. They’re feral beasts, who apparently take a mate and rut them senseless. What self-respecting female would accept that kind of behavior?

Which is why, when I heard that Jax Summers—my Jax—had shifted into a werewolf two weeks ago, I never wanted to see or talk to him again.

Except suddenly, a whole heap of things about him make sense.

Those scars on his body, especially the two fang-sized ones on his neck—I should have guessed. The fact that he’d never talk to me about them should have been a big red flag.

Grrrr. I am so angry at him—and at myself. At the fact that I let myself fantasize about us getting together some day… Oh goddess, if I had full witch powers, I’d turn Jax Summers into a… a… toad or something equally vile.

A glass cracks as I wipe it.

“Hey Tip, I’m still here.” It’s Larry the centaur, grinning at me from the other side of the bar, his big teeth gleaming. I’d been so lost in my thoughts as I cleared up, I hadn’t heard him.

“Sorry Larry, I didn’t see you there.” I turn off the tap, wipe my hands on a towel and turn to him, all smiles.

“I was wondering…” Larry blushes up to his horns, “whether you’d—y’know, like to go out with me. On a date.”

My eyes stray wistfully to the door I saw Jax walk out of. I wish he’d walk back in and say, “You’re going on a date with me, Tippy.”

Gah. It’s impossible to let myself dream of anything happening between me and Jax.

Not now that I know he’s wolfen.

I plaster on a super-bright smile and say to Larry, “Sure. I’d love to.”

CHAPTER 3

JAX

My mood is heavy this morning.

Tippy snubbing me last night has left a sour taste in my mouth. Especially after I’d psyched myself up to finally tell her how I feel about her.

So yeah, I’m not at all in the mood to be hypnotized and taken back into my childhood trauma. But apparently, that’s what needs to happen to integrate my wolf with my human psyche.

I take the elevator to level three, where the wolves hang out. There are two types of elevators here in the Labyrinth. There are portal elevators, owned by the human authorities, sleek metal contraptions that carry all the cargo up to Sparkle City. And then there are the smaller, more dangerous elevators that take the monsters between levels, including down to level ten, where the murky underground waterways and dank tunnels house strange, mutated creatures.

Level three, where I’m headed now, is referred to as Wolftown. A fairly unimaginative title, considering this whole level is exclusively given over to two wolf packs. One pack is pure werewolf, the others are shifters without were powers. It’s said that in the early days of the Labyrinth, the wolves were too wild to mix with other species, but not bad enough to be banished to level ten.

Given a choice where to settle, they took level three and set up two distinct packs: the Braden shifters, and the Trojan werewolves.

The Braden pack, whose drug stash I tried to raid three years back, are a real fucking nasty bunch. They have a massive chip on their shoulders because of their lesser powers. The scars I received from their bites still ache at times. The only one that doesn’t is the scar on my neck, where Traggar, the leader of what is now my pack, the Trojans, bit that fucking chip out of me.

And turned me.

Who would have thought Traggar would become my therapist.

My therapy started some months before I shifted. Not that it’s been going well. At first, I really struggled to access my wolf. As soon as I got onto Traggar’s couch, it curled up and went to sleep. But since I shifted—holy fuck. It’s like a caged animal trying to claw its way out of my skin. Nothing feels at all balanced. According to Traggar, falling into a coma after your virgin shift is a sign of a struggle between wolf and human.

There are gaps in my memories of growing up, and Traggar is convinced that my wolf is disturbed by some buried early trauma.

And frankly, considering how badly it’s been behaving recently, we need a solution before I go on my spying mission to Sparkle City.