Page 91 of A Lady’s Guide to Werewolves

“Such language from a curator of the London Museum of Magic.”

“Sorcha—”

“If you keep grinding your teeth like that, you’ll snap one off.” She tilted her head. “Would your wolf also then have a gap? Do they grow back?”

“I’ll answer all of your questions if you step back.”

“Certainly not.” She rolled her eyes. “We need three strands of kelpie mane, and they won’t come any closer if you’re looming like a glowering mountain and growling like a wolf. You step back.”

He scrubbed a hand over his beard as though she had caused him physical pain.

She patted his very large arm. “I do this sort of thing all of the time, remember.”

“That is not comforting.”

The gulls gathered on the sand lifted into the air, circling around her. Loudly. They followed her into the sea.

“Why do they get to go with you?” Aidan demanded.

“Because gulls can communicate with all sea creatures,” Sorcha explained. “Why do you think they are so chatty all of the time?”

“I thought they were…gulls.”

“They are very social.” She tossed another grape for them. “And very clever.” Another grape, swiped in midair. “And easily bribed with food.” A screech, a flick of a wing. “Well, you are.” She tossed more crumbs onto the water. “It’s what I like best about you. Now, do please tell the kelpies I have a proposition.” The large basket of baked treats bobbed on her arm as she tried to keep it aloft. Her dress billowed around her. The sand shifted under her feet as the gulls screeched and shouted, diving and darting away.

Elderberry flew above, keeping an eye on the kelpies as the water boiled around them, powerful haunches propelling them toward her. Although Sorcha had acted nonchalant around Aidan, it did take considerable willpower and courage to stay still as the waves tried to unmoor her and the kelpies descended, screeching and gnashing their giant teeth. Aidan swore softly from somewhere behind her.

“Don’t,” she said just as softly. “Don’t spook them now.”

The water foamed and frothed, fishbones and something that looked suspiciously like a human bone bobbing to the surface. Something she hoped very much was seaweed touched her leg. She swallowed, willing herself to stay calm.

The kelpies might be violent murder horses, but they were also beautiful. And she might want to bite everyone too if they kept bursting into her house and trying to steal her hair or her bones. There were many spells that could be vastly enhanced by kelpie parts. Unfortunately.

She crumbled a chunk of cake into bits. Powerful jaws snapped around them immediately, kelpies jostling each other.

“Manners,” Sorcha said. “Tell them there’s enough for everyone,” she asked the gulls, sending images of breads and cakes and apples from a never-ending basket.

No one had to know her basket very much did have a beginning and an end. Not kelpie, nor a certain Lycan earl looming behind her.

The kelpies splashed impatiently, whipping their tails. A lash from a tail could break your leg, or toss you under the waves to drown. Sorcha threw an apple. She had meant to offer it, but her heart was pounding and her muscles were tensing. More cake. This called for more cake.

She scattered the rest of the lemon loaf, and a kelpie foal swam toward her. He was snapping his jaws, but it was less menacing. She might still lose a finger, but he looked so proud of himself, just learning and eager for cake. “Well, aren’t you a darling?” she cooed. His sleek, wet fur gleamed like opals.

Aidan groaned. “You cannot keep a baby kelpie in your courtyard fountain.”

“Of course not. I don’t have a courtyard fountain.”

“I will build you one if you come away from there.”

The foal nudged her hip and nearly knocked her over. She slid sideways on the sand. Aidan was stalking toward her as she righted herself. “I’m all right,” she called out. “You’ll only agitate them.”

He halted. Reluctantly.

She was beginning to be able to differentiate between the different rumbles and the growls he made.

“Sorcha, I’m begging you.”

She tossed the rest of the apples, lobbing them as far as she could to draw most of the kelpies out of biting distance. Murdering distance. She asked the gulls to translate for her, sending images of braided kelpie hair in exchange for more apples, more cake. The foal slapped the surface of the water with his tail excitedly.