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The tattoo on Fen's hip began to burn with Loki's magic, and she knew without looking that Odin's rune had been replaced with another.
"He can go carve his fucking brand onto someone else's whelp," Loki said when she raised a brow at him. "Kenazis our rune. Our power is the fires of creation and change. Never forget, some things need change, and change only happens when there is a trickster."
Loki grinned again, looking about him at the Midgardians and Ankharians mingling together, talking and laughing and saying goodbye. He chucked her under the chin.
"You chose a good change this time, but do try and have a bit of fun occasionally, darling daughter. Keep those fangs sharp." And with that, the god of magic and mischief disappeared.
Fen shook herself and walked back to join Khan. He pulled her into his arms, and she breathed him in, his scent calming the scratching wolf within her.
"Are you okay?" he murmured against him.
"I am now. Finally." Fen kissed him, and he buried his hands into her hair. Their foreheads gently touched, and their magic flared together. "Let's go home."
About the Author
I am a Finnish-Australian writer that is obsessed with magical wardrobes, doors, auroras and burial mounds that might offer me a way into another realm. Until then, I will write about fairy tales, monsters, magic and mythology because that's the next best thing.
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Thank you so much for readingWolf of the Sands!If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a short review or a rating on Amazon, as it helps other readers find my books and means the world to me.
Need another fantasy romance with heaps of magic and adventure? Keep reading for a sample of ‘King of Swords’ available now!
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King of Swords
Eight Months Ago….
The handsome shifter in front of Stella didn't seem to understand that his smooth pick-up lines weren't working on her.
"You have eyes like spring and emeralds," he said, leaning closer to her. His mask was made of hawk feathers, probably a subtle nod to his animal side.
This was a House of Swords party after all, and the air house was notorious for its entitled winged shifters and too much money.
"Thank you," Stella said, staring past his shoulder and looking for an escape. Dressed in a black half mask and a stunning dress of scarlet silk with black beads, tonight she was just another girl out in Venice for Carnevale. Anonymous; exactly the way she liked it.
What she didn't like was how the arrogant shifter wasn't getting the message that she wasn't interested.
His eyes traced the movement of her hand as she pushed her golden hair away from her sweaty neck. The rest of him froze in eerie stillness. Oh yes, underneath his human form, he was definitely some kind of predator bird.
Witha brain to match.
"I'm parched. Would you mind getting me a drink while I go and powder my nose?" Stella asked sweetly.
He rallied immediately, puffing up. "Of course! Tonight is the night for all the champagne you can drink," he said. "Don't take long, I'll miss you."
To Stella's credit, she didn't roll her eyes at him.
Stella waited until he had disappeared into the crowd before hurrying away to a different part of the palazzo. Predator shifters were always far too territorial and intense for her liking.
You should've crashed a Wands party instead. The fire housereallyknew how to throw a party. The djinn's magical illusions always made for a wild time. But she had a tradition to uphold. Every year she picked a different house—Wands, Cups, Swords or Coins—and crashed their most lavish party with a forged invitation and a winning smile. Unfortunately, this year had been Swords.
Forging an invite was child's play for one of Venice's most famous tarot card painters. Everyone carried and consulted the cards to try and stop the Wheel of Fortune from crushing them, and everyone knew that Vianello cards were the finest produced in the New Republic of Venice.
Stella had gotten the idea for tonight from her friend Claudia, who had been hired as a tarot reader for entertainment.
