Treasure
A spicy lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers-to-rivals origin story.
M/GF
the café's outdoor bistro table, cold biting through his jeans, and scooted his chair in. If Maggie hadn’t told him the summer solstice was tomorrow, he would have thought it was still early spring. He glanced quickly around the hilly streets and quaint seaside town sidewalks before sinking his head closer to the tabletop. Sandy blonde hair, curling at the ends, hid his desperate delight from passing humans.
Carefully, he peeled back warm corners of an oblong checkered deli wrap and inhaled deeply. A scent both sweet and savory filled his nose and covered his taste buds. The Gourmet Mango Chicken and Cheddar Baguette was everything the menu had promised. He wouldn’t think about how the large sandwich had left him with only five dollars and an ugly coin to his name. Or how the barista had taken Connor’s order and then whispered he should sit outside to avoid offending tourists with his smell.
He took the girth of the sandwich in his fists and looked at the moist meat and buttery bread with reverence. There was no way he could blame the barista. Though he’d barely been able to smell himself over the unfamiliar scent of the ocean—the smell of kelp and salt and fish smothering his wolf senses—he still knew he smelled bad. Traveling through cities without clean clothes, without a shower, his senses were blunted and traumatized. The magic of the shift would have reset this sensory malfunction, but for this job he needed to abstain and control his wolf for the turn of a season. I’ve got to get to Addams Harbor.
Dark blue eyes flicked down to the cracked face of his watch. 9:41 AM. Fuck!
Twisting out of the chair, he jumped to his feet, terrifying a herd of fat seagulls who screamed and took flight, and his sandwich slipped from his hands. He scrambled to catch the gourmet baguette, only to slap it away. The uneaten Gourmet Mango Chicken and Cheddar Baguette tumbled down a grassy slope and was swept away by the horde of vindictive white and gray birds.
There was no time to cry or scream vengeance. Connor grabbed a piece of chicken that had been missed by the ugly scavengers and without picking off the grass stuffed it into his mouth. He snarled, grabbed his backpack, and began to run towards the marina. “Stupid birds!” Indignant squawks yelled back.
Connor was as nimble as a werewolf about to enter his prime could be—but he was made to dart between trees, not snake through crowded cities and tourist towns. Groups of humans began choking the sidewalk, exiting a recently arrived ferryboat. Connor squeezed between people, his backpack bumping an elderly woman, who cried out as she fell. If this had been any other day, if he wasn’t so hungry, he would have stopped to help her back up. But this wasn’t any other day; he was barely in control, packless, near starving, and about to be late to his first gig as a thief.
Juda watched a smokey gray seagull land on the yacht’s deck rail and fix her with one black eye. “Huoh-huoh-huoh,” came its throaty call. They reminded Juda of fat cats, intelligent and lazy. She could snatch it from the air or chase it down in flight if she wanted to.
Smirking, Juda let out an inarticulate and inhuman sound. The gull ruffled its feathers, squawked, and turned its back to her. “Maybe not so intelligent, but still fucking cute.” Shuffling came from the open-backed observation deck atop the main cabins. Juda directed a dismissive look towards the noise.
A broad shoulder male with a dark golden tan swung down from a ladder, landing heavily on soft leather boots. “Who are you speaking of?” He stood tall and straight, combing his fingers through thick, textured blonde hair, and stared at her. When she didn’t answer, he scooped his hair over his shoulder and began weaving an efficient braid. “Is it here? Can you see or smell it? We do not have the time to wait.” The twinkle in his green eyes was amused and accusatory.
Juda could smell the wolf through the salt and kelpy aroma of the sea. “The baby wolf will be here, and there is plenty of time. We need him. Stop bitching.”
“I was not bitching.”
“Your eyes were bitching, Luce.”
“Stop attempting to pick a fight with your elder. Abstaining from the shift is not natural, even if it is necessary. That agitation? That is your Wild needling you and making you stupid.” Luce tossed the heavy braid back over his shoulder, surveying the bobbing of other boats in the marina. “Your luggage is stowed, and I am surprised you did not sink this vessel with your hoard.” He grinned broadly. “For one that does not claim their legacy, you assuredly pack like a royal. Shallow, materialistic, and vain.”
Juda bared her teeth, “I have nothing to claim in Faery because I am not fully Fae.”
“There is no such thing as a half-fae; you are either Fae or you are not. You are Fae. I was there when you were born, and I watched you reach your majority.”
Juda rolled her eyes. “I am not wholly Fae, Luce, or I wouldn’t be able to do what I can do. I wouldn’t have been exiled.”
“You were not exiled—you may come home any time. I know who and what you are, Juda. Faery is your home—that is where your hoard should be.”
“My home is wherever I say it is. Your desperate loyalty to the House’s bastard half-Fae is pathetic.”
Luce’s grin faded slowly to a cool mask. “There is no such thing as half-Fae and I am loyal to my brother. If you did not believe he will save the Fae, you would not be here.”
If I didn’t believe Dev will be the downfall of the Fae, I wouldn’t be here. Juda looked away and towards the sound of running feet. She was finished with this conversation, like she was finished with the Fae. Luce freed the yacht’s dock lines from the rusted cleats bolted to the weathered wood of the dock and turned towards the crew cabin. “I will be at the helm, cousin. Get ready to leave.”
“Go captain Fancy Yak. He’s almost here.”
He swept his eyes lovingly across his yacht, “Her name is the Luxury Yak.” Luce visibly inhaled and stiffened, his features darkening with displeasure. “Yes, I can smell it coming now.”
It was 9:45 AM. A fishing boat drifted away from its moorings, a loud motor kicking on and disturbing the water. It looked like the boat from the movie Jaws. Was this a bad omen? “Stop! Wait!” Connor stumbled down the dock, unable to keep steadying himself on the swelling and dipping dock. Despair. If he did not get on that boat, he would not be able to find the Island and meet the contact he had been given for this job. He squinted at the name, unable to make out the letters in the faded paint.
Connor planted his feet on the last plank before the boards dropped into the sea. Hope. That boat was the key to buy his way home to the pack that exiled him. He had to get on that boat!
He knew how to swim. Connor dropped his pack, shrugged off his jean jacket, grabbed the back of this shirt, and pulled it free of his body. Reaching down to his dirty converse, he pulled the laces loose and kicked off his shoes.
“Are you the wolf?”
He froze, a sock bunched up in one hand, clothing puddled at his feet. “What?” Connor turned to look at the source of the rich voice. The athletic figure of a woman with shoulder-length fine black hair sat on a cushioned bench on the back of a white yacht. Trimmed in gold, the yacht’s name was stenciled in elegant script along the side. Luxury Yak.
A sharp voice yanked his focus back to the woman. “Are you the wolf?” Above one light brown eye, she arched a thick groomed brow. “What will you have?”
Connor squeezed the sock, trying to squeeze out the memories. In his mind, there were 100 internet browser tabs open, and one of them was playing Titanic’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’. “I-I will drink what will be poured from Cragaganah’s cup.”
A subtly pained look passed over her strong features. “Carrag’nah. It’s Carrag’nah. Get in.”
The “baby” wolf she had been promised was anything but. He stood frozen, squeezing fabric in one hand, and staring with blue eyes that were brimming with Wild magic wanting out. Tall, lean, and dirty, the wolf could have been in his early or mid-twenties below the layers of grime.
Underneath Juda, the engine purred to life. It was the quietest and most agile boat in the archipelago, and it was leaving. “You’re welcome to go catch a ride with the Orca.” She indicated the old, recently departed fishing boat with the tilt of her head. “You can get in or you will be swimming. We’re leaving now.”
“Shit.” Swooping down, he scrambled to collect his things and smoothly jumped the growing distance between the pier and the deck. The boat was leaving. “Thank you!” Casually, he sat down in the open space next to her and began pulling on his socks and shoes. “I’m sorry I’m late. My name is—”
“Don’t speak.” He was not supposed to have a name, and he was not supposed to have abs.
The wolf went about quietly dressing; his thigh carelessly brushed against hers. Juda leaned away from his smell, though her eyes lingered on how his nipples had hardened in the morning breeze off the sea. He gave her a shy smile, then pulled on his shirt and settled into a jacket, the collar cutting below his strong jaw.
Juda’s network had been searching for the right wolf for over a decade and she knew this was not how werewolves usually smelled. “Go inside, there are three doors, you may use the empty guest cabin on the left. There is a shower. This will be a short trip.”
At the simple offer of a shower, his furrowed brown eased to a look of gratitude. The wolf jumped to his feet, grabbed his bag, and delivered a dazzling smile. “Thank you. I noticed you looking—I must look pretty bad. I would like to get cleaned up before I meet the boss.”
Juda stood to meet his gaze with a stern face she knew was severe and beautiful, the face of a father she had not known. She studied his blue eyes, the slight curl to his longish hair, and his strong jaw and neck. With a returned interest, he swept his gaze down her body, lingering on her chest, then back up to her face. Juda scoffed at the impudence. This “baby wolf” had the face of a man she’d like to punch or fuck. Maybe both. Juda turned sharply and reached for the ladder to the observation deck. She needed some fresh air.
Connor thought about the predatory spark of those light brown eyes—his wolf warned him there was danger, yet his body craved it. There was magic there, but he couldn’t place it. He had been waiting his whole life to live; now, the risk of a lifetime was here. Black hair and long fingers flashed through his mind while he showered in the smallest yet most luxurious bathroom he had ever used.
Gray water swirled away from his feet and into a drain. Where does the dirty water go on a boat?
He scrubbed every crevice with efficiency, then slowed to cleanse his hair with products fragranced with mint and rosemary. Lazy, scented steam eased his breathing, cleared, and soothed his head. Finally, he leaned into the water stream, bracing one hand on the wall, and let the heat run over his body. Fantasies of the future combined with memories from home. Running between dark old growth trees. A voluptuous red-head that melted away into black hair and an athletic body. His free hand stroked down his abdomen, curling around the shaft of his cock. Banging against the door to his cabin made him drop himself abruptly with a frustrated sigh.
Connor exited the shower and briskly towel-dried. At the bottom of his backpack, wrapped in a plastic bag, was his last pair of clean clothes tightly rolled and heavily wrinkled. The dark purple shirt and jeans—two of the last hole-free items of clothes he owned.
Outside of the cabin, the boat was empty and still. He wandered the hallways and found unused closets, locked doors, and large paintings of stark landscapes in gold frames. Part of his mind wandered to the possibility of hawking the riches that decorated the interior, but he could hear his former mentor tell him mistakes would be paid for with his life. Connor swallowed hard; he was going to steal, just not yet.
Unable to locate another living creature, Connor wandered out to the deck. The Luxury Yak had been secured to a small old dock in a marina much smaller than the one back on San Juan Island—its ostentatious presentation out of place in the old harbor.
White-capped waves splashed against dark pylons in morning light. Seagulls cried and squawked, swooping down around coiled sails, and landing on masts and rails of docked boats. Connor flipped up the collar of his jean jacket and pulled it tightly against his body—a breeze ruffled his hair. It was fine, he would make his way. He meandered up the walkway while his blue eyes tracked the gulls. His memory conjured chickens—free-range chickens that were butchered and turned into a Gourmet Mango Chicken and Cheddar Baguette sandwich.
With a straight finger, he pointed at a fat gull nesting into its feathers atop a mast. “Feel lucky I can’t fly.” Connor was hungry. He was hungry for food and hungry for information. Grudgingly, he left the sea and made his way to the pub where he would stretch his last few dollars.
Addams Harbor was a small island, one of several irregularly shaped masses of land in the beautiful waters of the Salish Sea. Each island was populated with a slightly different flavor of human. Addams Harbor was unique in that its inhabitants were independent supernaturals—indie supes, as some of the younger preternatural creatures called them. Growing up in the compound, surrounded by his pack, he grew up knowing them as rogues. He guessed he was a rogue now too, packless and alone.
A part of the thieves’ market, Carrag’nah‘s Cup was an old brick drinking establishment built between two tightly spaced buildings, as though an alley was all that was left on the island, and it needed to be occupied by a pub. From the front door to the bar, a narrow walkway stretched back, flanked by square tables with dusty square iron chandeliers above. The pub yawned into the darkness, deeper than it was wide. Finally clean, he expected to be overwhelmed with sensory input from his environment, instead he was met with a magical barrier that smothered his senses.
Eyes followed him in from the tables, making his skin crawl. What kind of magic was that? It felt oily, but his senses were muffled. What did he do to deserve that? He was an outsider, but weren’t they all?
“Who are you and what do you want?” A deep, almost feminine voice demanded from the bowels of the building.
Hairs on the back of Connor’s neck stood on end and he stopped. “I’m looking to buy a cup of coffee.”
“Then go to the diner.”
Connor smiled, turning on the charm his auntie had told him made it difficult to turn him away. “I heard this was the real place to go to get the islander experience. To get Lu—”
“Go to the diner if you want Lucy’s hash browns.”
Connor kept a steady approach towards the counter, at heart he was an alpha, and he knew what it would mean to be cowed his first time at Carrag’nah‘s Cup. He swung a leg over the bar stool and leaned on the counter. “Ma—”
“Get out, tourist. Take your smarmy grin elsewhere.”
Connor scoffed. “Smarmy?” He forced himself to let go of a rising tension. A building anxiety that he would not pull this off. “Maggie sent me. She told me to ask for Juda.”
From the darkness behind the bar, a petite brunette materialized. Sharp eyes set at a severe angle, thin lips, and a curvaceous body in black clothing so dark her head looked like it was floating in shadows. “Are you kidding me? You should have led with that and stop wasting time. You must be new to the life or foolish.”
Connor leaned back trying to mask his uncertainty. “The life?” Was he wrong about the services of this establishment?
The thin lips curved up, sharp delicate teeth peeking out. “Oh, new and naive.” They snickered quietly. “Go sit down. Get out of my face. Ask Rom your questions, then get out unless you are going to pay for a drink.”
“So, no coffee?” The bartender stared at him hard enough to burn holes through his soul. “Anything edible on the menu I could buy for less than five?” He patted his pockets, fished out a few crumpled bills. “For five and some change?”
They squinted then shooed Connor away. “Do I look like I have a kitchen? Your kind doesn’t take well to the spirits we serve here, talk to Rom then leave.”
Connor scanned the seats and found one set of large black beetle-like eyes staring at him from an unusually smooth and hairless face. “Rom?” He sat down in the chair across from a stocky wrinkleless creature in dark purple satin. Connor had seen supernaturals in many forms, but it made him feel uncomfortable to stare at someone’s non-human form—like looking at someone naked.
“Why are you here? And if you lie to me, I will rip out your throat faster than you can tuck a tail between your legs, pup.”
With a cough, Connor sat up straighter. “I’m older than I look.” Supes always underestimated him, underestimated his speed, and that was fine. He wanted to live, and it wouldn’t be by challenging older, stronger, creepier supernaturals. “Maggie sent me.”
“We all heard you.”
No one was looking at them, yet Connor felt the eyes on them from every direction—from the other patrons, from the shadows, all listening.
Before Connor could reply, several small packs of peanuts fell in front of him. He jumped and looked up to see the bartender. They had snuck up on him, his sensitive hearing missing their steps. They smirked. “This is all the food you will get here.” They walked, with an exaggerated loudness, back to the bar.
Connor quickly stuffed the peanuts into his pockets and pulled out a large gold coin. “Maggie. She owed me a favor and referred me here for a job. A special job. One I have prepared for and come to offer myself to do.”
“And why would I help you?”
Connor nodded, confidence creeping in at the side. “I helped her pay off her debt to Luce. Freelance work.” Connor delicately placed the large gold coin in front of Rom. One side of the coin was stamped with an intricate ’13’ and on the other side was a roughly carved ‘O.’ Rom lifted his forehead, an expression like someone raising their eyebrows if they had eyebrows to raise. “She said this would prove she was calling in a favor. Maggie said to give this to Juda and it would buy me a new start.”
Across the street stood a five-story brick hotel with painted black shutters and trims. On either side of the curved front archway were two large windows with white curtains sheer enough to see the outlines of an ostentatious interior.
Connor ducked his head through the door of Carrag’nah’s Crown Hotel. Where the Cup was well worn but polished with care, the Crown was mid-century furnishings with trendy black accents and crystal. It smelled like leather polish, dead wildflowers, tobacco, and oak. Connor was quickly learning how much he didn’t know about money. If the Luxury Yak felt like new and wasted money, was this what old money felt like? Is this what rich was?
An expansive desk with a small round bell occupied a corner of the lobby. His hand was hovering above the call bell when a deep almost feminine voice stopped him, “No need.” Startling, Connor pulled his hand back. “How may I serve you?”
“Didn’t I-… Weren’t you?” Connor shifted his weight back, putting a little distance between him and the desk so he could better examine the concierge. A familiar petite and curvaceous brunette gave him a tight smile that did not fill their eyes. Their clothes were black, tailored, their arms at their sides in a stiff way. They were unsettling and he was unsettled by them. Connor inhaled slowly, asking the world around him for clues. He smelled nothing outside of the scents of the hotel. “Aren’t you the bartender?”
“No.”
Connor tried to smooth away the confusion on his face—he was neutral, confident, a professional. He waited for her to say more and when she didn’t, he nodded to himself. He was a professional. He was a professional. He reached deep and smiled big. “My name is Connor. I’d like to see if a guest is checked in.”
“You already know they are here.”
Exasperated, Connor growled quietly, his wolf surging up in frustration as he put his palms down on the desk. He was tired of being fucked with. The concierge looked at his hands with a slight narrowing of their eyes and Connor instinctively removed his hands. Nope, he would be fucked with a bit more. “Where can I find Juda?” He paused, something in the universe warning him he was in the presence of a larger predator, then added, “Please.”
“You may find Juda in the cafe.” The concierge gestured to a doorway to the left and watched him go. Narrowed eyes burrowed into his back as he walked through the doorway.
Half expecting to see Rom sitting in the cafe in an increasingly eerie replay of The Cup, Connor was delighted to see the narrow frame of a creature sitting at a small round table facing a French window. Shoulder length black hair tied back neatly, crisp white cuffed dress shirt, and slate gray slacks.
The smell of rich coffee reached for him, embraced him. None of his senses, including the sense that picked up the occasional prickle of power, indicated anything supernatural. A human. He had been told Juda was a powerful female, had anticipated using his boyish charm that had gotten him far in life. Connor hid a wolfish grin.
Juda. The infamous preternatural treasure hunter was nothing more than a man. A man is fine—easy even. He had flirted and charmed them, too.
The man’s head cocked to the side and Connor knew he was being listened to. Smoothing his expression, he corrected his posture, and strode over with the gusto of a teenager on his first job interview. He stopped by the chair facing the hunter, his back to the window, and felt something catch in his chest. Did his heart just stop beating?
Juda was the most striking man Connor had ever seen. Light brown eyes regarded him coolly. Juda was the most striking man Connor had ever seen. It was an androgynous face, the balance of masculine and feminine, not the absence of either. It was a familiar face that pulled at him, but Connor was over the land-of-the-creepy-look-alikes.
Juda lifted a coffee cup to full lips and took a long sip. After a moment, he lowered the cup halfway and quirked a full eyebrow at him. The expression was both inviting of a conversation and reproachful of his manners.
“Mr. Juda,”—Did he have a last name? If he did, Connor didn’t know it. “My name is Connor and I am here to help you find the Faeless’ scepter.” The words came out low, husky.
Taking another drink of the rich smelling coffee, Juda set the cup down, and folded long graceful fingers onto his lap. “Are you now?” They locked eyes in a moment that made Connor’s heart skip a beat again.
“Yes. I heard you need a wolf and I need to make a reputation for myself.”
“And what reputation do you think you will get working for me?” Juda leaned back into the chair, lazily taking in Connor from the slight curl of his short hair to the wide breadth of his shoulders.
Working for him… “I want the supe world to know I’ll get the job done, no matter what it takes.”
“No matter what it takes?” Juda laughed quietly, the sound was silk against Connor’s nerves, slithering and teasing. “Interesting response. Sit and tell me more.”
Relief flooded Connor and his shoulders sagged infinitesimally. That was easy. He had been prepared to do what was needed. He had been prepared to flatter, beg, fuck or murder, and had been running through scenarios in his mind for weeks.
“Sit.” Juda gestured to the chair with the air of command, and he turned the lower half of his body, a comfortable fluid gesture that made room to cross one ankle over the opposite knee. Connor pulled out the chair and lowered himself into it. At 6 ft’ tall, he felt too large as he folded himself into the delicate seat. “Tell me about yourself, Connor. It sounds like you think you know who I am.” A hint of sarcasm shaded the words and Juda smiled; it was not a warm smile. “How does a young wolf like yourself end up on this particular island?”
“I-The Scepter of Faeless…” The concierge whisked in on silent feet, placing a cup of coffee in front of Connor, and retreated the same way they came. A chill crept down Connor’s spine as he investigated the space where the concierge had been. The concierge and the bartender’s energy raked over his nerves, his internal warning system raised the hairs along his arms and neck. He peered at the coffee with suspicion that gave way to fatigue and deep thirst. Greedily, he picked it up and took a long drag that scalded his tongue.
“While you tell me your story, don’t leave out how you ended up a solitary wolf.” Juda was watching him when he set the empty cup back down on the table. Self-consciously, Connor moved in his seat before stopping himself. His auntie had warned him that his constant moving could be interpreted as anxiety and weakness.
“How do you know I’m a solitary wolf?”
“If you were in a pack, you would be more concerned about associating yourself with me. And the scepter, it’s spelled like it should be said ‘fay-less’ but in its native language it is said ‘phallus.’”
Juda watched the wolf guffaw then try to recover some dignity. The response was childish and so was toying with him. Connor finally settled on an expression that managed to look constipated and bored. “I do need a wolf, but I don’t do business with strangers. If I accept your story, you will be paid in treasure—fencing magicked treasure without releasing a curse is a skill I won’t be teaching you. Tell me why you were exiled, I want details, and then how you came to this island.” Juda already knew the story from Maggie’s late-night reports, it was his job to know everything, but curiosity about this young wolf had made him unusually conversational.
Connor cleared his throat, coming to some sort of decision. “I-I have been exiled from my pack.” His voice shook subtly. “Over the last century, there have been increasingly violent skirmishes between the mountain packs of the Pacific Northwest over whether we should consolidate. We aren’t big packs compared to the Montana pack or other organized shifter groups and our voices don’t carry weight in the Assembly. My mother wanted me to be more active, strong like my sister, so I took over perimeter patrols. I was wet behind the ears, ya’know? One night, I found a dying fox-shifter on the borderlands. I snuck her home, into the compound, into my pack. It was days, but my father eventually found out. It was fucking chaos—he said she was a spy, he wanted to put her down, like a wounded animal.” Connors voice cracked, he took a deep breath, his eyes flitted to Juda’s then somewhere above, staring into the depths of the hotel. “I told him if we wouldn’t take care of and protect the land, everyone in it, then we didn’t deserve to hold it. With the help of my sister, she’s always been the levelheaded one, my father made a trade with me. I vouched for the fox, we healed her, fed her, sheltered her, and I fell in—No.” He bit out the word as though he was terminating the thought. “The fox was adopted into the pack, and I abdicated my place to my sister.”
Juda uncrossed his legs and slid against the table, crossing his arms in front of him, leaning into the story. Everything was as promised. “A werewolf princeling.”
“Ah, no.” Connor grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “We aren’t the Windsors. We don’t use words like prince or princess to describe the kids of the Alpha.” Juda was utterly fascinated. “I mean, we have our own ways of describing that.” A dethroned wolf prince and a bastard of Fae royalty—absolutely perfect.
When Connor didn’t speak for a time, Juda reached forward and brushed his hand, a magical current flickered between them, restrained magic seeking an outlet. “Then what happened?”
Connor stared at the spot where Juda had touched him and swallowed. “He was right.”
“Who was right?” Though Juda already knew how this story ended, he wanted to hear the wolf admit it.
“My father. She was a spy—not a fox shifter, at all, but a Fae. She’d been with us a year when fires broke out in the night, most of the compound was destroyed.” Juda watched feelings flit across Connor’s face, it was like reading a book. Anger, betrayal, guilt, grief. “If it hadn’t been for my sister, I would have died—many did. I was tried by my pack, my family name stripped from me, then I was exiled.” Connor stopped, staring into Juda’s eyes with blue intensity. “I found Maggie later. She arranged for transport and referred me to you. She said you needed a wolf and a witch who have not used their power for one full season. I have not shifted. Will you take me?”
The wolf was like a sad puppy—not so intelligent, but cute. A smile slid across Juda’s face in what he hoped was a look of reassurance. “I do need a wolf—I need you, Connor. You’re perfect.”
It was like all that coffee suddenly kicked in and his hunger was forgotten. Connor shook off the heaviness of those memories and sat upright. “You will? I mean, I am? No, I mean you want me?” Once the words were out of his mouth, Connor felt his heart hammering. The world smelled like coffee, sex, and hope.
Juda’s deep voice felt like silk slithering over Connor’s nerves. “Yes, I want you.” They stared at each other, the second meaning settling over them. Juda subtly shook his head and stood up. “You’re hired. Please, you will find a room has been arranged for you. Take care of your needs, rest well, and meet me at the small dock in the eastern harbor. We leave before dawn.”
“Wait, where are we going? And what about the witch?”
Juda was smiling, something alluring and almost reptilian. “You’re looking at your witch. What happened to the Fae?”
Connor exhaled slowly. “I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“You can’t trust Fae.”
“No. No, you can’t.” Without another word, Juda strode from the room, the sound of gray slacks the only noise Connor could hear.
Left alone at the table, Connor sat awkwardly. He had almost expected the concierge to materialize with a hotel key, but no one came. Quietly, he pulled out the several small packets of pub peanuts. He opened each packet on the table, lined up the nuts by size, and ate each one. Pensively, he crunched a peanut between his molars—it was loud enough he was sure every indie supe on the island had heard. Juda had not answered his first question—where they were going. How was Connor to plan his getaway with the scepter, if he didn’t know where they were going?
A candle burned next to Juda; he tracked the flickering flame while he ruminated on the past and planned for the future. Maggie would have been dead, except she had exclaimed if Juda killed her then she would never disclose the location of Juda’s greatest desire—a key. A key she had been hiding right under Juda’s nose for almost six months. The wolf was not a literal key, but one half of a key spell. A mountain wolf king could control his wolf beyond the natural cycle of the moon—a rare power. But Maggie had lied about his character and said he was ugly. Maggie, the old hag, hadn’t exactly lied to Juda or they would have flown to her shack and plucked out her eyes—since they were apparently faulty anyways. Perhaps all werewolves appeared unattractive to wereracoons?
Juda sat in his rooms in front of an open chest of Spanish doubloons, minted in 1714, and excavated from the remains of a pirate ship. Juda had a fondness for pirate gold. Faeless’ scepter was spelled to be wielded by shifters—this much he knew. He lovingly traced the rough embossed cross with the tip of his thumb then threw the coin back into its box with a growl. At times he could be even-tempered but at others, he wanted to burn the world down around him. Right now? It was the latter. Juda had chosen his male form out of a desire to fuck with the wolf and instead the wolf used vulnerability to fuck with him.
He shot off an agitated text to Luce.
Restless, Juda pulled power into his hand and swept his hands over his face and down his body—the light from the candle guttered. Physical transformation between forms felt luxurious, like the first stretch of the morning, and she tingled with it. The magic of the full-blooded Fae was limited in this world—another indicator she was more than they could handle. Fae were akin to witches, facilitators of the magic around them, but it was her unrestricted power in this realm that tipped Juda off. If she could facilitate magic here, then there was only one thing she could be. Her breasts grew slightly, her pelvis changed, but other than subtle feminization to visible features and her genitalia, Juda always looked like Juda. The gift to shift between both forms was bestowed on her by her father, because no other Fae could shift their true form—shift to their Wild beasts, yes—but not shift between the spectrum of sexes.
Per the law of Fae, you were only a Fae if you were born of two Fae. Anything else? A faery—a lesser creature, still magical, but seen as lower than the ruling class. A word that was almost a slur when used to describe a half-Fae because in that world there was no such thing as a half-Fae. You were Fae, or you were a faery. Luce was wrong, unable to see past the promise of the assumed-Fae child she had been. Unable to be a Fae prince, Juda had decided to be Queen, King, and Monarch of whatever world they inhabited while doing everything within her power to undermine the Fae.
A gentle rap disturbed her internal monologuing and she slapped the chest closed—she didn’t share well. Her door creaked open, and Luce poked his head through, “What is it?”
Juda closed the space between them, lifted herself up on her toes, and whispered. “Pack your bags. Arrange to have our luggage stowed on the Fancy Yak.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. She knew it was from the intentional misnomer of his stupid boat. Luce ignored it. “What? We only just arrived—I have business with Rom, Remy, and Rue.”
Slowly she nodded, as though considering his needs, then she rolled her eyes. “Do whatever it is you need to do tonight. You oversee many aspects of Dev’s human world affairs, but not this. This?” She waved a hand, indicating the island, treasure hunting, plotting, and planning. “This is mine. I am the monarch of this mission—there is no one better than I am at doing what I do. So, do what I ask.”
Luce stared at her thoughtfully then laughed. “You don’t ask.” He was much older than her and used to managing dangerously moody and capricious Fae in both worlds.
“Tomorrow is the solstice and it will be the lowest tide of the year. Tomorrow morning, we will do the job and then we will need to leave for a while. Rom, Remy, and Rue will understand I do what I must for reasons that are my own.”
“How long until you return to Carrag’nah after solstice?”
Juda glanced at the smoke drifting up from the candle next to the chest of gold. “Oh, I don’t know. How long does it take to rebuild a turn of the century hotel?”
Having finished his peanuts, Connor had ventured out into the warm evening air of Addams Harbor. Masts of boats in the distance reminded him of the dark-haired woman from the yacht, her audacious eyes, and full lips. A gnawing hunger was building inside, a small voice inside told him food would not satiate this hunger. Since he would not be giving into his wolf’s need to chase down prey, he hunted for the alleged diner with hopes they could spare something to eat on a tight budget.
Unlike the other island from that morning, Addams Harbor was quiet, though he continued to feel eyes on him at every turn. Winding streets, tightly-spaced old buildings, all empty. Stomach near ready to eat itself, Connor veered away from Carrag’nah‘s Cup and across the street to what appeared to be an old diner. Hunger drove him into the door which shuddered against the impact of his body but did not budge. The diner was shuttered for the day. Connor sighed; the cry of a seagull taunted him in the distance. Its cry turned into a shrill rough screech, and he clenched his jaw. The noise needled him in ways only a baguette could soothe.
Connor sucked on his cheek and swallowed spit. Maybe I could just buy a candy bar? Fuck, I don’t care. Connor kicked a stray pebble, then went to search for a market—which was also closed. Temper flared and he bit it down. This job will change everything for me. I just have to focus. Use the hunger to focus. I got this. Hungry, but hopeful, Connor returned to Carrag’nah‘s Crown where he found a large old key resting on the counter next to a note.
Dear Connor NoSurname.
He winced. It was true, Connor no longer had a last name of his own—his pack had disavowed him—with just cause. His heart sank a little before he shook it off. He royally fucked up, but he would prove to them he still belonged and would dedicate his life to their safety. He would never be Alpha, but he would relentlessly protect his pack and support his sister’s rule. A drive to be at his sister’s side bunched up his muscles and his wolf thrashed inside his mind until sweat beaded his forehead. She had survived worse trials than he; she was worthy of being Alpha, and he would protect her. Focus returned to Connor, and he looked back at the note.
Room 210 has been reserved for you. Please see yourself to your room. In preparation for a holiday, most island services are closed to outsiders today and tomorrow.
The concierge was nowhere to be seen. Even in the indie supe community, Connor was an outsider. He cleared his throat, snatched up the key, and went in search of stairs or an elevator.
A steeply ascending, narrow staircase was built into the back of the main hallway, smelling of lemons and old wood, recently polished. Hope shot through him—this was it; he was getting his chance. Taking the stairs three at a time, he pumped his long legs, swinging his body weight around carved banisters—and slammed into a solid figure.
Juda hit the wall of the narrow landing and slid to their backside.
Connor stumbled forward, reaching out a hand to help the witch up. “Fuck! I am sorry, Juda!”
Juda didn’t take his hand. Connor tilted his head, his hand still extended. He sniffed the air and tilted his head the other way, studying the form on the floor. Fine black hair pulled back neatly. Gray slacks. Crisp white dress shirt. Brown eyes. Full lips. Long fingers. Strong jaw. Breasts? Connor let his hand drop. His eyes hadn’t been deceiving him when he first entered the café and introduced himself to Juda—Juda did look familiar. Had Juda even said his name was Juda? Or did Connor assume it was Juda?
The sound that broke into Connor’s thoughts was the same voice from the café in a subtly higher octave. “If you are this careless then maybe you aren’t the right wolf for the job.”
Connor fought a sneer from forming on his face. Was he being fucked with? Everything about this island was off. “What are you?”
Juda’s eyebrow quirked up. She stood up, dusted her slacks off firmly, her hands followed up the slight curve of hips, waist, and breasts—it was intentional, seductive. Dragging her right hand down her left arm, she straightened the button on one cuff. “I have told you what you need to know and anything else is none of your business.”
Connor moved to walk around her then stopped in the narrow space. They were so close he could smell rosemary and mint wafting from her skin, something spicy underneath he thought was familiar. Connor fished in his pocket, pulled out the rough coin, and held it out to her. He didn’t know what creature could glamor their human form to hide from a werewolf. His fingers trembled, and he hated it. There was so much he didn’t know. Confidence. He needed to be confident. “It is my business if we are to work together.”
Juda smirked, stepping into his space. “Together?” Unnerved, he stumbled back into the banister, teetered, and found his balance with preternatural grace. Confidence. He pushed back, returning the dominance move—he wasn’t new to power games. Connor’s ribs pressed into her breasts, she eyed his chest then followed the lines of his body up his neck where they lingered, and up to his face.
“Yes, together.”
“Together? You think because I am female now that makes you better than or even equal to me?” Juda let out a low chuckle and lifted her chin. “That’s funny.” Suddenly, the conversation felt different, their bodies pressed together in the crowded space of the stairwell. Connor felt his cock stiffen, confined by the thick fabric of his jeans. She glanced between them, pushed into his hardness, and grinned wickedly up at him. “You couldn’t handle this heat. I would burn you up.” He watched her full lips form words as she slipped past him and continued down the stairs. “And anyone you tasted after me would taste like ash.”
Connor watched after her, chewing on her words carefully; they sounded like both a threat and a promise.
Morning was hours away. Juda watched the dark, quiet island out the French windows from her favorite table. A small breeze ruffled an ornamental tree across the street; above, she heard the wolf stirring, washing, dressing. She considered what his body had looked like, felt like against her, and dropped the last buttery morsel of her croissant into her mouth.
She better savor every moment; Remy would neither forgive nor forget today. Juda caught herself collecting dishes, cutlery, and crumbs and stopped. If she bussed her own table, Remy would be suspicious, but she would feel less of this unusual feeling of anticipatory guilt if she cleaned up after herself. Reminding herself she was a non-prince of the Fae with a reputation to uphold, she left the dishes, grabbed her coat, and left for the docks. The solstice was pulling her Wild through her, dragging her forward, until she wanted to run to keep up.
Luce sat behind the wheel of a small four-seater motorboat, combing fingers through his thick hair—meditatively watching the waves. The tide was going out, the lowest tide of the year.
Hesitant to interrupt his peace, Juda examined his profile and felt a tug of warmth—maybe a deep fondness. She scrunched her face and shook it off. He was her official backup on major jobs. If something were to go wrong, he’d take the artifact and let her die.
Not taking his eyes from the water, Luce’s lips curled slightly. “If you keep staring at me like that, I will think you want more from me than to be a handsome servant and chaperone for ungrateful royals.”
Juda hissed; it was as guttural as it was sibilant.
Luce turned in his seat to level a heavy green glare at her. “Watch your tone.” Juda swallowed, shocked at herself—had that sound really come from her?
Unwilling to apologize, Juda looked out at the small dark lumps on the horizon, islands, and rock formations. “My Wild is ready to finish this job—this has been a test of my power and control.” She looked back at him slowly, saw the hardness of his face ease. Vibrations moved up her legs. “He’s coming.”
Luce grimaced. “Let us get this hunt done.” He tucked his long hair into the back of a dark sweater and pulled a hooded mask over his head.
“You better be able to see,” Juda mumbled, stepping into the back, and taking a seat. “Don’t fuck this up.”
A low laugh reached her. “I could drive my UtiliYak without sight and drunk. Besides, Juda. I am not the one so Wild that I am nigh rutting with a dog.”
Déjà vu crept along the edges of Connor’s nerves and as he walked down the dock, he moved his backpack on his back, and zipped up the pocket in which his gold coin hid. His night had been restless, turning through his decisions and unsettled thoughts about Juda and the unknown. He had descended from his room in the early hours to find a note asking for his key at the front desk and directing him to a boat off a pier on the other side of Addams Harbor—a smaller, older, emptier pier. It was dark and eerie, the seagulls were finally silent, and only the sounds of salty waves lapping against wood broke the darkness. Did he actually miss the bitching of those fat gulls?
Connor arrived alongside a white motorboat with the stenciled name UtiliYak printed in gilded letters along the prow. He glanced up from the boat name to Juda. She sat stiffly, anger sharpening her features, staring through a tall dark figure in the front of the boat. Juda did not acknowledge his existence. Her light brown eyes were iridescent, furious.
Having not met a proper witch before, Connor wasn’t certain that was all Juda was, but like she said—it was none of his business. Inside, his wolf was sending him warnings that he needed to make it his business—goosebumps ran down his arms and the hair on his neck stood up again. There was no way he was getting in the Pequod with Captain Ahab so obviously close to his whale.
Putting on a charmingly disarming smile, like a mask, Connor waved. “I’m sorry I’m late. I can’t seem to find anything to eat around here—you’d think no one likes strangers. Luxury Yak? UtiliYak? I think whoever paints your boats missed the typo.”
The tension that was choking the life from the sea turned its focus to him. “Get in the fucking boat,” Juda snapped.
Connor inhaled slowly and kept a lid on his growl. Stop, we are not alpha … and biting creatures we don’t understand will not help us. Let’s get the scepter and go home. A sober assurance filled his chest, and he knew they were unified on this mission. He climbed in and sat in the seat next to Juda.
The dark figure, a whale of a man dressed in all black, untied the boat, turned over the motor, and then they were moving off into the dying night. Underneath the sound of the motor, he thought he heard growling from the captain’s chair, directed at him.
“So…” Connor scooted around in his seat to assess the situation. “What’s next?”
Juda did not answer him immediately. Instead, she shifted in her seat and casually draped an arm over the side of the boat. Her eyes lingered on the back of the dark driver, then she slanted her gaze towards him. The boat picked up speed, slapping the waves, water spraying up. Juda watched him, scrutinizing the details of his face and body in silence for several minutes. “We have set course to Carrag’nah‘s Necklace, an uninhabitable island system hidden within the archipelago. What we seek is a treasure protected by nature and the inhabitants of Carrag’nah.”
“What? The bar or the hotel?”
Behind Juda, dawn was breaking, turning the distant eastern horizon gray, gold, and violet. “Carrag’nah is the name of the island—the name the locals use. It’s not the name of the hotel or the pub.” Connor considered this, licking the salty air from his lips. The brightening sky brought out the details of distant islands, their winding trees, and craggy cliffs. “The island’s magic hides The Necklace from the eyes and vessels of non-magical folks. Those of us who can see it, can’t reach it by land or by boat. And those of us who touch its land cannot get inside without the correct combination of magic, a key if you will, to unlock the inner sanctum.”
“And we have that?” Connor surveyed the area around the boat. They were idling in open water, an outcrop of large boulders in the near distance. He craned his head, scented salt and seaweed—a pervasive smell he noted around the change of tides.
“A witch and wolf of royal descent—yes.”
“I told you I’m not royalty.”
Juda gave him a tight smile. “Semantics.” Luce snorted from the front seat.
“You know, my pack used to live closer to the Salish Sea. We moved inland a long time ago. We—It’s taboo to travel west. We gave up our land rights when we migrated inland. I had expected to find more packs out this way, but there is nothing. No wolves in this area.” Connor felt Juda’s presence near him, felt her listening to him with her whole being.
“Yes, I know.” She knew. He didn’t know how she knew, but Juda knew more about his pack than he did. “Would you like to know why?”
Connor cleared his throat, not sure he wanted to know. Pack wisdom had kept them safe until Connor went and fucked it up. “Yeah, I would.”
“Faeless,” Juda drew out the ‘s’ of the phallic word, “was a ruthless leader. Faeless facilitated the creation of the Fae; they have not always been as they are—once they were much like humans. It was Faeless in his vanity and vileness who tricked, harnessed, and raped Faery—the mother of all magic.” A queasiness tried to break in, whether it was motion sickness from riding the slow rolling waves or the thought of violation, or both. Why choose? “It was from this abomination the Fae were born and, with his new power, the scepter created. Faeless was of the First House and set his sights on the human realm and beyond. Eventually, like all monsters, he fell to his own greed and the power vacuum he left consumed his descendants. The scepter went missing in the chaos and was quietly brought to the human realm, where Fae magic is restricted. Protected forever from falling back to the Fae, it was hidden using the combined power of unlikely allies.”
“Wolves and witches.”
“Yes.” Something over Connor’s shoulder caught Juda’s eye and she grinned, the iridescence back. “We’re here.”
Juda grinned. “I hope you’re really ready to swim this time.” Wild shimmered through her. No feeling could compare to the elation that filled Juda on a hunt—a single-minded focus. It was all-consuming—finally, the scepter would be hers. Magic shields hampered her ability to feel the cursed royal rod, but it was near. She would claim the scepter to use and abuse as she saw fit. Delight made her heart skip ahead and she momentarily forgot the wolf sitting at her side.
“Swim?”
Feeling Luce and the wolf watching her, she slowly came back into her body—anchoring herself. “Yes. We cannot bring the boat closer because of the risk of running the captain’s Precious aground. We will swim. It’s not far.” Juda unbuttoned her coat and reached for the hem of her dress, briefly she caught sight of Connor’s widening eyes as she pulled the dress over her head to uncover an athletic swimsuit. Connected to the Pacific Ocean, these waters weren’t warm any time of the year, but her unique heritage gave her an advantage over the elements most did not have. There would be no shivering, cramping, or hypothermia. “Should I have checked your resume for swimming lessons?”
“N-No,” Connor said, standing up. He surveyed the distance, the largest island the shape of a turtle shell covered in moss and a winding madrona tree.
A deep voice from the front of the vessel cut in behind Juda’s words. “Tide will be turning soon. It’s time. Now or never.” The dark figure pointed to a small rough island protruding above the waves, the dark maw of a cave becoming increasingly visible as the waves receded.
“Be back soon.” Juda stepped up to the low rail around the deck and dropped into the water with a quiet splash. The water was cool, but became cold the lower her dense body sank. She let the water lift her hair, and caress her skin, before it buoyed her back to the surface. She swam efficiently towards the cave, cutting through the currents. Dangerous to humans, fun for her.
Eventually the ground came up to meet her, bands of rough barnacles and broken shells, then sand that sucked at her feet. The sand became more solid underneath her feet the closer she got to touching the island. She followed the wall of the cave, until it narrowed to a small crawl space that fed through a large fissure in the rock.
Juda touched the magic, felt the wall of it push against her. There had been no instructions, no old texts, no whispered prophecies, no tales to tell her how this part went. She trusted her magic, a deep magic ability to find treasure, to guide her further than any supernatural before her.
Coughing and sputtering, Connor landed on ground that was mushy then rough, his clothes sodden. He had followed Juda closely as she cut through the water like a blade—he was more like a spoon—a fast spoon. She had swum into the cavern, a deep rocky overhang covering a moody, sandy shore. He shook himself, forgetting his form, then stopped and dripped onto the ground. Soon… soon he could let himself out. Connor coughed again, feeling the muscles of his calves wanting to cramp from the cold. Above him, the cavern ceiling still dripped, knots of roots snaking through erosions in basalt. He fought the urge to turn back; spelunking in the mountains to the east was different—they didn’t fill with water.
Juda was facing a large fissure deeper in the cavern, arms spread out and splayed against the air. She pressed, the muscles of her back straining. Water was still dripping down exposed flesh, running along the edges of her swimsuit, down her sandy calves and feet. He thought about the dapper man he met in the hotel, controlled with a feral edge. Would his back be as well defined and strong? Juda turned away from the fissure to watch him approach, her full lips pressed together.
“Is it in there?” He looked around her to the fissure, it reached deep into the sand and ran up into the rock high above. Light was brightening the sky but not penetrating the darkness of the space between the rocks.
“There is a larger access point here, hidden by magic.”
“Do I shift? Say a spell?”
Juda raised an eyebrow considering him and shook her head. “No. Witch magic works by intent, it’s similar to the Fae’s Lore but more natural and intuitive.” Juda reached out a long fingered hand towards him, an invitation. “Wolf, will you take my hand?”
Connor clasped her hand in his, felt the current of her magic travel up his arm, exploring. She led him back to the wall and braced her free hand against the invisible barrier. He watched her eyes distantly focused, shift back and forth, as though she were reading.
“What does it say?”
Wind from the sea swept up around them cool and salty, a hint of summer in the air. Awareness filled Juda’s light brown eyes and she looked into him, calculating and imploring. “I need more, I need you.”
The spell whispered into her mind as a cacophony of words, music, images, and warnings. Underneath the swirling currents of information, the spell tasted her, and she offered up the part of herself that had been born in this world. Raw magic recognized her as a witch—validation flooded her—she had known this part of her since her feet first touched the soil of the human world.
Juda pressed into the barrier. It didn’t give. Let me in. I’m home. I’m witch.
But witch, it whispered back to her, You are witch and…other.
Needles pricked at her, trying to examine the parts she hid from the spell, while she furiously tried to untangle the instructions. Did she need to bleed the wolf? The spell was not recognizing the wolf and it was dangerously close to learning too much about her.
The wolf’s voice broke into her thoughts. “What can I do?”
Power was beginning to stab at the soles of her feet, a warning, a threat that other was not welcome here. It would rip her apart and keep her witch, discarding the rest. “I need to show the spell you are here with me, show it your power. Will you kiss me?” Juda whispered, fear and exhilaration making her tremble.
Connor’s brows furrowed for a moment, then a slight smile lifted his face. He stepped against her, pressed into her body the way they had touched in the stairway, and lowered his face to hers. Juda dropped her hand from the barrier and let go of Connor’s hand to pull his lips to hers. All she had to do was let go of her tight control and their mouths crashed together. It was electric, powerful, and she found his Wild surging to meet her own. With their lips locked, Juda pulled his wolf into her and leaned back into the barrier—the spell broke beneath their weight, and they fell to the sand.
Nimble and fast, Juda untangled herself and got back to her feet, brushing the sand from her body and laughing. She twirled once with her hands outstretched and stopped facing the space where the fissure had been. A newly visible tunnel stood open before her. That was it? A kiss? She would have dropped to her knees in front of the wolf had that been what the key needed—she’d been prepared to. Possibly, a little disappointed that it hadn’t needed that.
Juda moved towards the opening then paused. She could not leave the wolf here, that was not the plan. Connor was sitting in the sand, his blue eyes wide and his mouth slack, awestruck. Guilt touched her and she pushed it away. Her path forward had no room for guilt.
Connor had never felt a kiss like that, felt his wolf pour into her and through her into the universe where he had run between the stars before collapsing back into himself—then he was on the ground. He reached two sandy fingers up to his lips which tingled pleasantly. “I-…” He thought about the way his body had sung when the fox Fae had touched him, a feeling he had never thought he’d feel again. His family had warned him—he used the thought of his pack to ground himself, the feel of the wet sand, the morning breeze meeting the smell of something old from the tunnel ahead.
Why did he react this way to non-wolfkind? The last thing he needed was another supernatural tearing him further away from his family. Connor cleared his throat and got up. He needed to be faster, colder, smarter. The smell of smoke on the wind put the brakes on his internal pep talk. He swung towards the faint smell that was growing stronger. In the distance, far past the white motorboat, was dark smoke on the horizon; ash floating up into the new summer dawn.
Was the island burning? “Carrackagna!” Connor ran into the surf. The island was burning! There were supes there, kids maybe, Rom and the weird twins. “We have to go back!”
“It’s Carrag’nah. A building must be on fire. Don’t worry, they will handle it.” Juda’s expression was guarded, her body turned towards the tunnel. “Are you coming? Because that’s a long way to swim, Aquaman.”
Connor watched Juda disappear into the shadows then he looked back at the smoke. It dug at the wound of watching his pack’s shelters dying away in smoke and embers while the living swelled together to put out the fires. My pack. Resolutely, he nodded; he needed to make sure that never happened again. Connor turned away from the distant island and followed Juda inside.
Connor caught up to Juda as she wound up a steep and narrow path carved through the basalt. It dipped low and they climbed down several jagged steps chiseled into the rock. He thought of some of the evils he had seen in the past year of his life, things he had never imagined when he was in the safety of his pack—when the worst foes he could imagine were the wolves across the river. He followed Juda’s scent when it became dark, his feet finding the footpath made from hard stone, his ears catching the faint sound of her foot falls. It smelled like dirt, iron, and moss—damp and old.
A fresh breeze met his face, and he lifted his face to it. Light was flickering ahead; he saw Juda climbing another stone ladder and disappearing quietly into an opening above. The path from the sea to this opening had been a roller coaster of dips and climbs, was this the last one?
A sharp gasp reached him, and he sprinted to the ladder. Was there a trap? He climbed up into an open space and found Juda’s beautiful form basked in a golden glow, her eyes glittering in the light of treasure.
Gold coins, some light and others tarnished, cut and uncut gems. Juda had seen human movies about treasure hunting that were less extravagant and impressive than this. A treasure trove, brimming with shimmering, scarce resources from this world and others. It spilled from piles tucked in alcoves, tumbled from built-in shelves, and out of chests. Gilded art intermingled with a latticework of necklaces and crowns, some shining in the growing light from the hole in the ceiling above and others glowing from within. Juda identified swooping stacks of human riches from across eras, Fae weapons, and beautiful, old books and scrolls. Tucked amongst the known treasures was another artifact, one from worlds she had not yet been to—it smelled of stardust. Excitement cut through her to her core, her Wild swimming up to the surface and fighting for control.
“Is this it?” Juda’s eyes alighted on the wolf standing next to a small pedestal, clearly set elevated from the rest. Could the wolf feel how it was magically different from the rest? Gilded-to-the-gods and embedded with deep red gems, Faeless’ scepter had a thick dark green shaft and a prominent, orbed head. It represented everything coveted in Faery—gold and visible opulence. Faeless, the long-dead, doomed king, must have been making up for something.
Juda moved towards the scepter in a daze, her mind heavy and focused on the artifact. Could she touch it? Would she be able to stop herself? Her Wild was resistant to most curses placed on hidden artifacts; it could not hurt her. Juda reached for it and Connor slapped her hand away.
Shocked, Juda stared at the wolf.
He blocked a second attempt to grab the rod. “Are you fucking insane?” He snapped. “Do you live under a rock?” He glanced at the basalt around them then looked back at her. “What if it’s booby trapped? That is the only other exit.” Connor pointed at the ceiling high above, a human-sized hole filtering in bright light. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t fly. Do your magic thing first before you get us killed.”
Juda gave Connor a significant glare, put her hands out, and felt something. There were remnants of the cave spell with the powerful artifact’s magic burning beneath it. Alone, the scepter was slowly eating away at the fabric of the obscuring spell and reaching out in search of…? It was confused magic, changed by the human world, and by the supernaturals that hid it. Oh, how the newer magic wanted a shifter—a wolf shifter—as promised. Images flitted through her head, the taste of Faeless’ sickly magic signature, and a desperate need for the magic to be put to use. What was its real use? That older magic, it wanted a Fae. A toxic tendril of old power pulled at her, greedy, and aggressive. It warred with the other magic which told her to pass the scepter to the wolf; a shifter was meant to wield this power now. Juda wrapped her hand around the scepter and lifted it from its stand. Damn it, no, she was meant to wield it. Juda was everything—shifter, witch, and Fae. Fae. The magic and the spell protecting the scepter from Fae saw her then, all of her, and screamed.
Faster than he knew possible, Juda lashed out a hand to block his arm and grabbed the scepter. The cacophonous rush of water deafened him and the ground trembled, loose dirt falling from crevices in the high ceiling. Juda looked at him wide eyed and he stared back at a loss for words. It had been booby trapped! It took only seconds for water to fill the passageway behind them and bubble up into the hole before it stilled. Their only exit had been flooded, hidden deep under a small body of sea water. Connor sighed. “At least it stopped? I don’t suppose you can hold your breath a long time?”
Juda felt the weight of the scepter and considered the water. “The tide is out, it’s the lowest tide of the year, we will be in for some excitement soon.”
Connor swallowed hard and looked up at the hole far above. “When the water rises, we can escape, swim to the top.”
“It was sealed, or I would have come in that way and done this without you.”
A mantle of calm settled around Connor, a weighted feeling that came on during crises, and quieted his mind. “The seal may have been broken when we entered.”
“Maybe.” Juda said, turning her attention back to the scepter. Her long fingers caressed the gold details, a gentle possessiveness. A small part of him wanted to wrestle it from her hands, but the rest was unsure what the sands of time had in mind. Would he even live long enough to see his pack again, let alone offer them the ultimate protection?
Gingerly, Juda set down the scepter. “The spell may fade, or we may drown. What do you want to do with the last few minutes of your life?”
Desire pulsed through him, hot and hurried. He didn’t need to be asked twice.
Juda watched Connor peel out of his damp clothes, pulling his shirt over his head, and unfastening his pants. Salt had dried to his hair, tightening the existing curl, almost like the curls of a cherub around a devilish face. Connor stepped out of his pants; dark gray boxers pressed wet to his stiffening cock.
She sank to her knees, scattered gold coins biting into her, the pain delicious. As she sunk down, she pulled her swimsuit top off and discarded it. She had her treasure and she had this—even if it was only for this moment. “May I?” A ripple of electricity passed across Connor’s blue eyes, power, and affirmation. Juda coveted this as much as she coveted gold. She hooked her hands on the elastic of his boxers. Teased them down until the fabric pressed down on him and his cock sprung free.
Juda stroked a hand down his bare hip, down his length, and licked the underside of his cock. He was salty from the sea and then some. Hands wound in her hair, pushing his cock deeper between her lips and against her teeth. She resisted his change in speed. Juda wouldn’t be controlled. She sunk her mouth around him, pulled back, and sunk down again.
An inarticulate sound escaped Connor’s mouth. She felt him touch the side of her face, then pull his hand away. Too intimate. His hand found the side of her face again and he pulled himself free from her mouth. Dangerous. Her Wild kept what it took.
Connor kicked off his boxers and dropped to his knees in front of her. The clink of coins sending shivers up her back. “If this is going to be the last time…” His voice was tender, hoarse. “Let me make love to you.”
Juda leaned back on her heels, the unfamiliar feeling of shock making her feel cold. Connor searched her face then let his eyes travel down her body, stopping on her swimsuit bottoms before he leaned into her. His cock stood stiffly, between them, ready. “No.” Juda said. “You can worship me, or you can fuck me.”
Connor traced the back of his hand down one of Juda’s breasts, brown eyes smoldering. “I could always do both.”
“Don’t speak, Connor.”
The sound of his name coming from between her lips sent a shudder through his body. He let his hand fall to her waist then pulled her to him. Their lips crashed together, teeth knocking clumsily around warring tongues. Roughly, Juda pushed Connor down onto a pile of coins, a cold bed slid beneath his weight.
Juda pulled down her swim bottoms and straddled him in the same fluid motion. His cock rested against her soft pubic hair. Juda thrilled him. Reaching between them, she slid her fingers between them and inside herself. He felt her fist against his balls, her wetness against his thighs. She drove her fingers in several times then pulled them out to show him the slickness. Transfixed, he watched her trace a slick wet finger around his cock then take his shaft in her fist.
With him covered in her wetness, Juda lifted her pelvis, inched forward, and guided him to the opening of her cunt. His palms brushed her hips wanting to grip her ass, wanting to pull her to him. Juda knocked his hands away and he let them fall back into the coins. Slowly, so slowly it hurt him, Juda pressed the head of his cock against her opening. She lowered her body onto him, his head sliding in with little resistance. Suddenly, Juda stopped her descent and then lifted her pelvis. Connor’s cock almost slid out, nestled into the folds of her entrance. “How badly do you want me to ruin your life?” She’d warned him and he wanted her. He’d offered to love her in this moment, she demanded to be worshiped instead.
Connor’s breath quickened, he dreamed about the dangerous possibilities of the body that held him. Juda, an answer to every need, to fuck and be fucked by Juda. “Ruin me.”
Juda dropped down, driving him inside her to the hilt. She stretched around him and her head fell back as she rode him. Her ass slapped against his thighs. She rode him like a shifter—hard, fast, and precise—he felt the call of her beast to his wolf. His wolf had known she had not been just a witch and just then, he was grateful to let them be consumed by their monsters.
The treasure around them reflected multi-colored hues across her undulating body; golds, reds, blues, and greens. Connor watched her, transfixed by the dance of her body above him. Juda’s head rolled to the side; her eyes half-lidded, glittering and possessive.
Juda ran her hands over his chest. Tweaked his nipples. Her palms moved down his abs until one of her long-fingered hands touched where they joined. Connor’s balls tighten, his body wanting to give at the sight of her—he gritted his teeth, his breath hissing out. She was touching herself while she rode him, rubbing between her folds. Juda’s breath hitched, her body shuddering around Connor’s cock.
Juda stilled above him, breathing heavily with her eyes still closed.
“You can touch me.” She braced her hands against his chest and lowered her face down to his. The brown of her eyes looked gold in this light. Or were they gold? She squeezed him inside of her, pulled his cock deep into her, and any thoughts he may have had evaporated.
Connor gently touched her back, uncertain. He was not denied this time. When she didn’t throw him off, he dragged his nails down her bare flesh, down the curve of her ass. Finally, he gripped her ass like he had wanted to, hiked her up and off balance, and rolled them over. She laughed as she hit the coins, her body bumping the pedestal, and the scepter fell to the ground. With sharp nails, she drew a line down her breasts to her groin and spread her thighs. Connor took a fleeting moment to look at Juda splayed against the gold, amongst crowns, and swords. Her hypnotizing eyes, salt crinkled hair, her striking face amused and free of burden. Juda was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
Licking his lips, his throat dry, he dropped between her legs. He gently nudged his face into her folds, teasing, and pressed his flattened tongue along the line between her opening and swollen clit. She made a sound and he stilled, a low moan rumbled down into her core. He flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, and she jumped. Then with patience, he settled down into her, probing her cunt with his tongue. Drawing lazy wet circles around her taut, swollen flesh. Nipping, sucking, licking.
Long fingers wound into his hair, pulling, and kneading as Juda began to rock her pussy in time with his movements. He felt her abdomen tighten, felt her breathing change, and slipped two fingers into her body, then added a third. When three fit too easily and she began to thrash against his mouth, he pressed in a fourth. With his thumb below his chin, he turned his palm upward to rub his fingers against the rough spot just inside her. Every thrust of his hand and lick of his mouth drove her closer to the edge. Juda squeezed her thighs against him, shaking—then fell limp underneath him. He gave her clit a test lick and she jumped, the bundle of nerves alive, not yet settled.
A harsh whisper came from Juda’s dry lips, she licked them. “Wolf…” Her hand patted the scattered treasures beside her, finally finding and grabbing ahold of the scepter. Connor’s eyes followed every sway of her hand. At first, Connor thought she was going to swing the scepter like a bat, instead she dropped it into his hands. The scepter came alive, glowing and warm in his hands. Magic sung through him, he felt peace, and power. He knew he could protect everyone, maybe even the mysterious supernatural below him. “Connor…” His name snapped his attention back to Juda’s molten eyes. Whatever her beast was, it was there, in her eyes and seeing him.
Juda opened her legs, spread her wet folds with her fingers, and invited Connor to defile the memory of the doomed king with her body. And he did. Connor held the head of the scepter in his hands, warming it with his body, then lowered it like a king about to knight his subject. He ran the large orb between her labia, then against her engorged clit. Their combined body fluids made the head of the scepter slick and Connor pressed it to her opening. Their eyes locked, his blue and hers gold. “Alright, wolf, you’ve worshiped me. Now fuck me.”
Connor pressed the scepter into her pussy, she stretched, and this time let out a guttural moan. The scepter opened her body, rough gems bumped deliciously along her walls, and power flowed through her and into her. Bracing himself above her and between her legs, Connor tested a slow thrust then a deeper thrust. It was not until he plunged in with a subtle upward twist, he found a driving pace that had Juda writhing beneath him. She thought of the Fae, of her bed of gold, of Connor between her legs and let out a roar of triumph. Connor wasn’t only between her legs, he was inside her, his power was ripping the universe apart to explore her. She could taste him, feel his pleasure, feel his effort to keep his straining cock from spilling cum across her stomach. She wanted him. Fuck Faeless. Fuck the mission. Fuck the Fae. Fuck the scepter. The only royal rod she wanted inside her was Connor’s thick cock.
“Fuck me.” Juda demanded, biting out the words and pushing away the scepter. It slid out of her and Connor discarded it like used trash—and it was, used and wet. Glistening. Juda’s body commanded it, her Wild willed it. She would have this wolf. “Fuck me.”
Hiking her legs up against his sides, Connor drove into her with desperate wanting. After the scepter, he slid into her more easily, fitting inside her body seamlessly. Juda pulled him tight against her and buried her face into his neck. She kissed and bit the pulse she found beating hard there. Connor’s body began to shake, then he moaned. He was as loud as she could be quiet, and she loved it. She wanted him to scream for her. Juda bucked up against him, meeting his thrusts. Juda bit his ear, digging her claws into his shoulders. “I’ll ruin you, Connor. Now scream for me.”
Connor cried out, spilling into her with a few deep long strokes. He lowered himself atop her, rubbing his cheek into her hair. Juda turned into the movement. Was he memorizing the scent of their sex like she was? She inhaled him deeply, then pushed him off.
The water had risen while they fucked, touching the edges of mounded coins. Now, they were on one of many islands with warm sunlight filtering in through the hole above. Each gold peak had standing water between, still passable on foot, but the piles were becoming less stable. It occurred to him the treasure trove had not been wet before they arrived.
Connor laid belly down in the coins, a large emerald dug into his rib, his hand draped into an ugly crown, but he didn’t care. Juda pushing him away after a tender moment had not surprised him—not with the depth of her duality. His foggy brain wanted to pull him into sleep, but he turned his head to see Juda laying naked nearby. He scooted closer, leaving s-like waves in the coins, a large wolffish grin on his face.
Light brown eyes flicked to him, then back to the treasure—they were human looking again. Her eyes seemed to be cataloging everything she saw, examining the cuts of gems. She rolled one large rough coin across her knuckles. “Stop leering at me.” She looked at the face of the coin.
“Why? I have many reasons to give you lascivious looks.” Juda didn’t respond, the silence heavy. “May I ask you a question?”
“No.”
Inside, his wolf was also deeply satisfied, but curiosity moved him. “My wolf has a question.”
Juda laughed lightly. “Oh, in that case—No.”
Connor sighed, rolling onto his back. Coins stuck to him where sweat had dried.
“Fine. Ask.”
Connor sat up, looking down at her. He swept an appreciative look down her body. “Will you fuck me?”
Juda tossed the coin and slapped it to the back of her opposite hand, peeking underneath. The sun had risen further and the coin glinted in its light. “Is that what your wolf wants to know?”
“No, I lied.”
“You’ll be an abysmal thief, if you can’t lie.”
Connor glanced at the scepter, dangerously close to the water’s edge. “I’ll be the best thief you’ll ever meet—better than you.” Catching himself staring, he looked back into Juda’s eyes. Earlier, those eyes had been the color of molten gold. It was a kind of color he had never seen on a shifter though yellow eyes were not uncommon. “Until then. Will you fuck me?”
Juda’s eyes were distant. “I already have.”
Connor settled around her, draping an arm across her abdomen. He smiled, wide, and open. It conveyed all the spice and hope and charm he had inside to share. He inhaled the scent of rosemary, mint, and treasure. “No. I mean will you fuck me with your cock—I want all of you.” Juda startled, turning the full weight of her focus to him. Where had her mind been? “And not as payment either. I’m still getting paid—” A memory cut off his racing thoughts and he jumped to his feet to snag his pants. He unzipped one stiff pocket and fished out the coin and returned to a seated Juda.
Juda had been watching him closely, her features sharp. “What is that?” Connor held his pants in one hand and in the other held out the coin Maggie had given him; Juda did not reach for it. “Who gave you that?” One side of the coin was stamped with an intricate ’13’ and on the other side was a roughly carved ‘O.’
“Maggie. To give to you.”
“That meddling trash panda.”
It was Connor’s turn to startle. Maggie had saved his life and had given him this opportunity. “Don’t talk like that about Maggie.”
Juda tilted her head, her eyes distant again, when she looked up at him there was a sly sparkle. She did not apologize. Instead, she closed his fist around the coin and squeezed with emphasis. “Keep it. You may need it. This is a coin from the 13th House, there are not many marked by Omen’s hand. It can be traded for favors—not the sexual kind.” Juda flipped her hand at him dismissively.
Connor pulled on his pants, tucking the coin safely away, and rolled up his pant legs. Perhaps the coin was the third greatest treasure in their death cave. Was that romantic? “I’m going to go take a piss. I’ll be back.”
Juda watched Connor disappear into an alcove, the sounds of coins like music under his feet. She had known it was a race to see who absconded with the scepter first.
If there had been time left, Juda would have fulfilled Connor’s request. She would have shifted her body and fucked him until the water took them, but her delicate hearing caught sounds of incoming company. She stood up, stretched luxuriously, and walked to the scepter. Without disturbing coins, she picked up Faeless’ scepter, and let the Wild change take her halfway.
It had been a full season since she had released her Wild, a precaution she had taken to ensure the key spell worked. Magic took seconds to explode from her center, transforming her hips, and changing her hind legs. Talons extended from each finger and toe. Scales rippled downward from their jaw, laying down flat across their partially transitioned form like obsidian armor.
In this form, Juda encompassed all aspects of themselves. Wholly witch, Fae, and dragon—encompassing the spectrum of all they were. To each side, large dark wings snapped out, the wings of an ancient reptile. With a pump of their powerful wings, they were airborne and traveling upward, toward the escape route in the cavern’s roof.
“Juda!” Connor was running out of the alcove, faster than she had thought a werewolf could run, desperately trying to fasten his fly and catch them. He slipped on coins, splashing into shallow water. Juda was too high.
The Wild of Juda’s dragon bubbled up inside and then spilled out in a mischievous laugh, a deeply resonant sound. It was the sound of an incoming storm, thunder on the horizon. “You will have to become a much better thief to best me, Wolf.”
“You’re Fae.” Connor sputtered. He slowed to a stop to watch the dragon’s ascent.
“Silly wolf.” Came the sibilant reply. “I’m Juda.”
“I thought we were on a first name basis.” Connor called up at them, his voice bleeding with anger. “You weren’t kidding about fucking me! Are you just going to leave me here?”
“Yes.” I can’t have you near the scepter.
Below Juda, Connor shifted in a blur of magic and fur. A massive sandy colored werewolf snapped its jaws in the air, threatening.
It was Juda’s turn to leer down at Connor. “If you live and we meet again, I’ll be happy to fuck you. And just so you can have something to dream about I’ll let you know a secret…” Juda’s voice trailed off, lost in the sounds of growling and the wind. “I’m bigger.”
Then Juda slipped out the hole, making one sweeping and glorious low soar by the surf before locating the Luxury Yak and landing. Luce was leaning against the ladder. “Took you long enough.” He inhaled and grimaced. “You smell like—”
“Unless you want details, shut it,” Juda growled, holding the scepter up for inspection.
Luce nodded, an indecipherable look passing over his face as he examined the details of the scepter. “You will need to keep the scepter. I cannot touch it.”
“I know, but I don’t think I can wield it. It wanted the wolf.”
“With those royal wits, you will figure it out.”
Juda hissed, but it was without energy. “I’m not royalty.”
“I do not know, Juda. You do what you want, when you want, your dragon hoard requires a fleet of vehicles to move, you were born of the royal few of the Fae house, and released several protective spells keyed to royal blood. Semantics, as I believe you said before?”
“Stop listening in on my conversations.”
“The coast guard is on its way to the Necklace with Conclave aboard—they will pick up the wolf for arson and crimes against the residents of Carrag’nah.” Luce side-eyed Juda, something like humor and disapproval in his eyes. “They will dispose of him properly.” He brushed off a shudder, then entered the internal passage of the yacht.
Juda sat back in their preferred seat, wide legged, and released the Wild. It allowed the shift to follow the dragon’s deep sense of balance.
When Juda opened his light brown eyes, he looked at the cloudless sky of the longest day of the year, then down at his thick stiffening cock. There would be no disposing of the wolf. It may take time, but Connor would figure it out. “Maybe or maybe not so intelligent, but still fucking cute.”
Juda laid the heavy scepter across his naked thighs, the details of the artifact vivid in the morning light. Juda sighed, his temporary satiety dissolved by memories and a fresh fantasy. He took himself in his hand, started a leisurely stroke, and imagined burying himself deep in Connor’s ass.
Connor was lifted naked, clutching the remnants of his pants, out of the cave by coast guards who looked suspiciously familiar in their human glamor. One was without eyebrows, as though the body hair was an overlooked detail. Rom handed him light blue scrubs then cuffed him with warnings that shifting would result in a bullet between his eyes for breaking Assembly law. Aside from generally pissing off the inhabitants of Carrag’nah, they would not tolerate him exposing magic to humans.
Arson! He was arrested for arson, but no one would tell him what he allegedly burned down with his non-existent pyrogenic powers. He had been in a hole in the ground, left to drown, or starve. They put him in a small room, one barred window facing the sea. It was without furnishings and had one ominous drain in a slanted floor.
Somehow, being caged felt worse than being trapped and drowning. Swimming, fucking, and being betrayed had left him with a vicious moodiness. A seagull shrieked in the distance, and he gave his shackles a light shake in the direction with mumbled threats. He hated seagulls.
Connor eyed the small heap of fabric that used to be clothes. He had been careless with his shift and now he did not have his backpack, left aboard the stupid boat, his clothes and keepsakes gone. A flash of gold caught his eye, poking out from a torn pocket of his pants. With limited mobility, Conor twisted the cuffs until he could use his fingers to free the coin from its hiding place.
He felt a stirring of memories, warm fingers squeezing the coin into his hands, and frantically got to his feet. Closing the coin in his fist, he banged on the door. “Barkeep! Rom!”
A hollow laugh came from the other side of the door. Rom. “Are you wasting your coin so soon? You don’t know what you’re asking for, pup. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
Connor felt it in his gut. A thrill of excitement, a deep ache of wanting, and an even deeper desire for revenge. “Yes, I do! I’m owed a favor. And a fucking baguette!”
(or is it…?)
Ardella Dark is an urban fantasy author that uses their NeuroQueer superpowers to create landscapes branded with angst, humor, and romance. A.D.’s formative years were spent writing slash fanfiction, blaring alternative metal, reading Anne Bishop and Laurell K. Hamilton, and watching anime, Nick at Nite, and Tales from the Crypt.