Wanted: Wild Thing

Chapter Five

We need a portal,” Hugh told me. “Something we can step through to the other side.” He examined my small living room. “Your dwelling is strange and full of angles. You pick what we use.”

“What about the front door?” I suggested.

He shook his head. “You can only use a portal spell on an object once every day. It won’t hold otherwise.”

Odd. Okay. I considered my small condo. The kitchen and dining room were open to the living room, so that was out. My back door was sliding glass that led out to the balcony, so I wasn’t sure if that would do. “Maybe the bedroom? Or my closet?” The bathroom seemed too weird.

Hugh shrugged and looked at me, waiting.

“Closet,” I said firmly. I led him there, feeling a blush come to my cheeks. This was the first time I’d ever brought a man to my bedroom, and we were about to take a trip to a fairy realm. Not exactly what I’d imagined.

Still, learning about Hugh’s people would help me understand him more. And if I knew what made him tick, maybe I could figure out what he wanted so badly that he’d agree to work for a man he clearly disliked.

And then maybe I could make a counteroffer.

It didn’t fix all my problems—I still had to find my True Love, or at least a man to take my virginity while I was in my scaly form—but it was a start.

I had to admit, though, I was pretty curious about Hugh.

I gestured at my closet door and Hugh moved in front of me. There was something wild about Hugh . . . and it wasn’t just his very obvious cat-shifter side. Maybe it was the way he moved, or the fact that his clawed feet were still bare, or those tufts at the square of his jaw and the wild braids in the tangle of his striped hair. There was something about him that screamed feral and predator, and it appealed to me despite my love for pink and fluffy things. He was neither, but . . . I liked that about him.

As I watched, Hugh took off his necklace. He lifted one arm (which was thick with muscle and deeply tanned) and traced the garnet around the edges of the door, including the carpeted floor. Once he’d made a perfect rectangle, he stepped back and put the necklace on again.

I crossed my arms over my chest, looking at my closet door skeptically. “Nothing happened.”

“Patience, little changeling,” he said with amusement. He looked down at me. “And remember—”

“I know; we can’t talk about this.” I held my pinky out. “You can trust me. Pinky swear.”

“I was going to caution you to stay close to me.” He eyed my outstretched finger. “What is a pinky swear?”

“Oh. Um.” I lowered my hand. “You lock your little finger with another person’s and it’s an agreement.”

“A binding agreement?”

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed. “Totally binding.”

He held his claw-tipped pinky out to me. “Then I shall do this pinky swear with you.”

Touching Hugh could trigger my changeling side . . . unless he was my True Love, like the fortune-teller had told me. I hesitated, then extended my pinky. Just another frog to kiss. As his finger linked with mine, I immediately felt my monster ripple under my skin. I ripped my hand away, shaking it as if it had been burned.

So Hugh wasn’t The One. I ignored the disappointment in my gut. I still had a month to kiss frogs. I was going to be okay. I was.

“Are you well?”

“Touching someone does bad things to me,” I reminded him.

“Changeling,” he agreed. “I thought it only affected you if you were attracted?”

My face grew hot. That was how it was supposed to work, yeah. “Maybe mine’s just really sensitive right now,” I muttered.

“Perhaps,” Hugh said.

How embarrassing. I crossed my arms over my chest again, staring at my closet door and waiting.

Sure enough, as moments ticked past, it began to change. It was subtle at first. I heard the sound of crickets and smelled damp moss. Fog began to spill out of my closet, and stars began to twinkle as the sound of rustling leaves drew my attention. I stepped forward in wonder, staring at the space where my closet door hinged.

It was like watching a slowly developing photograph. It darkened into shadow and slowly changed, and I began to pick out scenery. Wet, swampy marshlands in the distance. Large, leafy trees rustling in a breeze that now ruffled my hair. It was nighttime in that other realm, and the mist was full of fireflies.

“Holy cow,” I breathed. “That is so cool.”

“Fae magic is quite impressive,” Hugh said in a flat voice that implied that he found it anything but. “Follow. Stay close to me.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I wanted to put my hand in his, but I couldn’t touch him. So I grabbed one of his bell-shaped, heavily embroidered sleeves and clasped it as he moved forward.

We stepped through the portal, and I was hit by a wall of humidity. Immediately, I blanched. I was accustomed to air-conditioning in the summer. This . . . felt disgusting. It was so starkly humid that I could practically feel the dampness in the air sliding over my skin. It was at least ninety degrees, too. “Ugh. Is it summer here?”

“We do not have seasons like your realm does. It is always like this,” Hugh said, his voice sounding hollow as we stepped through. “Stay close.”

I glanced behind us. The portal was fading as we stepped away, my comforting, cheery bedroom disappearing as I stared at it. That made me nervous. “How do we get back?”

“We find another place to make a portal.” Hugh strode forward, jerking his sleeve out of my grasp before I could protest. “Come. Follow.”

I followed as best I could, though it didn’t take long before I was lagging behind. For one, it was clear that changelings didn’t have the night vision that primordials did. I couldn’t see a thing beyond a few feet ahead, and I had to focus to keep Hugh in my sights. My sneaker pumps, not made for this kind of terrain, squished on the muddy ground and sank a bit with each step. This was some sort of disgusting swamp, I decided, judging by the immense number of bugs that flew through the air and started to land on my skin. An enormous dragonfly buzzed past, startling the hell out of me. A fly as big as a canary landed on my arm and I yelped, slapping it away.

“Hssst,” Hugh said, turning to glare at me. His eyes gleamed like saucers in the low light.

“I’m not used to bugs that size,” I told him, raking a hand down my arm again. My skin was tingling and damp, and I didn’t know if I was sweating or if it was just the humidity. Either way, it was gross.

Then my back suddenly ached, my tracksuit jacket growing tight over my shoulder blades. My skin rippled and I dropped to my knees, a low moan of fear escaping my throat.

Hugh was at my side immediately, his hands going to my waist as he tried to bring me back to my feet. “Ryder?”

I slapped his hands away and collapsed again. “Don’t touch me!”

My beast was coming. Oh, God, oh, God. In front of Hugh, too. Shame wracked me, mixed with pain and fear. My hands crept over my face to shield it from his gaze. Not now. Not in front of someone else.

“Are you changing forms?” Hugh asked, his voice low. One big hand touched my back.

I shied away from his grasp, hunching low and folding my body tight. Maybe if I concentrated hard, I could get this under control. Even as I told myself this, my mouth filled with hot, metallic blood, and fangs tore through my gums. “Don’t look at me,” I whimpered. “I—I’ll be fine in a minute.”

To my surprise, a big, heavy hand stroked my damp hair. “I worried that this might happen,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to concern you, but . . . the fae realms have a strong effect on most. Your other side is emerging because this place calls to it.”

“Take me back,” I moaned. I didn’t want to be this thing. “Please.”

“We have to find another gate,” he told me. That big hand stroked my hair again, trying to soothe me. “Are you afraid I will think you are hideous?”

Was he kidding? I knew I was hideous. The creature I turned into had hard, scaly skin, horns on its forehead, and bony protrusions on its cheekbones. Ugly, membranous wings shuddered and pushed through my skin, my shoulders on fire, my clothing tight. My tail bulged and snaked along one leg of my pants, trying to emerge. And all over, my skin ached as it scaled over and turned hard.

A sob escaped my throat, humiliation burning through me. My body hurt, my soul hurt, and to make matters worse, I was going to have to rip off my clothing. “Hugh,” I moaned, my clawed hands flexing. My voice had gotten raspy and deep, my vocal cords shifting to something more feral. “You should get away.”

“I am not afraid of your tiny claws, little changeling,” Hugh said with amusement. “Mine are much bigger.”

“I . . . need to take my clothes off,” I rasped. My wings ached, desperate to escape, and it took everything I had not to rip through my top like the Hulk. “Please . . . don’t look.”

“I will have to look at some point,” Hugh told me, and that big hand stroked my hair again. His thumb brushed against my cheek—my hard, ridged cheek. “Will it make you feel better if I confess that this tunic is not mine? Finian insisted I wear it. My people do not normally wear clothing. Trust me when I say your natural form will not offend me.”

A giggle escaped me, the sound a deep gurgle in my throat. The thought of a big, scary Hugh stalking naked behind prissy Finian was utterly amusing.

“Good,” he said in response to my chuckle. “Then you will not mind if I change as well.”

And before I could look up, his tunic landed on the ground.

I raised my head to look at his naked body, but the transformation split through me and my vision blurred as pain flashed. I tore at my clothing, ripping it with my claws and not caring that I was destroying it. Then I was naked and panting, crouched on the ground, but at least I was no longer in pain. I lifted a hand, studying my transformation.

That had been the most painful, most difficult one yet. It wasn’t hard to see why. Normally my skin transformed gradually, in patches, scales mixing with my pale skin until it was all changed. In the fae realm, I was completely morphed in seconds. My arms gleamed with scales, and the leathery wings on my back felt larger than ever. Here I had a full-length tail lashing behind me instead of a half-formed stump. I touched my face; it felt foreign, gargoyle-ish. Hideous. I looked down at my body. Wet, gleaming scales covered my chest. Even my nipples were hard little scaly points.

I shuddered, my hands going to my hair—only to meet up with twisted horns that jutted from my forehead. I choked back a sob. I was revolting.

Big, clawed toes appeared in the corner of my vision. “Can you walk now? We should get moving.”

“Give me just a minute,” I said, and my voice was rough, not my own. A ripple of loathing moved through me, and I forced myself to get to my feet—my scaly, unnatural feet—and stand. I’d have to show him my hideous form at some point. Might as well do it now. I lifted my head . . .

And found that, despite his proximity, he didn’t look over at me. His face was carefully turned away.

God, I was worse than I’d thought. I bit my lip, only to wince at the pain it caused. Was I so hideous even to him that he wouldn’t look at me? My pride, already battered, hurt worse than my newly transformed body.

To make matters even worse, Hugh wasn’t hideous in the least. Since his gaze was averted, I openly stared. His chest was broadly massive, and lightly furred with that same stripey coloration his hair had. I’d missed the chance to stare at his privates, I realized too late, so I ogled his legs instead. They were thick and strong, and surprisingly long, given the barrel-like massiveness of the rest of his body. His powerful thighs flexed as he turned to reveal a tight, delicious ass that made me feel all kinds of wild longings. I wanted to touch him for some reason, and my hand lifted involuntarily. He was sinfully gorgeous naked.

And I . . . was a scaly beast. I lowered my hand.

“Can you walk now?” Hugh asked. “We’ve much ground to cover.”

“I can walk,” I said, my words slurred around my fangs. “Where are we going?”

“To my tribemates.”

“Lead on, then.”

He nodded and tilted his head, his messy hair rippling in the breeze as he sniffed. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the low light, and I wished that changelings had shifters’ gifts. My hearing wasn’t extra keen, I couldn’t smell anything on the air but moss, and I still couldn’t see more than a foot in front of myself.

I loathed every bit of being a changeling. There were no advantages. None. I might be stronger, like Hugh had said, but it just meant that I could harm a human man if I tried to have sex with him and he wasn’t my True Love.

And really, who would want to touch me in this form? Hugh was barely human himself, and he couldn’t even look at me. I choked back my bitterness and followed behind him.

We moved through the swampy growth of trees, and the farther we moved inward, the more confused I became. This was the fae realm? I’d pictured something far more civilized. Delicate buildings and cultured gardens. The terrain we were slogging through was wild and a bit disgusting, quite frankly.

Was Hugh lying to me? Was he leading me somewhere to trap me? No, that didn’t make sense. Hugh said he never lied, and whatever Finian had promised him, he wanted it badly enough to sell me out.

I said nothing as we trekked through the underbrush, my clawed feet sinking into the murk with every step. I focused on Hugh’s flexing buttocks ahead of me, the occasional glimpse of his cock and balls between his legs. It made me blush even as it fascinated me, and I wanted to stare at them. Was that weird? Did it even matter?

All of a sudden Hugh halted, his hand extending out to stop me.

I was so focused on his tight ass that I didn’t notice and ran smack into that big hand. I gave a yelp of surprise, even as he flinched away.

And seeing that flinch? Just made my heart sink a little more. A hard knot formed in my throat.

“Silence,” Hugh whispered.

I waited anxiously, staring at him, since I couldn’t see a thing in the fog.

After a long moment he lifted his head, testing the breeze, and looked over at me. “We are being followed. Something is downwind.”

“Finian?”

His mouth curled into a sneer, huge fangs on display. “He would never come here of his own accord.” He gestured for me to follow him as he launched forward.

I trotted behind him as best I could, unable to stop peeking behind me out of anxiety. Was something hunting us? Was it one of Hugh’s people?

Hugh halted again.

I jerked to a stop behind him, glancing around. I saw nothing. I looked over at Hugh again. “What is it?”

He stared at the thick bushes ahead of us, not moving a muscle. I followed his gaze, curious.

An enormous shape moved forward and I gasped, staggering backward. “Oh . . . shit.”

A rhinoceros on steroids headed toward us. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Even in the low light, I could make out a huge, bulky body, the head lowered. It was as big as an elephant, maybe bigger. Shaggy fur covered it. On the nose was a horn three times the size of what I assumed a rhinoceros would have. The horn was larger than I was.

And it was pointing right at us.

Involuntarily, I took a step behind Hugh’s broad shoulders, seeking protection. “What do we do now?” I whispered. Somehow the creature that had been following us was now in front of us. How had we not heard this monster tromping around behind us?

But Hugh only snorted and said, “Change, Artur. You’re frightening my guest.”

My eyes widened. I looked at the massive creature, then at Hugh. “That’s . . . one of your people?”

“He is a primordial,” Hugh said, his eyes narrowing as the rhino moved forward. “And he treads on thin ground.”

My eyes widened as the enormous head—and horn—moved forward, heading straight for me. The creature seemed to be ignoring Hugh, determined to check me out.

Which frightened the heck out of me. I gave a distressed squeak when it nosed forward, and I moved around Hugh, determined to keep him between me and the monster rhino.

“Artur!” Hugh snapped, a feline growl in his voice.

The rhino only made a noise in its throat and continued to move toward me, disregarding Hugh’s warnings.

The low growl in Hugh’s voice deepened, and he dropped to a crouch, alarming me. I took a step backward. “Hugh?”

As I watched, fur sprouted along his spine, rippling down his back. The transformation ripped through him, stronger and faster than I’d ever seen with any shifter. Within seconds, Hugh was in complete cat form.

And I was stunned.

More than eight feet long and weighing several hundred pounds, his enormous body was knotted with muscle, his chest thick and barrel-like. He had no mane but was covered with more of those strange, bizarre stripes that were evident in human form. Hugh’s animal form looked like a tiger on steroids. Most startling of all were his jaws: his massive head swung, and I caught sight of two foot-long, protruding fangs as he snarled at the rhino and swiped at him with a giant paw.

I stepped backward, shocked, as things clicked into place. When Hugh had told me he was a primordial, I hadn’t realized what that meant. But looking at his animal form now, I realized . . . he was a saber-toothed tiger. I stared at him, then back at the strange rhino he was herding away from me with irritated swipes of his paw.

Holy cow.

Were all the primordials Ice Age shifters? Was that what this place was? Some pocket dimension, where the fae kept supposedly extinct shifters?