For Blu and Creed Saint-Pierre, love came after they were forced into marriage to bring the werewolf and vampire nations together. Two years later, their nights are wilder and wickeder than ever. Only one thing is missing from their lives, the thing they can never have—a pack of their own.

Unable to conceive a child with her vampire husband, Blu’s only hope lies in making a bargain with a faery. But faeries never grant boons without expecting something in return. And the payment may be too great a sacrifice…

Moonspun

Michele Hauf

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

Chapter One

Shifted into werewolf form, naked and glistening beneath the moonlight, his wife’s body glided above Creed Saint-Pierre. Her rhythm grew faster, frenzied. The soft black fur at her shoulders, hips and thighs gleamed like moonspun hematite. Nearby, faery lights danced within the thick foliage surrounding them on this cozy moss-covered dais within the forest.

She squeezed his cock with her powerful muscles, forging him into hot steel, pulsing and ready—so close. Creed dug his fingers into the moss and clenched his teeth. A fang cut his lip and blood rolled down his chin. His hips bucked and his thigh muscles strained.

And when he could no longer resist the call to lunge forward and sink his fangs into his lover’s neck, he instead closed his eyes and surrendered to the wicked union of vampire and werewolf. Exquisite. Dangerous. Blu’s throaty growls preceded the orgasm that captured them and shook their bodies together, spasming, clutching, clinging.

Loving. Always and ever.

Creed’s groan, long and loud, echoed up through the tree canopy. He exhaled, his tight muscles giving way to the luxurious fire molting through him.

Blu pushed away from him with taloned paws. His cock slipped from her hot depths and landed on his stomach. The werewolf lashed her tongue across the crimson claw marks serrating his chest above the nipple. Leaping off him, she dashed into the night.

“I love you, too,” he called after her. “You gorgeous she-wolf!”

The faeries bobbling overhead swirled in a ribbon behind the werewolf, eager to follow her romping lopes. The wolf’s howls echoed up to her moonlight master, a gorgeous silver medallion suspended high in the charcoal spring sky.

Propping up on his elbows, Creed dragged his tongue over the blood pearling on his lip. His fangs always came down during sex, though he could control it if he had the mind to. “I’ve got to stop doing that.” Then he chuckled, because being so lost in the enjoyment of his wife was not something he ever wanted to stop.

He stroked his fingers over the talon wounds on his chest, feeling the skin knit and heal with a tightening that always made him wince. Rolling onto his side, he spied the silhouette of his wife framed between birch trees that had only begun leafing out from their buds to perfume the air with spring. Her body shifted and her wolfish head changed to human form. Luscious dark hair spilled down her slender neck and her shoulders dropped, losing the muscle and bulk she took on when in werewolf shape. A beautiful creature, she, when wearing fur and howling at the moon, yet more stunning when in human form and with moonlight bejeweling her pale, dewy skin.

He watched as she raked her fingers through her hair, causing it to spill out in the dark veil Creed loved to feel sweep across his body. Blu turned and skipped back to him, her bare feet tracking the forest floor still carpeted with fall’s soggy, brown leaves. With a giggle, she landed on him, straddling his hips and brushing aside the hair from his face. The glitter in her gray eyes could lead a man through the darkest night, yet Creed would allow no man to follow his wife, for she belonged to him.

“Sorry about that, lover.” She kissed the scars tracing from his shoulder to pectoral; the skin would be smooth, scarless by morning. “You know my wolf likes it rough.”

“I like you rough, howling, and any way I can get you.”

“Mmm, you’re so good to me, vampire.” She nipped him on the shoulder, but didn’t sink in her teeth. Though he bit her on rare occasions, she had not developed a blood hunger, and had never bitten him to drink blood in return. “Race you to the shower?”

“Only if we can do this again. Inside?”

“Hell yeah, I’m not sated yet. And to judge from this hard fella—” She sucked the head of his cock slowly, twisting her tongue about it, then winked at him. “—you’re not, either. Go!”

She dashed off, and Creed sat up, chuckling at her antics. He’d let her win. Because she always won. She was faster than him. Faster to tease him, faster to fall into his arms. Faster to love him.

And he was grateful his heart had grown steadfast for his werewolf wife.

* * *

Cherry-red fingernails glided over the black satin sheets, clutching, then releasing the slippery fabric. Her lover’s tongue performed the same slippery glide over her skin, purposeful and determined to lick every inch, and taste every drop of water following the shower. He meant to devour her and she enjoyed being the feast.

Blu Saint-Pierre purred like a kitten, and the image of a pleased feline curling about a vampire’s legs made her laugh.

Creed looked up from her stomach, where he’d been lashing at her navel. Dark hair hung over his brows. “You find this funny?”

“I was thinking I sound like a kitten purring under your expert tongue.”

“You do. I love your purrs, my pretty little kitty cat.”

“Don’t you dare start calling me that.” She hooked her legs over his shoulders and redirected his ministrations. “I’m wolf to the core.”

“A wolf who smells like chocolate.” He nipped the inside of her thigh, right there, where the slightest touch made her shiver in anticipation of where he would next touch her skin. “Even down here. Did you bathe in chocolate syrup?”

“I thought you liked sweet treats?”

“I do.” He lashed his tongue across her swollen clitoris, and Blu’s body reacted, her hips surging upward to receive more of his delicious torture. He did not disappoint.

“It’s bath oil,” she said. “Perfumes me even after I’ve dried off.”

“Wear it always.” His fingers slid along her folds, firmly, then softer, knowing exactly how to play her to a humming mess of want and desire. Surrender eddied in her core, challenging her to release even though she was already blissfully sated. “Come for me, lover. My beautiful chocolate-flavored wolf.”

“Not without you.”

Blu shifted her hips, taking Creed by surprise, and flipped him onto his back to land against the pillows with a moan. She shimmied down and kissed his mouth, his chest, his belly and then his magnificent cock.

He in turn spread her legs and buried his tongue inside her. When she nibbled along his thick shaft, he hummed against her delicate folds, and the vibrations rocketed her pleasure to the stratosphere. His hips bucked slowly, demanding his measure, and she slickened her strokes with her tongue and clasped the base of him tightly with one hand while cupping his testicles with the other.

Her vampire husband dropped his head and forgot his attentions to her. She loved that she could command him so easily. “That’s right. You’re mine,” she purred, and another giggle was unavoidable. “But don’t forget about me.”

As he growled against her clit and began to come, she relaxed her tight core muscles and surrendered to a matching climax. Together they cried out, harmonizing in ecstasy. Too much—and not enough—and always just right. Blu lifted up on her palms and her husband slickened her chest with his forceful release.

She fell aside, rolling onto her back, and slid a hand over her chest. Licking her fingers clean refocused her thoughts. So much potential for life in this substance. And then she thought about what she always tried not to think about after sex—a vampire could not get a werewolf pregnant. It wasn’t the way things worked between their breeds, for reasons beyond her ken. Though certainly a werewolf male could impregnate a female vampire. And she had heard rumors the reverse was possible with great magic, or voodoo, or who knew, maybe some kind of faery boon.

Creed nestled alongside her, nudging his nose into her coal-dark hair and cupping her breast with his wide, warm hand. His hard muscles melded against her softness like a puzzle piece finding home. He smelled like sex and chocolate and strength. “What are you thinking about, kitty cat?”

“Creed.”

“Wild-haired sex kitten?”

“Watch it, pale vampire dude.” She reached behind and over her hip and gripped his soft penis, tightly.

“All right, I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “No more teasing.”

She released him. “You start that, and I’ll have to call you longtooth.”

“My teeth are long.” He bit into her shoulder, not breaking skin, though she didn’t mind when he did, rarely, pierce her flesh. “On occasion.”

They’d been forced to marry in a match arranged by the Council, a group that oversaw the paranormal nations. The marriage had been a means to bring together the opposing breeds and begin peace talks. It had worked to the extent that some vampire tribes had gained respect from a few packs, but Blu wasn’t so foolish to believe either breed would ever drop their prejudices and embrace the other graciously.

Surprisingly to both of them, they had fallen in love, and the marriage could be counted a success. And after she’d learned to trust her vampire husband—who had once slain werewolves in medieval times—Blu had allowed him to bite her. With Creed’s bite, they had bonded in a way vampires bonded. Yet werewolves bitten by a vampire almost always developed an unnatural blood hunger. That had not happened to her yet, for which she was thankful. Probably because he had bitten her only a dozen times in a few years. She couldn’t fathom drinking blood for pleasure.

“Deep thoughts?” he wondered, tugging a sheet corner to wipe off her chest. The polite Frenchman to the core, he was warrior, lover and doting husband, all rolled into one fine package.

Deep brown eyes she could stare into forever looked suddenly worried in the soft glow from the bedside lamp. She’d mentioned her deep thoughts casually before, but had never dared say how much those thoughts haunted her of late. They’d been married two years. She adored her husband. To know she would enjoy centuries with him thrilled her beyond measure.

But something was missing. An innate, visceral call to the maternal.

“I want to have your children,” she whispered, feeling as if the confession was so sacred she could only share it with him, and only in quiet tones. “I wish there was a way, Creed.”

Feeling the tender, yet insistent, tug in her chest, she blinked, and Creed traced the tear below her eye.

“If I could make it so, I would, lover mine. I hate seeing you unhappy.”

“I’m never unhappy with you. It’s…well, you lying beside me right now? I was thinking how we’re like pieces of a puzzle perfectly fit. Yet a piece of me is missing, maybe fallen on the floor somewhere, and I can’t seem to find it.”

He kissed her chin, her lips, her eyelids. The reverent stillness allowed her to feel his heartbeats against her chest. If they embraced long enough their heartbeats would synch.

“Wolves are, by nature, family-centric,” she said, pressing her palm over his beating heart. “I want to make babies with you, lover. Have a pack.”

“What if they were vampire babies?”

“Do you think that matters to me? Honestly?”

“No. The whole hating the vamps thing is not within your nature. At least, not any more.”

“I could never hate you. Or any child I had that might have to drink blood to survive. Hell, if I can’t have a pack, I’ll have a tribe! But our children could be wolves.”

“Or half breeds,” he said. “I would love a child too. I crave innocence. The wonder of youth.”

Blu sighed. Such talk stirred a dangerous fantasy. Because that was all it could ever be. “I thought I heard something about saying blessings to Faery if one desired something with all their heart.”

“I’ll say them daily, then.” He clasped her hand and drew it against his heart. “I would die for you, Blu, you know that.”

“Yes, but if you were dead, then who would give me babies?”

He chuckled. “Is this what they call the ticking biological clock?”

“No, it’s an instinctual desire to create a family with the man I love.” She kissed him, dashing her tongue against his fangs, which she knew gave him a visceral thrill. “Would you be upset if I did some research? Tried to find a means to make this happen?”

“Upset? Blu, I’ll help you. After living almost a millennium, nothing could please me more than to finally become a father.”

* * *

“Are you serious?”

Blu rolled over on the huge beach towel spread next to the pool. Bree, her faery best friend, was teleconferencing her via their iPads and had just told her an old faery tale about a kitsune shifter who had wanted to have a vampire’s child. Certain animal breeds could not procreate with vampires. But a faery boon—powerful faery magic—could overcome any genetic obstacle.

“So you think if I asked a faery to help me get pregnant by my husband, it would work?” Creed was inside, lingering in bed, the sun too high to allow him to be out by her side.

“That’s how it worked for the kitsune,” Bree said. “But Blu, it’s an old wives’ tale, and who knows if it’s true.”

“Yeah, but it never hurts to try. Could you give me a boon?”

“Oh no. You’d have to ask a wise faery, a sage, or someone in royalty like a champion or mystic. And you won’t find them wandering about the mortal realm.”

“So I’d have to go to Faery?” She gripped the iPad as if she could reach through the device and grab her friend’s shoulder. “Bree, you have to help me get there.”

“Sweetie, slow down. I know you want this with all your heart.”

“With two hearts, if I had two.”

“No faery will do anything for another being without a return boon.”

“So I have to give them something? That’s cool. We’re rich. I can pay, shower them with diamonds, offer them a condo in Paris.”

Bree laughed, and Blu caught her chin in hand. She knew diamonds meant little to faeries. Nor would mortal money bring up a glint in their violet eyes.

“How do I get to Faery?”

“You don’t. The faery would have to come to you. You’d have to perform a ritual to call them out. I’ll see what I can come up with, okay?”

“I love you, Bree. How’s Rev?”

“You mean the sexy vampire who is lying in my bed right now? I’d say about half-mast, and eager for me to get off the screen.”

“It’s best not to keep hungry vampires waiting. But don’t keep this wolf waiting, either. Call me as soon as you find something.”

She signed off and set the iPad aside. “Maybe this can really happen.”

Filled with hope, Blu tugged off her bikini top and dove into the pool.

* * *

“Thanks, Hawkes. Can you email that spell?” Creed asked.

“Yes, but it’ll take a day or two to have it interpreted,” his friend Rhys Hawkes replied over the phone. Their international connection, from Minneapolis to Paris, was ridden with static.

“I’m glad I contacted you,” Creed said. “If this works, I will make my wife a very happy werewolf.”

He hung up and propped a leg up on the edge of his desk. From the office window, he could see Blu performing some mermaid moves in the pool. Not only would she be happy, but he would as well. He’d walked this world for ages. It was time to view it through an entirely new and wondrous perspective—that of fatherhood.

Chapter Two

“Fuck yeah.”

There were two instances in life that demanded the oath hissed in satisfied tones. Following deliciously mind-numbing sex. And when sinking into the perfect bath, water almost—but not quite—too hot to stand, bubbles frothy but not overwhelming.

Blu stretched up a leg in the bathtub and slicked the bar of cinnamon soap along her thigh. Bliss was an hour to herself in the tub. When they’d rebuilt the mansion, Creed had let her design every room, and this bathroom had been her first project. All white marble, including the tub, it offered her sanctity from the world.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Creed said as he strolled in, barefoot but still wearing his Armani suit, and grabbed a toothbrush. “I’ll be quick. Or I could use the other bathroom?”

“No, I don’t mind.” Sanctity breached, she knew it wouldn’t take him long and her peace would be restored. But seriously? She couldn’t get enough of the man. A few minutes to watch him was like a sweet treat.

His hips shimmied when he brushed. Blu dipped low in the tub and smiled to herself. She’d heard married couples eventually grew bored of one another, less attracted, too. How that was possible, she didn’t know. Every day she found something new to admire about her husband .Tonight it was his silly toothbrushing shimmy.

“What?” his reflection asked in the mirror, his mouth full of toothpaste.

“I’ve never noticed your toothbrush dance before. Shake those hips, lover boy.”

He shrugged, dismissing her request, yet with the last few strokes he offered her a few exaggerated shimmies. Rapping the brush on the sink, he wiped off his mouth then started toward the door. That was her guy: always willing to please, even if it meant giving her some space.

“Wait,” Blu said. “I need you to do something for me first.”

“Whatever my true love desires.” He stood there, arms spread, waiting her command.

And Blu was inclined to command. “Take off your clothes.”

His brow arched. “Really? I thought you liked your bath time all private and peaceful.”

“Yeah, but you make me so horny. I want to watch you peel away your clothes and reveal the sexy muscles underneath. I always undress for you. It’s payback time.”

“Very well.”

Unbuttoning his crisp white linen shirt, and expertly snapping the platinum cufflinks from his cuffs, he quickly took it off and tossed it aside. The cufflinks chattered across the marble vanity.

“Slower,” Blu directed. She stretched her arms along the warm marble tub rim and put up a foot near the faucet. “I like to see your muscles flex. Don’t tell me you’ve never performed a striptease?”

The man didn’t blush, but his blinking look from under the fall of his dark hair gave away his surprising hesitance. “Actually, I don’t believe that opportunity has ever presented itself in all my years.”

With a teasing lift of brow, he unzipped his trousers and slowly pushed them past his hips until the fabric fell to his ankles. As he stepped out of them his abs flexed, highlighting that gorgeous cut muscle that eased along his hip and down toward his loins.

Blu felt the water’s heat near boiling. No, that was her body temperature rising. Maybe she could boil the water? Ha!

Her husband, a six-foot-plus warrior, stood in front of her wearing nothing but the form-fitting boxer briefs she’d bought for him. The briefs were black, thigh-and cock-hugging, and went to the tops of his thighs. Normally, she would pull those down herself—with her teeth.

“Turn around,” she insisted. “Let me see those powerful delts and obliques. Oh yeah. That’s the way to make this wolf growl.” An appreciative growl felt very necessary.

Sliding her fingers down her stomach, she strolled them over her cleft, but didn’t want to finger herself. The visual was enough. Besides, if she clenched her legs together, that primed her just enough to take this fuck-yeah bath over the top. “Briefs down, big boy.”

He turned slightly and tugged down the briefs, letting them drop. Viewed from the side, Creed’s powerful frame was wide about the chest and thighs. He looked as though he spent hours daily in the gym, but it was his vampire nature that kept him lean and tight, an iron-strapped god of flesh and bone. And there, his cock, upright and proud, and ready for action. Uncircumcised, the foreskin had slipped down beneath the bold, red head of it, and Blu imagined the feel of it entering her, pushing forcefully to ease into her pussy.

He spread his arms and tilted forward a hip. “You like to look at my cock?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“You want to touch it?”

“Ye—erm…no.” Tugging her lip down with her teeth, she devised a more intriguing plan. “I want to watch you stroke yourself. Slowly.”

With an approving shrug, Creed stepped a few feet closer to give her a front-row view. Grabbing his cock, he moved his fingers expertly up and down what Blu knew must feel like molten steel in his grip. Even though they made love often, she knew he jacked off as well. Didn’t bother her. He was a man; it was what men did. And hell, she jilled off, because thinking about Creed when he wasn’t around demanded immediate satisfaction.

“That’s my big guy,” she cooed. “You like it firm and faster?”

“Mm…” he replied, picking up the pace. His gaze had been focused on her, but as his strokes grew faster, his eyelids shuttered and mentally, he turned inward.

Man, she loved watching him do this. So focused, intent, vigorous. Come to think of it, that was a good way to describe how he handled a battle sword. He really gave the thing a workout and he wasn’t gentle with it.

Note to self: whack that thing around next time she had it in hand. It could take it, and he preferred it rough.

Her thoughts made her smile, and she slipped an arm over the tub side and rested her chin on the edge to get a closer view of her husband’s sex show. His tense abs tightened, shaping skin over hard muscled ridges, his hips shivering minutely. Breaths gasped through his lips quickly, and his fingers raced.

“Going to come?” she asked.

“Soon. You watching me…so good…” He winced and his muscles flexed and trembled.

Blu licked her lips and cooed.

He spurted up over his chest and cried out forcefully, catching his free hand on the edge of the tub. Blu stretched her fingers up through his hair.

“Come join me, lover. Now it’s my turn.”

* * *

“I have to run out tonight.”

Creed sat up in bed, stretching out his neck with a smart twist. Usually Blu stuck around after sex, unless… “You going to let your wolf out for a run?”

“Yes, it hasn’t been out in a few weeks, and I’m prickling for some laps in the field.” She leaned in and kissed him, sliding her hand down to squeeze his cock. “Don’t wait up for me. I want to feel the sun rise on my fur.”

“All right. I might head out myself. To uh…you know.”

She kissed him again. “I know.”

If he couldn’t bite her once a week, then he had to get his sustenance somehow. They’d come to terms he would bite men more often than women, because it bothered Blu that the bite was a sexual thing, and though she knew it wasn’t cheating on her husband’s part to take a woman in his arms and bite her, she preferred he keep the intimate embraces with the females to a minimum.

“See you in the morning, lover.”

Blu grabbed a strappy sundress fashioned from blue-spangled sari material and pulled it on. She padded out of the bedroom, giving her hair a fluff. She wore her natural, midnight-black hair uncovered more frequently now because she had nothing to hide from Creed. Once she’d been all about the brightly-colored wigs, because she’d thought they kept men at a distance, something she’d needed after growing up with the aggressive males in the Northern pack. Her father had actually given her to the males as a sexual gift, and there had been nothing she could do about it.

Until she’d been forced to marry Creed. And her world had changed for the better. Creed made her feel protected and loved. Always. Nothing to hide.

“Except this one small thing,” she thought about tonight’s planned foray.

* * *

Blu shifted from four-legged wolf to human shape in the center of the forest near the mossy dais. She didn’t feel at all self-conscious to wander the forest naked. Wasn’t like wolves returned to were form clothed. And Creed owned a couple dozen acres, so she was confident her moonlit peepshow would never be discovered by, say, a hunter or hiker. Not on private Saint-Pierre property. Old man Schmidt’s land was a dash away, and she was ever leery of that gun-toting, tobacco-chewing artifact, but didn’t plan to go near his property tonight.

In a few nights the moon would be full and her werewolf would demand release. The werewolf was her half human, half wolf form, and she only let it out during the full moon—and when Creed was in the mood for some real vigorous sex. Sometimes her werewolf wanted sex, and it didn’t matter if it was with a vampire. She needed that bond, that joining. She loved him for that, because heaven only knew any non-werewolf having sex with a werewolf did face challenges, such as talons and a big, toothy maw. She tended to go beyond rough when in werewolf form, but the vamp could handle her talons, and he did like her aggression, and matched her every move.

But fore? Her animal nature felt the urge to procreate under the full moon. The only way a werewolf could conceive was while in full wolfed-out shape.

Smirking at their active and delicious sex life, she tiptoed over a thick padding of moss, setting a fragrant crush of oleander perfume into the air. A red fox darted across her path as if hell were on its tail. It sensed her animal nature, surely. A pale moth fluttered before her, and she reached out, allowing it to land on her forefinger like a living ring. Everything was magical this time of night.

“Can I wish upon you?” she wondered, then blew gently to set it on its way.

Bree had video-conferenced her with the instructions needed for this night. And Blu had muttered the ritual all day, making sure she knew it by heart.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered the sidhe words. “Sheimme, shuom, galimmour. Hear me through the veil and know I come with open heart and clear soul.”

The air immediately shifted about her, not like wind, but as if it were moving through her skin and swirling in her veins. Suddenly as giddy as bubbles in champagne, she clasped her hands to her chest in expectation and searched the night.

Shimmers danced before her like tiny lightning bugs, and they followed a swaying pattern that twisted into a lush swirl much like the faery lights that hovered above her and Creed when they made love out here, their favorite spot in the forest. Scents of loamy earth, leaves and animals increased until Blu’s senses grew mad with desire to pinpoint them all. It was like being overwhelmed in a noisy nightclub by sound, movement and light. Random life pulses fluttered across her senses, tripping up her heartbeats and then shimmering away.

And then it stopped, and the shimmers formed into a faery with violet wings threaded with gleaming dark veins that resembled blackened chrome. Coal hair was streaked with white, but Blu realized it was painted or dusted with pollen. Three blue dashes crossed diagonally from above her left eye, over her nose, and down her right cheek. She stood as tall as Blu—who, admittedly, was short without her spike heels—and her bright violet eyes narrowed. A thin white sheath danced over her narrow frame, exposing remarkable muscles for such a petite figure. At her hip gleamed a crystal scimitar.

Warrior, Blu decided. She’d called a sidhe champion to her. Such luck!

Blu bowed. “Well met.”

“Well met, wolf,” the faery said in a gruff voice that chastised for disturbing her, while also piqued a question. She slammed a palm to her hip near the scimitar. “For what have you called me?”

As Bree had instructed, she must get right to the point. “I want to conceive my husband’s child.”

The warrior sidhe walked before her in a wide arc, casting a discerning gaze over her. Blu felt lesser standing before her—she caught herself and lifted her shoulders. She never considered herself lesser, or greater, than anyone. And she would best show her confidence before this woman.

“If a child is your desire,” the faery said, “why marry the one man who could not give you that child?” She scoffed. “A vampire?”

“It was an arranged marriage set up by the Council.” She’d thought the marriage stupid until Creed had kissed her after they’d recited their vows. That kiss had changed her attitude toward vampires forever. At least toward the one sexy, loving vampire who only had eyes for her. “But I love him more than anything in this world.”

The faery’s laughter sounded like bells the size of flower heads. Eerily out of place when measured against her warrior stance. “Did Creed Saint-Pierre not murder your father?”

“No, that was one of my father’s men,” Blu protested.

Ridge Addison, her father’s right-hand man, had taken off Amandus Masterson’s head with one swipe of his talons. Blu could never be angry at Ridge, because he’d been protecting her and Creed at the time.

“Creed was…tortured by my father.” Her father had ordered the punishment of one thousand talons against her husband. Her heart pulsed as she recalled finding Creed bloodied and near death in a ditch following that awful torture.

“He suffered for me.” She let out a breath. Clutching the air with needy fingers, she shifted from foot to foot, jittery with need. “Please. It is all I want, to give my husband a child. To answer my breed’s innate call to surround myself with family.”

Those were the desires that twanged daily at her very soul. It wasn’t right she should be denied merely because her breed was not compatible with Creed’s.

“One child is all you ask?”

“Well…” It would be greedy to ask for many. Yet a pack, or even a tribe, required more than a few. “The ability to carry my husband’s children is what I ask, no matter it be one or more than one. Is that all right?” She winced. Be firm, positive. “I want my womb to be receptive to his sperm, to get technical.”

With a tilt of her head, the faery’s eyes glowed, deep amethyst caught in surrounding stone. “And what do you offer in return for so great a boon?”

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