Heart of Her Wolves

Table of Contents Heart of Her Wolves | Court of Fae and Firelight | Book One Dedication Special thanks to Foreword Part One | Fae, Flames, and Firelight | Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Part Two | Fate, Fangs, and Heartache | Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Revenge of Her Wolves | Court of Fae and Firelight, Book Two | Part One | Envy, Enemies, and Vengeance | Prologue Chapter One Glossary Books by Tara West Heart of Her Wolves Court of Fae and Firelight Book One Copyright © 2023 by Tara West Published by Shifting Sands Publishing First edition, published February, 2023 All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Artwork by Trifbookdesign.com Edits by Jade Taggart * * * A witch with no past...A Fae with no future...Two shifters with no hope. Their entwined fates could be their doom or their salvation. I have no memories of whatever life I left behind. No clues indicating why the mage pretending to be my father was hiding me away. And now I’m fleeing for my life, hunted by mercenaries who want me dead. My only friends are a possessive rebel Fae, his temperamental dragon, and his two exiled wolf shifter brothers. Though I’m drawn to the Fae and his brothers, the last thing I need is three jealous lovers fighting for me when I still don’t know who or what I am. Even if my wolf shifters may hold the key to my heart and my memories. Of one thing I do know—my magic is strengthening, and if I can’t learn how to wield it, I could very well burn this world down. Dedication To my husband, for living. Special thanks to My awesome beta team for finding my oopsies and my amazing ARC team for your continued support and finding more oopsies! Foreword My dear readers. This book was a labor of love and what I consider my greatest accomplishment as a writer. Twice the length of most of my other books, I wrote the first seven chapters sitting beside my husband’s hospital bed while he recovered from a stroke, and then I continued to write after I had to undergo an urgent hysterectomy. Some say adversity builds character. For me, it fuels my muse. We are both on the mend, by the way, but 2022 was a year I hope to never repeat (except for that muse part). I’m sure many of you feel the same way about the last few years. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I loved writing it. Every word was cathartic. Every character’s quirk was a balm to my troubled heart. If you’re having a bad day, week, year, I hope my arrogant Fae, stubborn witch, tempting shifters, and temperamental dragon bring you the same reprieve. Many blessings, Tara West Part One Fae, Flames, and Firelight Chapter One “Come here, little witch. Worma must know if you taste as good as you smell.” Pressing my back against the tree trunk, I dared not move a muscle or breathe too hard, lest that creature find me, though I feared it was only a matter of time before she did. The flimsy tree limb I stood on verged on breaking apart as it groaned and splintered beneath me. The crone’s eye sockets might have been two hollow, scarred holes, but I knew she had a superior sense of smell to go with her wickedly sharp claws. Berchta, that’s what Father had called the demonic hags who slashed open stomachs of travelers who dared find themselves in the forest after nightfall, eating out their guts like birds picking off corpses. He’d warned me of her kind often enough. And to think, I’d thought his stories were only fables, a means to keep me from entering the Werewood Forest. Now I knew such creatures of nightmares were real. “Sweet witch, tasty witch.” The crone’s hoarse voice carved through my chest like shards of glass. “Let me peel back your layers. Formed of old and new, ancient, dark magic reborn as something so sweet and pure. One taste, my dear. Just one ear or toe. That is all Worma will take.” Great goddesses, how does she know me when I don’t even know who I am? I was tempted to hear her out, but I knew better than to trust a berchta. I closed my eyes tight and placed a hand on my stomach to quell my roiling gut when I felt her lengthening shadow beneath me. Something crawled across my shoe, but I dared not look down into that blackened pit teeming with all manners of creature and twisting vines that moved as arms, snatching forest creatures and hapless wanderers, shoving them into the jaws of monster plants with rows of sharp teeth. Demon, my rabbit familiar, stirred in my pack, thumping his back paw in dissatisfaction. Calm, I projected while clutching the woven satchel to my chest. I will not let her harm you. “The smell of your fear and confusion, so delicious,” the berchta taunted. “You do not know the blood that flows through your veins. He deceived you. He betrayed you. He stole your memories.” My blood turned to icy sludge. How did she know? “I can tell you who you are. I know the scent of your blood. You do not know why the mind spinner would hide you in this wretched place.” Mind spinner? Was she referring