QSFer Jaymie Wagner has a new FF urban fantasy out, Sing for Me book 1: Orphan’s Cry.
Six months ago Leah Corbyn was bitten by a “dog.” Two weeks later, the full moon’s rise revealed she’s now a werewolf.
After spending six months trying to hide her secret in the city of London, Leah is about to learn she isn’t alone … but that knowledge comes with new responsibilities, and new dangers.
As Leah finds solace in her girlfriend’s arms, she must find her place among the wolves of Londinium, but can she prove herself in time?
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Excerpt
After the unexpected afternoon of grooming, Amy had claimed she needed a nap. Amélie’s nerves had still been buzzing—just on the border of overstimulated, if she was honest with herself—and she’d decided to find a quiet spot to settle herself, eventually ending up near the shallow
river where they’d met on their First Moon.
The casual touches, the laughter, the gentle care they’d both taken in grooming her, the feeling of Amy’s fur under her fingers, and Leah leaning against her side…it felt so much like having a pack again. Having a home again.
It terrified her, and yet she kept getting closer.
You are a moth and they are a flame. You cannot keep doing this!
But it felt right.
She let her gaze fall to the water, as if her reflection could offer her any better ideas.
Amélie wasn’t sure how long she’d stared into the river when she heard the sounds of someone approaching.
“Lady? Are you there?” Leah stopped a respectful distance away.
“Mind if I come over?”
She gestured to the upturned log next to her, and nodded.
Leah smiled as she settled down. “This is one of my favorite spots out here. Seems like I keep ending up down at the water whenever I want to think.”
“It is a lovely spot,” Amélie agreed. “Is Amy with you?”
Leah shook her head with a smile. “I think we tuckered her right out. She went out like a light after we went up into the bedroom.”
“Ah.”
“Actually,” Leah blushed, “God, this sounds horrible…but while she’s asleep, I wondered if I could talk to you? Privately?”
Amélie raised an eyebrow. “About what, chérie?”
Leah looked up toward the afternoon sky. “Last night…the thing we did, with the prayer? That was…” She stopped, and looked down at her feet. “I’ve…in the past, on the full moons, when I changed…it was always painful—excruciating really. I fought it for so long and even though I didn’t know it, not eating meat made it all so much worse. I was terrified I might hurt someone and so each full moon was a battle that I’d lose kicking and screaming.”
She reached out and placed a hand on Leah’s shoulder. She watched Leah work to put her thoughts in order and kept quiet, letting her explain at her own pace.
Leah gave her a grateful look. “Please don’t get me wrong—Amy’s helped me a lot with the transformations since then. Starting earlier so I’m not fighting the urge—making sure I’m well fed before we go out—teaching me it’s easier with my ears and tail out ahead of time…but last night was the first time I was able to really slip into my wereself. Where that transformation was just…part of me.”
Amélie squeezed Leah’s shoulder before she withdrew her hand.
“I am glad I was able to help you find that peace, Leah.” And I am sorry you ever felt such pain.
Leah’s eyes softened. “I want to try to feel that again, and I was thinking that I might like to learn more about the old ways with you. I think knowing more about that might help me…strengthen that connection, I guess. Amy mentioned you might be staying around for a little while, so I thought maybe…if it’s okay…I could come up on my own and visit?”
“I…I would be honored to teach you but I am no priestess.”
Leah smiled. “You’re close enough for me—certainly seem to know more than most I’ve met.”
Author Bio
Jaymie Wagner is a queer, trans, divorced, and polyamorous writer who lives near Minneapolis, Minnesota. She has been a semi-professional NHL writer, a blogger, and a BBQ chef at different parts of her life, and lives with her cats and an increasingly alarming collection of tiny giant robots.
She has been published in several anthologies, short story collections, and posts her “Fractured Fantasies” twitter micro-stories where she explores different ideas and kinks.