Little Prick

A porcupine filled with desperation seeks help from her fairy godmother and ends up at the Crossroads for a makeover and a chance at love.

Pansy is desperate. She is the only porcupine in a family of wolves, and her body is bound tightly to the local area with wild magic. All in all, she isn’t prime dating material.

When her fae godmother sends her to the Crossroads and makes special arrangements for her, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but a full-on Cinderella-style makeover wasn’t it.

Arriving at the Crossroads is a problem, the wild mag
ic in her system literally blew the roof off the Meditation Centre and that is only the beginning of Pansy’s problems.

Axander headed to the Crossroads when he couldn’t find the woman for him back at home, but travelling to the shifters’ dating dimension, he finds that the woman he wanted was in front of him the whole time. She was just protected by scent-masking engine oil and an entire pack of wolves.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Little Prick

Copyright © 2013 Zenina Masters

ISBN: 978-1-77111-706-7

Cover art by Carmen Waters

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Little Prick

Shifting Crossroads Book Nine

By

Zenina Masters

Pansy Medeela swallowed heavily as she watched the man of her dreams approach. Yes, she had had a crush on him for the last five years, but she knew that, to him, she was simply a mechanic.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barkley.” She hadn’t had time to clean up, so she stood there in her boiler suit and grease smudges.

“Afternoon, Prix. Is she ready yet?” He referred to his 1960 Oldsmobile 98.

“She’s ready, but you have to take better care of her. She is not designed for country roads. I pulled two pounds of gravel from her undercarriage.” Pansy handed him the bill and watched him sign for the repairs before giving him his keys. The repairs would be put on his account and settled at the end of the month.

“Well, I am glad that I got this out of the way. I am heading to the Crossroads at the end of the month. Hopefully, I will find the woman for me.”

He winked at her and left her standing behind the counter, her hopes and dreams crushed in his wake.

Pansy was reeling. She didn’t know what to do. Since she had first found him and his classic car by the side of the road, she had had a crush on Axander Barkley, honey badger.

“Who was that, Prickles?” Her brother Thomas came up beside her.

“Barkley. He retrieved his Olds.”

“Right. You did great work on that. She looks like new.”

“She deserves better than a self-centred jackass like him. Excuse me.” She left her stunned brother and retreated to the break room where two more of her relatives were sitting and having coffee.

Her father and second youngest brother blinked at her arrival and got to their feet.

She snarled at them and slammed out the back door of the shop, heading for the woods.

Pansy climbed a tree and sat there, trying to figure out what to do next. Her life revolved around her family and fixing cars. She loved the cars, but she wanted more from life than simply fixing other people’s toys.

Andrew came and stood at the foot of the tree. “What is wrong, Pansy?”

He was the only one of her brothers not to call her Prickles or Little Prick. It was hard being not only the only girl in a family of men, but also the only porcupine in a family of wolves. She was a random, and it made her life hell when she tried to get outside her own social circle. No one wanted to mess with the pack.

“I am stuck, Andrew.”

He blinked. “In the tree?”

She laughed. “No. In my life. Even Barkley is heading off to the Crossroads and I am stuck fixing car after car and being surrounded by fangs and tails. I want a life. I want a family, babies, a chance to have a man that doesn’t hump the couch in his shifted form.”

He chortled. “Yeesh, do it once and you are branded for life.”

Pansy slithered out of the tree. “I just want more, and I need to go where no one knows me or you or anyone in the family.”

“The Crossroads is expensive, Pansy. We can’t afford it.”

“I know. I am thinking of moving.” She didn’t mention that
she
could probably afford it. It wasn’t really a matter of money; it was a matter of the pack.

His shock was visible. “Leave? You would leave?”

“I think I have to. I am not a member of the pack. I am not one of you even though I know you love me. I do not doubt that I have a wonderful and protective family, Andrew, but how can I find a mate if I can’t get out of that protective circle?”

He put his hands on her shoulders and his forehead against hers, snuffling gently for comfort. “Next week is your party. Aunty Keelie will be there, and she might have some ideas.”

Pansy perked up. Her godmother’s visits were always wonderful, even if the presence of a fairy set her father’s teeth on edge. Pansy was the only woman she knew with an actual fairy godmother.

“Did Dad actually let her have the right date and time this time?” She smiled.

“Yup. He gave the invitations to Dougal, and Doug shuffled them before putting them back into their envelopes. No fairy weed, hexes or crushed carob this time.”

Pansy sighed in relief. The drama surrounding her birthday parties was legendary. Her father moved location, gave Keelie the wrong times and even went so far as to bribe transporters to hide the event. Somehow, her godmother always managed to find her and give her her gift.

When she was young, she was given jewellery that she thought was pretty. Now that she was an adult, she knew that she had enough money in gems to buy a large chunk of the countryside. When she turned fifteen, the gifts had become more practical, classic cars and deeds to property near her father’s home. Now that she was turning twenty-five, she had no idea what the gift would be, but she knew that her godmother would be happy to see her. She always was.

“Come on, Jarrod is making dinner and it isn’t spaghetti.”

Pansy grinned. “Oh good. Pot roast!”

Andrew tucked her under his arm and steered her through the woods, down the path from the garage to their home and into the pack house.

Pansy went up her private staircase and into her rooms, taking a quick shower before dinner. Her situation in the pack house had been a matter of concern. While she was family, she was not pack. It was a bit of a technicality headache, but she, her six brothers and her father had managed to get the rules down and all visitors to the pack house were educated within a few hours. Anyone who didn’t like it was free to give his apologies to the alpha or to face Pansy herself in combat. Most simply minded their manners.

Dressed in a long-sleeved, button-down, oxford-cloth shirt, she slipped on her jeans and a pair of ballet flats.

She headed back downstairs and sat at the kitchen counter, watching Jarrod try to navigate his way through the second of the two meals that he could cook with dexterity. “It smells good, Jarrod.”

“Thanks, Prix. You are home early.”

“I had a slight emotional moment at work, so Andrew found me and brought me home.”

“You still have a smudge on your nose.”

She cursed and grabbed a napkin, using the toaster as her mirror as she removed the bit of grease that she had missed in the shower. “How is that?”

He glanced at her and grinned. His own face was decorated with splashes of mashed potatoes and a smear of gravy.

“You look edible, Jarrod.”

“I promise to clean up before dinner. Roger has been looking a little peckish lately. Don’t want to deal with him chewing on my face.” Jarrod laughed.

Jarrod was the brother closest to her in age. Andrew and Jake were next then Dougal, Thomas and the eldest was Roger. They were all handsome, as most shifters were, but all still single. Some days, Pansy thought they were waiting for her to get hitched so that they were free to find female wolves and live happily ever after with piles of puppies, but she was holding them back.

She didn’t care if they wanted to mate with turtles; she just wanted them to find someone, anyone to make them happy.

Jarrod hauled the enormous pan full of beef, vegetables and potatoes out of the oven, and he settled it on the sideboard.

“Do you want some help, Jarrod?”

“Nope. I have got this.” He started to move quickly, setting places at the table, covering the meat with foil and thickening the juices into a heady gravy.

She watched him and finally whispered, “The Chilean merlot.”

He blinked and jerked toward the wine rack as if pulled. He gave her a stage whisper, “Thank you.”

Wine in the gravy had started as an accident when their mother cooked and had become a tradition. Pansy didn’t remember her mother, but she knew every iota of information and every story and anecdote that her family would mention. Tales of their mother were carefully horded in her mind.

When dinner was ready and her brothers and father were freshly scrubbed, Jarrod rang the bell and the alpha took his seat at the head of the table.

Pansy took her seat and every other brother sat on one side of the table or the other.

The visiting beta took a seat next to Pansy and scowled at being put so low in the pack order. She winked at him, and she reached behind her neck, pulling out two quills.

When her father took the first bite, she threw both quills, picking her meat and her chosen potato a moment before Roger’s hand made it to her serving. “Too slow, brother.”

He sighed, their father smirked and the beta looked green as the platter came past him, and she picked her chosen piece, laying her quill next to her plate. She repeated the procedure with the potato but settled for the spoon with the vegetables.

Darryl Rickart cleared his throat. “You don’t use the spikes for the vegetables?”

She snickered and finished prepping her plate. “Of course not. I am saving both of them for dessert.”

Her family started to laugh, she tucked in and dinner in the Medeela house began.

The next ten days went by normally. Pansy spent every weekday at the garage, and on the weekends, she managed her holdings. She had four of her six homes rented, one in renovation and one open. It happened to be the one bordering on the Barkleys’ home.

When she woke up on the morning of her birthday, she could feel a tingle in the air. There was only one thing in her life that made her feel like that. “Aunt Keelie?”

The air in the corner of her room thickened and her godmother sat in the same rocking chair that her mother had held her in twenty-five years earlier. “Morning, my brightest Pansy. How are you this bright and shining day?”

The fae tended to talk like they were a cross between Ren Faire employees and ancient English nobility.

Pansy squealed and lunged into her godmother’s arms. Keelie Fleur Montrose-Secuada hugged her tight. “I can’t believe you are here so early.”

“I wanted to thwart your father’s attempts to dodge me this year. I came at dawn instead of twilight. How sneaky was that?”

“Exceedingly sneaky, Auntie.” She was sitting on her aunt’s lap and her heart was lighter than it had been in ages. The fae had that effect.

“Come on, this town has to have a diner or something. I want to take you out to breakfast.” Keelie tugged Pansy up and got to her feet.

Her pointed ears were pierced several times, and at six foot seven, she was the tallest female that Pansy had ever met. Her clothing was the height of fashion or at least supernatural fashion. Her long velvet coat buttoned tightly over the blouse that covered the corset that she was never without. The tight trousers snugged into tighter boots. She was a glorious spectacle with her riot of red curls and leaf-green eyes; the clothing just capped it.

“I can smell the boys making me breakfast. We can walk out through the woods and go for lunch later.” Pansy’s gaze beseeched her to understand.