Page 7 of Naughty Elf: Wink

But assuming I did change back, what then? What would Derek think if an elf snuck into his room at night to cuddle? I mentally winced. Yeah, that had definite stalker vibes all over it. Chewy was staring at me, tail swaying, and maybe it was just me, but I swore I felt those yellow-green eyes judging me.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered, and when he meowed back, I realized I had somehow spoken out loud. Whatever magic had transformed me into this shape, it was failing, and I had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the connection I felt with Derek.

It didn’t take long for Derek to fall asleep. I knew that because not even half an hour later, his raccoon came meandering down the hall, headed straight for the kitchen. He disappeared from view, and no amount of trying to lean could help me see around the island. But then I saw the fridge open and heard the distinct sound of Tupperware being pried open by tiny, clawed hands.

I wanted to groan in frustration. This was why he was never hungry, why he was always tired!

Chewy went over to investigate, and if I thought he was going to talk some sense into his owner, I was mistaken. He came back, instead, with a piece of leftover chicken in his mouth.

“Traitor,” I hissed at him, and his ears flattened. He slunk under the couch with his snack.

The fridge closed, and Derek’s raccoon reappeared, heading to the couch dragging a giant slice of pizza—looked like pepperoni and mushroom.

I couldn’t begrudge anyone their cravings, but I knew Derek was going to feel awful tomorrow, and he wouldn’t even understand why. I wanted to somehow fix this, but what was I supposed to do? I felt so helpless! But then I realized something. If Derek didn’t remember what happened at night, that meant he wouldn’t remember seeing me at night either…

With determination brewing, I focused inward and found that loose thread, just like I knew I would. I gave it a gentle tug to see what would happen, and sure enough, the warp and weave of the spell began to unravel. With one mighty jerk, a terrifying squeeze, then a nauseating lurch, I dropped to the floor, face flat on the area rug.

I groaned, unable to move. Every inch of my body hurt, as if I’d actually been physically crammed into that tiny shape for the past few days, instead of it being a spell. Pushing up to all fours, I found myself face to face with a very irate raccoon. He bared his teeth and growled, fully prepared to protect his home turf. Did shifters carry rabies?

“Easy,” I said softly, keeping my movements slow. “I’m not here to hurt you.” Without breaking eye contact, I sat back on my haunches and showed that my hands were empty. “I’m actually here to help Derek. You know who that is, right?”

The growl cut out abruptly, his upper lip lowering back into place, but I wasn’t about to breathe easy just yet. But then Chewy came along, sauntering between us with his tail held high, and he brushed his head up against one of my hands, asking for pats.

That certainly broke the tension. Derek’s animal crept forward, his little black nose wiggling as he took a sniff—then he waddled straight up to me and crawled into my lap. “Hey, sweetie. Yeah, you recognize that smell, don’t you? I’m your mate. Now, if you could please fill Derek in on that, I’d really appreciate it.”

He chattered happily, his claws tugging at my vest as he tried to climb me like a tree, but he gave no indication whether he understood me or not. I looked into his eyes, like black marbles, and saw no sign of the man I knew was in there somewhere.

“Okay, we’ll work on that,” I told him, sighing.

I dug my fingers into his wiry fur and ran my hands down his back, and he nuzzled into my neck, which I took as a sign that he liked that, so I kept at it for a few minutes, debating what to do next.

Here were the things I knew:

Derek was overtired and anxious about his health.

Derek was a shifter, but he and his raccoon weren’t talking to each other.

I seemed to be the only one in a position to do anything to help.

Was this what Santa had meant when he said I was destined for a better life? Was helping Derek the greater purpose fate saw fit to grant me?

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me,” I said with determination, rising to stand with the raccoon in my arms. “Since you’ve had your snack, I’m going to ask you a really important favor. Derek hasn’t been feeling very well, and I think it’s because you’re keeping him up all night. Do you think maybe you could let him sleep properly tonight?Just for one night, and then I’ll figure something else out, something that will work in everyone’s favor. Deal?”

He didn’t say anything—well, of course he wouldn’t, but he didn’t seem entirely against the idea either. He sat back in my arms and stared up at me as I walked him back to Derek’s bedroom.

I was assaulted by the overwhelming scent of my mate in this room, and I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. There was a framed picture on the dresser of him and his friend Leander, wearing aprons and holding whisks, flour on their grinning faces. I bet there was a great story behind that picture, and I wished Derek were here to tell me all about it.