Page 7 of The Wolf and the Witch

“Alpha,” Gabriel called authoritatively from the doorway. Turning a red glare on his Beta, he warned, “Interfere if you wish to share my father’s fate.” He let the words flavor the air, settling like fairy dust. Gabriel visibly stiffened, but the intelligent male aimed his eyes at the ground. The crumpled clothing clenched in one hand belied his subservience.

Geralt returned his attention to his cousin. Fear cloaked her scent entirely. Crinkling his nose, he gently pushed at her hunched shoulders. Shooting him a shocked look, she fell backwards, landing gracelessly on the settee behind her.

“Talk,” he demanded. Warnings rung in his head, drowning out Ryker. He knew in his bones Abbigail needed him. Killing the female in front of him meant nothing if he didn’t learn more about his daughter’s fate.

Ella bit into a plump bottom lip, face flushed red and tears brimming in her eyes. Gabriel bravely stepped forward, drawing Geralt’s eye. He cocked a brow at his Beta.

“Perhaps Ella would be more comfortable if I ask the questions. If that is alright with you, Alpha.” Gabriel didn’t phrase it as a question. Despite his temper, Geralt trusted the male. Giving a curt nod, he motioned for the clothes in his hand. Gabriel gave him a small, grateful smile when exchanging them over.

Geralt walked away, stopping near the door, back turned toward the couple and pulling on the clothes provided for him. His ears twitched constantly, picking up their whispered conversation. A frown twisted his lips upon hearing about Ella’s travels to Crescent Moon pack with the princess. The Lycan king’s sister, Princess Natasha, visiting a pack established by rogues niggled at him.

The pack was too close, and communication with Abbigail was nonexistent. He didn’t believe in coincidences. Frustrated, he turned a menacing glare back on Ella.

Her eyes darted to him before quickly returning to Gabriel’s stoic brown eyes, a similar shade as her own. A soft smile curled thin lips, and he gripped her hands gently in his large hands. Ryker snarled, kill them both.

He ignored the animal. But his patience ran out the moment he scented her in his home. Her reluctance to tell the truth scraped against his raw nerves.

“Just tell us about Abbigail,” he bit out, not bothering to gentle his tone. Gabriel shot him a reproachful look, but he ignored that as well. Only his pup mattered at the moment.

Ella sucked hung lungfuls of air, trembles traveling to slender fingers. Gabriel rubbed soothing caresses across her knuckles with his thumb. Motioning with his head, his Beta encouraged Ella to speak up. I tire of this, Ryker spoke up in his mind. Ella should speak fast if she didn’t want to become acquainted with Geralt’s wolf, held in check by a thread. They’d lost a mate. Losing a young wasn’t an option for them.

Ella kept nibbling on her lip, but swiveled her head in Geralt’s direction. “She needs you but—” Fear thickened the air.

“You’re safe here,” Gabriel soothed the Beta.

Perhaps feeling reassured, she exhaled a breath, wiping at a lone tear. Geralt watched without comment as she linked her fingers in her lap, stalling the trembling, and straightened her back. Scooting closer to Gabriel, she no longer shrunk into the cushions of the brown settee.

Her eyes fixated on Gabriel, her lips let loose the last thing he wanted to hear. “Abbigail is pregnant by the king. He keeps her sequestered, with only a select few people allowed near her.”

“Is she and the pup healthy?” Geralt’s voice cracked on the words.

Ella stared down at her twisted fingers. “No,” she whispered. Geralt barely suppressed the urge to walk over and shake the rest of the tale out of her. Grinding his teeth and clenching his fist, he breathed through his nostrils. Hues of orange and red still bathed the room from Ryker’s presence.

“Tell us, Ella. The sooner we know, the quicker we can do something about it,” his Beta soothed. Geralt resisted turning his ire on the male for placating the she-wolf. His pup and grand pup needed him. Ella held the information he needed.

Ella tightened her grip on Gabriel’s hands. Whispering in a rush, she confessed, “The king keeps her locked up. But the last time I saw her in passing, she had claw marks along her neck and arms?—”

Geralt’s roar broke off Ella’s words, torn from his chest. His skin ruptured as Ryker fought to the surface. Growls and bones snapping were the only sounds heard in the small space. Geralt saw red. Inch long talons curved inward, his wolf’s muzzle scented the air, searching for easy prey. Ella curled up in a ball on the sofa, cowering from the beast in the room.

Gabriel slowly rose to his full height, both hands held up in front of him, neck titled in submission. Ryker roared at the male. The pain of losing a mate and the fear of losing their young shrouded their minds in a need for action, for blood. He envisioned the king’s throat torn from him, while he gasped and pleaded for mercy.

Geralt’s entire body shuddered. I failed her, Angel. Those words reverberating through his mind broke the spell of blood lust. Crashing to his knees, chest tight with a whirlwind of emotions, he tried putting himself back together, shoving Ryker aside in his mind. Ripples of aftershock tightened his skin. The pain was a drop in the bucket.

“My daughter,” he whispered, over and over. His imagination took over, creating the worst abuses she endured at the king’s hand. Warm hands brushed his shoulders, snapping him into the present. He looked up into Gabriel’s determined eyes.

“I’ve got you, Alpha. And we’ll get Abbigail. I promise you that, on my life.”

Flashbacks and Plans

Helen smacked at Geralt’s hands. He scowled at the older she-wolf, but she ignored him, readjusting his tie.

“Quit it or you’ll look like a fool in front of the king,” she admonished. Geralt tightened his lips. He already felt like a fool for agreeing to bring his only child before the Lycan king.

Geralt had every intention of ignoring the king’s proclamation that every unmated she-wolf past the age of sixteen attend the ball at his palace in the Adirondack Mountains. Abbigail’s 18th birthday loomed closer and fear gripped his heart at losing her, even to another male. She remained all he had left of Angel.

But the king sent a representative to each pack, an unspoken threat. He chaffed at being thrust into the situation without his permission. Praying to the moon Goddess, he stepped away from Helen, certain she’d knotted his tie correctly.

Gabriel knocked softly at the door, but instead of answering, he strode toward it. Impatient to return home and eager to get the night over with, he stalked past his Beta without comment. Ryker remained unsettled. A premonition gripped him, but he shoved it aside. All would be well, he reassured the beast. They just had to survive the night.

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