Page 12 of The Wolf and his Witch

Gabriel took a sip of his wine, his hand, his capable hand, cradling the wine glass. Once they had cradled… She shook her head, banishing the image that came to mind. Paris was over, in the past and it damn well had to stay there.

“By that measure, where is your great aunt?”

Of course he knew of her relationship with the High Priestess. No shifter would barge into coven business without doing a background check.

“The High Priestess cannot be everywhere or do everything all at once. In this instance, I speak for her.”

“As I speak for Stef.”

Damn it. Damnhim.

“Why are you really here, Gabriel? The risk of discovery is a part of life for anyone of the supernatural variety. Taking out Faucher won’t change that.”

Gabriel shrugged a muscled shoulder, his shirt pulling tight across his chest. Her fingers curled. Muscle memory was abitch.

“As I said earlier, in your great aunt’s office, our pack has had dealings with EvequeFaucher. The information he kept on our pack, has provided—and we suspect—is still providing, our enemies with insight we wish they didn’t have. If we can eliminate him and his writings, it will be of considerable benefit to us.”

Lord, listening to Gabriel talk, his deep voice and that almost guttural ‘r’, the melodic singsong quality, even when he spoke in English… Coupled with those chocolate brown eyes, and full lips… Her nipples peaked and she squeezed her thighs together.

Gabriel swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Annabelle?”

His voice dipped deeper, huskier, and she all but melted into her panties. He reached for her hand, and she snatched it away.

“That makes sense.” Did she sound a little breathy? She cleared her throat. “But you had no way of knowing we had something that could help you with that when Dutton’s research alerted you to our interest in him.”

“Non.”Gabriel tapped the table. “But what if we are wrong? What if our enemies have yet to discover Faucher’s writings? Or, they have only some of them and are looking for more? Anybody,ma chérie,who takes an interest in Faucher is of interest to us.”

Ma chérie.Literal translation, my darling. A common enough phrase in French. Gabriel had called her that many a time. In Paris. Then he’d left her. She shouldn’t read anything into it.

Gabriel leaned his elbows on the table, and a whiff of his spicy aftershave mingled with the musky scent that was all Gabriel tickled her nostrils. She leaned back in her chair, resisting the urge to breathe it in, to let it surround her. Too many memories clung to that scent. Memories that stirred up a heat she was desperately trying to ignore.

“Where did the coven find the spell, Annabelle?”

Annabelle stiffened. “Who said it was a spell?”

Gabriel shrugged. “You’re witches. A coven of witches. It stands to reason you would use a spell. Where did you find it?”

Why was it so important to know where it had come from? Did he suspect it was from Faucher’s writings? That would mean the grimoire had belonged to the bishop. Not likely. Not unless the bishop was a warlock himself, and a dark one at that.

“Or did you write the spell, Annabelle?” he persisted. “Another witch in your coven perhaps? Or that…warlock, Dutton?” From the snarl in his tone as he spoke Dutton’s name, it was clear what Gabriel thought of him. On this they were on the same page.

“Huh?” She shook her head. “No.” She might have wished she’d written it, or that someone in her coven had—with the exception of Dutton—but no. The witch who had, had been far more proficient than she. The spell was a complicated one. Each time Annabelle had used it, she’d had to take a few hours to prepare herself for it. Transversing time was no simple matter. If it was, scientists would have discovered a way to master it by now.

Gabriel tapped the table, waiting for her reply.

“I work at Rarity. We specialize in rare and collectible books. I found it in the back of an old book.” Not entirely untrue.

“And where is this book now?”

Annabelle shrugged. “Where most books in Rarity go, eventually. It got sold. As most books do sooner or later. Bought by some anonymous financier upstate, I think. I barely had a chance to take a photo of the spell before it was gone.” Was he buying her lie? Her great aunt had, but a shifter’s senses were far superior to a human’s. “It was one page in the back of a manuscript. I had the photo, so I didn’t bother tracking the sale.”

His gaze slid to her purse.

“I’ve deleted the photo, if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s not the kind of thing you want to leave lying around for anybody to have access to.”

Did he really think she would be stupid enough to keep it on her phone? With the tech available to hackers these days? It was far too dangerous to leave it sitting in her image gallery. She’d deleted it from her phone as soon as she’d left Aunt Marjory’s office. Once she’d confirmed her aunt had received it. Gabriel’s gaze slid past her shoulder, then narrowed. Annabelle turned.

What the…

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