Page 2 of The Wolf and his Witch

She’d spent Christmas Day alone in her little rented apartment in the fourth arrondissement, watching lovers stroll along the Seine while she had only her memories and her thoughts of what might have been to keep her company. Christmas had always been more a time for spending with family rather than anything of religious significance for Annabelle. Butafter Paris, even that had lost its luster… It was hard to be festive and jolly with the memory of Gabriel and Paris rattling around in her head and her heart.

Now he was here. On her home turf. With a woman. The Christmas tree in the corner mocked her.

I hate Christmas.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was not going to let him intimidate her. Not here. Not now. She’d moved past him.

He ran his gaze leisurely over her, from head to toe, and God help her if it didn’t remind her of what it felt like to have his hands caressing her and teasing her to heights she had never reached since. She glared at him, and he openly grinned. She scowled.

“Annabelle.” The High Priestess turned that impenetrable slate gaze of hers on her. “Pay attention.”

“My apologies, High Priestess,” she mumbled.

That the most powerful witch in their coven was her great aunt afforded Annabelle no concessions, not when it came to coven matters.

“Jeez, Annabee,” whispered Dutton. “What is it with you and this guy? Another one of your jilted lovers?”

Dutton King—warlock and all-round pain in her ass. She’d forgotten he was there. She rolled her lips, smothering her laugh. He wouldn’t like that. Being forgotten. With a name like King and an attitude to match, he strutted around their coven as if he ruled it. If he and his family had their way, he’d soon be one step closer.Thatwasn’t happening. Never in a million years would she consider a match with him. Especially not now she’d seen him wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater. What grown man woreanythingwith Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer on it?

His fingers brushed hers. Annabelle recoiled. She didn’t have to turn Duttoninto a toad. He already was one. She clasped her hands behind her back, out of his reach. A growl rumbled, and Annabelle’s attention snapped to Gabriel. Dark eyes bored into hers and his lips curled into a snarl. She stuck out her chin.

How dare he? He’d left her without a follow-up phone call, not even a text. And now he stood there, with a woman, and he was upset because another man tried to touch her? If having anything to do with Dutton didn’t make her skin crawl, she might have grabbed for his hand just to spite the gorgeous hunk of man flesh she’d once called her lover.

The High Priestess, her aunt, sighed. “Do we need to clear the air here? Before we can get down to business?”

Annabelle shook her head. “Nope. I’ve got nothing to say.”

Dutton puffed up his chest. “Well, I do.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes.Of course he does.

“I don’t know what’s gone on between you two in the past,” he said, flicking his gaze between Annabelle and Gabriel, “but it’s over. Annabelle is my intended and I’ll not have some…someshiftersniffing around my woman.”

Gabriel’s nostrils flared.

Annabelle snorted. “Yourwoman? Only in your dreams, Dutton. Wait.What?” She spun on Gabriel. “You’re a shifter? How did I not know that?”

Gabriel shrugged.

Annabelle wanted to wipe the smug smirk off Dutton’s face. With her boot.

“This is why, Annabee, you need me,” said Dutton. “Any witch or warlock with any experience would know he’s a wolf shifter.” He gave a sweep of his hand to include Xena: Warrior Princess. “They’re both shifters.” He looked down his nose at Annabelle. “You’re not strong enough to rule this coven on your own, sweets. You need me.”

He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, and her stomach roiled. She pulled back, resisting the urge to gag. She stared at Gabriel and the woman beside him. The beautiful woman. The she-wolf. Is that why he’d left her? Had his pack called him back to mate one of their own?

She faced the pride and joy of the King family. “Now is not the time for this discussion, Dutton, but I assure you, you are the last man I wouldeverneed.”

“Enough!” Her aunt slammed a book down on her desk. “Our visitors are not here to discuss the internal politics of our coven.” She glared at Annabelle before turning to Dutton. “Nor your marriage proposal, Dutton.”

Marriageproposal? Oh, hell, no.

Dutton must’ve tired of her refusals and approached the High Priestess. Her aunt wouldn’t do that, would she? Take her choice away and marry her off to Dutton for the benefit of the coven? Annabelle pulled herself together. Her aunt had said marriageproposal, not impending marriage.

“Gabriel Montagne and Stefanie d’Louncrais are here as representatives of the Langeais Wolf pack.”

Montagne? Bastard.He’d told her his name was Gabriel Madore. It was part of the reason she’d initially thought he was Spanish, not French. That, and he looked like Zorro. Or the actor who played him.

“They’ve come all the way from France.”

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