Page 30 of The Wolf and his Witch

At the door to the study, Annabelle paused. “There’s something about the Langeais wolves you should know. They’re different from other shifters somehow. Last night, Gabriel let slip they were true werewolves, whatever that means. He also said they couldn’t procreate with humans.”

Aunt Marjory cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s not simply because he wanted to have sex with you, and he didn’t have any protection on hand?”

Annabelle flushed. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so.”

Aunt Marjory gave her a steady stare. “Very well. I’ll reach out to the local shifter pack. Maybe they’ll know something.”

“Thanks.” She turned to go, then stopped. “And we need to talk about Dutton.”

Aunt Marjory dropped a sheaf of papers in a drawer. “I’m not going to pressure you to marry that moron, Annabelle. You know that, don’t you?”

A sudden weight lifted off Annabelle’s shoulders.

“But finding a suitable partner will alleviate some of these issues we’re facing.”

Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not married. Why do I have to be?”

“You’re not me, Annabelle. Times have changed since I took over the coven. Back then, the coven wasn’t so strong. We had very few experienced witches, and Cordelia, the only person capable of challenging me, had gone to ground. She didn’t show up again for another five years. By then, I’d consolidated my position as High Priestess.”

Annabelle blew out a breath. Aunt Marjory was right. Their coven was stronger now—mostly thanks to Aunt Marjory’s leadership—and Cordelia King was a formidable opponent. The old witch had had forty or so years to build alliances. The day would come when she’d make her move to take control of the coven. Dutton marrying her was merely another way for Cordelia to get what she wanted. When that ruse failed, her attack was bound to be less subtle. Could Annabelle take on a witch like Cordelia? Even with the backing of her family, and the families that were in their corner, there was a high probability Annabelle would lose.

Aunt Marjory sat down at her desk, looking every bit the High Priestess despite the disarray. “Gabriel would make averypowerful ally. Both to the coven and to you.”

Annabelle’s fingers clenched around her phone. Despite his pretty words, the chances Gabriel planned to mate her were zilch. He’d already left her once. Why would he stay now and support her in leading the coven? The answer was, she couldn’t trust he would.

“Mating Gabriel would be an improvement on marrying Dutton. Just think about it, Annabelle.”

Annabelle nodded. Anything to let this conversation drop. She’d thought about it a lot in Paris. Being with Gabriel long term. Marrying him. That was before she’d known he was a shifter. Now… Some shifters had an aversion to mating humans. Was Gabriel one of them? Probably. What shifter would want a mate that couldn’t give him pups?

* * * *

After a quick stop at her apartment for a shower and a change of clothes, Annabelle grabbed the grimoire and headed for Rarity. To Annabelle, Rarity was a thing of beauty. She loved its wood counter with its nicks and scratches, the creak of its polished timber floors, the ladders leaning against the shelves, and the faint musty smell of old books. In an age of Kindles and eBooks, Rarity was…well…a rarity. A bookshop, but not just any bookshop.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the store, filled with books—large, small, hardcover and paperback. Antiquarian books, out of print books, signed copies, leather-bound books and limited editions—all of them special in some way. Glass cabinets displayed the more expensive and the more fragile ones. The one nearest to her housed an incunabulum—an early printed book from the sixteenth century—seated on a frame, its pages open. On the counter, another stand with a first edition Charles Dickens. She tolerated the discrete Christmas decorations—a single, tastefully decorated tree—because in here, it was all about the books.

She’d just finished warding the grimoire disguised as a Christmas present under the Christmas tree as the shop doorbell tinkled and Gabriel walked in. Freshly showered, the hint of his aftershave tickling her nostrils, he looked… Annabellestrode back behind the counter, putting a much-needed barrier between them. How could a man look so damn sexy in a simple white tee, black jeans and a leather jacket?

Finger-combed wet hair flopped over one dark eye as he took in the store. What would Gabriel think of it? Would he shrug it off as just another store? One filled with dusty old books that no one read anymore? She rolled her lips. Why did she care whathethought? She never let any of her other lovers’ negative opinions bother her.

Gabriel strolled into an aisle, his hands caressing the spines of the books. He picked one out and carefully opened it, flicking a few pages before placing it back on the shelf. He moved further along. Another book caught his eye.

The book in hand, he turned to look at her. “There’s some pretty special books in here, Annabelle.” He popped the book back on the shelf and retraced his steps.

“I think so,” she said, stepping back from the counter as he leaned against it.

“You left before I woke. No morning coffee, no goodbye kiss.” There was a hint of rebuke, despite his teasing tone.

Annabelle shrugged. “Sorry. I thought that’s what we did, you and I. Get what we want and leave without explanation. Did I misread the situation?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded. “I guess I deserved that.”

Damn right he did. “Did you want something, Gabriel? A book, perhaps?”

She stared him down. She had every right to be angry. Hurt. Unless he was prepared to give her an explanation right here, right now, he could remain on the other side of that counter forever, as far as Annabelle was concerned.

His nostrils flared, and he looked like he might take up her challenge, then he turned toward the rows of books, and the old heartbreak bloomed anew.

“How would one go about finding a book if one were in the market for one?”

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