Page 4 of The Wolf and his Witch

“And that brings us to why we are here,” said Gabriel.

Annabelle nearly swooned at the familiarity of that deep voice. A voice that had once romanced her over dinner and a bottle of Bordeaux. Had commanded her to spread her legs for him so he could taste her, and had whispered dirty words against her throat as he’d thrust inside her. Her legs quivered, and her panties dampened.

Gabriel’s nostrils flared, and his gaze locked with hers. He knew.Damnit.Bloody shifter senses.She dropped her gaze, willing her body to have some level of dignity. The man had clearly moved on. That her body betrayed her continuing need for him was embarrassing. Lord knew what Stefanie thought of it all.

“Tell us, High Priestess,” said Gabriel. “What is your interest in Eveque Faucher?”

The High Priestess shrugged an elegant shoulder. “We plan to rewrite history.”

Chapter Two

Gabriel glanced from the High Priestess to Annabelle, then to the warlock—the man who thought he had some sort of claim over Annabelle. His Annabelle.Like hell.

It had been three years since he’d last seen her. Threefuckinglong years with the memory of her sweet body clenching around his cock on constant replay every time he closed his damn eyes. God, he’d missed her laughter, her sass. Her cornflower-blue eyes twinkling to rival all the Christmas lights in Paris. Or hooded, with her full lips puffy from his attentions and her long blonde hair splayed across his pillow. He hadn’t wanted to leave her. God, it’d been the hardest thing he’d ever done, getting into that taxi. The look on her face, the confusion, then the disbelief. That last glimpse of her, the dawning understanding in her eyes, still haunted him. He’d had no choice. His pack had needed him.

What a shock to find her here.Andto find out she’s a witch. But, as his pack knew all too well, fate often played a hand in these things. Now here he was, on pack business, nearly three years to the day since he’d left her on the Champs-Élysées,and he was damned if he was going to leave here without her. Nothing would stand in his way this time. Not his pack, not the High Priestess, and most definitely not a pretentious, overconfident warlock.

He grinned.Merry Christmas to me.

Gabriel turned to the High Priestess. “What exactly do you mean when you say you want to rewrite history?”

The High Priestess leaned back in her chair and regarded them. “Imagine if someone could go back in time and kill Hitlerbeforehe rallied the people. Or Osama Bin Laden, while he was only a boy. Or Stalin, or Pol Pot, before they became responsible for so many deaths. Would you hesitate, or would you act?”

She paused and arched a manicured eyebrow. “It’s estimated somewhere between thirty-five and sixtythousandpeople, predominantly women, died during the Inquisition. Many of those people were nothing more than victims of gossip, superstition and overzealous churchmen. Some of them were genuine witches, dedicated to helping and healing those who sought their aid.” Her keen eyes studied him, watching for his reaction. “What if we could change that? What if, with one carefully orchestrated and targeted attack, we could prevent the Inquisition from ever happening?”

“Interesting proposition.” Gabriel side-eyed Stef. “I’m sure many people have wondered how different the world would be if we could go back in time and change things. There’s a whole genre of fiction dedicated to the idea, but no one has invented a machine that can travel through time. Yet, here you are talking as if it is a possibility.”

Oh, it was possible. That he’d even been born was proof of that. Not something he was planning on sharing with Marjory Jackson.

“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Montagne, itisa possibility. A veryrealpossibility.”

Gabriel feigned surprise. “How?”

“Now, now, Mr. Montagne,” she said, tapping a manicured finger on her desk. “You can hardly expect me to divulge our coven’s secrets.”

She smiled at him, a perfectly practiced smile that spoke of class and manners, but there was no denying this woman was a formidable opponent. Behind the façade of elegance lurkeda dangerous and powerful woman. She wouldn’t be single-handedly ruling her coven if she wasn’t. According to his brothers, Pierre and Louis, the computer geeks of the pack, she’d been running the coven for nigh on forty years. The lines around her eyes and her gray hair might hint at her age, but this woman was no geriatric. The High Priestess, Marjory Jackson, would not roll over and give them what they wanted. He hadn’t expected she would.

But the Langeais wolves weren’t easy pickings, either. They might be here to ensure the witch went back in time, and to help prepare her for the tenth century, to give her knowledge of the pack and warn her of the situation she was stepping in to, but Gabriel wasn’t going to lay out all their secrets for them. Not when the coven had one of their own. Like, where the hell hadtheycome across a way to time travel?

Oui, the pack had sacred amulets that could traverse time. Not their original purpose, but something their ancestors had discovered possible when archeologist Erin Richardson had found one and zapped herself back to the tenth century. But the spell that had created them, and all knowledge of them, were a more closely guarded secret than their very existence. As were all remaining amulets, as far as Gabriel was aware.

Besides, there was no guarantee what year, or what century, an amulet would take a person to. Had these witches stumbled across one and found a way to target a specific time and place? Or a spell of their own, perhaps? That was one spell the Langeais wolves would love to get their hands on.

“Perhaps,” said Marjory, the sweetness of her smile not matching the steeliness of her gaze, “you could share with us why our coven’s internet search caught your attention.”

“Of course.” He had to give Marjory something, and as long as it fit with their end goal and did not compromise the pack, he was authorized to divulge certain facts. “The Langeais wolveshad dealings with Eveque Faucher. Not good ones. He hunted our pack and a witch under our pack’s protection. And he kept detailed descriptions of his endeavors. Our ancestors searched for those writings, hoping to find them and destroy them, but they were unsuccessful.” Gabriel raked his hand through his hair. “You understand, we cannot allow such information to fall into the wrong hands. Even now, there is an element of society who wish to eradicate us. Like his writings on witchcraft, should this information come to light, it could do immeasurable damage.”

Marjory Jackson inclined her perfectly coiffed head. “Well, we agree then. Targeting Eveque Faucher is advantageous to us both. Do you have information that could aid us in eliminating Faucher?”

Gabriel bit back a smile. “We do.”

“And would you be willing to share that information? Work with us on a mutually beneficial plan?”

Gabriel pretended to weigh up the request. He glanced at Stef. She frowned and pursed her lips, studying the witches in the room for a moment as though considering their options, then gave a brief dip of her chin.

Gabriel nodded. “Yes. In return for our assistance…”

Marjory Jackson’s raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

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