Page 45 of The Wolf and his Witch

Annabelle scrunched up her face.Isobella? Why?

Stef smirked and patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry, Annabelle. After we’ve had a talk, Isobella and I will disappear.Apparently, Lenni’s does amazing pizzas. Isobella and I have plans to watch the movie you Americans callDie Hardand continue our debate over whether it’s a Christmas movie.”

Her aunt, Stef and her family moved away to go about their respective tasks.

Isobella jerked her head to the cabin. “I’ll, um, see you inside.”

Then she was alone with Gabriel.

“I’m sorry we—”

“I should never have left you in—”

Annabelle stared at her shoe as she scuffed at the dirt with her toe. “You first.”

“I promise I will explain everything, Annabelle. Why I left you in Paris, everything. I promise.”

She nodded. “Okay. You’d better. I’ll be waiting.”

Annabelle stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, then turned and walked toward the house. Lying in that basement, believing him to be dead, she’d have given everything to go back to before the crash. To tell him she loved him. Had always loved him. But he’d left her in Paris, and she needed to know why. She needed answers to a lot of questions. Then, and only then, would she tell him she’d already forgiven him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Gabriel landed with a thump on the forest floor, having forced his aching body through a tear in the fabric of time once more.Putain, his body hurt, but his heart no longer squeezed in his chest. Annabelle was alive and safe. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the night sky, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth. His woman was strong. She’d gotten herself out of that basement all by herself. And she’d taken down Dutton with thefils de pute’sown knife. What an amazing woman. Annabelle, his mate. It was time to tell her everything. It was time to claim her and make her one of them.

He sent a text to Stefanie, telling her he was on his way. Then he called for an Uber. It took him three attempts to get one to meet him at the entrance of Muir Woods. The monument had closed at five. It was now eleven. No one wanted to come out to the woods. And for a foreigner, no less. Not at this time of night. He’d recited the spell around midday, spent perhaps three hours at most in the past, but he’d returned eleven hours later. It was a good thing Isobella wouldn’t be coming back. Who knew how inaccurate the spell would be if someone wentthatfar back in time.

A light rain was falling as he paid the Uber driver and entered the hotel. Would Annabelle be awake and waiting for him? Would she still be in his suite? He leaned against the elevator wall.L’enfer, he was tired, and he needed a shower. But first, Annabelle and Isobella needed to know the truth. Then hethought he might sleep for a week. As long as Annabelle was curled up against his side, he would be a happy man. And wolf.

If she’d have him. He’d thought he’d seen something in her expression as he’d held her in his arms by the cabin in the forest. A softening of her anger toward him. But he had a lot of explaining to do, and she could well reject him as her mate. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. It’d happened to Maxime. Would Annabelle accept him? Or would she doom him to long nights of melancholy drinking with Maxime? Two lone wolves bereft of their mates.

He stepped through the vestibule and into the penthouse apartment. Annabelle stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out across the San Francisco night skyline. The memory of her naked, her hands pressed against the glass as he’d taken her from behind, flashed through his mind. His cock instantly rose to the occasion.Oui,he wanted to do that again. Soon. Not now. Not with Isobella sitting on the sofa, concern in her dark eyes. Concern for him or Annabelle? Or for her role in this?

“About time.” Annabelle turned to face him, her arms folded across her chest. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Gabriel.”

“Oui. Whatever you need to know,ma chérie.”

She took a few steps toward him, but not close enough for him to draw her into his arms. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

“Who was that man with Dutton? Scarface?” she demanded.

Stef sauntered in from the kitchen, handed him a glass of whiskey and gave him a look that said he was on his own with this one.

He took a large swig, letting it burn down the back of his throat. “His name was Gerard Boucher. He belonged to a fanatical group in France whose origins date back to the tenth century. They follow the writings of Eveque Faucher. They believe that any supernatural being like me, like you, are evil,and they dedicate their lives to hunting and destroying them. Because of Faucher’s experience with my ancestors, he had a particular fixation with the Langeais wolves. The Faucherians have continued with his obsession.”

Annabelle screwed up her nose. “The Faucherians? They call themselves theFaucherians?”

Stef snorted. “A stupid name for stupid people.”

“Wait a minute.” Annabelle frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. If he believed supernatural beings to be evil, if theseFaucheriansbelieve the same, why would they work with a witch? With Dutton?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it suited them to for the moment.”

“That’s hypocritical.”

Gabriel took another sip of whiskey. “I said they were dedicated, not that they were intelligent. Or sane. But it is concerning. Faucher wasn’t the only enemy my ancestors faced. There was a witch, a time-traveling witch named Cordelia.”

Annabelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Cordelia. As in, Cordelia King?”

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