Page 52 of The Wolf and his Witch

Louis gave a low whistle. “A time-traveling witch. And she’s been targeting the Langeais wolves well before the tenth century. A worthy adversary.”

Pierre grinned. “Game on.” He grabbed his laptop and followed his twin to their office, cracked his knuckles and settled himself in his chair. They liked a challenge.

Louis cocked an eyebrow at him. “New Year’s?”

Pierre nodded. “We’ll have her before then. How hard can it be to find one little old lady?”

* * * *

Maxime swirled cognac around in his glass before draining his drink and setting the glass aside. The smooth burn of the alcohol went some way to masking his indigestion, if not the disquiet in his mind. From his desk drawer, he took out a pair of white cotton gloves and slipped them on. He opened the archival box and, with care, unwrapped the book from its protective glassine paper. His ancestor’s journal, leather bound and stamped with the d’Louncrais red wax seal. Red, green and blue light bathed the journal, courtesy of Pierre’s and Louis’ Christmas tree. The bloody Montagne twins had insisted he get festive. Well, mostly Louis. His exuberance was more irritating than infectious.

Ignoring the tree and its bright and cheery decorations, Maxime flicked through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. At the top, the date—the fourth day of the month of November in the year of our Lord, nine hundred and ninety-nine.There it was,in his ancestor Gaharet d’Louncrais’ bold hand. Isobella Rodriguez, belonging to the Bayside coven of San Francisco of the United States of America, daughter of Emannuel, step-daughter of Pamela Jackson and stepsister to Annabelle Jackson, mated EdmondandAubert Montagne.

It was all there. How Annabelle would find the grimoire at her place of work—Rarity. That she would steal it. How she would introduce the time traveling spell to her High Priestess, Marjory Jackson, and set in action a chain of events that would lead to Isobella using the spell to go back in time to the tenthcentury. That Gabriel would also use the spell to save his mate, Annabelle. How, in the end, the coven would send the grimoire to the Langeais wolves. To Alain. All Maxime had needed to do was to see Rarity, and subsequently Annabelle, would get the grimoire in the first place. He’d made sure of it. He’d taken it there personally.

It would piss Gabriel off if ever he found out Maxime had known all along. At least Gabriel had his mate.

Maxime poured himself another large nip of cognac. His mate hated him. Wanted him dead. How was it possible the one woman meant for him, was one of his worst enemies?

It could be worse. He flicked a few pages ahead. Stefanie’s name jumped out at him. He’d hidden this from everyone. Would have done anything for it to not be so, but if there was one thing he’d learned—fate would find a way. Gabriel and Annabelle were proof enough of that. It didn’t matter if he told his sister or not. Her destiny was written right here, in his ancestor’s concise hand. He needn’t tell her. She would find out for herself soon enough.

* * * *

Stef dialed up her brother. She knew exactly what he’d be doing—sitting at his desk with nothing but a glass of cognac to keep him company.

“Merry Christmas, brother,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice.

He grunted, and down the line came the unmistakable sound of him pouring another drink.

She sighed. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time trying to get drunk, Maxime.” No matter how much cognac he imbibed, his werewolf blood would always negate the effects.

“I know, but I can pretend for a little while it works.”

“Why don’t you go after her?” It seemed the most obvious thing to Stef. “She’s your mate. Let the bond form and then…well…let nature take its course.”

“Mmhm. And how would you feel if you were in her shoes? Fated to be with someone you’d been taught to despise, hmm?”

Stef bit back a retort. She knew exactly what she’d do. She’d fight it. With everything she had. And if he tried to force the issue? She’d fight harder.

“Remember this, Stef. Remember your words. There may come a time when they’re more important than you can imagine.”

An icy shiver rocketed up her spine. “Maxime, what are you talking about? What do you know?”

Lord knows she’d been avoiding thinking about mating anyone for quite some time now. Why on earth would she want another overbearing male in her life? She already had Maxime and Gabriel. She could barely breathe without one of them being there to witness it. And a human mate? Ugh. No thanks. But the way Maxime was talking… Like he knew who her mate was going to be, and she wouldn’t like it… It was unnerving.

“I’m sorry, Stef.” His weary sigh filtered down the line. “I’m feeling a little maudlin tonight. I don’t mean to imply anything.”

Stef couldn’t sense any lie, but her brother had always been adept at concealing his emotions. “Well, don’t let that go on too long. It’s Christmas.”

“Oui. I’ll snap out of it. Listen, Stef. Can you do me a favor? I need you to pass on a message for me.”

“Sure. Who’s the message for?”

“You’ll know when the time is right.”

Again that sense of foreboding skittered up her spine. “Why are you being so cryptic tonight, Max? What’s going on?”

Another heavy sigh. “I can’t tell you, Stef. It could change things. Just memorize the message. Trust me, your brother, your alpha.”

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