Page 6 of The Wolf and his Witch

“I won’t risk my future bride—”

Annabelle froze. Slowly, deliberately, she walked back to Dutton and glared up at him. “Futurebride?In. Your. Dreams. Dutton. King. I will never”—Annabelle poked Rudolph in the eye and the pompom jerked wildly—“ever”—another poke, so forceful Dutton took a step back—“be. Your. Bride.” It took everything she had to get the words out at a decibel that wouldn’t be heard across the street. “I don’t care if the High Priestess wereto order me to marry you, I wouldn’t. I’d rather get stuck in the tenth century, married to some barbarian marauder, than haveanythingto do with you.”

A low growl rumbled behind her. Dutton paled. He might be six feet tall and spend most of his days in the gym, but he was no match for Gabriel. Montagne suited Gabriel far more than Madore. He truly lived up to the English translation of his name. At six feet four, he was a mountain of a man. As a shifter, he was lethal. Dutton going up against Gabriel would be like a chihuahua taking on a grizzly bear. But she didn’t need or want Gabriel to fight for her.

“This is none of your business, Gabriel. Back off.”

Dutton removed her finger from his chest. “You’ll come around. Everyone can see the benefit of joining our two families. It’ll make the coven stronger. We’re a good match, you and I, Annabelle. With us at ruling together, there’ll not be single witch or shifter that would dare challenge us. Or this coven.” He grabbed hold of her chin, ignoring Annabelle’s recoil. “We’d make beautiful babies, too, to follow in our footsteps. And despite what you say, even you’re not willful enough to disobey a command from the High Priestess.” He glanced warily over her shoulder at Gabriel. “And set him straight. I’ll not have some random hookup of yours coming between us.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off down the hall, the slam of the front door behind him echoing through the house. Annabelle snorted.Dutton has left the building.Arrogant ass.

She spun on Gabriel and folded her arms across her chest.One down, one more to go.

Gabriel mirrored her stance, his biceps flexing.

Don’t drool, don’t drool.

“We need to talk.”

Annabelle scoffed. “Talk? It’s a shame you didn’t want totalkin Paris. You know, before you disappeared into the crowd of last-minute Christmas shoppers.”

“I had no choice, Belle.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you know?”

He frowned. “Know what?”

“That I was a witch.”

They both turned as a maid entered the hall, a vacuum cleaner in tow. Gabriel grabbed her arm and tugged her into the downstairs bathroom, closed the door and flicked the lock behind them.

Ignoring the prickle of goosebumps at his touch, Annabelle wrenched her arm free. “Did you know I was a witch when we were in Paris?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. I wish I had. It may have changed things.”

“Like you might have told me your real name?”

“Like you told me yours?”

Annabelle had forgotten about that. There’d been trouble amongst the covens, and with some of the shifter clans. It’d been a real mess, and she’d craved anonymity, nothing connecting her to her coven or witchcraft. Just for a few months. It was part of the reason she’d gone to Paris, and why she’d given Gabriel a fake surname. It still didn’t excuse him for ditching her like an unwanted Christmas gift. On Christmas Eve, no less.

She dragged in a deep breath, needing to know yet not really wanting to. “Why did you leave?”

Gabriel looked away. “Belle…” His sigh was full of regret.

“Right.” She dropped her gaze and held up her hand, stopping him from giving her some lame excuse. “I get it.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I was good enough for a fling, but nothing more. That’s why you left, isn’t it? You were called back to mate one of your own kind.” She jerked her head to the door, to thehall, where no doubt his shifter mate—his gorgeous shifter mate—waited. “To mate Stefanie.”

“What? No. Stef and I aren’t… Annabelle, look at me.”

When she didn’t comply, when the pattern in the floor tiles continued to hold her attention, he pressed a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Annabelle, I did return to my pack. They called me in, and I had no choice but to go. I couldn’t tell you why. I still can’t, but I can tell you it wasn’t to mate a she-wolf. And I didn’t want to leave you. If I’d had any other option, I would have taken it.”

She rolled her eyes.My eyeballs sure are getting a workout today.

He cupped her chin in both hands. “Belle.”

The way her name rolled off his tongue, Belle, with that French accent of his… His pet name for her. Belle—in French, it meant beautiful. She tried to shut down her body’s response to him, but her skin heated and her heart pounded. He’d have to know. His shifter senses wouldn’t miss it. Nor the way her body swayed, no matter how infinitesimally, toward him, drawn there like metal to a magnet.

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