Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
It’s hard to love, truly, when my heart is bound to another. He guides me through pain and pleasure; my monster and my lover.
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
There were several bedrooms in this wolf den and Mellie’s was grander than Winter had been expecting.
A neatly made king-sized bed claimed one side of the room and seven floor beds, five occupied, lined the back wall.
Her other pups appeared to be waiting patiently with their tails wagging.
A thin carpet covered the hardwood floors, giving way to an open play space, filled with small balls and large bones.
Mellie shut the door behind them. She released Cara and Cori, who both immediately started jumping on Winter again.
Winter turned the other way. If they couldn’t see her face, they wouldn’t jump. She’d learned that trick volunteering at the pet shelter in her teenage years—the dogs had loved her there too.
“Hmm,” Mellie said, “Ignoring them doesn’t work for me.”
Winter spoke to the door. “Well, this is about jumping, not mothering. I bet they don’t launch at you.”
“You’re right about that. Alright, come sit.”
Winter propped her broom against the door, dodged the excited pups, and made it to Mellie’s bed. Mellie clapped her hands as they settled on the edge. The five pups who’d been resting on their floor beds immediately burst to life. They zoomed around the room like it was their personal racetrack.
Mellie half-smiled, then eyed Cara and Cori, who’d settled beneath Winter’s dangling feet. “They were all told to sit and wait until I came back. I left the door open as a test.”
Winter laughed. “I don’t recall Cara and Cori taking directions all that well.”
“No, they don’t. It’s hard. But they’re wild like their father was, and I love them for that.” Water lined her eyes, and Winter didn’t understand why.
“They’ll be okay, they’re just pups.”
Mellie cupped her mouth, letting out a soft yelp. Tears splashed onto her cheeks next. “I’m just so—” She tried to choke out words and couldn’t.
“I can help you train them. I might not be very good, but I know more than you might think.”
Mellie dropped her hands and let out a soft laugh. “A mage wants to train a wolf?”
Winter shoved Mellie’s leg. “So rude.”
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Thank you, I needed to laugh.”
“I’m serious.” Winter’s conviction was paired with a loud squeak, thanks to Cori shredding a toy.
“No, no, thank you, but I’m not upset about Cara and Cori—they’re just being pups. It’s about their father.” She stopped talking and started to cry again.
“What is it?”
Fighting her tears, Mellie said, “You don’t know? He was killed defending the archives.”
Oh.
“I’m so sorry.” Winter’s hand flew over her mouth.
She was in shock, but mostly, felt horrible.
This was all Kaden’s fault. If he’d not exposed the truth about the garlic immunity to his malevolent sister, the vampires wouldn’t even have access.
It was no wonder the guards were wearing armor.
Winter had always thought it was a precaution, not a necessity.
Mellie looked around her room at the pups playing. “He really loved them … and me. Things could’ve been easy.” Rivulets of pain rushed down her face.
Winter squeezed her leg, wishing she had the right words to say. “You must’ve really loved him too.”
“Yeah, so much.” She scrubbed her face and tried to stop crying. After a deep breath, she said, “And then I ruined everything.”
Winter didn’t understand where this was coming from. “Of course you didn’t.”
“I did. It’s not easy being an omega, Winter. I don’t think you could ever understand.”
In terms of hierarchy, omegas were considered low-ranking. They were often mistreated or undermined, and breeding was a touchy subject. That much Winter knew. “If you talk to me, I can try to.”
Mellie sighed, toying with a loose button on her leather jacket.
“Many think we reproduce and raise our offspring, then repeat the cycle, but there’s so much more than that.
With our heat cycles, we’re doted on. Sometimes endlessly.
In the moment, it can all be so confusing.
There’s this inevitable blur between mating and breeding, whether that’s love or instinct … ” She shook her head.
Winter could sympathize. She’d been used, had fallen hard, and was left destroyed. Males were fickle creatures, never to be trusted with a heart.
“I was protecting myself by pushing him away—telling myself that the pups were a way to strengthen our alliance. I couldn’t let myself believe that they were the product of something far greater.” Mellie’s lip trembled. “But I was very wrong, and now my love, their father, is gone.”
“You can’t blame yourself.”
Mellie clenched the bedsheets. “No, Winter. He loved me. Really loved me, and I pushed him away.”
Winter cupped her hand, feeling the heartache. The pain. The need to grieve. “Tell me more about him.”
After a shuddering breath, she said, “Selfless, always sarcastic, a strong leader, and an incredible lover. Xavier helped me find my wild side, making me into someone who wasn’t so tightly wound.
I spent so much of my life trying to fit into a box—to be the perfect omega—and ultimately, it condemned me. ”
“I’m so sorry, Mellie.”
Wait.
Winter recognized that name from whispers floating around the archives. There were too many puzzle pieces, and she needed a clue. “Was he the alpha of the other pack?”
Mellie nodded through her tears.
Winter was beginning to understand the scope of the stress the Sterling siblings were under.
The death of Mellie’s lover—the pup’s father—and the transfer of that power onto her brother.
There was never going to be a good segue into talking about the hierarchy battle.
This was her only opportunity. “You must be so worried about Westley.”
Mellie stiffened. “Our packs are aligned, so if he wants to keep his title, he’ll have to fight for it.” All the warmth had drained from her voice.
Winter didn’t understand. There had to be an easier way to come to a resolution. “But if you terminate the alliance, he won’t have to fight.”
Mellie looked around the room and back to Winter. “The packs have officially merged, so it doesn’t work like that.”
The pups, Winter realized, were another kind of bridge. One that connected two packs. “You don’t sound like you care much about the outcome.”
Mellie spoke through her teeth. “I don’t.”
That wasn’t at all the response Winter had been expecting. “Why not?”
“Because my brother is an ass. Do I really need to remind you of that? If he wants to win, he can win. I’m done convincing him he’s worthy of his title. And to be frank, he doesn’t deserve my help.”
Woah.
Winter paused, searching for the right words. “He is a fucking asshole, isn’t he?”
Mellie laughed breathlessly. “I missed your language, Winter. I don’t know … maybe he’ll listen to you. But I’m done.”
Winter reached down to pet Cara, who’d been staring at her with heart eyes, and soaked in the emotional support. All the other pups were playing. Cori had his obnoxious squeaky toy, three rolled around together, and two were chewing on her broom.
“What the—” Winter leapt over Cara and sprinted towards the two baby sharks.
Mellie crossed the room, grabbed the pups by their collars, and pulled them back. Winter yanked at her broom. It was a game of tug-o-war, and she was losing.
Mellie came to her side and helped pull.
The pups held strong, slowly gaining the advantage.
“Drop it!” Mellie shouted. Her voice was deep, loud, and absolutely terrifying.
The pups whined, released her broom, and cowered away. The momentum took Winter back, right into Mellie. They both stumbled over.
Winter recovered, sat up, then inspected the damage. The bristles looked good. That would be similar to eating a porcupine, she supposed. The length was full of teeth marks, but the wood wasn’t splintered—thankfully—which meant the flight feather was still intact.
Phew.
Mellie was already up, offering Winter her hand. “Sorry.”
Winter accepted the help and stood, holding onto her broom this time. “It’s just some bite marks.” I got lucky, she wanted to say, but Mellie was already dealing with enough stress.
“It’s been so hard to train them with everything going on.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling. “I cry so easily these days.”
The heartache was palpable. “You’re allowed to cry,” Winter said. It was healthy to mourn. It was unhealthy to pretend like everything was okay—her typical way of dealing with problems. “I know I didn’t know Xavier, but he would’ve been very proud of the mother you are.”
Winter had never needed much time with Mellie to know how much she cared about her pups, that alone made her a great mother. Tears threatened Winter’s eyes, but she blinked the thought of Lorinne away.
“Thank you,” she said. “Anyways, we got a little side-tracked. What did you want to talk about?”
“I know you’re hurting, but I think your brother could really use your help. I tried talking to him, and—”
“No. Whatever it is, no.”
“But his drinking will kill him before this fight does.”
Mellie closed her eyes for a beat longer than normal. When she opened them, she said, “Don’t lie to me, witch.”
Why would she lie about this? Everett’s reaction had been bizarre as well. “Am I lying, or are you avoiding the truth? It’s interesting I’m only a witch to your kind when it’s convenient for a jab.”
“You know our species merely tolerate each other. So lie again, and I’ll kill you myself.” Mellie flashed her wicked teeth.
Winter did the same, standing tall, despite being a foot shorter. “You and your brother are a lot more alike than you might think. Stubborn.”
Mellie fell silent, her brows twisting with what appeared to be confusion.
Perhaps she liked her new teeth, or maybe the words cut too deep. Either way, Winter was done being treated like shit by the Sterling siblings. She swung open the door and left. “I’ll see myself out.”
Just in case, she pulled her wand free and held it aloft. Stomping down the staircase, she ignored the werewolves glaring at her. They would be foolish to attack her.
Thankfully, the front door was straight ahead. Winter stepped into her pleather riding boots, turned the handle, and flew the fuck away.
While flying back to Magdalene’s house, Winter concluded that all werewolves had insurmountable attitude problems. The dinner bell would strike at six o’clock sharp and she was hungry after all the were-drama.
Magdalene’s stone clad cottage was tucked between two identical dwellings.
In fact, there was a circlet of them. Four neighborhoods formed identical round shapes, all connected by a single long road.
The street was called Astrid Way. And from a thousand feet above, it looked like a massive bouquet of flowers.
Winter lifted her seat to begin her descent. The broom dropped, followed by her organs. She held on tight. Once she neared the ground, she leveled out, waved to the nosy neighbor, and hopped off.
She was a star around here. Flying had landed her on the front page of the town’s newspaper a couple weeks ago, making her an overnight celebrity. “No pictures,” she trilled, shuffling along the slippery footpath.
It was always covered in ice. After falling ten times, she’d grown used to walking on it. The trick was to waddle like a penguin.
She opened the yellow-painted door, familiar with its homely creak, and stepped inside.
The scent of rosemary and garlic made saliva pool in her mouth.
She hastily slid her broom in the umbrella holder, tossed her scarf on the coat hook, frowned at her chapped lips in the small mirror, and kicked off her boots.
“No. No,” Magdalene scolded from the kitchen, as if she could see through walls.
Winter rolled her eyes and lined her boots up the way Magdalene preferred them to be. In her fuzzy socks, she padded through the cold living room and into the warmer kitchen.
“Soup, tonight?”
“Your favorite,” answered Magdalene.
“Yes!” Winter celebrated with a fist pump. She loved beef stew.
Magdalene shook her head. “Set the table, please.”
Winter obliged, gathering all the necessities. Magdalene’s bowls had little moons painted inside them. After fixing the place settings, she folded a thick towel for the pot and placed it between the two. A moment later, the steaming soup landed with its ladle in tow.
“There,” said Magdalene.
“I’ve got it tonight,” Winter insisted, waving her off. “Sit.”
“Alright, alright.” Magdalene settled into her chair, eyeing Winter sternly as she ladled two scoops in each bowl. The chunks of meat bobbed to the surface, swimming alongside corn and peas.
Winter ogled her meal. “This looks amazing.”
Magdalene passed her a spoon and grinned. “Eat it then.”
After five or so minutes of blissful silence, punctuated by slurping, the little moons were staring back at her. Rubbing her belly, Winter said, “Thanks, Mags.”
“It’s never a problem to cook an extra serving.”
“I mean for everything.” Magdalene was making this house feel like a home.
“Don’t get sappy on me.”
Their relationship in the future was strictly about work. Here, in the past, they were closer than they’d ever been. Organizing books all month had bonded them. “But you’re so nice to me.”
“Should I stop feeding you?”
“Definitely not, this was delicious. Still, I feel like I should apologize. In the future, I never thought you were nice.” Winter sighed with regret. “I’m so sorry.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about the future.”
Winter folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “Technically, I’m not. But I use my wand and ride my broom, don’t I?”
“That you do, scaring everyone.”
“The kids love it! You should see their faces when I cackle. Who cares about the parents?”
After a staring contest ended in a stalemate, Magdalene asked, “So, I’m not nice?”
“You’re strict. Super strict. And now I know it’s just because you care about the archives so much. I’m sorry for misjudging you.”
“I could say the same things to you, Winter.”
Winter beamed, knowing a compliment when she heard one.
“How much longer will you need to be away?” Magdalene asked. “We’re only halfway done reorganizing.”
Winter groaned. She’d almost forgotten about her conversation with Mellie. “I need more time. I’m not sure, but the fight is …” She counted her fingers. “Four days from now.”
“Grand dieu! If you take all this time off and we still lose our protection, then what?”
She’d have to rearrange her to-do list. “Then I’ll find a woodworking wizard, get you a wand, and start your defense training before we finish reshelving.”
“I really do want one of those,” Magdalene admitted.
“What about a broom?”
“No. That thing, it is terrifying.”