Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
He should’ve killed me. How am I to live with half a soul?
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Winter barreled into Westley’s room like a bird hitting a window. She came to a screeching halt in his doorway, clutching the frame for support. “Why are you nude?”
Well, this was his room. He’d just bathed and oiled his freshly shaved face, chest, and— “Why are you staring?”
“Sorry.” Winter smacked a palm over her reddened face.
“Give me a second.” He trudged to his dresser, found a pair of undershorts, and pulled them on. “Alright.”
She slid her hand away. “What about the rest of your clothes?”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes,” she said, “I really need your help.”
He didn’t understand why she kept asking for his help. She had a magical stick and broom, among other crafty qualities. What could she possibly need him for? “Why do you keep saying that?”
Winter invited herself in, strolled across the space, and plopped down on the foot of his mattress. The springs squealed and squeaked like the small devil on his shoulder—elated to see her on his bed again.
Her golden-brown hair was pushed over to one side, exposing her neck. Westley didn’t need to be outside to feel the effects of Winter. He clenched his teeth, trying to ease their chatter.
She played with her thumbs. “I want to know what it feels like to run … as a wolf. I want to be able to protect myself without my wand. I want you to teach me because—” She stopped, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know why. But what I do know is that I don't want anyone else’s help.”
He let out a long breath and moved to sit beside her. Half-truths were better than complete lies, he supposed. “I do need to run,” he admitted. “Badly.”
“Then help me with shifting.”
The wind must’ve been working overtime because the clouds parted, splashing sun on her face. Her irises shimmered like pools of molten gold.
Go for a swim, the little devil begged. Go now.
“Well, will you?” she asked, placing her hand on his thigh. Perhaps there’s a devil on her shoulder as well.
Either fireflies were swarming inside him or he was itching to feel the snow beneath his paws because her probing fingers were making his body tingle. And why was she no longer coated in liquid steel? “Where’s your armor?”
“I can’t shift with it on, can I?” She bit back a smirk. He watched as she fought against it, pressing her lips into a thin line.
“You’re allowed to smile.”
“That’s rich coming from a grumpy werewolf.”
He wasn’t grumpy. He was tired. There were endless responsibilities ahead of him, his sister hated him, and a mate who chomped at his ego. Perhaps, if he agreed to help her, he could prove just how not grumpy he was.
The little devil on his shoulder hissed a reminder. Winter’s hand is right where you need it, and her ass is exactly where it should be.
He flicked the small red man off like he was no more than a piece of lint. Winter had her own life and priorities. It would serve him well to remember that. Besides, she deserved better than his insatiable urges and all-consuming ego.
He cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s go for a run.”
She beamed, showing off her fangs. Sunlight danced on their sharp edges.
He stilled, locking the sight into his memory.
Winter met West outside. He stood on the front porch, hiding beneath the cloak of his hood. His shadowed features looked as mysterious as the first time they’d met. She took inventory of the leather satchel strapped across his chest.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Blankets, nuts, water.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “Westley Tate, are you taking me on a picnic?”
He grunted then stepped off the front porch and onto the footpath. “We’ll need the bag for our clothes, the blankets for privacy, and I like nuts. Can we go now?” He seemed extra tense. Not angry, just vibrating. He was probably pissed it was snowing again.
“Why can’t we shift here?”
“I’m taking you to the lake. If you’re going to run for the first time, you’re doing it across miles of uninterrupted terrain.”
She grinned. “Fair enough.”
He led the way. His property was blanketed in fresh white powder, twinkling in the strong afternoon light.
She’d never tire of seeing all the thick evergreens, fluffy squirrels, and brave birds that made up Elmwood Forest. These woods were a bleak nature trail cut and bordered by condominiums in the future.
She stepped into his ogre-sized footprints, sparing her riding boots from filling up with snow. “How far is it from here?”
“Just over a mile.” His tone was sure, his shoulders were back, his steps were measured. He looked to be doing very well.
“Have you been feeling better?” she asked.
He kept up his pace. “The nausea is gone. I feel more like myself, but my head is still pounding.”
She froze.
Her wand was back at the cabin. “I could’ve helped with your pain before we left, why didn’t you say anything?” This was her fault. The moment he’d shown any sign of life, she’d berated him with her own needs.
He glanced back and shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Fine?
He was dying just a little bit ago. She tensed further, tightening her lips and clenching her fists.
He was fine?
Fine was the most worthless four-letter word in the entire universe. Fine deserved to be eradicated from every dictionary. Fine wasn’t real—it was as fake as wearing a mask. Werewolves were supposed to be honest and wise, but clearly that wasn’t at all the case.
Fine.
Fuck him and his headache.
West turned towards her, frowning. “Why’d you stop?”
Why? Everett’s question reared its ugly head again. She didn’t know why she cared, but she couldn’t help but care. If West wasn’t okay, for some mystical reason, she wasn’t either. It was a bizarre feeling and she didn’t like it.
The wind blew, weaving figure-eights between them. It gathered some snow in its wake and condensed itself into a glittering rope. Her jaw dropped as it looped around their waists and pulled, trying to tug them closer together.
“Stay out of this,” she growled, resisting its force.
“Winter …” He said her name cautiously, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
She snarled at him. “Is it that hard for you to admit the truth?”
“Are you calling me a liar?” He ate up the distance between them in three long, angry strides. He stared so pointedly into her eyes, the blue ring around his iris looked as pure as ice. “Oh, mighty mage, that nose of yours tells me every single lie you tell.”
She scrunched her treasonous face. “Shut up.”
He flung his hood off and flashed his fangs. “Make me.”
“I think we both know I can make you do anything I want.”
The wind whirled away like it was never there. Even the foraging birds busied themselves, dispersing to a nearby tree in a flutter of wings.
“I was weaker then,” he admitted.
She lifted her chin. “You’re still weak.”
He growled, lowering his head until they were nose-to-nose. “Witch.”
“So pathetic.”
Seconds passed, his warm breath landing on her lips. “Only around you.”
She’d been expecting him to say she was a bad witch, full of tricks, and that he was a strong, noble werewolf who could rip her throat out. Whiskey was supposed to be his weakness.
Not her.
The heavy crease between his brows slowly softened. The wind stirred, dropping snow from a nearby treetop. Even a bird whistled a pretty tune.
West remained still, his mouth too close to hers. She couldn’t stand here anymore—feeling things. “We should keep going.”
“Fine.” He slipped his hood back on, turned around, and kept walking like he hadn’t just admitted she was his undoing.
Fine.
Everything was fucking fine.
Westley and Winter trekked in silence the rest of the way. Arriving at the edge of the Elmwood Lake, he paused to bask in the endless expanse of untouched snow. The sun sent giant rays streaming down upon it.
Being here always reminded him of his young and reckless days.
Drinking with Everett and Hardin until the sun would set, hunting Keltia after dark.
So much had changed in the past five years—losing his father, becoming a leader—that he didn’t identify with that carefree kid anymore. Liquor and sex were medicine now.
Winter finally broke her silence, staring up at him. “What are you thinking about?”
Everything. “You make change look easy.”
She hugged herself and exhaled a long breath. “Can I have one of those blankets?”
He opened his satchel, sorted through it, and passed one to her.
She shook it free and laid it on the chilly ground. “Here, come sit.”
He squinted in confusion.
“Please,” she added, her eyes big and bright.
The little devil crawled back up to his shoulder, giggling with delight. Sit, sit, sit.
Winter couldn’t talk about her time traveling shenanigans without sitting down first.
“Change isn’t easy,” she said, pulling her hood off. “But if I let myself fall, then what? Who will help protect the books? And what will happen to Felix? Emrys? Will anyone kill the queen? I can’t just stop, even if I want to.”
The wind joined them, blowing West’s hair out of his eyes. “But what if stopping feels like the only answer? Sometimes … I don’t want to live.”
His pain was so recognizable, her heart began to ache. “I know what that feels like.” She looked for a distraction, playing with the threads of the blanket.
“Then how do you shut those feelings off?”
“I don’t. I pretend I’m fine. I stack my problems like books, and put them on a shelf labeled: on hold. Then I busy myself. Right now, I’m reorganizing the archives. That’s 300,000 square feet of chaos.” And fixing you, she wanted to add.
West tossed a stone he’d unearthed, sending it across the lake. “So that’s it? You just go on forever … pretending?”
“It’s not all that bad. Working at the archives has been really good for me. When the books are in the right order, I feel better knowing things are safer. I know you don’t need me to say this, but your pack needs you too.”
He sighed, finding another rock to fiddle with. “I never asked to be their leader.”
In a way, Winter could relate. She’d never asked to be a wolf. “I know, but if it helps, this werewolf I know gave me some really good advice about that—in a library, of all places.”
His eyes lit up, steadying on hers. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “That grump said you choose what holds you.”
Jaw working, he said, “Stop calling me grumpy.”
“But you’re super grumpy today.” She opened his satchel and pulled out the small jar of almonds. After picking one out, she slid it between his pouting lips. “Here, eat something.”
He chewed it. “Is this why you keep feeding me?”
“That, and I think you deserve a little treat every now and then, don’t you?” She flicked her tongue over her lower lip.
West’s fingers moved faster than a hummingbird’s wings, landing on the back of her neck. He pulled her in close. “Winter,” he rumbled, “you’re going to kill me with that tongue.”
Heat bloomed inside her chest. This wasn’t only lust building; it was fear. How could she let herself get so close again? This was the type of male that would take, take, take, until there was nothing left to give. Letting her guard down had been a mistake.
“My neck,” she hissed, shoving him off, “is not yours to continually take.”
His eyes went wide like he’d been slapped by an invisible hand. “You have my permission from this day forward to use your voice to compel me. If you don’t want me to touch you, say it. Because if you need my complete honesty, I’m having a very hard time keeping my hands off of you.”
This wasn’t a frigid forest anymore, it was a blazing hot desert.
How was the lake still frozen? She stood up, needing space.
She’d almost forgotten about the alpha voice.
He’d tried using his power on her after she’d broken into his house—to fuck her.
He might not have been himself when he’d made that decision, but he was capable of it.
The thought alone reignited her worst fear.
No control.
In his right mind, West could make her do anything. The male who’d shown her how powerful she was had the power to strip that strength away. Violently. She stepped back a few feet, head spinning and stomach lurching. “And you are never allowed to use your voice to compel me. Ever.”
He stood, showing his palms. “I won’t. Consider it a promise.”
“Good.” If he hadn’t given her that promise, she’d be reciting Kaden’s Time Travel Spell and hoping for the best. She crossed her arms, quietly cursing the fact that she left her wand behind.
West moved towards her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
She held up her hand. “Less talking, please.” Her heart was going to jump out of her mouth and run across the lake if her legs didn’t get the chance to first. Her feelings were a jumbled mess, and she needed to avoid them. “Can we just shift now?”
He nodded. “Use the blanket to cover up, then tell me when you’re ready.”
She signaled for him to turn around and got undressed.