Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Why is everything. Wrong. With. Me?
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Between the sprinting wolf and the flying witch, humans were leaving their homes to watch and point.
The wind had some nerve slowing Winter down so Everett could keep up.
His caramel-colored fur was full and glossy, catching the white moonlight.
He’d transitioned the moment she flew away and was still following her.
Using her voice to compel him again would be wrong, so she resisted. She wasn’t like West and never would be. He was a fucking dick. Why had he spit bones into Keltia’s hands and why had she been giving him googly eyes while he’d done it?
Urgh.
Winter couldn’t scream without sounding like a banshee, so she held it in, gripping her broomstick tighter. West had told her what alphas did to prepare for a hierarchy battle. She wasn’t stupid. Keltia was going to be there for him, giving him everything he needed.
Winter was foolish for assuming he’d fuck himself.
These mixed emotions were why she was supposed to be keeping her distance from him. So why was that so hard? The wind might want to bring them closer together, but it had nothing to do with how bad she wanted to turn around and yell at him.
Fuck.
It’d been so stupid to think he wasn’t like other alphas—uninterested in anything other than sex and power. The moment she’d felt safe to be her true self, he’d reminded her why wearing a mask was so important. Feelings destroyed everything.
There must be more human cells inside her body than she’d realized.
Her werewolf side wanted to ball up, eat ice-cream, and cry.
But there were no sweets or steam showers to fill the void in her heart.
There was, however, Everett. A temporary fix would be better than no fix, and her mage side itched for revenge.
Maybe she was interested in reorganizing her organs to accommodate a werewolf.
Winter flew lower to level out with him. “You’re quite slow, you know.”
He huffed a big breath, briefly obscuring her view. He smelled like a fucking forest at midnight. She could almost hear the crickets as she inhaled more of that cedar-scented dream.
The wind let up like it was pleased with how close they were. She took advantage of the slack and zoomed ahead. Magdalene’s stone cottage was a welcome reprieve. Nosy neighbors not included.
As Winter landed, she waved to the forever-shocked mortal staring through his windowpane. Her spirits had lifted significantly since pretending a particular werewolf no longer existed.
Everett galloped onto the property, shifting immediately. His bronze skin glistened with sweat in the dim light. When the neighbor shrieked loud enough to wake the neighborhood, Winter ignored it in favor of counting his abs.
Ten, at least. How was that possible? And his dick was so thick. His anatomy was … mesmerizing. “Come inside, it’s cold.”
Everett sat on the edge of Winter’s bed, wrapped in her blanket. He stared at the star-flecked ceiling like he was mapping out constellations. She strolled over, closing the distance between them. “Do you like it?”
“How’d you paint this? It’s almost exactly the same as—”
She smiled, showing off her new teeth. “Magic.”
“Incredible.”
“Yeah,” she breathed, in a daze of her own. His bone structure—symmetrical and sharp—was immaculate. Bright teal eyes, thick luscious hair. He was gorgeous.
In this position, she was as tall as he was. “Look at that,” she teased, using the edge of her hand to demonstrate the lack of height difference. “How’s the world from this view?”
He steadied his gaze on hers. “Perfect.”
Her lips twisted. “Agreed.”
“Please, Winter. Tell me how to make you feel better.”
“For starters …” She placed a hand on his knee and sank to the floor. “Less talking.”
Everett paled. “What are you doing?”
She stared at him beneath her lashes while shimmying between his legs. “What do you think?”
“We can’t.”
“Sure we can.” She pulled both her sweaters off, showing off her bra. Her nipples peeked through the black lacy fabric. She tilted her head, slipping a strap down. “Please?”
Everett’s eyes swept across her chest like brushstrokes on a canvas. What started as approval, shifted to concern. She followed his line of sight and landed on her scars. One traveled from her navel to her nipple, and another along her entire breastbone.
He grazed his smooth fingertips over the thickened skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Who did this to you?”
She rubbed her arm, wishing to forget about what happened to her in the alleyway. “A vulgar human. He tried to—never mind.” This wasn’t what she wanted to talk about, and it certainly wouldn’t make her feel better. She pushed his probing hand away and stood.
Everett was up too, securing the blanket around his waist. “He tried to do what?”
She sighed irritably. “I killed him. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. What if the weapon was silver? Look how close to your heart—"
“I’m fine,” she growled, backing away from him. This conversation was not what she had in mind when inviting him inside. “I think you should just go.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You have four legs, well five, technically.” She cleared her throat and kept her gaze up.
He disregarded her quip and stared her down. “You're my alpha’s mate. Until you’re feeling better, I stay. That’s how this relationship works now.”
Her nostrils flared. What kind of cultural bullshit was this? “Then make me feel better, Everett. Why not fuck me?”
He blinked for a beat longer than normal. “I think you should get some rest.”
That wasn’t an answer. Did he want her to beg? “I need to feel something—something else. Please.”
He rubbed his face aggressively. “I will not.”
The firm rejection was a slap in the face. She was pathetic, wasn’t she? Shame scorched her cheeks as tears welled in her eyes. That was quite enough embarrassment for one evening.
“Leave. This. House.” Her alpha voice was crisp and clean, giving him no choice but to walk out the door.
He shook his head and left.
She tapped the door shut behind him, resting her head against it.
The humiliation followed her into her dreams. She was spinning again, around and around and around. Bitten, blood-soaked, and underground.
Magdalene sipped her tea, then hid behind the mug. “I haven’t seen you in days, and you show up with Everett? After dark?” All Winter could see were two waggling eyebrows. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting him to leave so quickly.”
Winter set her mug down and massaged her temples. “And if you want my honesty, neither was I.” She had a headache, but her wand was halfway across a forest. If West wasn’t so controlling, she’d still have it.
Magdalene removed her ceramic shield and curled her lips. “Everett’s quite handsome.”
“Yeah,” she groaned. “Virtuous and pure, too.”
Magdalene laughed. “Is he?”
Winter didn’t cry, but wanted to. “Yeah,” she sighed, sipping her tea. Last night was mortifying. He’d not only rejected her, he’d pointed out her scars. It left a sick, uneasy feeling in her stomach. She needed to think about anything else. “What about you, Mags. Have you had any guests lately?”
“I don’t have a lover.” She averted her gaze, folding her napkin. “So, tell me. Is Westley going to fight?”
Was this her way of avoiding the topic? Winter half-smiled, giving her a pass. The archive’s safety superseded bedroom talk anyway.
“Yes,” she said, trying not to wither. “He’ll fight.” Thinking about West was depressing. The sooner she processed that they were just friends, the better. Winter pushed her plate of half-eaten toast away.
Magdalene softened her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”
At that, Winter stood and cleared the table. “Not now Mags, please. I just want to go back to work.”
Westley knocked three times on Mel’s door in rapid succession.
He’d barely slept all night. She’d obliterated him at dinner, and speaking with Keltia afterwards had been harder than he was expecting.
She wasn’t interested in finding sex elsewhere.
He had to be firm, rejecting her advances.
Seeing her cry had been difficult. He loved her, in a way.
But there was only one wolf who could meet his needs—his true mate.
The one who tumbled across time and directly into his heart.
“Mel, please.” His sister had no problem ignoring him.
He just wanted to be with his family. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell Mel she was right and always had been.
A dull click sounded from the other side. “It’s open,” she muttered.
“Thank you.” He exhaled with relief, slowly letting himself in. The pups practically mauled him as he shut the door. When they finished their wiggling assault, he was covered in fur and slobber.
Westley wiped his face with his sleeve and turned to Mel. “Can we talk?”
“The sun’s barely awake,” she noted, readjusting Xavier’s jacket over her shoulders. “And we haven’t gone for our morning walk yet.”
“I know, but I couldn’t sleep.” He kept his voice low. His pack should think he was well rested before a battle, not a wreck.
Her gaze softened, and despite the gentler expression, she shouted, “On your beds!”
The pups followed her command well, diving into their respective spots with enthusiasm. Each one spun around until they were balled up comfortably.
“Nice.” He was proud of his sister, though his smile was apprehensive. Did she really hate him? He wouldn’t be able to fight tonight if that were true.
Mel gestured to her bed. “Sit.”
He crossed the room and plopped down. She joined him, and to his surprise, the first thing she said was “I’m sorry, West.”
She shouldn’t be apologizing. “I deserved every word you said.”
Mel stared at the floorboards. “I’m not talking about last night.”
Westley frowned, tugging on his hair. “You were right about Xavier, too. I was wrong, Mel. Let me say sorry. I know I messed up, and I want to make this right.”
Her eyes slowly strolled to his. “No, West. I messed up, too.”
He tried to read the words written on her face. Grief, worry, defeat. “What are you talking about?”
Mel wrapped herself tighter in Xavier’s jacket, seeming hesitant to speak.
“Please, Mel. We can’t keep things from each other. Not anymore.”
“When Winter told me you were drinking again, I acted like it was a lie so I wouldn’t have to …” She swallowed, averting her gaze. “Deal with you.”
“Mel.”
She burst into tears. “I’m just so tired, West. I think there’s something wrong with me. Ever since Xavier died, it’s like a piece of me died with him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same. I’m not the same.”
Motherhood, love, loss. Westley had no idea what Mel had been going through. He’d chosen to lock himself away. To die. And she felt bad?
“I was selfish Mel. I’ve been selfish. I am selfish.
Please don’t apologize, I’m apologizing.
You deserve so much more credit than I’ve ever given you.
You are the matriarch of this family—the one who keeps us all together.
Nothing will stop me from protecting you, and every other wolf in both my packs. I will not let Fang win.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“But I would if I could.” His voice broke.
Mel flung her arms around him, squeezing tight. “You must remember that you are worthy, West.”
At first he stiffened, ill-prepared for her warmth, then he hugged her back with all his might. “I love you, Mel.”
“I love you very much, even when I hate you. Please don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t.” She smelled so much like their mother.
Rose.