Chapter 4 - Winter

The light of the candle on the desk before Winter was burning low. The dying light did nothing to help her sleep-ridden eyes, and she leaned back in her seat, yawning heavily.

All afternoon and well into the evening, she had been pawing through the books in her mother's storeroom. There had to be something there; she just hadn't found it yet.

Clasping her fingers together, she rested her hands on her stomach, elbows of the armrests of the thick cushioned desk chair.

Another yawn escaped her lips, and she allowed her eyes to close.

Just a few minutes, and then she would get right back to it. There was no time to waste, not with Jack’s intentions with her coven. She had to find another option, no matter what it took, before the full moon.

Werewolves were many things, but patient was not one of them. She was surprised he had given her the time to come up with something else at all.

And if she didn't, what was she supposed to do?

For a second, she thought of calling her mother, of asking her to speak with the others in the coven. Then, she quickly thought better of it. She already knew what the answer would be. No witch in her right mind would mate with a werewolf, even if it was to save their beloved home from the likes of Christopher.

With a deep sigh, she sank deeper into the chair, every muscle in her body aching.

Blackness was just beginning to overwhelm her when she heard the raucous sound of knocking on the back door.

The noise was so startling that she immediately jumped to her feet and grabbed the handle of the candlestick, the dying flame flickering as she lifted it from the table.

One glance at the antique grandfather clock on the far side of the room told her it was too late to be receiving any customers. Perhaps she had imagined the knocking.

When it came again, she knew she hadn't imagined anything.

Alert for trouble, knowing all too well the targets that witches could be to other supernaturals in town, Winter crept towards the back door and called, “Who’s there?”

As she drew closer, she felt the oddest tingling sensation in her gut, one that had her reaching for the key in the door even before she heard the response.

“It's me.”

The voice could have belonged to anyone, and yet Winter recognized it immediately, for it made her heart skip several beats.

Shaking herself mentally, she unlocked the door and gritted her teeth, pulling it open firmly.

“Eddie? What are you doing here? It's late.”

Just seeing the werewolf standing there, his eyes practically glowing in the light of the candle, Winter felt all kinds of things she ought not to be feeling. It was ridiculous to even consider what these sensations might be leading her to, and yet she was frozen to the spot, unable to stop from staring into those brilliantly green eyes.

And those eyes sparked back at the sight of her, making her thrill all over as Eddie smiled and apologized, “Sorry to disturb you so late, but I was really hoping you might have some more advice for my friend.”

Winter sighed deeply, cocking her brow. “Is that all? Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?”

“I didn't think you'd want a werewolf scaring off all your good customers,” Eddie said, shrugging his broad, masculine shoulders. Winter's fingernails tingled with an urge to rake over them, to see if they were as damn hard as they appeared.

Leaning out of the door, Winter glanced this way and that, checking to be certain there was nobody else around. “You're right. It's not exactly good for business.”

Eddie scoffed at that. “I can leave if you want me to?”

“No!”

Winter shocked even herself with the speed at which she responded.

Gritting her teeth, hoping he wouldn't see the embarrassment on her face, she cleared her throat and said, “You had better come in.”

Eddie hesitated only a second before he made his way up the steps.

The second the door was closed behind him, his scent filled Winter’s nostrils. Masculine and heady with a hint of juniper, Winter couldn't help but breathe it in deeply.

Had he smelled like that earlier when she had seen him? She couldn't be sure. But now that she had smelled it, she couldn't unsmell it, and she found herself leaning in towards him from behind.

Taken by surprise when he turned to face her, Winter found herself unbalanced, the handle of the candle stick slipping from her fingers.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, startled by the speed with which Eddie reached out and caught it. At the very same moment, he gripped her arm and pulled her close.

For a moment, she was spellbound, her eyes fixed upon his. His breath, warm and sweet, caressed the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered, lips tingling to be kissed.

Then she remembered he's a werewolf.

That insane moment was gone in the blink of an eye, and she urged herself away from him.

Clearing her throat once more, she stated, “You came about your friend.”

“I did,” Eddie said, his voice husky as he set the candle down on the desk.

“Are you quite certain?” Winter asked, arching her brow.

Eddie cocked his head. The gesture was such a simple one, and yet, in the light of the candle, it set his face aflame with mysterious interest.

“Why else would I be here?”

Winter’s heart quickened.

You shouldn't be here at all, Winter thought, every alarm bell within her setting off at a thousand rings per hour.

It was late. It was dark. This felt entirely too forbidden. And yet, there was something in this moment, in the silence of the storeroom, that left Winter paralyzed.

Her heart hammered even harder in her chest as Eddie raised a hand, looking as if he might cup her cheek. Instead, he brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and when he showed her the ball of his thumb, it was black with something curious.

“Ink,” Eddie said, smiling a little. “It looks as if you have been hard at work.”

When he glanced at the books laid out on the desk, Winter started to blush.

“If you were in my position, wouldn't you be?”

At that, Eddie looked at her curiously. “What position is that, exactly?”

Winter's mind raced. Right now, the position she would have liked to have been in was beneath him.

Control yourself! she thought, giving herself a mental slap. Werewolves were glorious, handsome creatures, but she had to contain herself. He was dangerous. Every inch of her body was reminding her of that.

Yet it was telling her a heap load of other things, too, things she had to ignore for her own good, for the good of the coven.

“I'm sure you're well aware of what Jack asked of me at the manor today,” Winter said, taking a cautious step backwards.

She was still too close. His scent wouldn't leave her nostrils, even surrounded as they were by the herbs and incense in the storeroom.

It was all too inviting, and all she could think to do was hold her breath.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asked, his face drawn with concern.

When he closed the distance between them, his fingertips drawing a gentle trail up her forearms, Winter instinctively placed her palms on his chest.

“I will be,” she said, all control leaving her body as she leaned into him, her lips pouting for his kiss.

As if he sensed her need, her desire, Eddie's hands left her arms and came back to her face.

This was too much to bear. She couldn't contain this feeling any longer, and like an animal had risen up inside her, she pressed herself against him like a bitch in heat.

His grip on her face hardened and his lips pressed so firm against hers that it took what little breath she still had from her lungs.

Pausing only to breathe in deeply, she kissed him again, harder, moaning when he pressed her back against the door. Her spine tingled, not only from the coolness of the wood through her clothes but also from the way he dropped his hands to grip her hips.

He pressed himself against her, pinning her to the wood with such force it took her breath away all over again. And when his hand slipped from her hip and up between her thighs, she felt herself lost in the mists of passion.

She whimpered against his lips, her own hands traveling over his muscular arms, pinching at his biceps, his forearms, before they traveled lower still.

Hooking her fingers into his belt, she pulled him even closer, feeling as though he was never quite close enough.

The scent of him enveloped her. The way his hands felt upon her was intoxicating. Her lips opened and she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, biting gently until she heard him groan with pleasure.

What happened next happened so fast that she barely had a chance to realize what she was doing. Her hands fumbled devilishly with the buckle of his belt, yanking it open in an instant before she popped the buttons on his jeans and slipped her hand inside.

Gripping him firmly, she felt his already rock-hard cock in the palm of her hand, the delicious sensation making her moan even as a groan of desire escaped his lips against hers.

Pulling away, he nuzzled his face in her neck, nibbling the side of her throat gently before he moved upwards, taking her earlobe into his mouth.

Winter groaned again, her eyes closed as she savored every sensation.

“We shouldn't be doing this,” he whispered in her ear.

That much was true. She knew he was right. And yet, she responded, “But we want to.”

Again, everything seemed to happen in a flash. Eddie hooked her up into his arms, his hands gripping her plump buttocks as he turned and strode towards the desk.

Holding her with one arm, he used the other to swipe everything from the desk.

The sound of clattering caused Winter to open her eyes only to realize they had been plunged into darkness. The candle now lay burned out on the floor amongst the books she had been pawing through all evening.

Yet, when he set her down on the desk, she didn't care. The scholarly Winter, the rational Winter, might have scolded him, jumped off the table and grabbed up all the books to place them safely back on the desk.

But the mischievous Winter, the one intoxicated by the scent of this man, only wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in close, kissing him again.

“Is this what you want?” Eddie whispered in her ear as his hand snaked up to cup her breast. He squeezed ever so gently, and electricity so powerful pulsed through Winter’s body that she gasped, “Yes!”

She reached for his other hand, placing it on her other breast.

It had been too long. She couldn't remember the last time she had been touched this way. Maybe that was why she had gone completely insane.

There weren't many male witches in Nightstar, and she never would have lowered herself to sleeping with humans. Besides the fact they were beneath her, it was dangerous. Who knew what fresh hell could come out of all the town's secrets being revealed to a human?

At least with a werewolf, she could be herself.

Yet, what was she even thinking? Werewolves despised witches, didn't they?

If Eddie despised her, he certainly had a funny way of showing it. His hands gripped the buttons of her jeans and popped them open, yanking them off her with such swiftness that she might have fallen off the desk had he not immediately placed his hands on her hips again.

“Eddie, what are you—” she began as he knelt before her, but before she could finish the question, he placed a firm kiss on her inner thigh.

The sensation caused her body to light up with pleasure. “Oh!”

When he kissed her again, deeper inside her thighs, she shivered with excitement.

This is really happening! she thought as he buried his head between her legs, gripping her fleshly quads with firm, yet gentle hands.

She breathed a deep sigh as his tongue began to lap at her clit, quivering with the pleasure of it, her hands gripping the edges of the desk so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

His mouth worked expertly, his lips caressing her as his tongue stroked the most sensitive point on her entire body.

Opening her legs wider, she angled her pelvis up to his face, welcoming the tenderness of his kiss between her thighs.

Then, just as the waves of pleasure started to pour into the most delightful climax, the raucous sound of a cell phone halted everything.

Almost jumping right out of her skin, Winter sat bolt upright in the desk chair. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she thought it might burst right out of her.

As reality came swimming back to her, she realized two things. She had most definitely fallen asleep, and disappointingly, she was entirely alone.

The only light came from the screen of her cellphone as it lit up with a call from her mother.

The candle, right where she had left it on the desk, had burned down to nothing.

“Fuck!” she ground out through gritted teeth, running her fingers through her hair as she reached for the cellphone with her other hand.

If that had been a dream, then what the hell would the reality of it feel like?

No, don't even go there! she told herself firmly, closing one of the books that still lay open on the desk before her. She couldn't bring herself to look at even one more paragraph right now.

She was too riled up, too hot and bothered. She even considered ignoring her mother's call entirely. It was only Jack’s request that made her answer. She had yet to talk to her mother about it, and with no other option found, what choice did she have?

“Hello?” she answered cautiously, hoping there would be no hint of the ordeal she had just gone through in her dream in her voice.

“Winter, how is everything?” her mother responded, sounding none too worried. “I'm sorry to call so late. I hope I didn't wake you.”

You did, Winter thought, though in truth, though it was frustrating and, in a way, disappointing, she was relieved.

What right did she have to be having sex dreams about a freaking werewolf anyway?

“No, it's fine. I'm still at the shop.”

“Why so late? Is everything alright?” her mother asked, her tone tinged with concern now.

“Everything is fine. I'm just doing some research for Jack Blackwell,” Winter said, closing another book that she was sick to death of looking at.

“Are you certain? You sound strange,” her mother said, and Winter clenched her jaw. There wasn't much one could hide from a witch, especially one that was your mother. “What does Jack Blackwell have you working on?”

Winter sucked in a deep breath and began to explain the spell and the hopes that Jack had for it.

“Is he mad?” her mother asked once she was finished. Winter scoffed. She had felt exactly the same way when he had mentioned it to her. Yet, somehow, she felt less so about it now.

“I said the same thing to him,” she admitted, “Not in so many words.”

Her mother grunted with amusement before she sighed deeply and said, “I suppose it’s something I have to let the coven decide.”

Winter nodded, though her mother couldn't see her. Then, clearing her throat, she said, “I've been searching for other options all day.”

“And? Anything?” her mother asked, her voice edged with hope.

Winter closed her eyes and pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “Nothing.”

“Well, you had better keep trying. I can't imagine any witch in the coven agreeing to mate with a werewolf. Even if it is for the sake of the town.”

Winter gritted her teeth. Her mother was right. That morning, she would have entirely agreed with her, and yet, though it had been in her dream, Winter somehow couldn't remove the memory of Eddie's scent from her nostrils.

Would mating with a werewolf really be so terrible? She shoved the thought away just as quickly as it came into her mind. She couldn't afford to be thinking like that. She had to find another way.

But what if there wasn't another way? If she failed to find one, how could she expect anyone else in the coven to take on such a burden? Nightstar was her home, she was the daughter of the coven leader, this was her responsibility.

“Winter?” at first, she barely heard her mother. “Winter? Is everything alright?”

It was only the growing concern in her mother's tone that brought her out of her fog.

“Sorry,” she said, pressing her thumb and forefinger harder against the bridge of her nose. “I'm just tired. I've been staring at books all day.”

“You should get some rest,” her mother said, and Winter agreed, though how she was supposed to do so at a time like this, she didn't know. “But before you go, I want you to promise me something.”

Winter's stomach clenched. She had a feeling, whatever her mother was about to say, she wasn't going to like it.

“What?” she said anyway.

“I want you to promise me that you won't do anything drastic while I'm away,” her mother said, and the concern continued to grow in her tone. “This is something we must figure out together.”

“I know,” Winter said, though her stomach continued to twist painfully. Who was to say that her mother would be back in time? What if she didn't manage to find another option before the full moon?

“Then promise me,” her mother insisted.

“Mom, I'm not eight years old anymore,” Winter protested, but her mother scoffed at that.

“No, you're even more stubborn than you were back then,” her mother said. “I need you to promise me.”

“I promise I'll only do what's necessary,” Winter said carefully, her insides knotting up even tighter. What would be necessary by the time the full moon came around? The longer they continued in this conflict with Christopher and his pack, the more people would be hurt. Her mother knew that as well as she did.

“I mean it, Winter, nothing drastic!” her mother insisted.

Before Winter could respond, a yawn broke free from her lips, one that made her jaw ache.

With a sigh, her mother added, “Listen to your mom and go and get some rest. We'll discuss this further when you've had a good night's sleep.”

Winter glanced at the grandfather clock. A good night’s sleep sounded good, though in truth, the night was nearly over.

“Send my love to Grandma,” Winter said, relieved at the thought of finally ending the conversation.

She had promised not to do anything drastic, but what if they found no other option?