Chapter 6 - Winter

It would please Winter greatly if she never saw another grimoire again.

Days had passed since she sat in Jack’s office talking about the full moon mating spell, hoping that she might be able to find another option. And her search had come to nothing.

For one brief and thrilling moment, she had actually thought she had done it. Then, it had been ripped right away from her almost as suddenly, leaving her feeling even more defeated than before.

Slamming the latest book shut with a deep sigh, she leaned back in her desk chair and ran her fingers through her hair. Her temples were pulsing with the beginnings of a stress headache.

The days were passing all too quickly. Taking care of the shop between searching for something to prevent one of their coven having to mate with a werewolf was taking up all of her time. She barely had any time for anything else, not eating or sleeping or any kind of self-care. Luckily for her, the apartment above the shop wasn’t far, or she likely wouldn’t have left the place since beginning her search.

Still, she felt utterly exhausted and more than a little defeated. It seemed as if fate was most definitely not on her side this time.

Leaning back in her chair, she glanced around the room. Was there a book she hadn't checked yet? Maybe some scroll that her mother had hidden away for safekeeping?

Her failure was beginning to make her wonder if she was as powerful a witch as she had believed herself to be.

Being the daughter of the head of the coven, granddaughter of the head of the coven before her, set to be the next head of the coven after them both, made her feel as if she was failing in her duties as their descendant.

Closing her eyes, she sent a silent prayer to their ancestors, hoping that perhaps one of them might have an answer for her. But if they did, they were silent about the entire thing.

Sighing deeply, she kept her eyes closed, wondering whether she might be able to get a five-minute nap between customers.

The shop had been quiet today. All her work was done. There was only her research to worry about. And it was weighing heavily on her mind.

She was just beginning to think she might actually be able to drift off when her phone started to ring.

“Fuck!” she cursed, startled by the raucous noise in the otherwise silent room.

It made her headache far worse than it already had been, the sound seeming to bounce back off the bookshelves, making everything even worse.

Sitting bolt upright, she looked down at the phone before her on the table.

Jack , she thought, gritting her teeth. No doubt there was only one reason the alpha of the werewolf pack was calling her. He wanted to know if she had found anything. Of course, if she had, she would have been in contact by now.

Sucking in a huge breath, she picked up the phone and answered the call. “Hello, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Please,” he responded, his tone quite friendly. Still, Winter was shocked by this. The werewolves in Nightstar nowadays weren't anything like they had been back when she had been a little girl. “There's no need to be so formal. Call me Jack.”

“Okay, Jack , what can I do for you?”

Winter gritted her teeth. She already knew what was coming.

“I just wondered whether your search might have borne some fruit by now?” Jack said, his tone growing a little more serious.

Winter leaned forward against her elbow on the desk, shaking her head as she said, “I'm afraid not. I thought there might have been one or two spells that could work, but unfortunately, several of their ingredients are next to impossible to find in this day and age.”

“Perhaps Layla might be able to help?” Jack suggested, and Winter's stomach twisted. Of course, she liked Layla, but to suggest that a werewolf could find spell ingredients where a witch couldn't was almost insulting.

“Unless she knows of any dragons hiding away or where to find a mermaid's tear anywhere close to Nightstar, I'm afraid we're out of luck.”

Jack sighed, tearing apart the very last shred of hope Winter had that the werewolf might actually prove to be a miracle worker.

“Then it looks like we have little choice left,” Jack said, his tone strained. “I shall have to speak to my men and see if I can encourage one of them to volunteer for the mating spell.”

Winter was surprised at that. “I had imagined you'd already have one of your men picked out.”

For a second, a golden-haired, green-eyed face appeared in her mind.

She shook her head, forcing the image of the handsome Eddie away.

Somehow, it felt nerve-wracking to imagine him. What if her mother had encouraged one of the covens to take on the task of performing the spell? She would be forced to watch Eddie mate with one of the women who were practically her sisters.

Why did that cause such a painful sensation in her gut?

She was saved from these thoughts by a sound so loud that it made her jump right out of her chair.

“What was that?” Jack demanded, apparently having heard it as well. “It sounded like glass breaking.”

That it did. And it was coming from the front of the store.

“Sorry, Jack, I'm going to have to call you back,” Winter said, and before the alpha could respond, she ended the call, dropping the phone onto the desk.

Again, the sound of clattering came from the front of the store, the sound of bottles breaking this time.

What the fuck? Winter thought, anger rising like a storm inside her. The powers passed down to her from her mother and her mother's mother and hers before her, all the way back to the first witches of Salem, sparked at her fingertips. She was alert, prepared for anything as she stormed out to the front of the shop.

“Ah!” she screamed as she slipped through the beaded curtain only to be grabbed by someone who had been lying in wait beside the door.

Strong arms wrapped tightly around her, locking her arms against her sides.

No human was this strong. Many supernaturals weren't this strong, either. Using her witchy senses, it didn't take her long to realize. Werewolf.

In fact, more than one of them.

There were three in total. The one grabbing hold of her was accompanied by two others, both of which she didn't recognize.

And if her witchy senses were correct, they most definitely didn't belong to Nightstar. If they ever had, she didn't recognize them one iota.

“Get your filthy hands off me!” she snapped, her mind whirling as she tried to come up with some chant or spell that might help her protect herself.

Yet, her mind seemed frozen, unable to come up with the words in her terror.

So instead, she had to resort to more physical means of protecting herself.

Sucking in a deep breath, she lifted her leg and aimed the heel of her boot at the top of her attacker's foot.

“Wow, she's a feisty one!” one of the other wolves joked as Winter rushed for the front door of the shop.

The injured werewolf behind her growled with pain as he leaned down to clutch his foot.

But the other two were on her before she could make it halfway across the room.

They grabbed her arms, pulling them tightly behind her until she felt as if her shoulders might pop out of their sockets.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded angrily, trying all the while to break free of their grip even though it hurt like hell. “What do you want from me?”

“Daddy sent us,” one of them growled in her ear, his breath hot and rancid against her cheek. “He says it’s time you came home.”

A cold shiver ran down Winter's spine. She didn't know her father. In fact, she didn't even know his damn name. So if he was telling the truth, they knew a hell of a lot more than she did.

Still, she wasn't about to let them in on that.

Her chest tightening, certain that they planned more than simply attacking her and destroying the shop, she tried to fight even harder.

“I'm not going anywhere with you!” she screamed, finally finding the words to a protection spell, one that would make her skin burning hot to anyone who touched her.

She began to chant.

Only a few words had escaped her lips before one of the wolves slammed a fist hard into her stomach, driving the wind right out of her lungs.

She doubled over. The only thing holding her up now was their grip on her arms and the way she hung burned her shoulders even worse than before.

Gasping for air, she tried to chant again, but this time they released her, dropping her face-first onto the floor.

Blinding pain lanced through her body the second she hit the hard wood, and she screamed out in agony as she felt like her nose had burst against the floor.

“Stop fighting. This will go easier on you if you just stop fighting,” one of the werewolves said as he gripped her by the roots of her hair and started to pull her back to her feet.

Blinded by pain, desperate for breath, all Winter could do was grab his hand and try to hold a little of her weight in order to stop him from pulling the roots of her hair right out of her head.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and instinctively, she spat it at the boots of the werewolf who came to stand in front of her.

“You little bitch!” he cursed angrily. “These are new boots!”

He lifted one, and Winter knew where it was aimed the second it started to come towards her.

Yet, it never made a connection.

“What the fuck?” the werewolf gripping her hair exclaimed, and suddenly she was dropped to the floor once more.

The commotion that ensued was disorienting to Winter's senses, and all she could do at first was curl up into the fetal position and pray that soon this would all be over.

“Get away from her!”

The voice sounded so familiar, so angry, so powerful. And it made Winter lift her head, astonished to see the crowd of other werewolves filing into the shop.

Jack, Will, Kane, Hanson, Zander, she thought, her heart racing as several more she didn't recognize filed in.

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought, where is Eddie?

But then, just as the Nightstar werewolves began to see her attackers off, Winter felt a hand on her shoulder.

The grip wasn't hard or possessive. In fact, it was feather-light as a voice whispered in her ear, “It's alright. You're safe now.”

Winter rolled half onto her back to look up at the werewolf crouched over her.

“Eddie,” she whispered, her voice strange even to her own ears. Her throat was hoarse, and she felt as if she had swallowed a mouthful of the broken glass that was scattered across the shop floor.

When she said his name, a half-smile lit at the corner of his well-angled lips.

“Fancy meeting you again,” he said, his tone amused, yet there was something else in it too, something deeper. Was it concern?

“You're hurt,” Eddie said, plucking a handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket. “Here, let me.”

Before she could say or do anything, he pressed the white square of material against her nose, reminding her of the way it had felt like it burst when it connected with the floor.

Fuck, she cursed silently, all too able to imagine how messed up she must look right now. But why did she really care about that?

The cacophony of noise that filled the shop seemed to grow quiet, and one glance at the door told her she was right. She was safe now. Jack's men were well on their way to chasing off the wolves who had attacked her.

“Zander, take Will, Hanson and some of the others to see them out of town,” Jack ordered, gesturing towards the door where the three men had raced off with their tails between their legs.

“Hey, don't worry about them,” Eddie said softly, hooking his fingers beneath her chin. “Look at me. We need to stop this bleeding.”

“D…don't worry about me,” she stammered, taking hold of the handkerchief from him. “I'll be fine.”

But when her gaze connected with his again, Winter sucked in a breath. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest it felt like a trapped bird in her ribcage.

Silence filled the shop once more. Peace fell upon Winter’s heart as it began to calm, and for just a moment, she could forget all that had just happened.

“Eddie, get her on her feet and out of that glass,” Jack ordered, but Winter barely heard him.

When he held out his hand to her, Winter looked at it for far longer than was necessary.

Even his hands were nice, strong and well-proportioned, capable of great things. The things he had done with those hands in her dreams were all too near the surface of her mind, and she quivered with the memory of them.

“Let me help you,” Eddie said, as if he took her hesitation as anything other than what she was feeling—desire.

The lump in her throat was no longer caused by the attack but instead by his closeness. His presence was all-consuming. She couldn't see or sense anything but him.

If it was already this bad, what would it be like when she touched him?

Determined to find out, Winter reached out and placed her hand in his.

And the second she did, it felt as if a bolt of lightning struck straight through her, causing her heart to explode with something she had never experienced before.

Still utterly entranced by his gaze, Winter couldn't so much as blink as he helped her to her feet. She barely had the presence of mind to continue to hold the handkerchief to her nose.

“Steady, I've got you,” Eddie told her softly, and it was only when he wrapped an arm around her, propping her up, that she realized how shaky her legs were.

Her knees threatened to buckle, and she leaned harder against him for support.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to get someone?” Eddie asked, the concern plain in his voice.

Never in a million years could she have imagined she would hear such emotion from a werewolf. Never could she have guessed that a wolf man could be so concerned about her .

“I…I’m fine,” Winter said, somehow finding the strength to pull away from him.

She had to get control of herself. This wasn't right. He was a werewolf. She was a witch. She had no damn right whatsoever to be feeling the things that she was currently feeling.

“This is the last straw,” Jack said, and his words caused the spell to break.

Finally, Winter managed to pull her gaze away from Eddie. It was a damn sight harder than it ought to have been, but still, she managed it.

“Winter, I'm sorry to have to say this, but if your coven, you and your mother included, wish to remain in Nightstar, then we are going to need a show of loyalty from you.”

“Excuse me?” Winter demanded, her blood rising. “We have never done anything to show that we are anything but loyal to Nightstar.”

Jack threw his index finger towards the door. “Those were Christopher’s men. I'd recognize their vile stench anywhere.”

Winter's stomach twisted. If that were true, and they did in fact know her father, then just who the hell was he? More than that, who the hell was she?

Her mind whirled. What had her mother been keeping from her all of these years?

Her stomach twisted painfully, and she stumbled backwards, her body exhausted as her mind reeled.

Again, Eddie was there, wrapping his arms around her to offer support.

She ought to have pulled away again, but she couldn't. His presence, his muscular chest pressed against her back, was all too welcome.

“What exactly are you saying, Jack?” she asked, barely finding the strength to speak. Somehow, she already knew exactly what it was that he was saying.

“If the witches of Nightstar wish to remain in town, then one of them is going to have to agree to completing the spell we discussed,” Jack announced, his gaze darkening.

In the near-darkness of the shop, Winter thought that his eyes were actually glowing with anger and determination. Perhaps they were. She thought she saw a flash of his wolf eyes shining through before he blinked, sighing deeply as he ran his fingers through his dark hair.

“Look, I don't like this situation any more than you witches likely do, but it can't be helped,” he said, looking at her with genuine sadness in his eyes. “We have to protect the town and everyone in it. This attack tonight has proven that much.”

Winter's insides twisted painfully. She knew he was right. The murmurs from Eddie and Kane, standing behind Jack, made it apparent that they knew well enough, too.

“It's all well and good strongarming the witches into your little plan, Jack,” Kane said, his tone making Winter shiver. “But what about the werewolf part in this? I don't know any werewolf mad enough to take a witch to mate.”

Anger flared in Winter, and she was about to bite a retort when Eddie moved, adjusting her in his grip as he came to look her in the eye.

He seemed to search her gaze for a moment, looking for something she couldn't quite understand, before he turned to Jack and Kane and said, “I'll do it.”

Winter's heart skipped a beat, and her knees threatened to buckle all over again as he looked at her with a smile and said, “What do you say to being my mate?”

The world around Winter began to spin out of control.

She had imagined a million times what it would be like to find her mate, to have someone ask her to spend the rest of her very long life with them, but never had she pictured it being like this.

Stunned into silence, her mouth practically fell open. Was he serious?

From the look on his face, from the hope shining in his eyes, she was pretty certain that he was.

And if he was, how could she reject him? He had been so kind to her just now. He had wiped away her blood and helped her up from the floor. He had supported her when she needed support, just as any mate should. More than that, he and the others may well have just saved her life. Hell, they had at least saved her sorry ass from being kidnapped.

How was there any way of rejecting him now?

This might be the last hope for the town, Winter thought. For a second, her mother's words rang in her ears. Don't do anything drastic.

Could accepting Eddie’s offer of mateship be the kind of drastic thing her mother had warned her to avoid?