Page 47 of Wolves’ Witch

Chapter Twenty-Three

It killed Aubert to see her tears when there was no enemy to vanquish but himself. He had made her cry. Training Isobella had tested his control like nothing he had experienced before, or probably ever would. It mattered not that he had stood fully clothed. That he had had his back to her. She was bare. The urge to turn around had all but overwhelmed him. To take her in and look his fill. Feast his eyes on her curves, on her warm, golden skin. He had hungered for it with an intensity that had shaken him to his core, and he had fought it all morn.

With good cause.

There were two of them and only one of her. He had wanted to make it easy for her to choose. Instead, he had hurt her. His mate. Made her cry.

He wiped a tear from her cheek, and limpid pools of dark brown stared up at him. He forced his smile wider. She had done well. No, she had been exceptional. He had pushed her hard, and she had not complained. Not once. Though she had had but one day of training, she’d mastered things Aimon had taken three months to learn. And her wolf… Never before had he seen such a magnificent creature. With a curl in her fur, she was unique. Beautiful beyond imagining.

Those trusting brown eyes had implored him. Aubert had sensed her need for his approval, his praise, and he had turned his back on it and her. He would make this right. He would…

Something shifted in her eyes. Something soft, forgiving. Because he had…smiled at her? That a simple grin would satisfy her at once shamed him and burned a fury in him unsurpassed. That she would accept so little was her due.

Isobella leaned into him, the warmth of her body pressed against his burning a hole in his reserve, in his restraint. She tilted her head, offering her lips to him. Soft, supple. Tempting. Merde. Right or wrong, deserved or undeserved, he was not strong enough to resist her invitation.

He slammed his mouth down on hers, needing to show her in a way he never could with words the depth of his remorse. How wrong she was. He did not dislike her. Rather longed for her with every breath, every beat of his repentant heart. His desperate desire for her, held in check all morning, now let loose. The loss of Sabine, and the truth deep in his heart that he did not deserve this. Knowing he never would have her as his mate, but for one moment wanting it. Needing her to know despite it all, he would claim her in the blink of an eye were their circumstances different.

By the Fates, she tasted good. Sweet and lush. Like destiny. There was naught sweeter in this world. Not the adrenaline of battle, or the wind in his fur as he ran through the forest. This, her mouth on his, the swipe of her tongue, was everything he had hoped it would be, and more. Everything he wanted but was not worthy of.

His brother’s scent floated through the door. Everything he would never have.

Aubert released her. She squeaked as he pulled her, none too kindly, away from the door and flung it open. Edmond stood there, his arms crossed. Before his brother could rage at him, he shoved Isobella into his arms and stormed down the stairs. He needed air.

“Aubert! Wait!”

He ignored Edmond, barreling along corridors and past startled servants to the ground floor. He flung open the keep door with such force it slammed into the stone, breaking off chunks that skittered across the floor. He paid them, nor a concerned Gaharet, any heed. In the bailey, he tilted his head up to the afternoon sun and roared his pain. Birds stilled, and horses in the stable whinnied, unsettled. The blacksmith’s hammer stopped for a beat before resuming.

Aubert slumped over, his hands on his knees. How could he bear this? To stand by and watch his brother take Isobella as his mate?

There were stories, handed down from his great grand-pére’s time, of twins who had lived in their keep, one mated, one not. How could he live like that, watching Isobella and Edmond together every day for the rest of his long life? Always wishing it were him, knowing it could never be. The intimate glances between lovers. The tenderness, the touches as he sat alone and bereft of his mate, longing to touch her, to be with her, knowing she was forever beyond his reach. He could not imagine how his ancestor had borne it, for Aubert did not think he could.

Aubert straightened and fixed his gaze on the gate, on the raised portcullis. He could leave. Do what D’Artagnon had done. Seek a self-imposed exile.

And never see his brother again? His pack? The thought of leaving behind his twin, the one person who truly understood him, cut him deeper than any blade ever had. But it was better than the alternative. Lest he lose his head completely this time and…

He took a few hesitant steps toward the gate, then faster, more determined. Edmond rushed past him and blocked his path, and he skidded to a halt.

“Aubert?”

There was a warning note to his brother’s voice.

“I need to…” He gestured vaguely toward the forest.

His brother’s eyes narrowed. “I think it is a bad idea.”

“I need to go for a run. Clear my head.” A long run. Far away from here. To Rus, where the cold of their winters would numb his body and his heart.

“That is not what you are doing, and we both know it.” Edmond pinned him with a stare. “You are running away. From her, from what is between you. From me.”

He could never hide anything from his twin, no matter how little he spoke.

“Winter is coming. It is not the time to be alone in the forest without a pack. And with all that we are facing right now, we need you.” Edmond pointed toward the keep. “She needs you.”

“She has you.” Aubert sidestepped his brother and pressed forward, the gate looming ahead of him. A gaping hole in the wall that promised both freedom and loneliness. It was the right choice.

“Are you willing to go against Gaharet’s command?” Edmond called after him. “Take away Isobella’s right to choose?”

Aubert’s steps faltered. After today’s training session, Isobella’s choice was a foregone conclusion. She would not choose him. But defying a direct command from his alpha… It was the only choice he could make. He would do it. For his brother. For Isobella. He took another step, then another.