Page 81 of Wolves’ Witch

Something broke inside her—the wall that had been holding back all her frustration, her hurt and her anger. “You faked it with me?” Her voice cracked. There were no tears, not anymore. All she had for him was her rage. “How could you do that? I loved you. I gave you everything.”

Edmond and Aubert’s presence hovered in her periphery. That they had to witness this, see her naivety… She’d been such a fool.

Douglas shrugged. “I wanted something, and through Cordelia, I was going to get it.”

Coven advancement. Power. Magic. A darker magic. Cordelia was the only one that could—would—give him that. How had she ever thought she’d loved this man?

Douglas cocked his head, his smile as supercilious as it could get. “And all I had to do was stay by your side.”

A bone popped in her hand. Another in her ankle. Her wolf wanted out. It was howling for blood. Douglas’ blood. It wanted to tear into him with teeth and claws. Isobella had never had the urge to kill someone. She did now.

“I didn’t think I’d have to stick with it for three long, fucking years.” Douglas rolled his eyes. “Cordelia and her stupid visions. What a waste of my time.”

Isobella froze, and her anger stuttered and stalled.

Cordelia had a vision? Was that it? Was that the key? It all clicked into place. Douglas and his fake engagement. Dutton sniffing around Annabelle for years like a bloodhound on the scent. A son named Didier.

Second sight was notorious for its vagueness. Cordelia had had a vision. One with a man whose name started with D. He would do something, change something that might sway things in Cordelia’s favor. So she’d made sure to have all her pawns in place. Didier in the tenth century, Dutton with Annabelle and Douglas with her. Cordelia had covered all bases.

But Dutton had failed. Annabelle had escaped him and mated Gabriel. Didier was dead. He’d betrayed his own mother.

That left Douglas. Isobella stared at him, dangling Cordelia’s grimoire in front of her. If her years with him had taught her anything, it was that she knew him well. His smiles that hid his cruelty. The way he could never look her in the eye when he was scheming his way out of something. Like now. Whatever it was, Isobella wouldn’t like it. But she had something he wanted, and Douglas was all about Douglas. All about saving his own ass.

“Hand it over, Douglas.” She reached out again, not too close, lest he made a grab for her hand. “If you do, I’ll give you the time-travel spell so you can return home.”

Aubert and Edmond growled behind her. Isobella understood. Douglas didn’t deserve anything. He certainly shouldn’t have a spell that could allow him to wreak havoc in any time, past, present or future. Though Isobella wasn’t one to lie, she would if it meant he gave her the grimoire.

Douglas sneered at her. He didn’t believe her. Didn’t trust her. He shouldn’t. Not after what he’d done. Her wolf prowled in her mind, begging to be let out. She didn’t think she could control it if she did.

Douglas shifted his attention to the two men behind her, and cocked his head, taunting her with a sneer. “Did Izzy tell you?”

Izzy. Lord, she hated that name. Douglas might get past her, but he was no match for Edmond and Aubert. If, by some miracle, he got past them, he would have to contend with the d’Louncrais brothers. If Douglas thought he had a way out, it wasn’t physical. He liked to use his words—to tear apart, to drag people down, make them question themselves and everything they believed in. She saw that now. She wished she’d seen it from the start.

“Don’t do it, Douglas.” Isobella mustered up every bit of sincerity she could manage. “I promise I’ll help you get home.”

“She wasn’t the coven’s first choice for the witch to come back in time.” He didn’t talk to her, instead he addressed those behind her. Edmond, Aubert, Gaharet and D’Artagnon. “That was supposed to be her sister.” Douglas straightened, drawing himself to his full height. “But Izzy, I heard she volunteered to come. Do you want to know why?”

How Douglas had come by that information was a mystery. Probably another of Cordelia’s visions. But one thing was clear. Douglas wasn’t going to give up the grimoire. They would have to take it from him. Aubert and Edmond would have to take it from him. Isobella needed to keep her wolf locked down tight. She was too emotionally involved. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself. As much as it pained her to admit, they needed Douglas. If anyone knew where Cordelia was, what she was planning, it would be him.

“You should. Especially you two twins. After what happened with Sabine.” He sniggered. “Oh, yeah. Didier told me all about her. How Cordelia had spelled her and sent her to you, promising her all the riches she could imagine if she created havoc in the pack, set the two of you against each other.” His lips twisted in a cruel semblance of a smile. “And now Isobella. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have two women use magic, just to get what they wanted from you.”

Fury lashed at her. He didn’t? He had.

Fueled by her anger, Isobella shifted faster than she’d managed in the training room. She hit Douglas with the full force of her wolf, knocking him to the floor. He dropped the grimoire, beating at her with his fists, but she didn’t care. She lunged for his throat, missing by the scrape of her teeth as someone hauled her off him.

Edmond. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against his chest. “Shift back, Isobella. We have the grimoire. We have him.”

She struggled in his arms, snapping and snarling at Douglas. Her wolf was in control, her need for his blood roaring through her like a freight train, unchecked and uncontrollable.

“Ah, chaton, you do have claws,” soothed Edmond, holding her firm, stroking her fur. “But you are not a killer by nature, not deep down, and I cannot let you do something you will later regret. Ssh, now. Let us give Douglas what he deserves.”

Her wolf calmed a little, but she kept her gaze fixed on Douglas. When Aubert picked him up and threw him against the wall, holding him there by his throat, she snarled her approval. Her wolf was vicious, her idea of justice brutal and swift.

Boots echoed in the stairwell, and the scents of men and steel wafted into the room. Edmond tensed. “Shift back, chaton. Now.”

The urgency in Edmond’s whispered command reeled in her wolf. Isobella closed her eyes, centered herself and called her wolf back. Gaharet and D’Artagnon moved to block the view of her shifting forms as four keep guard, swords raised, rushed into the room.

Followed by Lothair, Comte de Anjou.