Page 80 of A Wolf for Winter

Boar applied the lock and faced them with a grim expression. “I can’t find Rose. Her magic signature is blocked, somehow. O-or . . ..”

“Don’t say it.” Lilac beat against her brother’s chest. “Don’t you dare say she’s dead.”

“I’ll find her,” Allen promised them, already striding for the cellar door. “Stay here—”

“Absolutely not,” both siblings protested, chasing him to the door.

Lilac skirted around him and braced her arm across the door, blocking his way.

“You’re not a lone wolf anymore,” she told him in a voice so quiet only he could hear. “We can help you.”

Allen risked stepping close and molding his hand over her hip. “If you leave this Hall, I won’t be able to save your sister. Because I will do anything to protect you first, Lilac, even if that means sacrificing her. That’s what it means to be my mate—you are everything. But I care about Rose too, and not just because of my mission. So, I’m begging you, sweet girl, stay here. I’ll get her back for you.”

“Do as he says, Lilac,” Boar said, his voice firm but gentle. He removed his mask, tossed it aside, and plucked his coat from where it hung on the peg by the door. “Your magic core is nearly tapped out. Stay here and watch over our guests. The Hall will protect you until we come back.”

“‘We?’” Allen echoed. “Boar, you’re staying here too.”

“As if I’m going to let the love of my life run headfirst into danger by himself?” Boar gave Allen’s cheek a patronizing pat. “Silly boy. I’m the most powerful witch here, magically and physically. You’ll need me more than you know. I’ll see if there are any tracks coming from the front.”

Then, without further discussion, Boar plunged into the night. Allen stepped past Lilac, wishing he could steal another moment just to hold her, but every second he wasted shortened Rose’s life.

Lilac seized his hand, not to wrench him back, but to propel herself forward beside him. The defiant look she challenged him with was a cool and calm as a mountain lake in the middle of winter. Her magic might be weak, but she wasn’t, and he had forgotten that.

“We’re in this together,” she told him crisply. “Our relationship isn’t going to be you telling me what I can or can’t do based on what you need. I need this too.” She poked him in the chest, hard. “I understand your instinct to protect me, but I am not a porcelain doll. Never was.”

Then she shucked her mask and beautiful dress, revealing lacy underwear in a color that matched her namesake.

Allen whipped his gaze to the ceiling. “Lilac, what are you—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her snatch a set of thermal underwear from the cubbies beneath the coat pegs.

“And my mate,” she continued, twisting up her long brown hair into a bun, “will not treat me like I’m something breakable to be put on a shelf and only taken down to play with when it’s convenient for him, understand?”

She zipped up a jacket next, then stuffed her satin drawstring purse into one of the pockets. Her feet stomped down into some boots, a quick yank tightening their laces. It wasn’t armor, but she was prepared to go to battle at his side.

Allen’s heart clenched. That had never been his intention, but he could see now how his actions had been interpreted that way. “Lilac, I’m s—”

“It was my love potion that got us into this mess, and I’m going to fix it. Besides”—she gave that imperious lift to her eyebrow—“who else is going to keep Boar from freaking out when you inevitably shift?”

He yanked her in close and pressed a fierce kiss to her mouth imbued with all his apology, devotion, and more than just a little wonder at how he’d been so blessed to call her his own. “You’re absolutely right, sweet girl,” he whispered against her lips when their kiss ended. “I’m sorry. A wolf’s mate walks beside him, always. Thank you for reminding me.”

She maintained her cool demeanor, but her eyes sparkled. “You can thank me properly after we save my sister. Shall we?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Boar began to grumble the moment he caught sight of her, but Lilac gave him her most frigid look—identical to Grandmother’s—and he choked off any protest. Instead, he yanked off his hat and fitted it over her head. She was only in her thermals, jacket, and boots after all. Once Lilac would’ve thought the gesture self-serving—see what a sacrificial leader he is?—but she’d come to realize that wasn’t always the case with her brother.

“Sweetheart,” he exclaimed, unzipping his coat with the intent to give it to Allen, “you’ll freeze out here in just a shirt!”

“I don’t need it,” Allen said, distracted.

He released Lilac’s hand and nosed the air, nostrils flaring. They’d caught up to Boar on the Hall side of the pond, its surface gleaming like a polished mirror under the moonlight. The surrounding snow dampened most sounds, including the merriment that continued within Hawthorne Hall. The hedge witches and practitioners of Cailleach Lodge were nowhere to be found—Prue had kept her word.

Allen’s shoes gave muted crunches as he stepped beyond their cluster, scanning the woods. Overhead, a few snowflakes drifted down to perch on his blond eyelashes. Lilac looked to the sky; half of its starry expanse was overshadowed by a storm rolling in from the mountains.

“You don’t need a coat?” Boar snorted. “I mean, I’m a fan of what a wet shirt does to a chest like anyone else, but—”

“She’s in there.” Allen took off at a sprint.