Page 87 of A Wolf for Winter

Boar and Rose started forward, but Lilac stood her ground.

“I’m not going with you,” she said firmly.

Her father’s eyes snapped with warning. “Lilac Bougainvillea Hawthorne, you will—”

“Stay right here. If I go back to that manor, I might never leave it again. But what I have made here”—she took hold of Allen’s hand—“is worth the risk of Grandmother’s displeasure. I have a future as a potions master, Dad. If not here, then definitely elsewhere. And I want that life. I need it.”

Stag hadn’t missed his daughter taking hold of Allen’s hand, nor of their fingers interlacing, nor the way he had moved closer to show his support. “And him?” he asked, an edge to his voice that one could interpret as condemnation.

Lilac squared her shoulders, her ivy-green eyes bright and confident. “He is mine.”

The thrill that raced down his body at the sound of those words from her lips had Allen wanting nothing more than to bend his head and mark her with his mating bite to claim her as his once and for all.

Her father shook his head. “Lilac, didn’t you hear the magic hunter? His master, whoever he is, is clearly causing trouble in Redbud. You know, where your mother is. Now is not the time to be divided; you need to come back and watch over the children while—”

“The children?”

From the way the corner of her left eye twitched, Allen knew exactly what she thought about that: her talents, once again brushed aside, for a role others deemed more valuable to occupy her time.

She shook her head once. “No. I will help Mom and the coven however I can, but I am not setting foot back in that manor until Grandmother accepts my decision.”

Stag looked from Lilac to his other children. “Neither of you have anything to say about this?”

“Would it matter if we did?” Boar asked. “She’s made her decision. The only thing we should do is support her.”

Allen felt Lilac swell with her brother’s hard-won encouragement.

“She’s not abandoning the family, Dad,” Rose said, passing him to enter the Hall. “She’s just forging her own path. Are we leaving within the hour or what?”

Their father sputtered at his offspring’s mutiny, then fixed his ire on Allen. “Did you put her up to this?”

He snorted. “Like I can make Lilac do anything? She’s her own woman. I’m just happy to be here.”

Lilac gave him a brilliant smile.

“This is a losing battle, Dad,” Boar said. “She’s like Mom that way. Once she decides something—”

Stag flung up his hand for silence, his blue eyes narrowing on his daughter. “I could make you, Lilac.”

The threat made Allen’s hackles rise. No one made his mate do anything. In one swift movement, he swept her behind him, shielding her from her father.

“Allen, don’t—”

But he had already given himself away by the flash of light in his golden eyes, the tell-tale cue that a shifter was about to sprout fur, fangs, and claws.

“Honey!” Stag cried, terrified. Blue-white magic appeared like sinuous coils around his hands and arms. “Get away from him. He’s—”

Lilac snatched Allen’s face in her hands and yanked him down for a passionate kiss.

“What?” Stag croaked.

Allen’s mind went temporarily blank, dazed by the feel of his woman’s tongue gliding against his, and hardly knew the kiss had ended until was hearing Lilac proudly tell her father, “I know exactly who he is.”

When his senses fully returned, he found Boar and Rose standing in front of their father, magic wreathing their hands.

“You all knew?” Stag bellowed. He turned to Zofia. “And you?”

The tiny Slavic woman cupped both hands over the knob of her cane and made a show of leaning forward and squinting. “Hmm, seems these old eyes don’t work as well as they used to. Oh well.” Without further explanation, she turned around and trudged into the open Hall.