Page 10 of Plus-Size Mate

At that, Jack's face grew pale. “We have tried everything else. Believe me, if it were up to me, I'd have ended this a long time ago. Christopher and his wolves aren't likely to give up any time soon, if ever, and unless you find another way, I fear this is the only thing that can protect our people.”

Winter gulped. The way he saidourpeople made her quiver. Never in a million years would she have imagined an alliance between werewolves and witches, and yet here she sat in the alpha's office.

“Then I'll do all I can to find something else,” Winter promised, imagining the book-lined shelves of her mother’s apothecary. There had to be something there. Yet, if there was, wouldn't her mother have already come up with a plan by now?

Christopher had been a blight on them all for so long. Her coven was tormented by him just as much as the rest of town. A man like that—a wolf like that—caused trouble everywhere he went. Jack was right. He wasn't about to give up any time soon.

Standing, Winter wrapped her arms around the book and asked, “Was there anything else?”

Jack shook his head and rose from his own seat, gesturing her toward the door. “Do you know the way back through the house, or would you like me to see you to the door?”

Winter smiled. She wasn't used to this gentlemanly kind of werewolf. Karl Ryker and his men had been bullies and tyrants.

“I think I can manage,” she said, immediately wondering afterwards if she ought to have accepted the offer.

This place was crawling with werewolves. She could sense them all about the house, upstairs, in the basement, even in the gardens. Being a witch was an annoyance at times, but it did help to know where danger lay.

All her instincts told her she ought to get out of there as soon as possible, and yet Jack and the others had never done anything to make her feel that way save for being born wolves.

She discreetly sucked in a breath, reminding herself that not all werewolves were the same. At least, these wolves had shown her that.

If he was going to harm us witches in any way,Winter reminded herself,why would he be asking for our help?

Pulling open the door for her, Jack said, “We would appreciate your swift action on this.”

Winter nodded, and remembering the spell she had just read, she pointed out, “The spell requires a full moon.”

“I am well aware,” Jack said, leaning against the door. “There is one coming up.”

Winter swallowed hard. She knew well how close the full moon was, and now it felt as if that night was looming over her.

“I had better get my search going then,” Winter said, slipping from the room.

“And you had better talk to your coven.”

Winter nodded, though in the back of her mind, she already had no intention of doing so. Somehow, it felt as if fate had brought Jack’s letter to her, not to her mother. This was her task now, and one way or another, she had to be the one to solve the situation. How could she possibly ask another in her coven to take it on?

“I shall do what I can,” she promised, and with that, she started down the hall.

“Thank you,” Jack called after her.

Hurrying down the hall, she made no response, only gripped the grimoire tighter to her chest.

She had just turned the corner in the hall when she was stopped dead in her tracks by the giant of a man who cameup before her. With barely any chance to react, she stumbled backwards, astonished by his reflexes as he reached out and gripped hold of her arm.

“All these months, I’ve lived in Nightstar, and we’ve never crossed paths,” he said, his tone filled with curiosity. “And then, just like that, I see you three times in one day.”

Swallowing hard, Winter urged her arm free of his grip and stepped back, craning her neck to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, I guess it is odd, huh?” Winter said, her cheeks growing hot. In an attempt to change the subject, she added, “I hope your friend manages to find a solution to his problem.”

Was he blushing now as he raised his hand and ran his fingers through his dark, golden hair?

Winter thought he was, but she couldn’t be sure. Not until he scoffed awkwardly and said, “Oh yeah, thanks.”

As if he wanted to change the subject just as badly, he asked, “What’s that?”

Gesturing at the grimoire in her arms, he raised a brow with obvious interest.

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