Page 25 of A Wolf for Winter

It took all his willpower not to crush the cell phone into plastic confetti. First, because he now strongly suspected that Zofia’s accident was no accident at all, that she had been a target not once, but twice. No doubt the assassin had truly believed her to be a tiny Slavic human woman instead of a house elf. Her Fair Folk blood must’ve saved her from whatever “medication” had been delivered.

And secondly, if she was in a coma, she couldn’t explain exactly what she had done to him nor take the ring back.

His wolf began to whine.

Calm down. We’ll call Sionnach. He looked down at his watch. Crap. But not for another week.

The fox shifter had been very clear about that. No contact with the Coalition unless it was at the appointed date and time, no matter what. They were taking every precaution that the Hawthornes didn’t discover their involvement, even if that meant hanging Allen out to dry.

Scowling, he checked on the goats, just to be sure, then hurried down the walk to the cellar doors.

Wan yellow light spilled from the door’s windows, seemingly turning the swath of snow before him into a pool of melted butter.

He froze.

There were no tracks out here—even his own from earlier were gone, whisked away from the storm. Whoever was in the cellar was either a Hawthorne looking for a late-night snack, or an intruder.

The latter seemed unlikely, but after what Prue had accused him of earlier this evening and the attempts of Zofia’s life, it was entirely probable.

On silent feet, Allen padded to nearest door and peered inside.

Lilac!

She was snooping around the stack of groceries just inside the door, casting worried glances towards the dark stairwell as if expecting to be discovered at any moment.

She hadn’t heard his approach, so he stayed in the shadow of the awning and watched her for a moment. Spirits above, she was beautiful. Long brown hair he had to keep reminding himself not to touch, intelligent eyes, long legs that revealed sculpted calves when she stood on tiptoe. How she was down here in the cold cellar in just a long cotton nightgown and satin slippers was beyond him, and he felt a sudden urge to shrug out of his jacket and bundled it around her shoulders.

But from the hunted look on her face, it didn’t seem like she planned to be down here long. She craned over the stack of boxes and crates, rummaging around for whatever he knew she’d hidden there. No doubt she was trying to secret it away somewhere else so Boar or Rose wouldn’t find it.

Normally Allen would’ve looked the other way, but her protection was his priority. If whatever she was hiding created more animosity between her and Boar and compromised any one of them, then he would’ve failed his mission.

Definitely not an option.

Allen shoved open the door and stamped his boots on the mat. “Can I help you find something?”

Lilac shrieked, whirling around. Color stained her cheeks like freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, and she clasped her hands behind her back. “No! And were you just outside?”

“Went for a run. So, are you hungry? I’m about to fix myself a snack and I need to unload all of this anyway.”

“I-I’m not hungry,” she blurted. “I’m just, just—”

“Just looking for this?” He reached down and hefted the crate he didn’t recognize out into the open. Bottles rattled under the gingham cloth.

“Please, be careful with that,” she cried. “You have no idea—”

“Lilac.” His firm tone made her swallow back her reproach. “I’m not here to rat you out or anything, but you need to promise me whatever’s in here isn’t going to jeopardize your safety. Or Boar’s or Rose’s. I’m the caretaker here now, and I plan on taking care of more than just the Hall.”

She seemed torn between blasting him with more of her scorn and making nice.

“Promise me,” he prompted.

“I promise!” She held out her hands. “Now please, give—”

“What is that?” Boar’s voice lashed from the stairwell.

Allen felt his blood run cold and the hackles rise on the back of his neck. He swallowed, calmed, and turned towards the descending witch. “I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. “But I figured with Lilac not finishing her supper at the pub that she was hungry, and I am your cook now, I suppose, so—”

“That’s not food in there. It shouldn’t even be in this Hall.”