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Bel was not going to allow them to interfere. He couldn’t protect Wyatt from Albert, but he could do everything within his power to support Wyatt.
With feet braced, Bel waited until the first of the wolves appeared on the street, running at full speed, teeth bared in nearly a snarl. Bel threw out one hand, immediately latching on to the wolf’s mind. He clamped down hard, ordering it to stop.
A high-pitched whine erupted up the wolf’s throat, but its paws dug in as they forced his powerful body to stop.
The other wolves quickly caught up with the first and Bel repeated the command, spreading his power across them all.
Wyatt had always described the touch of his power as gentle and nuanced, but then that was how Bel had always reached out to him. He’d never tried to force his will onto River or Wyatt.
With these wolves, Bel was willing to fucking break their minds.
A lone howl rose from a throat that was part human and part wolf. One wolf took a step forward. Its entire body shook as if in pain, fighting Bel’s control. The vampire dug deeper, forcing more energy and power behind the command. The other wolves were also fighting. A couple more took slow steps, creeping across town in jerky motions.
Pain exploded across Bel’s brain and his hands trembled in front of him. He tried reaching for more power, but there was nothing left within him. The wolves had stopped moving, but they still mentally fought for their freedom. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t let them move. If they escaped, Wyatt and River were dead.
Something wet trickled from his nose. Blood. He was bleeding. He was frying his brain enough to burst blood vessels.
A hysterical laugh got caught in his throat. All those years studying and working so damn hard to find a cure, he’d been sure that science would save him and the people he cared about. He should have spent more time studying his magic.
A brutal snarl was followed by a pained yelp. Bel’s eyes snapped back to the field to find Wyatt pinning Albert to the ground, his throat held in Wyatt’s powerful jaws. Bel wanted to shout with laughter. Had the howls from Albert’s wolves distracted the pack leader? It would be great if he’d succumb to his own dirty trick.
Bel’s body shook with the strain of using his gift against the wolves. The rest of the pack seemed to hold its breath. They waited for Wyatt to make his final judgment. He knew his lover wasn’t naturally a killer, but he was a protector. If left alive, Albert would find a way to strike again. He may never regain a foothold in the pack, but he would find a way to hurt Wyatt, even if it was only through the death of River or Bel.
With his eyes closed, he used what little reserves he had left to follow along the path Wyatt and River had carved through his brain. He sent him feelings of love and acceptance. He loved Wyatt regardless of whatever choice he made.
With a low growl, Wyatt clamped down and tore Albert’s throat out. Blood poured from the open wound, soaking the ground, while choked gasps rattled from Albert. No one moved. No one said a word as they watched Albert die.
It was over.
Wyatt had won. They were safe.
Bel’s attention snapped to the wolves. They had stopped fighting Bel’s powers and stood frozen in fear and horror. The vampire managed a pained smile as he stared at them.
“Run,” he whispered just before releasing them.
It was the only chance they were going to get.
The six wolves hesitated for only a couple of seconds, and then they turned around and ran out of the town.
Bel’s relief left him with a lump forming in his throat. He slowly walked toward the clearing, watching as River shoved to his feet again. His wolf pressed one hand to his abdomen while he ran to Wyatt’s side. His wolves were safe, but were they also home now?
25
Bel’s head ached and throbbed viciously as he watched Wyatt shift to his human form again. Ragged cuts and bites covered his body, but he pushed to his feet and stood in the middle of the field over Albert’s dead body, his head held high. River stood beside him, his hand in Wyatt’s, a proud smile on his lips.
The other pack members approached, heads bent in deference. Bel could hear the word “alpha” repeated among them, over and over. They’d found their new alpha. The pack was on its way to being whole again.
Stopping to pick up Wyatt’s clothes from where River had dropped them, Bel slowly approached the group. He didn’t feel as if he belonged there. He should probably leave and return to his own kind, but he couldn’t leave without speaking to Wyatt one last time. Without touching River’s hand one more time.
