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He shuffled to his laboratory under Wyatt’s and River’s worried gazes, but he stopped in the doorway. His mind wasn’t clear enough to focus on any work. If he tried to accomplish anything, he was sure he’d make a mess of it and wouldn’t trust his results if he did finish an experiment.
Instead, he turned toward the one room he’d largely avoided since moving to Connecticut.
Actually, it was the one room he’d avoided since the murder of Julianna Varik.
Stepping inside, he flipped on the overhead light and winced. It was too damn bright in there. It would have been better with some nice lamps and maybe a few couches and some overstuffed chairs.
He sank down on one of the boxes still taped up and collecting dust and stared at the row of cello cases lining the wall. There were two guitar cases and one violin case as well. A baby grand piano stood in the corner under a heavy protective cloth.
The music room.
When he was young, he’d loved learning how to play an instrument. It was so very different from his scientific exploits, and it was a beauty he could share. After nearly two centuries together, his brothers had yet to appreciate the beauty of a perfectly executed experiment.
But music reached inside of him and touched a part of himself that was an artist. He’d never written any of his own music like Marcus, but he’d enjoyed learning new pieces. He loved discovering new techniques and putting a look of rapture on his mother’s face.
In music, he found magic. It was the part of life that couldn’t be solved with science, and he embraced it. He had leaned on it for years when his patience for logical answers and solid solutions threatened to give out.
As he glanced around the room, his eyes snagged on a bow that was resting on the top of a box. It was the bow Ethan had bought him after Julianna’s attack. He’d never actually played with it, but the bow had been something that reassured him. It still held the promise of protection and magic when he didn’t know the scientific answers. A sign of hope when things seemed bleak.
But some of his love of music had died out when she attacked him the last time. Over the years, there had always been a part of her that could be reached, that he could get to listen to him, but that last attack…it was as if that last spark of Julianna had disappeared.
His love of music seemed to go with it. He’d avoided his cellos over the past several months because there was no relief in them, no love.
There was a soft shuffle of feet along carpet, and Bel nearly smiled. River or Wyatt had come to check on him. He’d noticed over the past couple of months that the wolves could move as silently as ghosts through the house when they wanted, but at times, they would purposefully make a noise to alert him to their presence.
“This is not a room I expected you to have,” River said in a kind of hushed awe.
Bel twisted around to see the younger wolf standing in the open doorway. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips and hugged the curves of his wonderful thighs. His T-shirt was mint green and was sitting so Bel could see a hint of skin from his flat stomach. Or maybe Bel’s eyes had just learned to appreciate all the beauty of his wolves.
The sound of River’s voice was soothing, and he found himself patting the open corner of the box he was sitting on. River smiled broadly as he walked over, as if he hadn’t expected Bel to invite him in.
No, it was time to stop being a broody, grumpy vampire. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but brooding never helped.
“You realize that there is more to me than scientific experiments,” Bel said in his best haughty voice.
“Well, there’s also your ability to talk to animals and scare the shit out of pack leaders.” River leaned close, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Which is one of my favorite things.”
“I kind of enjoyed that as well. Made me feel like an action hero as he walks away from the flames in one of those clichéd movie shots.”
More of his anxiety and sadness was shoved aside by River’s laughter. The werewolf bumped his shoulder against Bel’s as he rocked on the box.
“Yes, and Wyatt and I were your loyal badass bros. I can see it!”
Bel chuckled, warmed by River, but the happiness faded too quickly, and silence moved back in between them.
“Do you play all of these instruments?”
Bel shook his head. “I play the cello,” he said, pointing at the line of cases. “Marcus plays the piano. Rafe plays the violin. And Winter, he plays mostly the guitar now. He started out on the flute and learned the piano some. But I think he’s happiest with the guitar now.”
