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He also didn’t offer to accompany Wyatt and River on their romps through the woods. Not only did they need time to themselves, but Bel was sure he would only slow them down. Their long, sleek wolf bodies allowed them to simply flow through the trees and underbrush like the wind. On the other hand, Bel was more akin to a bumbling oaf.
It took less than twenty minutes to cut through the woods to the spot where River and Wyatt had encountered the body, but they weren’t alone. He’d sensed the intruders and gave the wolves a quiet warning that the pack had invaded his land. Not that he was surprised at all.
No, this was a setup. He just hadn’t expected Albert to act already. The alpha had given him a week to get rid of Wyatt and River. Of course, Bel had made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of sending the wolves away. Albert had likely thought it was better to force his hand rather than wait around for the time to expire.
Half a dozen wolves were gathered to one side of the corpse, sniffing and growling. They all backed up a few steps when Bel and his wolves drew close. A soft glow enveloped a light-brown wolf, turning into Albert. Two others shifted into human form. On Bel’s left, Wyatt shifted into human form, while River pressed close to Bel’s right thigh. His body hummed with tension, and Bel couldn’t help reaching over to stroke River’s head, trying to settle him.
“Those perverted bastards killed a member of my pack,” Albert spat, pointing at Wyatt and River.
Bel forced a smile. “Always a pleasure to see you, Albert.” He greeted the alpha through clenched teeth before looking at the dead body.
It was clear that he’d been killed by a large animal. Or rather, several large animals. Wolves were his first guess, but he hadn’t spent a great deal of time studying the marks made by an animal’s teeth and claws. This could have easily been done by a large cat as well.
What he did know was that the kill was relatively fresh. The smell of the blood and decay hanging in the air pointed to a body left in the cold woods for only a few hours. Probably right around sunset. That would have made it impossible for Bel to be present for the kill.
“I warned you to get rid of them!” Albert shouted and the wolves growled.
Bel lifted his eyes back to the older man. He didn’t look too bad for someone he was sure was probably over a hundred years old. It was a shame that Bel was still pissed at Rafe. His twin would have been amused by this entire gathering. But only Rafe could have been at ease standing over a corpse in the middle of the woods with several naked men and a handful of wolves.
“Yes, I’ve heard, but we need to approach this scientifically,” Bel said, forcing a patience into his voice he certainly wasn’t feeling. The men stared at him like he was speaking in tongues, so Bel just pushed on. “What was this werewolf doing on my property in the first place? I thought the truce called for all packs to avoid vampire territory, and my land is very clearly marked.”
“Obviously he wasn’t killed here,” one of Albert’s packmates pointed out. “They killed him on pack land and dragged him here.”
Bel took a step closer to the corpse and waved for the gathering of wolves to part so he could look behind them. There was some low grumbling, but they moved. Bel frowned as he inspected the underbrush and earth.
“Impossible,” he declared after a second. He waved in the direction they’d likely all traveled. “If a dead body had been dragged through the woods from the border of my property to here, the land would be disturbed. Leaves moved, branches broken, and other debris overturned. As you can clearly see, nothing has been touched.”
“Must have carried him,” another wolf grumbled.
Bel rolled his eyes and squatted just a couple of feet from the corpse. The man looked like he was in his late twenties. Older than River. Maybe the same age as Wyatt. His blond hair was stained red, and his skin was taking on a gray pallor. Naked meant that they’d likely attacked him while he was in his wolf form, but why? Why the hell would Albert turn on one of his own? Did he truly hate Wyatt and River that much? Was he that afraid of them?
“He was killed about four or five hours ago,” Bel murmured.
“How can you tell?” Albert snapped.
He tapped his long-underused flair for the dramatic and allowed his fangs to slide down before he smiled up at Albert. He pushed to the forefront the constant low-level hunger that thrummed through his body so that his eyes glowed. Oh, it all felt over-the-top and ridiculous, but the werewolves retreated a couple of steps.
