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And as if to prove him right, Kipling’s eyes sprang open, he inhaled a sharp breath, and apparently decided he was not ready to give up the fight. His hand darted out and gripped one of Ashwood’s paws viciously, twisting it in an uncomfortable position, no doubt trying to break the bone. Ashwood cried out, and that was all it took for Bellamy to respond. To protect his mate, even though he knew Ashwood could rip out Kipling’s throat all on his own.
His paw reared back, then swiped across Kipling’s neck, delivering a decisive, lethal strike. Instantly, blood started spurting from the deep claw slashes, and Kipling’s eyes widened as his hands clutched his throat, but it was no use. A mere second later, his carotid artery bled out, taking his life.
They were finally free of him, and the thought was quite sobering.
Bellamy staggered forward, shifting into human form. His skin was filthy, his limbs achy, but any injuries he’d sustained began to heal on their own. Ashwood’s wolf whined, burrowed against his shoulder before shifting as well. He sat down beside Bellamy, pressing their bodies closer, from shoulder to thigh, and winding their fingers together.
“I cannot believe he’s dead,” Ashwood said, his voice ominous, the relief evident in his eyes. His nightmare irrevocably coming to an end. “Though he’ll undoubtedly haunt my dreams for years to come.”
Bellamy startled as if it couldn’t possibly be true. Kipling couldn’t feasibly be dead—and not by Bellamy’s own hand. They’d been on high alert for far too long. He twisted to look back, to make sure Kipling had, in fact, departed this world, only to find ashes floating in the air.
He doubled over, sick to his stomach, and Ashwood rubbed his back, knowing how profound the feeling was, especially in human form. His mother had become ashes on the wind as well. They all would eventually. But there was a certain magnificence in it too. Of returning to the earth in their natural state.
They watched as the female wolves crowded around the cool stream, drinking from it and licking their wounds. Only one of them, perhaps their leader, had shifted back to human form, her long, dark locks flowing around her shoulders. She was lovely and fierce, and he had nothing but gratitude for her, for all of them.
“Thank you,” Ashwood said, and Bellamy bowed his head in deference. “Had you not helped…”
He felt Ashwood shiver, and he squeezed their palms together.
“How did you know?” Bellamy asked her as she caught her breath near a large fallen branch.
“Madam Fairborn sent word, to be mindful of Kipling in the forest,” she replied to his astonishment. “We kept watch and heard your call of distress.”
“I will be forever grateful,” Ashwood said, and they shared a smile.
Bellamy shut his eyes and breathed in deeply, again appreciative of the favorable turnout. And for the fact that there were good wolves—good people—in the world.
“I’m safe now,” Ashwood told him. “At least from Kipling. I’m not sure if the others will still seek vengeance. He was quite influential in their lives, so only time will tell. When you return to Moon Flower, give the madams my regards. The tea, it provided—”
“I’m not going back to Moon Flower.”
Ashwood’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“You are my beloved. I want to run in the forest with you and wake up each morning to your smile and your scent,” Bellamy proclaimed in a watery voice. “I belong with you, Ash. I know to the depths of my soul that I always have, even before our wolves forged the bond between us. I’d like nothing better than to spend the rest of my days with you if you’ll have me.”
“Bell, I…of course, I’ll have you,” he sputtered, a smile creasing the corners of his eyes. “Until the end of time if you ask.” But then doubt seemed to damper his smile. “But what about—”
“My stubbornness?” Bellamy smirked, then leaned closer. “I suppose you’ll have to fuck it out of me every now and again…”
Ashwood barked out a laugh, some of the mirth and fire back in his eyes, before cupping his face and kissing him with all he had. It was messy and voracious and perfect. Just like them.
They broke apart, beaming at one another, until they felt the female wolf step closer. Bellamy could feel her nervous energy.
“It might be time to move on, in case any of Kipling’s acquaintances hear of his demise.” Her gaze swung around the forest. “We will get word to Madam Fairborn that you’re safe. At least for the foreseeable future.”
Bellamy nodded, then stood and reached out his hand to Ashwood.
“Thank you again,” Ashwood said. “How will we ever repay you?”
“There may come a time,” she said solemnly. “Just listen for our call.”
As they watched her shift and rejoin her pack, Bellamy turned to Ashwood, anticipation pulsing through his veins. “Wherever will we go?”
