“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.
“I’m good with blood and the dead,” Bel said. “Just by the smell, I can estimate its age. This poor man was killed about sunset, wouldn’t you say? Was that when he went missing?”
“Yes,” Albert said. He cleared this throat and took a step closer as if to prove he wasn’t bothered by Bel. “He was killed around sunset. When you would have been stuck in your coffin. They were out running wild, killing my people.”
Wyatt snorted. Bel was grateful River was still stuck in wolf form, because he was sure his wolf would have had a lot more to say than that.
“Impossible,” Bel said. He tucked his fangs away again and rose smoothly, brushing his hands against each other.
“How could you possibly know?” Albert shouted.
“Because we were fucking at sunset.” Bel’s tone was calm and matter-of-fact, but the silence that followed was deafening.
The invading pack members backpedaled more at those words than when Bel flashed a little fang. That was disappointing. He wanted to believe that he at least looked somewhat intimidating. Had to be the bow tie. A person really couldn’t be frightening in a bow tie.
“Disgusting,” Albert finally declared, earning another sigh from Bel.
“Yes, we are well acquainted with your narrow-minded point of view. The important thing is that it’s impossible for my wolves to have killed this poor man. They were otherwise occupied at that time.” Bel waved one hand at the corpse. “I suggest you take your dead and give him a proper burial. He deserves at least that after you had him murdered just to frame two innocent men.”
Bel’s only warning was a low growl before one of the wolves launched itself at him. A flash of light jumped around Wyatt, and then his enormous wolf body was leaping in front of Bel. He crashed into the wolf, taking him to the ground in a flurry of snarls, claws, and teeth. They rolled over again and again as they fought for dominance, biting and clawing at each other.
River moved in front of Bel, hackles up and teeth bared. His entire body vibrated with hostility. Bel tore his eyes away from the fight long enough to look at the pack. Only Albert remained in human form, watching the action with an almost bloodthirsty glee. The other wolves were growling and snarling, but they were staying back. For now, they seemed happy to let their packmate fight Wyatt.
Magic tingled along Bel’s nerve endings. It was so tempting to dig deep and issue a command for all those wolves to just heel. Force them under his control. But this wasn’t his fight. Not yet, at least. Wyatt was protecting him, protecting what he saw as his. He didn’t need Bel stepping in.
Bel also didn’t want to tip his hand with Albert. The alpha knew Bel could control the birds, but he might not yet realize that the control extended to all animals. He didn’t know who he’d picked a fight with yet. Bel preferred to use his powers as a last resort rather than start a war with all werewolves.
But if Albert ordered them to attack, all bets were off. Albert and his wolves weren’t ever leaving Bel’s woods alive.
Wyatt and the attacking wolf parted and jumped at each other again and again. Teeth dug deep, tearing at flesh. Both were covered in blood. Bel was nearly at the end of his patience, and River didn’t seem much better. He was stealing more and more glances at Wyatt, clearly wanting to jump in to help his mate.
After several minutes, Wyatt finally had the white wolf pinned to the ground, his jaws clamped around his throat. It wouldn’t take much. Just one hard shake, and Wyatt could snap his neck. Wyatt’s eyes flicked to Bel, waiting for his decision.
“Call off your man, Albert, or he dies!” Bel snapped.
Albert’s lip curled, his face bright red with either embarrassment or anger. Bel almost pitied the wolf Wyatt had beaten, but the man had attacked first. He was lucky he was getting a second chance.
“Fine. Enough!” Albert said.
Wyatt didn’t release the wolf until Bel gave a small nod.
“This isn’t over. I demand justice. Hand over those wolves to my pack for a trial, or I will go to the vampire Ministry.”
A chill ran through Bel at Albert’s threat, but he let nothing show on his face. “You have no proof that Wyatt and River had anything to do with this man’s death. Any trial you conduct will be a farce. We both know it. He was planted on my property. Go to the Ministry. Explain to them what you’re doing in vampire territory.”
Albert glared at Bel for several seconds before motioning toward one of the wolves. The unlucky wolf shifted into human form and placed the dead man over his shoulders. One by one, they disappeared into the woods, heading toward the pack lands. The wolf Wyatt had beaten brought up the rear, his tail tucked between his legs as he limped away.
The second they were out of sight, Bel’s shoulders slumped, and he released the breath it felt like he’d been holding since he first caught sight of Albert. River hurried over to Wyatt’s side, whimpering and licking his face. Wyatt was also limping and moving slowly.