Waking Bel (Lords of Discord 3)

“No, they don’t,” Marcus said firmly.

“They are very real,” Bel countered.

Winter scoffed. “This is ridiculous. Let’s just invite Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny in for a family dinner—”

“Silence!” Aiden shouted above the cacophony. He stood in the middle of the room, frowning at the assembled group.

Yes, his brothers had enjoyed a little too much mocking and joking, but it was clear to Bel that Aiden understood the gravity of what they faced.

“Bel, please explain to your brothers everything.” Aiden turned his glare on Rafe. “You will be respectful and listen.”

His twin sighed and cuddled with Philippe. Winter moved over to sit on the couch with Ethan and Marcus, while Aiden returned to the thronelike chair.

Glancing around quickly, Bel ushered Wyatt and River to an oversized leather chair. River sat while Wyatt perched on the arm, his hand resting just on the back of River’s neck. The younger wolf turned worried eyes up, and Bel couldn’t stop himself from touching his cheek. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he whispered. He turned his attention over to Wyatt to find a look of banked anger, but also hard resolve. He would not leave Bel’s side. He would protect him, even from his own family.

Bel moved carefully to the center of the room. In all his younger, human years, he’d been called onto the carpet to face Aiden only a few times. All of them had been in relation to antics and stunts he’d gotten drawn into with Rafe. And sometimes, with Winter. Never alone.

“Yes, they are werewolves. They are the same werewolves we faced against the MacPherson clan, but they are my wolves now. And…I’d like them to be Variks.”

Rafe suddenly leaped to his feet and stalked toward Bel and his companions, his face twisted with rage. “Those are the fucking wolves that attacked me!”

“Yes, but—” Bel tried to say.

“We had no choice,” Wyatt replied calmly.

“Bullshit! How about I take a chunk out of your hide—”

“Enough, Rafe!” Aiden’s voice was a sharp whipcrack, and silence resumed again. “Explain, Bel.”

Bel twisted his fingers together as he closed his eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath. It was always so much easier to organize his swirling thoughts when he was working on the computer or on paper. But he could do this for Wyatt and River.

As clearly as he could manage, Bel told his family about them being ejected from their pack, their lives threatened. He told them about the deal they made with Brett MacPherson and their forced servitude with the clan. He went into detail about their horrible life and the commands they had no choice but to follow. And finally, their brief freedom before coming to seek Bel’s assistance.

His family’s expressions changed as he spoke. Ethan looked sad and while Marcus’s expression remained stern, he pulled Ethan a little closer to him. Winter was unreadable; but then, his youngest brother was always impossible to read unless he was annoyed with Rafe.

His twin…his twin still looked angry. He could feel the rage boiling off him and through their connection. Only Philippe looked moved by Bel’s words. But was it enough that he would intercede with his lover, get him to see reason?

Aiden simply appeared worried, which did not help settle Bel’s fears.

“Lies,” Rafe hissed the moment Bel stopped talking. “MacPherson lies!”

“It’s not! It’s the truth!” Bel shouted back, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“I’m sorry, Bel, but Rafe might be right,” Marcus added. His voice was gentle and sounded so damn reasonable. “How do you know this isn’t some ruse constructed by the remains of the MacPherson clan to kill us off?”

“It’s not! Do you take me for a complete fool?”

“Bel, you’ve got a soft heart, and their sob story—”

“Fuck you, Rafe!” Bel snapped, silencing his twin on a gasp. “They are still partially wolves. I can feel when they are honest and when they are lying. I can feel when they are holding back from me. Do you think I’m not completely aware that they would rather be free? That they’d rather not be dependent on vampires for their own survival?” There was no need to go into the fact that their emotional connection had grown over the past two months. More than he and Wyatt had first noticed in the lab a month ago. So much, in fact, that Bel was sure what he felt from them no longer had anything to do with their animal otherness.

Rafe lowered his eyes. Everything about his posture still screamed rage, but he could no longer glare at his brother. “They still attacked me.”

“Mon amour,” Philippe murmured, placing his hand on Rafe’s tense arm. “I think what your brother is saying is that the attack was not personal. You’ve healed. I can say with complete certainty that there isn’t a single scar on your body from that encounter.”