Lone Wolf (The Westervelt Wolves, Book 8) by Rebecca Royce Page B

“I need you to trust me.”
    She did, but if his plan included anything less than squishing Kendrick like a bug she’d have something to say about it.

Chapter 8
    Gabriel followed his father into a back room with Carrie hot on his heels. He knew what she wanted—for him to take her hand before running for the hills. Of course they knew the second they did that she’d drop dead. He’d spent forty years trying to keep his mate alive. Letting her fall to the floor never to rise again hadn’t factored into his plan.
    But he could die and nothing would happen to her. It had taken him years to figure it out, and then one day it had dawned on him. If he no longer had his wolf or any of her soul embedded within him, dying would not affect her in the least. The magic of the Westervelt mating—the exchanging of part of their souls so that each carried the other’s—had been negated.
    For all intents and purposes, Gabriel had no mate. Not anymore.
    Not that he intended to tell her that. Carrie meant more to him than anything. Like humans did, Gabriel loved her completely. He could keep her alive. She wouldn’t need to die because Gabriel wouldn’t be dragging her along with him into the next life. With Kendrick dead, she’d be free to go on with her life without any of the past to hold her back. If thinking about being in a world without her made him clench his teeth, he didn’t need to think about it that much.
    Nothing in Kendrick’s binding spell had prevented Gabe from killing Kendrick, only Carrie.
    But if Kendrick had his soul…
    “Here.” His father pointed to a closed vial that sat next to several other pieces of scientific equipment on a counter. At first glance, Gabriel couldn’t see anything inside of it except air. He walked toward it and stared down.
    “There is nothing in it. Empty.” He clenched his fists. “Is this some kind of sick joke? Is this how you get off these days?”
    “See, I told you. He’s a complete liar these days.” Carrie sounded desperate and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
    “It takes more than me for you to see it.” He turned to his left. “Darling, would you join us, please?”
    A second later, a woman popped into the room, just as Carrie had earlier. “I see you decided to show him his wolf.”
    Gabriel detested the woman on sight. He didn’t need his wolf to tell him the female in front of him had witch blood in her. He’d grown to hate the smell over the years. In the beginning he’d thought witches’ scent somewhat akin to the aroma of mint. These days if he passed by too much gum in a store he wanted to gag from the similarity. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that everywhere a witch went she brought doom, death, and destruction with her.
    “So you’re my father’s whore.”
    Her eyes flared. “Don’t you talk to me like that, you insignificant piece of—”
    His father growled and the room silenced. “Drea, my love, if you will. I promise Gabriel will be dealt with in the appropriate manner.”
    “You’ll deal with me. I’ve come to bring death to you.”
    He called his shift onto him. Gabriel didn’t have a wolf to talk to but it didn’t mean he couldn’t kick serious ass in his wolf form. All he needed to do was finish what he’d once started.
    “Gabriel.” Carrie’s voice barely broke through his rage. He hoped she’d have the sense to get out of the way.
    His father picked up the vial. “Come at me, boy, and I’m going to drop this straight on the ground. Bye-bye wolfie-boy.”
    “Oh for love of the Goddess, Kendrick.” Drea shook her head, her brown hair falling on her shoulders. “You don’t have to be so dramatic. We have a much better way to handle the moron. A way to control him and handle him at the same time.”
    Gabriel had barely a second to consider her words before the vial Kendrick held turned purple. What had appeared empty moments earlier was now filled with a purple smoke.
    Carrie lunged