Read Online Lone Wolf (The Westervelt Wolves, Book 8) by Rebecca Royce - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Royce
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hoped Carrie could find a way to resist following.
So many mistakes. So many lines drawn in the sand that he’d crossed over. Who the hell had he become?
* * * *
Thirty years after the destruction
His brothers had all mated. Well, almost all of them. Rex hadn’t found his mate yet, but with the way things had started happening Gabriel would bet that the fates would deliver him a mate in no time at all. And his sister would show up too.
He cleared his throat and watched Michael stare at his mate while she ran away from them. Trouble in paradise . The first few months of mating had to be tough on them. The old days of lovemaking and long runs through the woods were behind them. Now, they had to make do with the complication of the whole thing while fighting for their lives.
Michael. His big brother who had taken care of him when it had only been the two of them against the world. They had plotted and planned for the day Tristan would finally take over. That had happened.
A light dawned in his mind. Gabriel’s role had been made clear to him. He’d kept them all safe until they could find their other halves. Each woman had brought her gifts to the pack and now they were closer than ever to taking down Kendrick. After Kendrick’s destruction, when Westervelt could be properly re-formed, all would return to normal. They had strong mates who would weather their storms with them.
Children had been born. Tristan and Cullen were fathers already. Theo’s wife expected a baby. In no time, Michael would have his new lady knocked up and breeding.
There was a future to be had. And the last thing Gabriel could do for all of them was to end his father. Free Carrie. Send her on her way. Her soul had fled his body and he couldn’t blame it one bit.
Carrie would live. Kendrick would die. All he had to do now was say good-bye and leave the pack forever. Tristan would never understand. Maybe someday, if the gods were kind, he’d get to tell him how truly sorry he felt. Or at least how apologetic he should feel.
If he thought himself capable of feeling at all.
Chapter 6
Forty years after the destruction
The human passing him on the street took a moment to stop and stare at him. Gabriel Kane made quick eye contact and the brown-eyed, black-haired female clutched her purse tighter before she moved on at a hurried pace. If she’d been a wolf he’d have assumed she sensed his dominance, but given her non-shifter status Gabe supposed it more likely he actually looked deranged.
His mouth twitched and for a second he thought he might actually smile. When had he become frightening to humans? Before he could even process that thought, which at one time would have made him laugh aloud, he scowled, a familiar expression for the last nearly forty years.
Gabe leaned back against the fence and stared up at the house. It hadn’t changed, not in the last thirty minutes that he’d been looming outside of it. He hadn’t exactly expected it to and yet he felt compelled to keep looming next to it like it might get up and walk away.
The house had been painted white and had black wooden shutters. He’d seen a lot of similar designs during the 1920s. Tristan, now the Alpha of his former pack in Westervelt, was the architect, not him. He’d listened to him spend most of the 1960s droning on about the subject, which led him to believe the house would be called a Center Hall Colonial. The whole street held examples of the style in various renditions. He knew why his father had picked this place; all of his hideouts had the same quality as this one. Quiet neighborhoods two to three blocks from major roads where his entourage could easily escape if need be.
Someone maintained his father’s lawn. He had a hard time imagining his father going out onto the grass and brandishing a lawn mower. In fact, the image presented was so disconcerting he threw it away fast before it could impose itself on his brain cells. Dad being domestic . He
So many mistakes. So many lines drawn in the sand that he’d crossed over. Who the hell had he become?
* * * *
Thirty years after the destruction
His brothers had all mated. Well, almost all of them. Rex hadn’t found his mate yet, but with the way things had started happening Gabriel would bet that the fates would deliver him a mate in no time at all. And his sister would show up too.
He cleared his throat and watched Michael stare at his mate while she ran away from them. Trouble in paradise . The first few months of mating had to be tough on them. The old days of lovemaking and long runs through the woods were behind them. Now, they had to make do with the complication of the whole thing while fighting for their lives.
Michael. His big brother who had taken care of him when it had only been the two of them against the world. They had plotted and planned for the day Tristan would finally take over. That had happened.
A light dawned in his mind. Gabriel’s role had been made clear to him. He’d kept them all safe until they could find their other halves. Each woman had brought her gifts to the pack and now they were closer than ever to taking down Kendrick. After Kendrick’s destruction, when Westervelt could be properly re-formed, all would return to normal. They had strong mates who would weather their storms with them.
Children had been born. Tristan and Cullen were fathers already. Theo’s wife expected a baby. In no time, Michael would have his new lady knocked up and breeding.
There was a future to be had. And the last thing Gabriel could do for all of them was to end his father. Free Carrie. Send her on her way. Her soul had fled his body and he couldn’t blame it one bit.
Carrie would live. Kendrick would die. All he had to do now was say good-bye and leave the pack forever. Tristan would never understand. Maybe someday, if the gods were kind, he’d get to tell him how truly sorry he felt. Or at least how apologetic he should feel.
If he thought himself capable of feeling at all.
Chapter 6
Forty years after the destruction
The human passing him on the street took a moment to stop and stare at him. Gabriel Kane made quick eye contact and the brown-eyed, black-haired female clutched her purse tighter before she moved on at a hurried pace. If she’d been a wolf he’d have assumed she sensed his dominance, but given her non-shifter status Gabe supposed it more likely he actually looked deranged.
His mouth twitched and for a second he thought he might actually smile. When had he become frightening to humans? Before he could even process that thought, which at one time would have made him laugh aloud, he scowled, a familiar expression for the last nearly forty years.
Gabe leaned back against the fence and stared up at the house. It hadn’t changed, not in the last thirty minutes that he’d been looming outside of it. He hadn’t exactly expected it to and yet he felt compelled to keep looming next to it like it might get up and walk away.
The house had been painted white and had black wooden shutters. He’d seen a lot of similar designs during the 1920s. Tristan, now the Alpha of his former pack in Westervelt, was the architect, not him. He’d listened to him spend most of the 1960s droning on about the subject, which led him to believe the house would be called a Center Hall Colonial. The whole street held examples of the style in various renditions. He knew why his father had picked this place; all of his hideouts had the same quality as this one. Quiet neighborhoods two to three blocks from major roads where his entourage could easily escape if need be.
Someone maintained his father’s lawn. He had a hard time imagining his father going out onto the grass and brandishing a lawn mower. In fact, the image presented was so disconcerting he threw it away fast before it could impose itself on his brain cells. Dad being domestic . He
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