The Mate Mistake(The Woolven Secret 3)(56)

A cold hand squeezed his shoulder, and Tirigan stepped in front of him.

"Grigori. It has been too long."

"You have no horse in this heat, Tirigan. Go home."

"Oh, but I do. My daughter has married this Woolven pup. So, you see, I have the only horse that matters."

Blake didn't hesitate to let Tirigan speak. He didn't posture and demand deference. He was on his knees holding Warner's throat closed and calling for Westwood. The circle around them broke as Blake and Parker both retreated, dragging their uncle's cooling body.

"I'll let you take the whelp and your daughter. The rest are mine," Grigori said.

"I'm afraid that won't do."

One of the dragons overhead blew a stream of fire that should've incinerated Grigori, but he only laughed. "Witches are the very best weapons, aren't they?"

Suddenly, blue lightning crackled down from the sky and struck Grigori. The image of him split in two and melted away like an ice sculpture. A layer of the magic that had been protecting him.

Another bolt struck him.

Grigori's eyes shot to where Belle stood, and he bared his teeth.

"Your daywalking daughter finally found her magic, did she? How many times do you think she can peel away my protections? Do you think she can do it before my horde takes her down?"

All the wolves that had surrounded them ran hard for Belle.

She didn't move.

The lightning kept striking Grigori, and Tirigan made no move to aid his daughter.

He knew this was his moment of truth. His choice. He had to choose in that single instant if it would be Belle or Warner.

"Go," Blake said, giving him the absolution he needed.

Parker erupted in a fury and that's when Tirigan launched himself at Grigori.

Something in Parker changed then.

He needed to be more.

Not an Alpha, like he'd previously thought, but literally, more.

Multiples. He needed to be in a hundred places at once and, suddenly, he was.

The pain was surreal, more so than then even that silver grappling hook ripping out his heart. At least that had been quick.

Every iteration of himself was another blade into some tender part of his body. But he didn't care. It didn't matter.

All of the Parkers ripped and tore, chewed and clawed through the seemingly endless bags of flesh that tried to stand between him and those he loved.

A majority of the Parkers formed a protective circle around Belle while she flung her magic at Grigori Remus and gave Tirigan the opportunity to rip out the wolf's throat.

As soon as Remus was down, the battle came to a standstill, those of the Remus pack who were left surrendering.

All of the copies of himself roared, bellowing his pain and rage to the skies.

In that instant, a battered Westwood appeared. She was bleeding, she had a black burn mark around her neck where the collar had choked her.

“It’ll be okay. Someone help me get Warner inside.”

Parker howled again, emotion overwhelming him. The other versions of himself began to turn on each other, growling and snarling and they began to pair off, fighting.

Every wound to any Parker was a wound to him.

They were going to destroy him one piece at a time.

He looked up at Belle and her eyes had gone clear and warm again. No red, no blood.

“No, Parker.”

“I can’t stop.”

“Yes, you can.”

As one tore the heart out of the other and it fell, dissipating into ash and shadow, blood began to flow from Parker’s nose.

“Godsdamn it, you stop it. Don’t you fucking leave me, Parker Woolven. You promised.” She grabbed his face. “We didn’t go through all of this for it to end here.”

He stumbled toward her. “It won’t end here. You’ll go on.”

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him so tightly, he was sure he heard one of his bones break. Which one, he wasn’t sure. Everything hurt. It didn’t matter. He wanted to feel her touch.

“I won’t let you go. You’re mine.” She put her hands on his face and suddenly the cacophony of rage and pain was silent and still.

The whole world stopped when her hands were on his face.

“And you’re mine.”

“Yes. Always. Forever.” She pressed her forehead against his. “Say it back.” Her nails dug into his shoulders, drawing blood. “Say it.”

“Always. Forever.”

But he didn’t feel always and forever. He felt… immediate. Momentary. His replicants began to fade, some of them flitting to nothing and others ramming themselves back into his body.

Holy fucking shit, if he never had to do that again, he’d be happy.

“I’ll cram each one of these back inside you myself, if I have to.”

“Warner.”

“What?” she asked.

“My uncle. Give him one.”