Logan's Acadian Wolves

Epilogue

Léopold cursed as he dug into the frozen tundra. Damn bitch really had thought she was clever. Yet it had been fairly easy for the investigator to locate the safety deposit box where Fiona had left the instructions and thumb drive. Léopold suspected that someone local had helped her stash the blood. Samples from Emma, Wynter and others, had been buried deep within the snow in the heart of Yellowstone.

He and Dimitri had traveled together to retrieve the contents of the box. The wolf, with his humor, continued to insist that Léopold needed to loosen up, clearly not having a clue how difficult a task that would be. Regardless, he had succumbed to Dimitri’s unrelenting insistence that he take a hot tub. After several cognacs, he’d given in to the persistent wolf’s request. Naked in the woods hadn’t been half bad, he supposed. However he was certain that it would have been much more tolerable with a suitable female.

As Léopold recovered the vials, wind and ice blew at his face. Dammit all to hell, he should have made Dimitri come with him to dig out the blood. Even with his extraordinary strength, Yellowstone was exceedingly brutal in the winter. But Léopold had encouraged his newfound friend to visit with Hunter Livingston. Brother to Tristan and friend of Logan and Dimitri, Hunter led the Wyoming wolf pack. While it was customary for an outside wolf to announce his presence within another’s territory, Dimitri and Hunter were friends. They were aware of his arrival. It was Léopold who wished to be alone, insisting he could dispose of the vials on his own.

With the temperature at nearly fifteen below zero, Léopold snorted in displeasure. Breathtaking as it was, this weather was not conducive to a vampire’s metabolism. The deafening silence was indeed thought provoking but he could not wait to be back in the city. Whether it be New York or New Orleans, the crowds made it easy for him to feed whenever he wished. Anything he wanted was a mere phone call away. Luxury beckoned on his arrival. He had a standing reservation at private clubs from jazz to blood. In an instant, his needs were met.

True, it had been a lonely existence. But the darkness of his past wouldn’t allow him to feel. Yet he couldn’t deny his reaction to watching the interaction between the Alpha and his mate. It had warmed a layer of ice that he’d allowed to thicken around his heart. That kind of love didn’t exist very often. Long ago, as a foolish boy, he’d thought himself worthy of love. But it didn’t take long for the harsh realities of life to decimate the naïve, human ideals of love and family. It was through intellect and dominance that he’d survived and ruled. Power and prosperity had been rightly earned via battles and business.

As much as he enjoyed the freedom, he wasn’t without compassion. In truth, he’d been strangely bothered since leaving New Orleans. He could not shake the touch of Logan’s hand on his wrist and Wynter’s lips on his skin. Like a lightning bolt, their bond had penetrated deep into his own energy. Their thoughts, pain and passion funneled through his mind. It was as if the brief connection had jarred his memory, the lingering desire for love.

Léopold cursed his weakness and shoved the thought as far away as he could. Like a well-worn shoe, his cool demeanor had been comfortable. As such, he refused to give up his bachelor ways. A stop at Tristan’s club in Philadelphia and a quick romp with the twins would refresh his attitude, he thought. Imprudent, sophomoric thoughts of romance and companionship were for others, not him.

Another gust lashed at Léopold. He shoved the vials into the small backpack, zipped it up and threw it over his shoulder. A wail in the distance caught his attention. Damn humans. Damn wolves. They expected another foot of snow tonight, and he couldn’t imagine anything but animals traipsing through the forest. Who the hell would be caught dead in the middle of the night in Yellowstone?

Merde. Léopold grunted and pushed himself up onto the tamped down path. West Thumb Geyser Basin, visited often by tourists in winter, should have been desolate at night. With bubbling hot springs and gurgling mud on either side of the trail, he trod carefully toward the noise, and sniffed. Aside from the sulphuric odor, he could make out the faint smell of a human.

“I should have sent the wolf,” he grumbled. Unsure of what lay ahead, he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

As he approached a small clearing, he caught a glimpse of the outline of a person in the snow. He took a deep breath, vacillating between materializing and actually helping. It was none of his business. He could disappear like he hadn’t seen a thing. The scene between the Alpha and his mate played like a movie through his head and he sighed. It must’ve made him soft because he was leaning toward helping. Damn, fucking wolves. He growled, realizing that his conscience and curiosity would not let him leave. Resigned, he’d check on the situation and then get the hell out of there.

Léopold’s feet crunched through the snow, approaching the noise. He caught sight of the body which wasn’t moving except for an isolated twitch. The familiar scents of both humans and wolf hit his nostrils…and blood.

“Identify yourself,” he demanded. A strange gurgle responded. The small body was wrapped in a blanket, and he grew concerned as he barely heard a heartbeat. There was no way he was siring another human or wolf. Perhaps he’d take them to safety, but no more would he do.

“Do you hear me? Are you hybrid? What are you doing out here?” Léopold really didn’t want to touch the blanket. He stared up into the constellations and blew out a breath, contemplating his next move. Whatever was underneath the blanket was barely breathing. It was dying. Perhaps he should just leave?

Another gurgle caught his attention. In all his centuries, he’d nearly forgotten the sound. Unsuccessfully, he tried to shake off the painful memories that flared to life. Gurgle. No, it didn’t make sense. He fell to his knees and feverishly began pulling at the fabric, revealing the head. The cold dead eyes of a woman bored into him. Why would she bring a…? Gurgle. He continued to unwrap the blanket until he saw the source of the sound. A small face peered up at him. Horrified, his suspicion was correct. A baby.

“What the hell?” Léopold heard the sound of barking wolves in the distance and hurried to collect the small child in his arms. “Mon bébé. Who would do this to you?”

He made the sign of the cross over the dead body, tugging the blanket out from under it. Quickly, he swaddled the infant. As the danger grew closer, Léopold cursed. Decision made, he cradled the baby into his jacket, and disappeared into the night.