The Lonely Wolf (13 page)

I hurt too.

Love you.

And I love you, both.

Fix?

I don’t know if it’s possible.

You fix. He hurt. I hurt. Much.

I wish I knew how to make it right.

You fix. I know.

Ludwig lowered his forehead to the wolf’s furry head, burrowing into his softness, drawing strength from the animal’s unconditional love and trust in him.

The wolf raised his muzzle and licked Ludwig’s face.

Love. I. He. You.

“Jasmine?” Lupo didn’t know how to describe the pleasure he had just experienced from simply touching her lips. He hadn’t had time to coax her mouth open or to even slide his hands under that horrible gown she had called a
chiton
.

Yet, for all the times he’d had sex, he had never felt the kind of transport the mere touch of her soft lips had caused. Panting, with weak knees and shaking arms, he stared at her. “What did you do to me?”

“I made you mine,” she said, her skin flushed and her whole body shaking against his. “You won’t ever bed another girl again.”

“Not that the thought has any appeal to me right now, but—” He caressed her back slowly to soothe her. “What did you do exactly?”

“When Purist women kiss their mate the first time, they bind them so that they won’t be able to stand any other woman’s scent. From now on, you’ll be disgusted by anyone else’s touch that isn’t mine.”

Lupo stared at her for a moment, trying to decide if she was joking. Then her body tensed, her eyebrows furrowed, and he had his answer. “You’re serious.”

“Don’t ever think of kissing another girl just to test if I said the truth.” She slapped his hands away and stepped back. “I will tear her to pieces and—”

“Slow down, my love.” He closed the gap between them and hefted her in his arms before she could complain. “I have no intention to even look at another woman for the rest of my life.” He dipped his head and brushed the tip of her nose. “You’re more than I can handle.” He walked to the couch where he had fantasized to ravage and mark her only a moment before, but lowered her on the cushion with the utmost care instead, as if she were made of delicate porcelain.

“I love you already,” she whispered. “And it’s making me crazy.”

“I know.” He caressed her hair, letting her tresses pass through his fingers. “It’s the mating hormones. They’re driving me insane too.”

“My nana told me it’s because when two predestined souls meet they change each other at a molecular level.”

“That sounds frightening,” he joked, but she didn’t like it and swatted his hands away once again.

“It’s beautiful. Two souls who’ve mated, they’ll always find each other, no matter what happens to them. My nana told me that she met her true love when she was sixteen, but she was married to a Purist her family had chosen for her—” Jasmine paused, her eyes distant.

A cold shiver ran through Lupo’s spine, and his wolf’s fur stood too. “What happened to her and her soulmate?”

“She had to marry her betrothed, but the night before the ceremony, she fully mated with her true love and they marked each other.”

“And?” Lupo asked, uneasiness descending upon him.

“And she had that night to remember all her life,” Jasmine concluded.

“And that was it? She and her soulmate didn’t fight for their right to be together?” Lupo’s anger came back. “What are you trying to tell me with this tale?”

Jasmine sat up and took his face in her hands. “That I will always love you. No matter what happens.”

“While you marry your Purist husband and I can’t even have sex with another woman?” Several images passed before his eyes. He saw Jasmine with another man, and bile rose in his stomach. Then he saw himself with a girl who wasn’t her and the sense of illness grew in intensity to the point that he couldn’t breathe for the pain and nausea.

After the sensation abated, he stood, and towering over her he said, “I don’t think so. You are mine and I’m yours. I won’t share you.” He took her chin in his hand and raised her face to his for a hard kiss. Panting, he bumped her forehead with his. “We’ll have to run away.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Were you testing me?” Letting her go, Lupo closed his eyes and massaged the arch of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“Now I know we’re on the same wavelength.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to bring out the worst in me?”

“The Great Wolf and the Panther Goddess have decided we are to be one, but I had to make sure you were as willing to fight for us as I am.” She shrugged. “I don’t know you. Besides this insane need to make you mine, I have no idea who you are and how you’ll react when things go south with my tribe.”

Her doubts offended him. “I’m a wolf. I’d give my life for my mate.”

“As I’d give my life for you. But my nana—”

“But nothing. With all due respect, I don’t know your nana, but had she really loved her soulmate, she would’ve burnt Rome to the ground to be with him. As he should’ve.” Although he wanted to reach down to her, he stood before the couch, legs wide and arms folded over his chest. “I wanted you even before seeing your face. I haven’t seen your body, and yet you’re the only woman I’ll ever want to make love to from now on.”

“Because the Great Wolf—”

“I don’t care why I feel the way I do around you. What matters to me is that we are together. Now, let’s plan your escape.”

She kneeled on the couch and reached up for him, her arms up and her head tilted to the side. “I must go and meet my fiancé now, or you’ll be discovered.”

His brain told him she was right, but his wolf growled his dissent. “No.” He took her in his arms.

“Don’t be unreasonable. I must go downstairs or my mother will come up.”

“I’m having a difficult time keeping my temper in check, my sweetness.” Tightening his hold, he let her feel how fast his heart was beating.

She nuzzled at his chest. “You’ll have to be patient.”

The heat of his rage burned Lupo from the inside. “I don’t want you near another man.”

“We won’t be alone. My nana, my mother, and his mother will be with me the whole time, of course,” she said as if it was obvious.

Something in the way she answered, put Lupo on edge. “Why does he want to see you tonight?”

“He’s my fiancé—”

“Tell me.”

“Our families are finalizing the wedding ceremony’s details.”

“Are you about to get married?” Black dots swam before Lupo’s eyes.

“Being betrothed kind of implies a wedding.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

His wolf cried and he growled. “You’re going nowhere without me.”

“But I must!”

Unable to articulate one more word, Lupo grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the elevator.

****

The nocturnal flight back to Rome wasn’t as frantic as the way to the Dolomites, but Ludwig’s mind was still filled with a chaos of thoughts he had never experienced before. Remembering to keep a safe speed for Quintilius, Ludwig flew toward the city with the firm intent to clear his mind and savor his last chance to hold him in his arms.

His beloved wolf’s nearness made Ludwig’s resolution easier, and for the length of the journey he was successful at putting aside his troubles. Quin’s body ran warm from his recent run and Ludwig caressed his back, content Quin let him.

When Coppedè’s slanted roofs and pinnacles came into sight, he lowered his lips to the werewolf’s ear. “You are my only love.” Under his hands, Quintilius’s heartbeat stilled for a long moment, then it galloped into a frenzied pace.

“As you are mine,” Quintilius said, raising his chin to stare at Ludwig’s eyes.

No more words were needed between them. The sadness in Quintilius’s gaze said it all. This game of chasing happiness had ended, and they had both lost. But Ludwig couldn’t resign himself yet.

He lowered his lips to Quintilius’s and kissed him, pouring his soul into a last kiss that he dragged through the whole spiraling descent to the ground. His arms held Quin closer, and he memorized the way they matched, how their bodies were meant to pleasure each other, and how he couldn’t envision being intimate with another man ever again. Despite his hedonistic nature, casual lovers didn’t appeal to him anymore. In the past, whenever he had sought instant gratification, willing bodies had sufficed, but not now. Only his wolf could quench Ludwig’s thirst.

Sweet and sad, perfect and painful, the kiss ended when he lowered his feet to the asphalt, too soon. Still entwined, he inhaled Quin’s scent, tobacco and patchouli; to him, the perfume of love. He blinked and a solitary tear fell to his cheek.

“Ludwig,” Quintilius whispered, and Ludwig fought the impulse to hold him tight and fly away from Rome, from Italy, from Europe, and never come back.

For a moment, the image played in his mind like a vivid movie of what his future could be, and to Ludwig it made more sense than the political career he had planned so long ago. And that sudden whim, although born of desperation, was also a first for Ludwig, who had never thought of leaving everything and everyone behind to pursue his happiness.

When he raised his eyes from Quintilius’s mouth, Alexander’s villa loomed at the other end of the street.

“Let’s go meet your son.” He squeezed Quintilius’s hand and gave him a smile.

Quintilius reciprocated the gesture, but not the smile, then released his hand but remained close to Ludwig as he walked up to the villa’s entrance.

With a heavy heart, Ludwig hoped he could talk the cub into accepting Quintilius. If nothing else, he had to make things right between them. Once on the porch, he tucked his wings out of sight and lifted the invisibility shield before knocking on the door.

A moment later, Pietro opened. “Master Barnes. Master Quintilius.” The majordomo’s face was pale and his movements betrayed nervousness. “Master Drako has been waiting for you.”

In a tense silence, the older man walked them through the hall and down to the studio facing the gardens. “I’ll serve refreshments shortly. Would coffee be to your liking?”

Both Ludwig and Quintilius nodded their assents.

“Alexander?” Ludwig saw the Greek standing from his desk to greet them and made sign for him to remain seated. “Is everything all right?”

Alexander slumped back on his chair. “I lost Lupo.”

“How did that happen?” Quintilius asked, stepping forward.

“When he realized you weren’t coming, he took off.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Ludwig walked before the desk, placing himself between the two.

“I tried, but Lupo went wolf, and I lost him as soon as he reached the end of the neighborhood.”

“He went wolf outside of a full moon.” Quintilius grabbed the back of a chair.

“Your son is pure alpha. His wolf was so fast, I didn’t have a chance—”

Quintilius interrupted Drako. “He’s in more danger than I thought. If nobody taught him how to control his animal, the wolf could overtake him and make him do something he would regret for the rest of his life. We must find him before it’s too late.”

Ludwig’s heart ached at the anguish in Quintilius’s voice.

****

The weight of the previous day and night crushed Quintilius under a veil of despair so thick he didn’t know where to start to make things right. But, among the long list of problems that needed to be addressed, his son was his priority.

“Do you have something of Lupo’s?” Quintilius asked. His voice was controlled, but he wanted to scream.

Drako’s eyes snapped to attention, and he nodded reaching for the phone on his desk. “Pietro, could you bring me the cub’s belongings?” Lowering the handset, he addressed Quintilius, “Do you think you can still track him? More than twenty-four hours have passed already.”

“Alpha senses.” He pointed at his nose. He also thought that it should have been easier to follow the wolf of a son of his, since they shared genes. Tales of long lost relatives found because of their familiar scents abounded in the shifter folklore, but Quintilius had never had a chance to put that theory into practice.

Ludwig turned to face him. “We’ll find him.”

Quintilius nodded. He focused all his thoughts and energy on the task, and sensed the majordomo coming back from several rooms away. Before Pietro even reached the hallway, Quintilius’s nostrils dilated to take in the scent of werewolf wafting closer. His wolf paced back and forth, his fur standing on end, demanding to sprint into action.

The moment the majordomo entered the room holding a bag in his hands, Quintilius grabbed it from him. With a loud roar, he tore the plastic open. Inside, several shredded items of clothing came into view, their smell so similar to Quintilius’s wolf’s scent it was uncanny.

“He’s my son all right.” If Quintilius had needed any proof, now he could be sure of his paternity. “Let’s go find Lupo.”

Without waiting for Ludwig and Alexander to follow him, he exited the studio, and retraced his steps out of the house and into the street. He brought one of the larger scraps of fabric, a piece of Lupo’s jeans, to his nose and inhaled.

“Can you sense him?” Ludwig asked, running after him.

“Yes.” Quintilius pivoted on his heels, following with his nose the particles of what was left of his son’s wolf’s passage. Closing his eyes, he saw the trajectory of the wolf’s run. The animal had been furious and his erratic behavior was evident in the sharp corners and about-faces he had made.

“Which direction did he take?” Drako asked.

“He slalomed in and out of the neighborhood, then left in a hurry.” Quintilius opened his eyes and pointed at the arch connecting two buildings that delimited the neighborhood. “He passed under the gate.” He tilted his head to the side, his nostrils flaring. Walking toward the arch, he noticed how Lupo’s wolf’s movements showed sudden purpose. “He kept himself in the shadow of the taller buildings.” Turning toward Ludwig, he said, “I need a lift.”

“Sure.” Ludwig raised his shield and disappeared from sight.

“Please, let me know when you find him,” Drako said as Quintilius entered the angel’s shield.

“I will,” Quintilius answered while already in the safety of Ludwig’s embrace. “Fly low,” he said to the angel.

From above roofs and terraces, he guided Ludwig to follow Lupo’s wolf’s mad dash through the Roman traffic.

“He left the safety of the buildings soon enough,” Ludwig commented when Quintilius pointed at the intersection where the wolf had crossed without hesitation.

Fading brake marks were visible on the asphalt.

“So it seems. He was in a hurry to reach his destination.” Quintilius kept his senses opened and his nose focused on catching even the smallest variation in the wolf’s scent. “He wasn’t angry anymore.” The bitter aftertaste he had caught before was dimming, in its stead a sweeter accent permeated the animal’s pheromone trail.