The Lonely Wolf (3 page)

After rummaging inside his underwear drawer for the fourth time, Lupo had to admit defeat. He had looked everywhere in his bedroom, and the mess of clothes scattered everywhere could attest to his thoroughness.

Somehow, somewhere, he had lost his pin.

He remembered wearing it on the inside of his jacket the night he had ambushed the bloodsucker. Antonio ordered him to hide the Red insignia by putting the jacket inside out, and he hadn’t thought of the pin sticking out. Then he hadn’t worn the jacket for a few days and forgotten all about it.

It might be a sign,
he thought. He didn’t even know why he had kept that pin for so long, even after that harpy had explained to him what a bastard the man was. And to think that when he was a kid he would have given anything to have Quintilius as a father. The cruel irony of reality.

Once, Quintilius, who was one of the Cradle and Bites’ patrons, had visited the orphanage. Lupo had been so in awe of the alpha, he couldn’t say a word when the man asked for his name. Before he left, Quintilius gave the kids toys, but Lupo remained in his corner and didn’t come forward. The alpha noticed him and walked closer, then dropped to his haunches and offered Lupo an action figure. Lupo shook his head, but Quintilius noticed how he was looking at the pin on his lapel and gave it to him.

And now the pin was gone. The end of an era.

A knock on his door startled him. “Yes?”

“Your schedule for today has changed. You must report to Rock at once,” one of the little brothers said in a hurry, already running to deliver the next message.

“I’m on my way.”

Lupo snatched his boots from the floor and hastily tied the laces. When he donned his Red jacket, he automatically patted the spot where the pin used to be. Somehow, the memory of the woman’s words became more painful when combined with the realization he had lost the only memento from his youth associated with happiness. Until that moment, he had separated the alpha from his past from the man who had thrown him away like yesterday’s garbage.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Thanks to his loyalty and commitment to the Reds, he had been patched at the beginning of the month. It had taken hard work to climb the ranks and become a recruit first, and a full-fledged Red later in such a short amount of time. But when he had chosen Rock as his big brother, and then when he had worn his Red jacket for the first time, those nights had been the happiest moments of his life. No one would ever steal that from him.

Before entering Rock’s office, Lupo made sure to tuck his white shirt inside the waistband of his black jeans. He wanted his big brother to be proud of him. Lupo’s tendency to daydream had gotten him in trouble with Rock. All in the past, but a few times he had been late to relieve his big brother when they both worked surveillance in the monitor room. Rock had covered for him, and Lupo had been immensely grateful.

After rapping his knuckles on the doorpost, Lupo leaned forward and from the open door he peeked inside Rock’s office. “Did you want to see me?”

Showing him the cell phone, his big brother nodded and made a sign for him to get inside, then pointed at one of the chairs facing his desk. “I understand you’d rather talk to Tancredi, but the alpha is busy at the moment.” Rock took the cell phone away from his mouth, let out an exasperated sigh, then said, “I’m the only big brother available now.” A few seconds passed. “I’ll pass along the message.”

“Vampire?” Lupo asked, rocking on his chair.

“They wanted to know if we were behind last week’s attack in Castel Gandolfo.”

“And?” The chair landed on its rear legs with a thump, as Lupo straightened his stance.

Rock steepled his hands over the desk. “And Tancredi is playing hard to get, while I deny any Red involvement.”

“Is it working?” A cold shiver ran down Lupo’s back.

“Of course it’s working. They don’t have any proof it was us.” Rock smiled. “Rome is taken by storm by a series of vampire murders, and we capitalized on that. Genius.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already talked with Antonio. You followed protocol, so everything’s fine.”

Memories from that night assailed Lupo, and a sense of uneasiness followed. The thought that he had lost his precious pin in the gardens started as a doubt and became a certainty in the span of a few seconds.

“Even if they unleash the Enforcer, she won’t be able to find anything that can be used against us. Relax.”

“Why did we attack the bloodsucker?”

“Territory—” Rock shrugged.

“Is that so?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because that man didn’t look like someone involved in V dealing. More like a clerk, less like us.” Lupo could still see the terrified expression on the vampire’s face and how defenseless he had been throughout the ambush. The people they were hired to teach a lesson to were usually tougher, and more seasoned in the art of fighting back.

“The hit was a special request job.”

“By whom?”

“High society. Don’t ask me more.” Rock proceeded to give Lupo his new delivery docket, then dismissed him.

****

Quintilius hated Tuesdays with the same intensity the rest of the world hated Mondays. Since he didn’t care about Sundays, the beginning of the week wasn’t a hardship to him. But the day after, he usually was in such a state his employees had learned to give him a wide berth.

His aversion for Tuesdays wasn’t new. In fact, it had started in the long lost imperial times of Rome when he owned a
taberna
in Testaccio neighborhood. The eatery was closed on Mondays, and he used the day to restock the cellars. One luminous spring morning, he was buying wine from Laurentius in the Trajan Market and his wolf suddenly went into a frenzy, forcing him to stop his dealings with the merchant at once.

Never before had he lost control over his wolf. It was unheard of for an alpha and something he wanted to keep to himself, so he walked away from the Roman Forum and sought some privacy. The wolf wouldn’t give him respite. The more he moved away from the market, the more his beast opposed his will. A few shifters strolling through the stalls turned his way, and Quintilius decided that it would be safer to let his wolf dictate where to go if it calmed him.

Taking his wolf’s mood swings as a compass, Quintilius circled the Forum twice before his beast gave him clear indication he wanted Quintilius to stop before the Public Baths. He had heard of the true soulmate calling, but had never experienced any of the symptoms described by the werewolves in his clan and thought he would have rather avoided the whole thing.

Taking a long breath, he entered the baths and paid a sesterx for his admission while he admonished his wolf to behave. Still following his wolf’s whims, he doffed his toga and donned a large towel around his waist, then moved to the
tepidarium,
the pool with the warm water. As he stepped into the scented pool, presently deserted besides one other patron, his heart started beating so fast, he was scared at first.

Then he realized his wolf was deliriously happy, and the feeling became his as well when he set eyes on the large shape of the man sitting at the other end of the pool. The warm fog shrouding the
tepidarium
in eucalyptus vapors dissipated, and the man’s features came into focus.

Deep gray eyes locked with Quintilius’s, and the most incredible emotion took root in Quintilius’s heart that had now stilled. Belonging. His feet moved on their own accord, and he entered the water, wading through as if a magnet pulled him toward the man with those stormy eyes.

Finally, he stopped before the stranger. “
Vale
,” he greeted the man as in his mind his wolf rolled on his back, showing his tummy.

“
Vale
,” the stranger replied, and Quintilius could see in the man’s countenance he was equally disconcerted.

“May I sit there?” Quintilius pointed at the spot beside the man.

“Of course,” the man answered as if it was the most natural thing to crowd that corner when spots were aplenty.

Lightheaded, Quintilius lowered himself to the marble seat. He risked a brief glance to the side and took in the man’s fit body and strong features. An attraction that bordered on insanity flared through Quintilius, and he had to control his primal instincts, least he would sink his teeth into the man’s shoulder.

“What are you?” Quintilius could see the man’s aura illuminating him like a halo, and he had his answer before the man spoke.

“I’m an angel, wolf.” The man smiled, and his eyes’ radiance blinded Quintilius for a moment.

Worried he would voice one of the many thoughts swimming in his addled brain, Quintilius stilled his hand on his thigh, squeezing his flesh to snap out of the lustful haze. All the while, his wolf didn’t give him respite, asking to taste the angel’s skin, to lick the salt perspiring in the hollow of his throat, to stroke him slowly with his tongue.

“Care to fly somewhere else?”

The angel’s question took Quintilius by surprise, and he didn’t answer because he didn’t want to hear his trembling voice say, “Anywhere with you.”

The angel stood then, revealing what the vapors had hidden. Massive, as if carved from marble, the beauty of his body left Quintilius panting. Rivulets of water cascaded along the angel’s pectorals and pooled in the springy red-blond curls at the junction of his muscular legs. The man didn’t go for the towel sitting folded at the edge of the pool, but kept still, goading Quintilius’s eyes to linger where the white cloth would have rested.

Ashamed of his reaction, Quintilius averted his treacherous eyes that couldn’t seem to have enough of the sight. Nudity wasn’t the issue. Not everyone covered themselves in the baths. Men often displayed their bodies, strolled around naked, and even ate and conversed without wearing much. But never before had Quintilius ogled another patron with such hunger. His wolf nudged at him with renewed insistence, demanding with a low growl to be let out.

Sometimes to be a full-fledged alpha wasn’t helpful. In general, werewolves had to contend with their beasts once a month. Betas and even omegas managed them quite easily. But once alphas came into power, they had to keep their wolves on check constantly. Even among alphas, Quintilius, who had blossomed in his early twenties, was different because his wolf was stronger and more independent-thinking than most.

The angel regarded him with a knowing smile, then turned and stepped onto the pool’s edge. “Are you coming or not?”

Fascinated by the sculpted lines of his equally breathtaking backside, Quintilius said, “Yes,” rising from the pool. On shaky legs, he climbed up onto the marble landing, then walked toward the man but stopped before closing the distance between them. His wolf didn’t agree with his decision, but Quintilius’s resolve was stronger, albeit short.

The angel grabbed his arm and pulled Quintilius close to him. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No. I am not.” Then something possessed him, and Quintilius stepped even closer to the angel, tilted his chin up and whispered to his lips, “Are you afraid of wolves?”

The angel’s mouth descended on his fast. Before Quintilius could think of the consequences, he opened his lips, accepting the urgent strokes of the angel’s tongue and reciprocating in earnest. Voices from the antechamber intruded in their private haven, and the angel leaned away, interrupting the kiss.

“Does that answer your question, wolf?”

“Loud and clear, angel.”

They hastily donned their togas, then left the baths. The angel led Quintilius for a long walk through the crowded streets of the Forum, then hiked up toward the Palatine Hill, the most ancient of the seven hills upon which Rome had been built. Among pine trees and the scent of crushed resin, so high above the Forum on one side and the Circus Maximus on the other, everything seemed possible to Quintilius, even skirting his numerous engagements just to spend the day with this man.

He knew of the angels’ promiscuous fame and the fact they seldom mated, and although his wolf-nature should have screamed for him to run away, his treacherous wolf whined for him to touch the angel instead.

The angel stepped away from him, then turned, gave him a lazy stare, and opened his arms to his sides. “Ready?”

There was something about the man’s eyes that melted Quintilius’s knees and made him smile at the same time. “I don’t go anywhere with strangers.”

“You didn’t seem to mind we weren’t properly acquainted when I was devouring your mouth not so long ago.”

“The stroll and the fresh air cleared my mind.” It wasn’t true.

Inside or outside, it didn’t matter, the angel was intoxicating. His fresh scent. The halo surrounding him. His movements so lazy and slow that made Quintilius think of a predator ready to pounce on his prey. His hypnotic gray eyes. Everything pertaining to the angel kept Quintilius spellbound.

As if he could read Quintilius’s thoughts—and maybe he could—the angel, raised an eyebrow, tilted his head, and a grin spread on his face, changing his features from statuesque-handsome to down-to-earth flirty. “Chlodovech.” He even slightly bowed as it was expected before an alpha, then shrugged. “But you can call me Ludovicus, my Latin name.”

“Quintilius.”

Ludovicus licked his lower lip, straightened his head, and looked up at the cloudy sky. “Very well, now that we are done with the formalities, shall we?”

Before Quintilius could nod his assent, the angel backed several steps, then winked at him, and without warning opened his wings with a loud snap. Stretching several meters, the span of the snow-white appendices was majestic.

“Wolf—” Ludovicus made a come-hither gesture at him.

Quintilius walked to him. The angel engulfed him in his strong arms, and he and his wolf rejoiced at the feeling that shouldn’t have been familiar and yet it was.

“Close your eyes,” Ludovicus commanded, but his voice was soft and the words whispered in Quintilius’s ear.

With yet another leap of faith, Quintilius obeyed, and the angel’s hold on him tightened leaving him breathless, but not for lack of air. The moment they left the safety of the ground, Quintilius’s wolf howled in pleasure, and their life was changed in the span of a moment.