The Lonely Wolf Page 4

  “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 ang
el 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.

  After that, Quintilius could never think of Mondays without associating the day to his angel. And the day after to when he had to come back to a reality that didn’t include Ludovicus, who would later become his beloved Ludwig Barnes.

  Chapter Five

  With a shrug and a suffered sigh, Ludwig pushed aside the brown folder filled with the report from Castel Gandolfo. “They haven’t found anything,” he said to Peter, who had stopped by his office.

  “I suppose that’s good news, right?” The demon looked at him with his ever-changing eyes, now a warm hazel. He had refused to sit when offered, claiming he had enough of desk work for one day already.

  “Yes, it is, but we still don’t know the kid’s whereabouts.” Ludwig slammed his hand over his oversized desk, sending a few pens rolling around.

  “My kid could know nothing at all of Quintilius’s clan pin—”

  “Do you really believe that pin was there by accident? Werewolf paraphernalia and vampire grounds don’t go hand to hand.”

  “I concede you the point, but my kid might not be the one who lost the pin.” His eyes now dark, Peter paced the length of the office, his long legs covering the space in a few strides.

  Ludwig pointed at the reinforced leather chair under the window. “You’re making me dizzy. Please, relax. I know how much you care about your renegades.”

  Demons and angels couldn’t procreate, and Ludwig knew firsthand how the longing for a child could become an open wound after a few millennia of watching other species multiply. Peter cared for the teenagers he saved from the street as if they were his own. In a quest to save the closest thing he would ever have to children—his angels—Ludwig had been denied both a family and a life with the man he loved.

  Tapping the folder, Ludwig watched as Peter finally sat on the chair that, although meant to withstand an angel, squeaked under his weight. “We need to find Lupo and fast. Your informant has reported to the enforcers as well.”

  Crossing his ankles, Peter reclined his head against the wall. “Who’s the enforcer on the case?”

  “Ravenna Del Sarto.”

  At the name of Alexander Drako’s companion, the most famous officer in all the Immortal Council, Peter straightened and his eyes widened, sparkling with a reddish hue. “You’ve got to be kidding. They called the Enforcer to investigate an underage renegade case. Why?”

  “Because Vampire Nation is quite vocal when it comes to its members being slaughtered and has asked for drastic measures to stop the murders.” Leaning forward, Ludwig folded his arms over the desk. “I had hoped to keep the whole affair contained until I had a chance to talk with Lupo, but Samuel was asked to step in by the Vampire Nation, and as a liaison he had to call the cavalry. I’m sure he took into account the cub’s young age and thought Ravenna’s maternal instinct would help the case.”

  “I’ll talk to Ravenna.” With one graceful move despite his size, Peter stood and reached down for his rear pocket.

  Ludwig gestured for him to sit. “No need. She’s on her way.”

  In fact, after a few minutes, Ravenna Del Sarto arrived. Elegant in a dark suit and wearing a long necklace of iridescent black pearls, the enforcer walked in balancing her slim body on stiletto heels. Alexander’s companion had always been a striking albeit inaccessible-looking woman, but after the birth of their triplets the brunette had softened and blossomed.

  “Ravenna.” Peter smiled at his friend.

  “Gentlemen.” Ravenna lowered herself to the chair the demon had offered her.

  “How are the kids?” Ludwig asked, walking to the antique drop leaf table where he kept his espresso maker. The Bezzera Vittoria Alata, winged victory, in copper and brass had been a splurge of the moment. He had not resisted the urge to buy one of the original pieces created by the espresso machine factory at the beginning of the nineteen hundreds. The statuette of the she-angel on the coffeemaker dome was ready to fly away, and so was Ludwig.

  Ravenna smiled at the mention of her triplets. “Walking all over the house. Thank the gods for Raphael and Luisa helping me. Those two kids are saints, I swear.”

  “I’m glad things worked out the way they did for them.” Peter patted Ravenna’s arm.

  “We’re constantly sending Raphael back to his bedroom at night, and Alexander’s had to have the talk with him, but we both know they are past the talk.” She chuckled. “Anyway, they are so much in love it makes all their shenanigans bearable. It’s like we are practicing having teenagers a few years in advance.”

  “I don’t want to be around Alexander when Arianna, Serses, and Darius hit puberty,” Peter joked, as he walked back to his chair.

  “I’m thinking of taking a long leave of absence myself. I heard Seattle is having vampire problems lately, they can only worsen with time.” She tilted her head toward Ludwig. “Can it be arranged, archangel?”

  “Yes, but only if you call me by my name.” Ludwig turned on the espresso machine and put two porcelain cups under the elongated levers. A gurgling noise erupted from the copper tubes, and soon after white steam sprouted into the cups with a satisfying hissing sound. He let the vapor warm the cup, then pushed the espresso button and the aroma of fresh brewed Arabica coffee filled the room. Already knowing both his guests’ preferences, he fixed the one for Ravenna black and served her the small cup. “Speaking of teenagers, I have a favor to ask you regarding Lupo Solis.”

  Ravenna accepted her coffee with a small chuckle. “I figured that when you summoned me.” She took a sip from her cup. “So, what is it about this kid that makes both of you nervous?” She smiled at Peter who had blinked in surprise at her statement. “You wouldn’t be here as well if Lupo wasn’t your concern.”

  Peter raised his hands. “You got me.”

  Balancing both his cup and the demon’s, Ludwig walked around the desk, served Peter his, then leaned against the windowsill. “The cub is involved in the attempted murder of one of Claudius’s vampires—”

  One hand holding her cup and the other holding the saucer, Ravenna straightened against her chair. “That’s bad news.”

  “My words exactly when I first heard of the mess this kid is in,” Peter said.

  “But there’s more.” Ravenna put down the cup on the saucer and placed them on the desk.

  Ludwig summarized how he had found Quintilius’s clan pin, and Peter added his concerns about Lupo at the end.

>   After silently listening, Ravenna pushed herself up and said, “It seems that there isn’t any time to waste. Later, I’ll file that I asked the Renegade Controller to work with me.” She turned toward Peter. “Let’s go.”

  With a few farewell words, Ludwig accompanied Ravenna and Peter to the door, and they left with the promise they would let him know as soon as they found Lupo.

  As it happened more and more often lately, Ludwig resented his station and the fact he soon wouldn’t work in the field any longer. The Archangel Seat loomed over him and he didn’t look forward to taking his rightful place at the head of the Holy Nation. Millennia of hiding his angelic nature to save his own species from Arariel’s dominion and now he wished he could disappear and live his life like any other paranormal.

  ****

  The sound of his Suzuki Katana roaring to life always put Lupo in a good mood.

  Even in days like the present, when his delivery docket looked like it didn’t contain any white left after Rock had filled the page with locations scribbled in black ink. For the last few days, one of the little brothers working on Lupo’s delivery team had been sick with a nasty bug that sent him to the infirmary. To make things worse, a second member of the team had crashed his bike and broken his leg.

  Lupo revved the engine and listened to the purr radiating from the bike and vibrating through him, then zigzagged alongside the Lungotevere driving toward Trieste neighborhood and his next delivery. Although the drop-in locations always changed, he had already delivered V at the address next on his list. The peculiarity of this delivery was that the cargo had to be deposited in a mailbox that was left open for it. The first time, Lupo had been surprised by the note beside the address. The standard procedure was to ask the person who accepted the package to sign a receipt. But not for this delivery. When Lupo asked Rock about it, he was dismissed with a, “Follow the instructions to the letter.”

  With its clean Art Deco façade, marbles and dark wooden accents in the foyer, the building exuded old wealth, the kind that was built upon social privileges due to caste. The place was beautiful but cold, and Lupo resented that the people living there had a better life than him because of their birth parents.