Located in Federal Hill’s historic district, it had been founded by a French wolf who’d fought under Lafayette in the American Revolution. After a rather inauspicious start as a bar for soldiers, Loup had gone on to transform itself into a Baltimore landmark restaurant, becoming even more French and old-fashioned as the eateries surrounding it became sleeker and more automated. No robots here, an actual human dressed in a tuxedo had taken his and Camille’s order. The menu featured dishes that could only have been found in Parisian restaurants during the eighteenth century, and they were all prepared by hand on top of gas stoves.
Table candles, a perfectly preserved post-Revolution chandelier illuminated the restaurant instead of the usual LED lights. Along with vintage sconces hanging on walls covered in gilded dark red leather. In fact, the only modern technology utilized in the restaurant was a bio-jamming system. Which meant the couples who came here on dates only had each other’s company for the time it took to eat a four-course meal.
It was exactly as his campaign team had assured him, the absolutely perfect place for him, Rafes Nightwolf, the President of the North American Lupines to propose to his girlfriend, Camille Deslobos, the Princess of Arizona.
However, the crystal ring box inside his suit pocket remained where it was long after Camille had taken a perfunctory three bites of their shared Mont Blanc dessert course. And instead of asking for the check when the waiter inquired if they were satisfied with their meals, Rafes ordered a cup of coffee, further delaying the night’s main event.
“I’ve heard they have excellent coffee here,” Rafes said, by way of explanation when Camille threw him a confused look.
Then he observed her to see how she’d handle this out of character deviation from the schedule she’d been sent two days prior to this date.
“In that case, I’ll have one, too. Decaf.” Camille smiled her order up to the waiter through perfect white teeth, adapting so smoothly, it was easy to see why his team had chosen her above all the other candidates to date the most eligible wolf in North America.
The waiter left, looking somewhat confused. Most likely, because according to the schedule Rafes’s team had given the waiter an hour before his arrival, the only further thing he would be serving tonight would be a bottle of champagne. Since everything down to the timing of the four courses had been chosen in advance, the waiter had to deal with this sudden change, just like Camille.
However, Camille didn’t seem nearly as nonplussed as he did. She merely smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the robin’s egg blue cap sleeve dress she’d chosen especially for tonight, based on his team’s feedback, and asked, “You’re not worried about those new poll numbers, are you, querido?”
The last word rolled off her tongue easily in Spanish even more flawless than his Latina grandmother’s, who’d also been a pack princess before she married, Rafes’s paternal grandfather, the then-newly crowned King of Colorado.
“Worried, no,” Rafes answered in the cool and measured tone he had cultivated during his original presidential run. “But I am disappointed that Lowell is gaining on me. The fact that he’s within five points means too many of our fellow wolves have been manipulated by this populist candidate.”
Camille shook her head in sympathy. “My father says it was better when the Lupine Council chose the president and left the people out of it.”
Rafes decided against pointing out to his girlfriend if that council system had stayed in place, he, the one-quarter Inuit, Latino, Black, and First American twenty-seven-year-old who ran for president four years ago, would have had to wait at least a couple more decades to get elected. After all most of the Lupine Council was still made up of older white men who thought they knew what was best for the continent’s secret population of werewolves.
He did understand Camille’s overall point, though. In the days before general elections, the issues Rafes was having in the polls wouldn’t have mattered. As the sitting president he would have taken his Black Box project to the council, explained his reasons for instituting it, and it would have been pushed through with no explanation given to the general populace.
But that wasn’t the case these days. Rafes not only had an unpopular program that he planned to enforce in all fifty states, but he also couldn’t tell most of his wolf constituents exactly why his Black Box Initiative could be life or death.
The imminent dragon threat had been filed under Need To Know ever since the Greek trillionaire, Damianos Drákon had bought Wolfson Point, the Idaho kingdom town. The Lupine Council had voted to keep it classified before Rafes entered office and that meant all he could do was respond to the threat the best way he knew how. Unfortunately, his pre-emptive Black Box program had been received very poorly after its announcement two years ago, sending his approval numbers into a double-digit freefall.
Even more unfortunately, because of the severely classified nature of the dragon threat, he also couldn’t attack his opponent on the one thing that made him absolutely anathema—the fact that his candidacy had been funded by a super PAC, whose main contributor was…yes, you guessed it…Damianos Drákon. Wolves Enemy #1—not that Rafes could tell his constituents that.
And since Camille was still part of that general electorate, he couldn’t talk to her about the real issues of Dean Lowell climbing in the polls just two days before the first Black Box installation at the North Dakota kingdom gate. So he simply answered, “We’re working hard to turn the tide.”
“It’s so frustrating to see this business idiot come out of nowhere and threaten your second term,” Camille said with a sympathetic huff. But then she unscrewed her perfectly made-up face to say, “You know, tonight’s engagement might just shift attention away from the first wave of Black Box installations and get your poll numbers back up.”
She threw Rafes a conspiratorial smile, letting him know she was just as savvy as his campaign team when it came to using his personal life to game the polls.
And this was why Rafes…well, okay, love probably wasn’t the right word for it. But approved. Yes, he certainly approved of Camille. Unlike him, she had way more than a 49% approval rating as far as the court of public opinion was concerned. And she didn’t mind doing whatever it took to extend some of that approval to him.
Whatever it took…
“Yes, they probably would,” he agreed.
The crystal ring box seemed to tick like a bomb inside of his suit pocket, but still, he didn’t take it out.
“And if that doesn’t work…” Camille leaned in and dipped her voice low, “I’ll take the heat shot. Wolves love a good baby story. I have a friend in California who took the heat shot just so her mate could have a better chance of winning the Academy Award he’d been nominated for—and guess what. It worked!”
God, she was perfect. Beautiful, worldly, and razor smart. Exactly what he needed to turn the tide of his second term bid. Yet, when Rafes looked at her across the table, his wolf growled low in the pit of his stomach like she was an ugly threat it just had to take out.
“Mmm,” Camille said, after taking a sip of coffee that somehow didn’t smudge her delicate porcelain cup with her dark red lipstick. She had no idea his wolf was watching her, feral and crazed.
Taking a slow, appreciative sip of his coffee, Rafes reminded himself that this was why it had to be Camille. Someone who knew how to play the part, and hadn’t asked questions, even after his lawyers had sent over a pre-engagement contract, stipulating that he and Camille would never, could never sleep in the same bedroom.
But still…he didn’t reach for the crystal ring box.
It was just that it was all so planned. From his and Camille’s first date, to their chaste six-month courtship—just long enough to make Rafes seem like a true werewolf gentleman who wouldn’t ever pressure an unheated she-wolf to sleep with him, but not so long that his constituents started to question his virility.
Don’t get him wrong. He wasn’t impetuous like his youngest triplet, Nago, who’d
just run down to Mississippi to engage with that off-limits ex-girlfriend of his. Nor was he like his other triplet, Knud who’d bed anything smoking hot and with two legs, without thought of what would happen beyond when he told her to bounce the next morning. Rafes liked a plan even more than the average wolf.
However, this one felt a little cold. Even for him. He had to wonder why his team even bothered with booking a restaurant. This proposal could have taken place in VR for as much intimacy as it contained.
“And just so you know, I’ve handled my brother,” Camille said, cutting into his thoughts. “He won’t be selling our mountain to Damianos Drákon, even if Lowell wins and rolls back the Idaho Amendment. I made sure of it.”
Rafes tilted his head, surprised by her for the first time in…well, since they started dating. According to his intel, Drákon had offered the Arizona king billions for the mountain that currently housed their pack’s time portal, or as the Viking wolves, would have called it, their fated gate. The only larger offer he’d made, according to Rafes sources, had been for the Norwegian gate. Those two gates seemed more important to the dragon shifter than all the others, and both might be imperative to whatever Drákon planned to do with the gates he’d been collecting around the world. That had been just one of the many reasons the Lupine Council had fully approved of this plan for Rafes to make this alliance with the Arizona family.
However, it looked like Camille had already tackled one of his biggest fears for him. “You’ve already spoken to your brother?”
Camille’s eyes softened. “Of course. I know how important upholding the Idaho Amendment is to your platform. And whether you’re the King of Colorado or the President of the North American Wolf Territories, I plan to be an excellent wife.”
An excellent wife.
No, his wolf might not like Camille, and no, this engagement dinner wasn’t exactly the most romantic thing he’d ever witnessed as the oldest triplet son of parents with an infamous fated mate story. But Camille was right. About the engagement timing, the heat shot potential, and most important of all, not letting Drákon get the Arizona gate.
She was exactly what he needed to win this election. And her announcement was enough to dispel any remaining doubts. He set his coffee cup down.
“Camille Deslobos…” he said, finally pulling out the crystal ring box.
Rafes got down on one knee and launched into a speech that revolved around respect and gratitude. His speech writer and campaign team had spent days constructing and poring over the proposal. The proposal itself wouldn’t be recorded for official prosperity, but they planned to release a copy to the lupine press tonight, so it was critical that he got every word right while holding down the wolf growling savagely inside of him at the same time.
Rafes held out the ring. And Camille cupped his face and looked him deep in the eyes before gushing, “Yes, oh yes, Rafes.”
She gave him a soft kiss, beautiful and just right.
He had to wonder if she’d been rehearsing for this moment, too. She played the part so well, it would have been hard to guess she knew this was coming…or that this was the first time they’d ever kissed.
“You’ve made me a very happy man,” he told her. Meaning it in his own way.
Then after receiving congratulations and claps from the rest of the mostly wolf society patrons at the restaurant, they left the La Taverne Loup hand in hand to have their picture taken by the official Wolf House photographer, who was waiting for them outside.
Despite his feral wolf, everything went off without a hitch.
And if not for his batshit crazy zealot of a mother, the plan totally would have worked.
But less than a minute after the photographer snapped his and Camille’s picture, Rafes’s feed filled up with urgent biomessages from his staff.
4
Rafes
PRESIDENT NIGHTWOLF’S OWN MOTHER HATES THE BLACK BOX PROJECT!
Rafes rubbed a hand over his face as his drone landed at the base of North Dakota’s kingdom mountain. Less than twelve hours after the announcement that was supposed to overshadow all news of the Black Box project, this ridiculously capped headline floated above the much less bombastic President Nightwolf Announces Engagement to Princess Camille Deslobos on his WolfNet biofeed.
Alisha Ataneq-Nightwolf, the world-renowned historian and private pain in her oldest triplet’s ass had not only found out that North Dakota would be the first black box site but had also decided to hold a small protest there yesterday afternoon, just a few hours before he sat down to dinner with Camille. Less than fifty people had shown up to her demonstration, according to his staff, but apparently, WolfNet had somehow decided this was way bigger news than their president’s engagement.
“Want us to do another sweep before you go up?” Craig, one-half of his two-man security detail asked as soon as he stepped off WolfForce One.
Rafes considered it. After finding the formerly top-secret site of the first Black Box project empty last night during the midnight preliminary sweep, the new plan had become to simply stick to the original plan.
Him, walking up the mountain alone for a meet and handshake session with the construction crew. He’d cut the ribbon on the project and get out. Simple. No speeches. No Wolf House photographer, since they hadn’t planned to announce the North Dakota Black Box, until long after the project was completed. But that was before his mom had made it to the top of the WolfNet trending news feed.
Still, he dismissed Craig’s offer with a firm shake of his head. The Lupine Council had made him take on this security detail, even though Rafes was a decorated Marine and more than capable of handling any civilian aggression himself. For that reason alone, Rafes would be damned if he was going to give them a reason to suggest they were actually right.
Instead of granting the request, he gave the usual command. “Ten feet behind me. Don’t approach unless I give the order.”
They immediately fell in position, more than conditioned after nearly four years on “act like you’re invisible” duty.
Rafes elled his fingers as he started up the mountain, which created a small rectangular screen in between the two comm rings on his index fingers. He had no desire to watch the virulent anti-Black Box protest everyone was talking about. His mom’s hours'long rant last Thanksgiving had been bad enough. But better to be informed, just in case Rafes got hit with any questions during the construction crew meet and greet.
Still, he seethed as he watched his mother read the last few pages of his Aunt Tee’s memoir to a mostly she-wolf crowd, which included his younger twin sisters, Nauja and Lis. To think when he was a kid, he used to brag to everyone that his cousin-aunt was Tee Greenwolf, the founder of She-Wolf Industries, the videogame company that had created the perennial bestseller Viking Shifters. But had she decided to write a human-accessible business book like most groundbreaking she-wolf entrepreneurs in her position would have? No. Instead, she’d written a WolfNet only eBook about how she’d become the fated mates of two werewolf brothers, who’d time traveled back from Viking Age Norway after dragons had attacked their village.
And of course, she’d framed the even bigger wolf-dragon battle that took place after her mates, FJ and Olafr returned to the Viking Age Norway as an event rooted firmly in the past. The way his Aunt Tee had written it, it was easy for any reader who wasn’t Rafes to assume that ultimate battle was little more than an obstacle in her great love story.
However, as far as Rafes was concerned, only one passage had stood out in that otherwise useless book: the one about how the dragons had been actively looking for the Viking’s time gate after they burned her mates’ village to the ground. Because that meant the dragons had been trying to get their claws on certain gates even before the Idaho purchase.
And for Rafes, that made the next obvious question, why? Why had Drákon gone as far as to put a Manchurian candidate in place to get his hands on more North American gates?
But obviously his mother hadn
’t been concerned about any of those questions when she decided to use her cousin’s book for her anti-Black Box campaign. And as she read aloud about how the lovers were once again reunited at the Michigan time gate, the only message her chosen passage conveyed was, President Nightwolf doesn’t want you to ever have a fated mate like Tee Greenwolf, who somehow managed to land not one, but two Viking werewolves.
And unfortunately, none of the simpering she-wolves in the crowd seemed to be interested in questioning her simplistic reduction of the black box issue—or even ask why she’d decided to use her cousin’s fated mate gate story instead of her own much, much messier one.
Despite the cool North Dakota spring morning, Rafes's head grew hot with resentment, as he watched his mother address the crowd she’d gathered in front of the North Dakota gate.
“When this project is done, most North American fated mates won’t have access to a local gate. That means they won’t be able to seek out the mate they’re destined to love from our current time period. Even worse, if your fated mate is out there trying to find you, he or she might be stuck in limbo forever, all because President Nightwolf thinks he knows better than us.”
Rafes rolled his eyes at his mother’s claims. Never mind that the Lupine Council had made it nearly impossible for modern wolves to find fated mate spells over the last few decades. Or that less than 0.1% of all wolf couples were the result of a time portal. To hear his mother tell it, Rafes was hell-bent on denying every she-wolf in North America her shot at true love.
“What about Myrna!” a slender blonde yelled out in the crowd.
Ugh! That hacking name again.
He’d only known Myrna for four years. “Hot Valkyrie Babysitter” he and her brothers used to call her in what they’d considered their mother’s language during their stint in Viking Age Norway. Back then she’d been the girl of fourteen winters charged with their care whenever their mother was away on one of her many history recording projects. He’d like her fine enough when he was only four, but man, had he come to detest her name, since the announcement of the Black Box project two years ago.
The Brothers Nightwolf Trilogy Page 41