“We have the most wonderful news for you,” Arabella, his younger sister, blurted out.
Nervousness replaced Constantine’s previous anger. “What kind of news?”
“Father has found you a—” Arabella started, but she was immediately silenced by their mother.
“And father is the one who should convey the news.” Their mother’s rebuking was accompanied by a reproachful stare that filled Arabella’s eyes with tears. “Go inside. They are waiting for you in the library,” she said to Constantine, pointing at the wooden door behind her.
Knowing it was pointless, Constantine didn’t ask who they were, but bowed at his mother and entered the house. The smell of polished wood and fresh cut flowers greeted him in the two-story high foyer. His steps resonating loud on the travertine floors, and leaving mud prints behind, he strode toward the grand double staircase. He climbed the stairs three at a time, then headed to the library at the end of the second floor hallway.
“Come in,” his father said before Constantine could knock on the door.
Constantine pushed the carved panel open and remained at the threshold. A group of men gathered in the room. “Father.” He bowed to Don Armando De La Vega, an austere wolf who looked like a mature version of himself, then to the rest of the group composed by at least ten of the Sacred Heart’s venerable elders.
“I’m glad you finally decided to join us.” His father’s stern expression was made even more severe by the cold light in his eyes. “The elders and I have been hard at work, looking for a solution to your gallivanting ways.” He gestured for Constantine to sit across from him.
Lowering himself to a chair, Constantine kept his mouth shut, but he seethed inside.
Don Armando raised an eyebrow, and his eyes shone with a dangerous light. “It’s past time you renew your alliance to the Sagrado Corazon, and finally give the sect the next generation of De La Vegas—”
Unable to control himself, Constantine shot up, sending the chair against the bookshelves. “Father—”
“The elders have found a bride worthy of you. You will marry Doña Marcella De La Rosa Gutierrez in five days.” Even from his seat, Don Armando managed to look down on his son.
His heart beat so fast, he feared everyone in the library could hear it, but he collected what calm he could, and said, “I will not marry this woman.”
The elders gasped at once as if they were a single entity.
“You won’t dare defy me.” Don Armando stood, displaying more control than his son had, then walked the few steps between them. They were of the same build and height.
Head to head, Constantine stared into his father’s eyes. “Contact Doña Marcella’s family and call the wedding off.”
His father’s wolf entered Constantine’s astral plane, and with a growl attacked Constantine’s wolf.
Constantine didn’t flinch. “I won’t marry any of the women you choose for me.” His wolf defended himself, but didn’t dare strike back at his father’s wolf out of respect.
Don Armando’s composure cracked. “You’ve lost your mind for a—”
Constantine didn’t let him finish the thought, but turned and walked away. He was already halfway down the hall, when his father called to him from the door.
“If you leave now, don’t bother ever coming back. You’ll be dead to me,” Don Armando said.
The deep sorrow hidden in his father’s threat hurt Constantine more than the spoken words.
“I’m sorry, Father.” He bowed one last time to the man he had idolized since he was but a pup, then retraced his steps only to stop at the porch, where several sets of shocked eyes met his.
“Constantine—” His mother’s lower lip trembled as she shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”
Constantine took her small frame in a tender hug. “You know why,” he whispered.
His mother pushed away from him, anger marring her features. “You’re ruining your life for nothing.”
“The Great Wolf thinks otherwise.” His lips curved in a sad smile.
His parents’ match had been orchestrated by the elders, and they would never know the bliss of mind-sharing with a true soulmate.
“Don’t be blasphemous,” his mother cried, hitting his chest with her fisted hands.
“I love you, Mother.” He kissed her crown, then turned to say goodbye to his sisters, but they all showed fear in their stricken faces, and he refrained from getting close to them.
Only Arabella said, “I love you, Constantine,” then threw herself at him for a fiery hug. “I won’t ever forget you.”
“I’ll never forget you either.” He held her tight against him, his heart breaking at the finality of the moment. Then she was taken away from him, and his family disappeared behind the large wooden door.
He stared at the carved panels for a few seconds, then left his father’s manor forever.
The day after, Camelia showed up at their cabin. He had spent the whole time there, waiting for her, anxious to give her the news, summoning her every few hours.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, before even closing the door. “The elders have chosen a husband for me and my father is sending me to Rome in two days.”
Chapter Five
The sun shone through the clouds, illuminating the city with a brilliant morning light. Giddiness possessed Camelia, and she opened her arms to the side, tilting her chin up toward the sky. Then she twirled around, her cloak dancing with her, while her soggy hood fell and her hair was soon soaked by the heavy rain as well.
After looking for Constantine for so long, she had resigned to the idea of loving an abstract man, concocted by her mind to mend her starving heart. But she could almost feel his touch brushing her body now, and it wasn’t just her imagination.
Constantine was in Seattle, all but a few meters from her. All of a sudden, she couldn’t wait any longer to be reunited with him, and the memory of their last time together played before her eyes as she left Kerry Park.
****
Santa Marta de Tormes, Spain, Late Spring 1856
After leaving her house in a hurry, Camelia pushed Estrella to her limits, something she wouldn’t have ordinarily done, but she was devastated and needed to see Constantine. He had been calling her non-stop, his summons progressively angrier, but she hadn’t answered. She wanted to talk to him face-to-face, because she would need his strong arms around her when she divulged her news.
“I need to tell you something,” she said the moment she saw him.
Constantine waited for her in the shadow, leaning against the brick wall, one knee bent and his Hessian boot firmly pressing on the surface behind.
His dark and brooding demeanor made her tremble, but she continued, “The elders have chosen a husband for me and my father is sending me to Rome in two days.” She had expected him to take her in his arms, but he didn’t move. “Say something.”
Constantine’s jaw hardened, making his whole countenance the more distant for it. “What will you do?”
As if she had been hit by a blow, Camelia recoiled, pressing a hand over her heart.
“Answer me.” His question came out as a low growl.
Hurt by his distance, she spat back, “What do you want me to say?” She had kept the truth to herself for days, worried of what Constantine would do the moment he knew, but she never envisioned his reaction to be so cold. She needed kisses and frantic caresses, not the cold shoulder.
“Will you marry him?” he asked after a long moment of silence.
Shaking her head, she swallowed her pride and closed the gap between them. “You know I only want you,” she whispered, hoping he would lean down and meet her mouth.
He regarded her with a calculated stare. “Do I?”
“What are you doing?” she cried, unable to contain her frustration any longer. “I’ve endured meeting after meeting with the elders, pleading with them to change their decision. I have fought my parents and my sister, and I was locked
in my room, left there to reconsider my foolishness. I told them about you and that I’m not a virgin any longer—”
Constantine stirred, his eyes wandering to the side of her face where a red mark glowed on her skin. “What happened to you?” His brows furrowed, and he removed his kidskin glove, then reached for her cheek.
She leaned on his touch, tears welling in her eyes. “My father didn’t take the news about my ruin lightly.” Before her mother and the elders could stop him, her father had used his leather belt to unleash his fury on her. “But the elders told him my aura healing skills more than compensate for any stain on my honor—”
“Camelia—” Constantine’s lips sought hers as his arms circled her back, pressing her to his chest. He kissed her with a desperate need they both experienced, burning them, and leaving them breathless.
“I won’t ever let another man touch me. Never,” she said, emerging for air.
Constantine moaned and pushed her down to the floor, his hands working at her pelisse as his fangs grazed her collarbone. “You are mine.”
He marked her, before even removing her clothes. The intensity of the act had Camelia unconscious for a few seconds, and when she came back, Constantine’s tears had washed her face.
“You are mine,” he repeated, taking her mouth as he fumbled with the multiple layers of her gown.
“I wish it were a full moon already.” She had thought about it, and she had decided that she would recite the ancient words for the third time. They would be united in the sacred bond, and no power on Earth would be able to separate them. Both her family and his would be forced to honor their union.
“We only have to wait until tomorrow night,” he said, but his mood had darkened. With a curse, after raising her skirt to her waist, he tore the petticoat in the middle, roughly spread her legs to open her drawers, then plunged into her.
They devoured each other in a frenzy. Their passion didn’t abate after they were sated, but built up again, demanding the union of their bodies until they couldn’t move any longer. Then they remained on the floor, still locked in a deep embrace, their breathing ragged, as they shared words of love and cried.
Hours later, when she should have already returned to her house, they made it to the large bridal bed Constantine had ordered from a local artisan. It was a Sagrado Corazon’s tradition that bond couples slept in a custom-made bed designed by the groom. The first night they spent at the cottage, he etched their initials on the headboard with his ceremonial dagger—an heirloom passed from generation to generation for that purpose only—then asked the artisan to sculpt a bas-relief décor around it. The result was an intricately carved board with flowers and leaves sprouting from the two conjoined Cs in the center.
Lying on her side, Camelia traced the contour of the letters while Constantine silently watched her. “How did it go with your father?” She had been in a profound state of agitation, but the nervous undertone of his mental calls was impossible to miss.
Constantine stiffened, then sat, hugging his knees. “As expected.”
Camelia placed a hand over his arm. “You know you can talk to me. If you need—”
“This is what I need.” He moved with the speed and grace that was inherently Constantine, and Camelia found herself under him, pinned to the mattress, her wrists kept over her head by his hands.
By now, they were naked, and he had her moaning as soon as he left her hands hanging to the headboard’s edge and started exploring her body.
Distant sounds of galloping horses barely registered in her mind at first, but when the noises grew louder and closer, both raised their heads. Swearing, Constantine vaulted off the bed and went to the window.
She grabbed the silk sheets and covered herself before joining him. “Who’s there?”
“I don’t know yet.” Without turning, he pushed her away. “Put your clothes on.”
When it was clear the horses were headed toward the cottage, Camelia threw him his riding pants and his white shirt, then hurriedly wore her gown and pelisse. The rest of her clothing lay in tatters on the floor, but she didn’t have time to gather them because someone knocked at the door.
Constantine told her, “Stay behind,” and she obeyed. He then opened the door, effectively hiding her from the newcomers’ eyes.
It was all for naught. The enraged voice that boomed inside the room was her father’s. “Camelia,” he called, and she exited the shadows to confront him.
“Father.” She held his gaze a moment, then bowed. When she straightened, she saw her sister Iris a few meters from the entrance, waiting alongside several of their domestics.
Iris’s dark eyes were lit with a malevolent glee, while her lips curled up in a smile. “I told you that you would find her with her lover,” she said to their father, then tilted her chin toward Camelia and added, “Papa and Mama were worried sick you had jumped off a cliff, but I reassured them that it wasn’t the case.”
“Enough, Iris,” their father barked.
“Father, please—” Camelia started.
Constantine talked over her. “Don Del Rei, I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting, but I would’ve visited you posthaste to ask your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Barely sparing a glance for Camelia, her father stared at Constantine a few seconds before saying, “Constantine De La Vega, I demand satisfaction for dishonoring my daughter.” He removed one of his gloves, then slapped Constantine with it.
Camelia screamed in anguish. “Father, please, don’t—” She held to her father’s elbow, but he jerked her away.
“Take her to the house and lock her in the cellars,” her father commanded the servants as he propelled her outside with a push, shoving her to the ground.
“You won’t hurt her,” Constantine growled at her side. He took her arm to help her up, but her father stepped between them.
“You won’t touch her again or I’ll decapitate you here and now,” her father said. “The only reason I haven’t slaughtered you like the pig you are is because of your blood ties. Only in consideration to Don Armando, I’m holding my sword until the duel.”
“Father, there’s no need for any of it.” Camelia walked around her father and gave her back to her sister.
“You should have remained in your room,” he said.
With her heart in her throat, she calmed herself enough to whisper, “I’ll marry the Roman.”
No! Constantine shouted in her mind.
I can’t let you duel with my father. Whatever the result, it will end my life, she told him.
“It won’t save your lover.” Her father grabbed her arm and bent it at such an angle she was forced to follow him away from the cottage.
“Do. Not. Hurt. My. Soulmate.” Constantine moved before their path, his fangs lowered and his entire body shimmering in between shifting.
Constantine, don’t! Her father hurled her toward the servants and the horses. When she looked up, two massive wolves circled each other, while Iris pulled her away. Desperation gave her the extra strength to free herself from her sister’s hold and leap toward her father’s horse, skirting the servants. Before Iris could divine her intention, Camelia extracted her father’s ceremonial rapier from its scabbard tied to the stallion’s saddle.
She then ran back to the cottage’s stoop and the wolves. “Stop.” Her voice was calm as she moved between the two belligerent animals, then opened her pelisse, and positioned the sharpened point of the sword directly above her heart.
Constantine was the first to shift back, his eyes on the silver blade that shone white under the waxing moon. “What are you doing?” His voice was hoarse.
“Camelia, put the sword away,” her father commanded as soon as he regained his human form.
“I will only if you promise that this ends now and there won’t be any duel.” Camelia didn’t lower her eyes while she pushed the rapier until it cut fabric and reached her skin. The sizzling hiss of the burn startled both her father and Const
antine into action, and they stepped closer to Camelia, who backed away.
Camelia, you don’t need to do this. I’ll find a way, Constantine implored her.
This is the only solution, my love, she said to him, then she locked eyes with her father and pressed the blade further in.
“Camelia, I order you to stop this nonsense.” Her father took another step toward her.
This time, she didn’t move, but let him close. A red flower blossomed over her chest and its smell was strong, distracting even. Not wanting to agitate Constantine, she shut her mind to the pain caused by the silver burn. “I’ll marry the man you and the elders have chosen for me, and I’ll leave for Rome tomorrow, but you must give me your word that you will not go through with the duel.”
“He ruined you.” Her father shook his head. “I found you alone at night with him—”
“We are soulmates,” she said, then added, “We only respond to the Great Wolf.”
“She should be sent to a nunnery,” Iris cried from behind the human shield of the servants. “Send me to Rome, Father. I’ll make you proud.”
“Shut up, Iris!” their father shouted, sending the servants scrambling in every direction and leaving Iris exposed.
“Father, I only wish to serve—” Iris started, but a withering look from their father closed her mouth, and she lowered her head in submission.
Sensing she was losing momentum, Camelia placed her hand flat on the sword’s pommel. “If either of you dies, I die.” She mentally prepared to give the blade the final push.
“Camelia!” Constantine cried. I won’t let you do it.
She saw him charging forward to disarm her, but her father acted faster and chopped at her hand holding the sword, then pulled her to him. Defeated, her legs gave way under her, and she collapsed in her father’s arms. I’m sorry, she said to Constantine.
“You were really going to kill yourself for him?” her father asked her, his eyes studying her with a tenderness that hadn’t been there before.
She nodded. “And for you.”
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