“I don’t understand.” He saw her profile against the last sunrays of the setting sun and another shape seemed to take form.
“My wolf has a thing for you.” Her tone was light, but her body was tense, and she didn’t look at him. Instead, she resumed the stroll, her steps echoing on the Etruscan road, her heels hitting the smooth stone surface in a slow, controlled pattern.
“What does that mean?”
“It means what I told you. My wolf fancies you, demon.” She reached the entrance to one of the open tombs and descended the first set of steps.
“But you don’t?” He didn’t want to ask that question, and yet it was out.
“Doesn’t matter.” She disappeared inside the tomb, but he didn’t follow her.
He wasn’t sure what to do with the information she had just dumped on him. His knowledge of the shifters’ world was limited—as the acting renegade controller he only had to know the basics about each race. But he did know that werewolves were affected by lycanthropy, a condition that forced them to live in symbiosis with a wolf, who once a month took control of their lives. The wolf had a say on their daily life as well, but in general, shifters knew how to maintain control over their animal. Peter had noticed Ophelia acting snappier in the last few hours, and he had almost asked her if it was that time of the month, then thought better of it. Besides, Ophelia wasn’t a docile woman to start with and he hadn’t known her long enough to have a definite opinion on what was normal for her. Yet, something had happened. Not just her kidnapping and the attack in the morning. Something had happened to her in regards to him.
She emerged from the tomb a few minutes later. He could see her eyes were wet and wondered if he had just messed up further by not following her inside. Peter felt the need to swear out loud.
When she sidestepped him again, heading toward the next tomb on the path, he moved before her and forced her to look at him. “Okay, I need to know what’s going on and I can’t read your mind.”
She stared at him, fire in her eyes, and he rejoiced in seeing the Ophelia he liked so much return.
“I need you to touch me.” She moved forward until less than a centimeter separated them.
He froze. If he took that gulp of air he so much needed, his shirt would have come in contact with hers.
“Can you do that?” She raised her lips to his, and let them hover close. “Can you kiss me?”
“I can.” He didn’t move.
“But you won’t.”
“But I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you with every fiber of my being.”
“As my wolf wants you.” Her eyes changed into an amber-yellow tinge. “And I can’t escape my wolf.”
“Would you if you could?” He didn’t know why he kept asking questions he didn’t want to know the answer.
“Right now? Yes, I would.”
A dagger found its place in his heart, but he composed his voice and smiled. “And I can’t be anything else than what I am.” He hurried past her. “Come. I want to show you something.” Heaviness had replaced the short-lived moment of calm he had experienced at entering the necropolis. He had wanted to take Ophelia there and share with her the only spot in the whole world where he felt at peace, but now it seemed all for naught.
He heard the strain of her heels behind him as she tried to keep his pace. He looked over his shoulder to make sure she was still behind him when he had rounded a corner and couldn’t hear her anymore, but she had taken time to remove her shoes and was now walking toward him. With a nod of his head, he showed her the green dome of the tomb he was about to enter and descended the dark stairs. Cold and humid, the air grew heavier as he stepped farther down into the tuff funeral abode until he was surrounded by darkness and a chill that penetrated his bones.
“This is eerie, isn’t it?” Ophelia was upstairs, and her voice came down distorted.
“It’s worth it.” He waited for her before the metal door that had been installed to preserve the inside of the tomb from the outside climatic changes. He reached for the plastic box next to the door and opened the lid when she stood by his side, shivering and puffing white clouds from her mouth. “Ready?”
“For what?” She sounded nervous, but some of her bravado was back when he backed away a step to look at her and her head was tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised.
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he punched the numeric code the janitor had taught him and a small window opened inside the box revealing a key. He took the key and opened the door. He pushed it to the side and passed through the threshold as he had done many times before with great anticipation. This time though, his breath caught in his throat and his heart beat faster. He walked toward the center of the chamber.
“Peter?” She was behind him.
He could feel her warmth. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not.”
He smiled into the darkness. “Wait for your eyes to adjust.” The tuff walls gave away a hearty scent mixed with mold and he breathed the aroma in.
“I don’t need adjusting. Werewolf. Remember?”
He would have given anything for her to be always that vivacious. “What do you see?”
She didn’t respond at first, and he imagined she had opened her mouth to say something, then saw what he wanted her to see.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he pressed her.
“It is.” Her voice was choked.
“This is the original, you know?” Although he had sneaked down there more times he could count and knew the sarcophagus by heart, he could now see it too, his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness. “The one at the civic museum in Tarquinia is the copy, but everybody thinks otherwise.”
“They must have loved each other very much.” She walked closer to the stone coffin on top of which a couple lay embraced. The features of the two statues were delicate, perfectly preserved.
“They didn’t want to be separated in death, and the husband hired a local artist to sculpt their likenesses so their love would be eternal.” He leaned against one of the columns supporting the low ceiling.
After a few minutes of silence, Ophelia turned toward of him. “Why are we here?” Tears fell down her face, but she didn’t make a move to clean them.
“I wanted to show you my most hidden desire, the one thing I could never have—” He knew his eyes had changed color because Ophelia was bathed in gold.
“What is it?”
“A love so pure it transcends time.”
He heard her intake of breath and his heart froze. He had never seen anything as beautiful as Ophelia and it hurt knowing she could never be fully his. He could have her body, but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
Chapter Seven
Ophelia ran out of the tomb. She couldn’t bear Peter’s closeness a moment longer. The demon’s mood swings, the hot and cold treatment, her wolf’s growing demands, her own insecurities, everything was too much to take all in one day. Her wolf whined and barked, and her body longed for him, but she couldn’t know what her heart wanted. The sight of the embraced statue had awoken in her many feelings. Samuel had come to mind amongst the chaos and she had wanted to scream. She would have renounced her wolf if that meant knowing what she wanted. Who she wanted.
Breathing hard, she kept running back to the entrance and stopped at the gate. She grabbed the metal bars and let herself down, hanging from them. The cold stone froze her bare feet and she realized she had lost her sandals. She wished she could disappear.
Accepting that her fate was to confront her demons—she couldn’t help letting out a choked laugh at the irony—she finally sat on the cobblestones, her head against the bars. His boots clicked on the path in a pattern she had come to recognize already, and her heart sank lower.
“I’ll drive you back to Castel Sant’ Angelo to retrieve your bike.” He pushed the other side of the gate open and slipped through, then paused on the outside. “It’s getting late for you to be driving
alone.” He had her heels and pushed them at her through the bars.
She didn’t tell him she had driven drunk after not having slept for three days and nothing had ever happened to her. Until a few hours ago, that kind of boastful remark would have left her lips without a pause. Now, she only wanted for that day to be finally over, and to reach her bed and curl into a ball. She took her shoes and slipped them on.
They reached Rome by dinnertime. Castel Sant’ Angelo was lit for the night and its silhouette was mirrored in the placid waters of the Tiber. Peter drove down to the Promenade’s garage entrance and stopped by the auto shop.
“Barnes sent your bike to be checked for foul play and bugs.” He indicated the shop’s window.
“Good.” She saw her Ninja parked by the entrance and motioned for it. She was already out of his car when he called her back. His voice a beacon she couldn’t ignore, but she didn’t turn, asserting her free will in the only way she knew, by being contrary.
“Will you be okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for the ride.”
She put one foot in front of the other and reached the glass door of the shop. When she lowered the handle, she heard the Jeep leaving and sadness engulfed her. She should have asked him if he had a place for the night. She should have offered him shelter, but she couldn’t be alone with him and be forced to be celibate. He didn’t want what she had to offer, and she couldn’t give herself, body and heart, to him. Yet, she burned for him with an intensity she had never experienced before.
Later, back on her bike, she let herself go on autopilot and drove all the way to her apartment, not seeing the road and the cars before her, but her demon’s eyes. When she finally entered her bedroom, she was exhausted and fell on her bed with no strength left to undress and shower.
* * *
The next day, the usual ring of her cell phone interrupted her dreaming of him. She left the bed in a rush, only to be disappointed to see the name on the screen. “Morning, Malina.”
“Good day, dear.” Malina’s too-cheerful voice exploded in her ear.
She extended her arm and put her friend on speakerphone. “Everything but.”
“What happened?”
Ophelia sat on the bed, closed her eyes to the bright sun, and summarized for Malina the events of the last two days.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know—”
“Everything happened kind of fast.” The chaotic buzz from the neighborhood’s activities reverberated inside the room, forcing Ophelia to open her eyes.
“I’ll come over.”
“Thank you, but there’s no need—”
Malina didn’t let her finish. “Of course there is!” She hung up, leaving Ophelia staring at her open window and at the now-clouded sky.
She had the shower and the change of clothes she so much needed, but didn’t try to tame her hair. She had just sipped her second espresso when Malina rang the bell from down below. She opened the gate for her, then waited at the door and unlocked it when she heard the elevator pause at her floor.
At the threshold, Malina hugged her and double kissed her on each cheek, then stepped back to study her. “You look…”
“Offending me first thing in the morning?” Ophelia stepped inside and made to close the door on her friend’s face.
“It’s actually noon, and I wasn’t going to say whatever it was you thought I was going to say.” Malina’s hand shot forward and stopped her. “You look different without makeup. That’s it, dumb head.” She shook her head. “It’s two days before the full moon, sheesh.”
“I’m especially cranky. Deal with it.” She walked the length of the foyer and entered the kitchen.
“This isn’t about what happened to you, is it?” Malina stepped around the table and came to a stop before her. “I mean, the attacks, the kidnapping, I’d be on edge too, but I know you.” She reached for her arm and gently squeezed. “You can talk to me.” When Ophelia didn’t answer, Malina embraced her. “Whatever it is, there’s a solution.”
Ophelia felt her defenses crumble one by one, until she felt naked before Malina, and she snuggled in her friend’s arms. “My wolf royally screwed me.”
Malina leaned back, a puzzled frown on her face. “Chamomile tea?”
Ophelia gave her a small smile. There was nothing that couldn’t be cured by an herbal tisane in Malina’s opinion. “Yeah, sure.” She let her friend prepare the concoction. Since, in terms of night life, the Mattatoio neighborhood was better located than Malina’s, she lived at Ophelia’s as much as she lived at her place. She knew where everything was, and, since she was handy with tools and electricity, more than once she had fixed things around the apartment. To Ophelia, having the were-panther around felt natural. Malina had always felt like home, but right now, she would have traded her for Peter.
A few minutes later, they were both seated at the kitchen table, two steaming cups in their hands.
“So?” Malina looked at her from over the rim of her cup. “What’s this thing about your wolf?”
“She decided to shackle me for life without asking me first.” She tried to make light of her predicament.
Another frown, deeper this time, graced Malina’s face. “You don’t mean—?”
Ophelia nodded. “Peter.”
Malina’s cup hit the saucer with vehemence. “The demon?”
“My wolf’s demon to be exact.” Ophelia finished her chamomile tea, then went to the sink to rinse her cup. “Are you done with it?” She took Malina’s and rinsed that too. She needed to do something with her hands. “And I haven’t had sex in I don’t know how many days.”
“And you aren’t wearing makeup.” Malina’s eyes roamed over her. “You’re not joking, are you?”
Nothing else to clean, Ophelia plopped back down on her chair. “I wish I were.”
“Samuel…” Malina looked everywhere but at Ophelia.
“I can’t stop loving him just because my wolf has a mind of her own. Besides, he loves someone else.” She raised her feet up on the chair and rested her chin on her bent knees.
“And what about Peter?” Malina mirrored her position, only she played with a teaspoon, making it spin on the table with her finger.
“I feel strongly attracted to him.”
“It’s because of your wolf?”
“I wish that were the case, but no. The truth is I can’t stop imagining how it would be with him.” She felt relieved at having said that out loud before her friend. “My body instantly reacts to his presence.”
Malina waved the spoon in the air. “You always had a healthy appetite for sex. I don’t see how this could be any different from your usual modus operandi.”
“I can’t think of looking for anyone else. Not tonight. Not tomorrow.” When Malina didn’t seem to understand what Ophelia had just confessed, she added, “I don’t want anyone else but him, and it’s killing me.”
Malina put the spoon back on the table. “Oh.”
“Yep.” Ophelia closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the breeze laced with freshly baked croissants coming from outside.
“And it’s only physical.”
“What else could it be? I’ve known the guy for less than a week. It can only be physical. I mean have you looked at Peter? I would be blind and deaf not to react to him. But my heart? There’s no way I can feel anything for him but lust fueled by not having had sex in several days and my wolf trying to have her way.” She folded her arms on the table.
“The demon is a hunk, but—” Malina shrugged, then reached over the table and took Ophelia’s hand in hers.
“But?”
“You never lost sleep on such things. If you couldn’t have a guy, you would have someone else. Men have always been kind of interchangeable goods for you. And—” Malina bit her lower lip.
“And?”
“Promise me you won’t get mad.”
“I won’t get mad.”
Malina retreated to her end of the table. “You coul
d never have Samuel, and yet you never stopped sleeping around.”
“That’s—”
“The truth, nothing but the truth.” Malina gave her a small smile, then shrugged. “If I don’t tell you, who will?”
Ophelia remained speechless for a few heartbeats. Then she shook her head. “But it doesn’t even make sense. It must be my wolf wreaking havoc in my mind.” She raised from the table and paced from and to the table, pausing at the window once in a while.
“What are you thinking?”
“That must be it. I am mentally and physically exhausted. All the things that have happened to me in the last few days would have broken anyone. A vacation and everything will be fine.” She stopped pacing long enough to face Malina and smile at her. “Besides, I don’t know a single case of a wolf deciding to attach to a mate all by herself. It’s always the other way around. The human falls in love. Then the wolf.”
Malina hummed her assent, but she didn’t look convinced. “Have you asked Quintilius?”
“I told him. Had he heard of a similar case, he would’ve said something, no?”
“I guess.” She had her eyes on the spoon once again. “But you know, the fact that it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean it can’t happen once to someone. Stranger things have happened.”
Ophelia groaned and leaned against the windowsill. All of a sudden, the room was too warm and her temper, which had been simmering the entire time, had almost reached boiling point. “Why would you say so? You aren’t helping.”
“I don’t know, but I’ve never seen you like this. Not even for Samuel, and the sun rose and set on his say so for you.”
Ophelia raised her hands in the air. “But I know I feel only lust for Peter.”
“Do you?”
****
Peter sat by the shore, a cheap blanket on his shoulders, the first lights of dawn illuminating the dark sky. The night before, he had gone back to Tarquinia, bought a few camping items at the small mart by the beach, then drove to his property. Arariel had called and told him he could use one of the apartments the Holy Council kept in Rome. Not a suite at the Holy Nation’s headquarters in the Parioli neighborhood, but the archangel’s offer had surprised him—angels weren’t known for their generosity when it came to demons—but he wanted to be alone. Judging from the silence on the other end of the phone, Arariel had been surprised too by Peter’s refusal.
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