Luc held a hand over his stomach and swallowed against a throat tight with desire. You're misreading him. He doesn't want you, old man.
Waiters arrived with their salads, and for a few minutes, neither spoke, too busy eating to talk. Ravenous, Luc had to remind himself to slow down and relax. Enjoy the food as well as the company.
Helping himself to a hot breadstick, Luc broke it in half. "Have you covered all the things you don't want?"
"Mmm." Wulf poked through his salad, spearing mushrooms. "I can add some things I like, if you want."
He waved the bread. "By all means."
"I speak fluent Felis and Woeder, plus both dialects of Etymis off Kivahndo-Passat and can hold my own with Kelthian street slang. 'Yo down, yo boffy? Me square witchoo.'"
"Good lord." He dabbed his mouth with the napkin. "You sound like Senthys."
"Who?"
"One of the boys I adopted a few years after your father died. He's a union-trained thief." He stabbed a few vegetables. "He's fifteen, but what skill he has! He makes it his mission to pick my pockets every time he comes near me. Impossible to discipline though. He's a HalfKin and..." He waved the fork, negating his words. "Never mind. Long story. Suffice it to say I'm quite proud of him despite his troubles. You were saying?"
"I've done charity work. Chaired committees on childhood literacy, low-cost housing, and preventing childhood blindness." Wulf dipped salad in the dressing and held it while it dripped. "I enjoyed making sure everything worked together. That it all coordinated." He lifted the food, lush lips closing around the fork as he pulled it from his mouth.
Heart rate up, Luc focused on spearing two grape tomatoes with the tines of his fork. His hands shook from hunger--or was it desire? He stuffed the food into his mouth and chewed.
The silence held an edge of anticipation. Wulf continued to eat, each bite a tease of sultry motion. Spear, dip, pause, guide the long fork into the sensuous mouth, and lick the lips.
Luc shifted on the seat, his cock stirring. "Is it the administration you like or working with people?"
"Both. I'm good at organizing things and directing people. The others in the committees followed my direction without quibbling."
"Impressive. What else have you done?"
"Fundraisers. I co-chaired the ball last year in Tarth City to restore the concert hall at Destine Pietan Stadium."
"I heard you were involved. I attended that, you know." Luc patted the napkin across his mouth. "I was sorry you weren't there."
"I had prior commitments, but I was insanely proud of the fact you donated the lion's share. I'm sure other than Her Majesty No one else understood the importance of that building to you." Wulf chased down a sweet pea that had rolled off his fork. He speared it and sucked it into his mouth. "Per my agreement with you, I let my co-chair approach you and stayed out of the picture."
"I wouldn't have turned you down, Wulf."
"I knew you wouldn't. But our agreement was that I would make it on my own. You wouldn't give away your ties to me in any way. I didn't want to succeed--even in that--based upon your influence. Not in anything."
Luc laid down his fork. "And now?"
Wulf studied his salad, poking his fork here and there. He met Luc's gaze. "I'm ready to take your advice. Do what you suggest."
"Now that you need me, you mean."
He had the grace to blush. "I'm sorry to admit you're right."
"So am I." He moved his hands as the waiters returned with their entrees.
The scent of sizzling beef hit him in the stomach like a fist, hunger so acute he ached with it. One of the drawbacks of living forever--a metabolism that demanded food throughout the day. He stabbed the meat, cut off a bite, and stuffed it in his mouth.
He almost growled at the delicious flavor. Rich, an overlay of butter and herbs, the seared edges tinged with smoke. He took another bite. And another. The butter and sour cream melting on the baked potato oozed down the salted brown skin and onto the plate. Luc wiped his next slice of meat through it and moaned at the wonderful taste. He dabbed at his mouth. "I haven't eaten since this morning. Starving." When he lifted his head, Wulf was watching him. "What?"
"I was just remembering when I was little and you used to have dinner with our family. Mother would always give you the biggest piece of meat. I didn't understand why you needed more until right before Father died."
"I--" Luc bit into his lower lip. "We need more protein than humans. Sorry."
"Don't apologize for what you are." He sliced the edge of his steak. The dark pink inside bled slightly. "Not around me, of all people."
Luc dug into the potato. "Delicious." The chives and cheese in the center beckoned. He mixed it into the rest of the sour cream and scooped out a forkful. "I hope you enjoy this as much as I do."
"Are all your appetites so intense?"
He hesitated, fork halfway to his mouth, hyperaware of the young man beside him. He refused to meet Wulf's gaze. With this much hunger in him, Luc could not risk letting the young man close. "Yes." He popped the food into his mouth and chewed.
Wulf hummed a response that sounded far too much like delight. Luc concentrated on eating. They shared a companionable silence through most of the meal, broken by the click and scrape of forks on plates.
Wulf pushed away his food long before he'd finished. "Enough for me. I wish I could eat as much as you and keep my shape. If I tried to match you bite for bite I'd end up twice your size. Not to imply you're fat." He glanced around before speaking. "Can Sempervians get fat?"
"No, we stay around our healthiest weight. Never have to diet."
Wulf groaned. "Must be nice. I live on a diet. How tall are you? I remembered you seemed huge when I was small. You're still taller than me."
"In tradestandard, I'm six feet five inches. You're six even, unless you've grown recently."
"Not likely." He sipped his vodka, watched Luc. "It must be nice to be able to eat whatever you want."
"There are drawbacks. Difficult to be polite when you're starving but etiquette demands you nibble."
"I hadn't considered that."
"For someone who knows your weakness, it's a quick tool to gaining surrender."
"So," Wulf lowered his voice, "could you die from starvation?"
Luc ensured no one in the restaurant watched before answering. "A Sempervian would die faster from starvation than a human would. But it wouldn't matter. Once we went through rebirth, we'd come back, and starve again. It's my least favorite way to die. Unfortunately, the sole person who knows that would take advantage if he could."
Wulf grimaced. "I can't believe you shared that with me."
Neither can I. Luc took another bite. Talking to him like he's my confidant.
"Speaking of Pietas, how is the bastard?"
Once he'd managed to swallow, Luc considered how to answer. The universe knew Pietas by many names. Soul Ripper. Impaler. Slayer of Innocents. Destroyer of Worlds. The Hound of Hell. In the entire universe, the only creatures safe from his wrath were the Chosen.
Yet even they--unless they were fools--trembled at his name.
"The Bringer of Chaos is as evil as ever. Let's not discuss him. Order us some wine, will you? I was too hungry to think of it earlier. Pity the waiter didn't think of it."
Wulf beckoned the man over. "We'd like some wine, please. A good burgundy, if you have one. You may take this." He slid the plate toward him.
"Of course, sir." He picked up the plate. "We stock an excellent Skovron Burgundy from Whinbrice for Mr. Saint-Cyr. Would sir care for anything else?"
"That's all, thanks."
"Very well, sir." He hurried away.
Wulf sat back, trailing a fingertip through another spot of water on the table.
Luc forced himself not to correct the behavior the way he would correct Senthys. Like his son, Wulf lived in the moment. Not a bad thing, all in all. Luc cut into the meat. "Tell me what you remember about your father."
"I was ten when he died, so t
here are a lot of things I never knew about him. I knew he loved my mother. And me." He smiled at Luc. "And he loved you. Matter of fact, I think my mother was a bit jealous."
"Your mother was a force to be reckoned with."
"No. She was a terror. Right up to the day she died." Wulf's handsome face grew sad, contemplative. "But she adored you in her own way. And she was as fiercely loyal to you as my father."
"You're the first Gabriel to desire a career beyond my service. Would you consider returning, now that you've had a taste of the worlds?"
"Father believed guarding the Sempervian secret was the highest calling of his life."
Luc patted his mouth. "That was hardly an answer."
"Sorry." Wulf fiddled with the stir from his drink. "I don't know exactly what it was my father did for you."
"He never told you?"
"My father knew how to keep a secret. I remember when he first told me the truth about you."
Luc continued to cut up the meat as he listened, not eating it.
"He used to tuck me into bed with a story every night. On my tenth birthday, he began a new story. He said if he told me some of it every night, I'd never hear all of it even if I lived forever."
Luc lifted his head and met Wulf's gaze. Pride and love stared back at him.
"He told me about a pioneer known as Cyr de Typhin who built bridges and dams and roads all over Tarth and Kelthia. How he worked beside his people even in the worst weather, never taking a break until they did. How he nursed them back to health when an epidemic hit one of the road camps. Lucky Typhin who never fell sick even when everyone else did. Father's great grandfather worked for him."
Luc pushed aside his plate, unable to continue.
"He showed me a history book with Typhin's likeness, from old fashioned photographs taken during that time. The next night he told me about Ran Holding, a Kelthian native who revolutionized the cattle industry on Mjuka by introducing new breeding techniques. How he fought for the farmers' rights against the empire--and won. Father's grandfather worked for him. I saw Holding's picture. It wasn't until the next night, when Father told me how his father worked for Neene Saint-Thomas that I realized Typhin, Holding, and Saint-Thomas were the same person."
The waiter returned with glasses and a bottle, which he opened and poured for them to sample. Wulf deferred to Luc, who motioned back to him.
Wulf tasted it. "Very good." He took the bottle. "Thank you. I'll pour."
The waiter gathered Luc's plate and flatware as he left. Once alone, Wulf poured wine for Luc and offered it to him. "Imagine my surprise when Father admitted he worked for him too."
Luc laid his napkin down. "I asked you to talk about your father. Not me."
"I can't talk about him without talking about you. You were the meaning behind everything he did. I stayed up all night last night, thinking about that."
"What did you think when you learned the truth?" Luc sampled the wine.
"At first, I assumed Father was joking. You remember how he loved to tease. I didn't believe him. Then he showed me pictures of Cyr de Typhin standing next to Empress Destine Pietan. That moment is burned into my memory. Twenty years later, I can still recall the impact it had on me. I was seeing a picture of you and Empress Destoiya, two people whom I'd met in real life, who had lived hundreds of years ago. I asked him why people didn't see that and realize it was you and her."
"What did Thomas say?"
"That people wrote it off as coincidence because humans live a hundred and twenty years at best." Wulf took a long drink of the wine.
Luc rolled the goblet stem between fingers and thumb. "Were you frightened?"
"A little, at first. I remember climbing out from under the covers and onto Father's lap. He leaned back against the headboard with me and showed me more pictures. He told me how our family was the safeguard for these things. He taught me about the bridge over the Typhin River, and how all the symbols on it related to your past lives. He explained about Destine Pietan Stadium and how you'd helped build it, years ago. He taught me it was our job to protect your secrets. He answered every question I asked. I'm sure he grew tired of them."
"Your father loved you more than anything, Wulf. He never grew tired of talking to you. Or about you."
"I imagine there was more he wanted to tell me. Teach me." Wulf gazed at the tabletop, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. "I was distraught when he died. It took a long time to get over it and get on with my life. I was angry at him and you."
Those words struck Luc like a brand to the heart. He drew back.
"I'm sorry, Luc. I didn't say that to hurt you. My anger as a child was misdirected."
"I assure you, Wulf, I was broken by his death also. Your father had been my true friend for many years. I'd known him since he was a child. One of the odd things about living forever. I've known almost everyone since they were a child."
"You probably figured you and I would have the same relationship you and my father had."
"I'd hoped so. Thomas had such a nimble mind. He grasped concepts quicker than most people I've known. I could talk to him about anything and he was right there--with me." Luc paused, the pain of loss still like acute, even after so many years. "When your mother took you to Tarth to live, it felt as if I'd lost a child of my own. I'd been around you since you were born. Ten years."
"I used to cry myself to sleep because I missed my father." Wulf ran his tongue across his lower lip. "After a time, I cried because I missed you."
Luc clenched a fist, fighting for control of his emotions.
Wulf gave him a smile that tugged at his heart. "I was too proud to admit it, even to my mother, but I wanted to go home. And to me, home was where you were. I blamed you for his death. Mother tried to make me understand, but I was too young and too angry."
"Believe me, Wulf; I wanted to go to you. Comfort you the way I had your father when he was young. He was thirteen when his father suffered a heart attack. He and your grandmother lived with me until he grew up. I felt obligated to help you, but I was held at arm's length." He bit his lips together. "I lost him, your mother, and you all at once. I don't mind telling you, it broke my heart."
"What's it like, knowing the people you love are going to die, and you can't stop it? Knowing you're going to live no matter what happens to them?"
Luc had to break away and turn his head, unable to answer.
"I spent hours last night, going over all the old stories my father used to tell me, studying you. Researching your past." Wulf gazed into the wine. "When it occurred to me how you must feel when one of the Chosen dies, I realized I had no right to be angry at you. I knew even at age ten that you had nothing to do with my father's death. But back then, it felt unfair that you were going to live when my father had died. I thought you should have tried to stop it. That you could have fixed it somehow. Given him a piece of your life. And I was furious that you made me watch the evidence of his death."
Luc gripped the edge of the table. "You don't know how many times I've wished I could take back that action. Your father... I thought if you saw him die, if you understood he couldn't come back, it would force you to believe he was dead. That you'd pick up and go on. It was a stupid blunder, Wulf. The worst mistake of my life. I never meant to hurt you. Ever."
"I know that, now. Last night I went over everything my father told me. Read about you in every history I could find on Imperinet. Remembered my mother's tales. You've always done the right thing where other people are concerned. I was wrong to hold my father's death against you."
Luc blinked away sudden wetness and rubbed at his eyes. The instant sting alerted him to the damage he'd done to his contact lenses. Without them, everyone in the place would soon know he wasn't human.
Withdrawing a pair of extra-dark glasses from an inner pocket, Luc set them into place and stood. "Wulf, forgive me, but we must leave."
Wulf slid out of the chair and came around the table. "Because of me?"
"No,
no. Nothing so dramatic. I tore my contacts. I--we have to leave."
"Oh." Wulf fell in step beside him.
Walking with Wulf toward the door, he passed through the sweep of silence and the barrage of black looks that accompanied him everywhere. Luc put one foot in front of the other, focusing on each step, refusing to acknowledge the bold stares.
My life's too damn much like Wulf's, except no one wants to get close to me. The business world sang his praises while they sought to undermine his power. The underworld kept their heads down and scattered every time he appeared.
Wulf walked beside him as if he belonged there.
The cool air of outdoors instantly refreshed. He sucked it into his lungs. His driver pulled up and started to get out, but Luc opened the door without waiting and climbed inside. Wulf joined him.
The driver pulled away from the curb without asking directions.
Wulf sat facing him. "Are you all right?"
"Mmm." Luc shut his eyes, opened them again. Wulf remained close. "I'll have to remove my lenses."
"I've never seen you without them. Do you want me to hide my eyes or anything?"
"No. Not necessary unless you'd rather not see." He reached beneath the glasses and rubbed one itching eye. "These damn things don't last." He removed the glasses and tucked them in a pocket. "I need a new type." Leaning forward, he pulled down his lower right lid with his left hand and reached up to peel off the lens.
Wulf gasped. "Oh hell."
Precisely the kind of reaction he needed to avoid inside the restaurant. Of all the Sempervians, he was the only one with eyes like this. Over the centuries, he'd hidden his eyes behind various kinds of lenses. Most appeared human. These solid black lenses suited the Harbinger's personality. But all of them had a tendency to tear when he least expected it.
He removed the second one, folded a tissue around them both, and put it in his pocket. The complete silence might have meant anything. He wet his lips. "Wulf? Are you all right?"
No answer at first, then a cough. "I had no idea what to expect. Your eyes are... they're amazing. Beautiful. Uh, can you see better now with those off?"
"No. I'm quite blind without them."
Wulf, Tales of the Chosen Page 5