The Lonely Wolf

by Monica La Porta

  He seldom entered her rooms, and couldn’t remember the last time he had, but he was sure the amount of potted plants and vases must have tripled, if not quadrupled. One eye on the surroundings that became more and more like a greenhouse the further he ventured inside, he wondered why Camelia had filled the place with greenery when she still worked outside most of the time.

  Along the hallway leading to her bedroom, shelves had been built to house rows of potted orchids, and succulents hung from the ceiling in wicker baskets. Quintilius paused before a planting table made of solid oak and containing in its bed glass ampoules filled with seedlings. At the end of the narrow space lit by several windows opening into Camelia’s private garden, Quintilius pushed the bedroom’s door open and walked to her bed.

  Besides the white-washed bed, matching armoire, and a few other pieces of furniture, the large room contained an extraordinaire amount of pots and vases. Plants and flowers were everywhere, even trees. Lemon and orange trees housed in glazed ceramic pots atop wheeled carts stood as sentinels by the bed.

  Perplexed, but with an inkling of what all of that might mean, he deposited Camelia over the white silk coverlet. Then he waited for her to wake up.

  ****

  Lupo looked around the big industrial kitchen. He couldn’t believe he had been invited to spend a few days at the Drako’s residence.

  “Are you hungry?” Ravenna asked.

  The Enforcer had suggested that Lupo call her by her name, but it sounded too weird to him. Soon after the most bewildering conversation Lupo had ever had in his life, she and the demon had escorted him from the archangel’s house to the enforcer’s villa in one of the poshest neighborhoods in Rome, Quartiere Coppedè.

  Still unable to understand what was going on, he took in the surroundings and the people populating them. Besides the Enforcer, the demon was there, Mr. Drako, his majordomo, a woman in her fifties who wore an apron and flour dust all over her attire, three little kids who seemed the true owners of the house, and finally two teenagers his age, both his acquaintances.

  At the sight of Raphael and Luisa, Lupo had wondered if he was hallucinating. The whole situation was getting stranger and stranger.

  Instead of sending him to confinement in the closest enforcers’ station, the archangel had told the demon and the Enforcer to keep him out of trouble for a few days. The Enforcer volunteered to take Lupo under her wing and spirited him away and to her house.

  Drako’s residence was opulent, but, to Lupo’s great surprise, the house was also warm and cozy, more like a nursery filled with laughter than the museum he had expected.

  “Would you like a croissant?” The woman wearing the apron showed Lupo a tray filled with warm pastries.

  “Try Marta’s apricot ones. She’s a genius in the kitchen.” Raphael winked at the woman, grabbed two flaky croissants from the tray and offered one to his girlfriend.

  Lupo knew the werewolf had deserted the Reds and found refuge among a rich family, but he would have never thought he would meet Raphael or Luisa again. Lupo had seen the girl once or twice back at the Reds’ compound before she disappeared into thin air. Rumors spread about Raphael’s involvement in her escape, but none were ever corroborated and soon everyone forgot about her. To most, she was nothing but a lowly harem girl after all.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, even though his stomach was rumbling, because he didn’t want to give them the impression he could be bought so easily. Not understanding these people’s hidden agenda, he resolved to be careful around them and not to lower his guard.

  “Relax. It’s all good, I promise.” Raphael grabbed a third croissant and threw it Lupo’s way.

  I don’t think so. Lupo caught the pastry mid-air, but didn’t bring it to his mouth. Instead, he put it back on the tray Marta had placed on the table by the smoking moka.

  “What about some espresso?” Drako sat on the other end of the table.

  “No, thanks.” Lupo had felt the immortal’s eyes on him since the moment he entered the kitchen where the whole household seemed to gather, kids included.

  “Play?” One of the kids, the boy with the darkest eyes of the three, pushed a plastic bowl into Lupo’s lap, followed by a wooden spatula that was thrown at Lupo’s face before falling into the bowl.

  “Serses likes to help in the kitchen,” Marta said, a big smile lightening her face as she looked down at the kid now banging the spatula against the bowl still on Lupo’s lap.

  “Sit.” Without missing a beat, Serses raised his hands over his head, waiting for Lupo to hoist him up on his knees.

  Although used to kids being constantly afoot from his days at the orphanage, Lupo was still surprised that the boy was so relaxed around a stranger like him.

  “Serses, don’t bother our guest.” Drako stretched his arms over the table and gestured for his kid to come over his side.

  “It’s okay,” Lupo said, and accommodated the boy on his lap. “I like kids.”

  Serses leaned his small head full of curls against Lupo’s chest and kept mixing the invisible dough in the bowl. “Sersi like woofie too.” Then he straightened, reached for the tray, picked up the pastry Lupo had put back, turned around to face Lupo, and after a few failed attempts he pressed the croissant to Lupo’s lips. “Eat.”

  Lupo could only open his mouth and swallow the proffered food.

  “Good woofie,” the kid said and resumed his banging.

  The adults laughed, and after a moment Lupo joined them too. Despite his intentions, he was warming toward those people.

  “If you don’t like coffee, I can make some chocolate instead.” Marta pointed at the big appliance sitting on the counter by the stove. Looking like one of those pieces of equipment used in coffee bars, and made of metal and polished wood, the machine had several levers sprouting from its boxy body.

  “I’d like some chocolate, please,” Luisa said, holding the little girl in her arms, as she walked to the table and sat.

  Raphael immediately followed her, as if he were her shadow. “Me too.”

  “May I have some water, please?” Lupo asked.

  “Of course. Sparkling or still?” Ravenna asked.

  “Regular’s fine.”

  The Enforcer walked to the fridge and filled a tall glass with water, then strolled back to him. The whole time, her third kid remained attached to her leg like a koala, but even on her high heels she didn’t break her stride, as if it was a regular occurrence.

  At home, the rich and famous couple wasn’t what the tabloids described. In the short time he had spent in their company, Lupo hadn’t witnessed any debauchery or extravagancies, but just a family. The family he would have loved to grow up with.

  “What am I doing here?” he finally asked.

  “We thought it would be easier for you if you met with Quintilius in a more relaxed environment than the alpha’s house,” Ravenna answered after exchanging glances with Drako first, and then with the demon.

  “The archangel will talk to him and I’m sure the alpha will want to see you immediately after,” the demon added. The Controller hadn’t moved from his corner since they had entered the kitchen.

  “No, I mean why didn’t you send me to jail?” Lupo had noted the bewildered expressions on the archangel’s face when he had dropped the bomb about the alpha being his father, but he was surprised the three of them had believed him so easily.

  The logical reaction would have been to deliver Lupo into the enforcers’ hands and let them deal with the renegade. Physical similarities aside, everyone could claim to be a famous person’s child, but that didn’t grant them access to luxurious accommodations. Somehow, his words had given him a free pass to Drako’s manor and a private interview with the alpha.

  “We’re trying to save you jail time.” The demon pushed himself off the wall and he too took a seat at the table.

  “Why?” Lupo caressed Serses’s head. The kid had relaxed against him and was playing with one of his curls, stretching t
he dark strand and bending it around his fingers.

  “Because we don’t believe in sending kids like you to Regina Coeli,” the demon said.

  “They’re the good guys,” Raphael said, pointing a croissant at the demon. “Especially the ugly one. He doesn’t look like it, but he’s a softie.”

  The demon shook his head and laughed. “I should’ve left you where I found you.”

  “You forget you only caught me because I let you.” Raphael ate the pastry in one mouthful.

  Lupo witnessed the banter and wondered if they were acting for his sake. “Why do you think the alpha will want to talk to me?” he asked, his stomach full of butterflies.

  Several sets of eyes stared at him, as if he had sprouted wings from his head.

  “When he hears about you, he’ll run here first thing,” the demon said, his eyes changing from a muted brown to a deep forest-green.

  Lupo saw the demon’s thought mirrored on everyone’s faces. “Well, you’re all in for a big disappointment.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Please, Quin, call me back.” Ludwig had already left three messages for Quintilius. One at home, the other two on the wolf’s cell phone. Close to midnight, Ludwig paced back and forth on his terrace roof, while he kept glancing at his phone.

  After briefly talking to him earlier in the day, Ludwig had thought Quintilius sounded disgruntled but he hadn’t hung up on him, which gave him hope they would meet later that night. Waiting on someone else’s whims wasn’t Ludwig’s forte, and he was chomping at the bit, trying his best to give Quintilius his space, but wanting nothing more than to fly over the Appian Way and land outside his wolf’s bedroom.

  No matter what Quintilius had told him, Ludwig would always think of him as his wolf. His sentiments for the alpha transcended the physical realm. Sure, Ludwig could barely keep his hands to himself when they were together, but his passion was fueled by a love that ran deeper than anything he had ever experienced.

  Before meeting Quin that day so long ago, Ludwig had changed lovers quite often. His angelic nature made him volatile and easily bored when it came to paramours. Then his wolf had come along and his demeanor, both cocky and shy, had surprised him.

  That day, after soaring into the sky with Quintilius in his arms, he had flown toward the coast. When above the blanket of clouds, he slowed down and kissed Quintilius, savoring his plump mouth while he nipped his lower lip. His wings lit with white light, and, although he could have easily dimmed them, he didn’t, wanting to impress the werewolf.

  “I’ve never seen angel wings sparkle before,” Quintilius said, his face illuminated by the ethereal luminescence Ludwig was creating with his desire.

  “That’s because you’ve never witnessed an angel’s lust,” he whispered to the werewolf’s ear. “The brighter my wings are, the more I want to make you mine.” He passed his tongue over the wolf’s earlobe. “Let’s see if we can melt the sun.”

  Quintilius let out a low growl and caressed Ludwig’s back in long, possessive strokes that had Ludwig moaning. Pressing the hard length of him against the werewolf, he was pleased to find he had equally effected Quintilius, and lowered his hand between them. Without any need for words, their bodies conformed to each other’s. Wrapping one leg around Ludwig’s waist, Quintilius grabbed him by his short hair, as if he needed an anchor, his mouth accepting the hard kiss with renewed enthusiasm.

  Lost in passion, Ludwig spiraled down, his senses heightened by the bites Quintilius trailed on his skin, from his ear, along his throat, down to his shoulder, then to his chest. When the werewolf latched his lips to Ludwig’s nipple and suckled, his heart slammed against his ribcage. But when Quintilius bit the hardened point, Ludwig cried out loud. Never had physical pleasure brought him to such heights he thought he would faint.

  With Quintilius, he experienced ecstasy for the first time, and every single time after that.

  They made love that night. Under the starry sky, perched on a ledge overlooking Rome, far away from the closest hamlet, Ludwig took his time worshipping his lover. He took pride in making Quintilius scream his name, until his voice was hoarse and he could barely whisper his pleasure.

  When he finally took Quintilius, Ludwig’s heart stopped altogether, and he cried tears of joy knowing he had found the other half of his soul. Such was the magnitude of his discovery that, for the first time in a life that had already spanned eons, he felt humbled. He submitted to the wolf and offered himself to him, mirroring Quintilius’s gift of a few hours earlier. Welcoming him, he thought pleasure couldn’t reach higher peaks. Then Quintilius bit his shoulder, marking him as his, and he lost his sense of self, becoming one with the werewolf.

  The next morning, the sunrays warmed their intertwined bodies. With the new day also came the realization of what he had done and how it would be judged by his brethren as a perverted betrayal. Angels seldom mated for life, and never outside of their race, which they judged as the purest because they had no need to procreate. To even have a dalliance with a shifter was considered despicable. But to have feelings for a werewolf—the crudest species among shifters—was an abomination. For far less, angels had been demoted to demons and lost all their memories of their previous lives.

  As the only candidate opposing the archangel Arariel and his tyranny, Ludwig had no freedom to conduct his life as he saw fit, even in secrecy. On his shoulders, he carried the future of his species, and knowing he could never follow his heart he flew Quintilius back, then left Rome to avoid seeking him out again.

  A few years later though, he returned, and after following the werewolf for a while he made his presence known. Hidden on a small Greek island, away from the pettiness of the world, they spent a glorious week in each other’s arms before Ludwig woke from the lust-induced stupor and remembered his mandate. Once again, he left his lover to serve his race.

  Throughout the centuries, he tried to keep his distance from Quintilius, but always failed. No matter how long he was able to stay away, he would always reach the point where his longing for the werewolf would dictate his every action and he sought after Quin one more time. And one time after that, in a constant loop for the best part of two thousand years.

  Quintilius had always taken him back.

  Until now.

  ****

  “What are you up to?” Quintilius asked Camelia as soon as she opened her eyes.

  “What are you doing in my chamber?” she asked, feigning shock and raising one hand over her forehead while she pressed the other over her panting chest.

  “Stop joking and start talking.” He tilted his head toward the lemon tree first and the orange tree next. “I couldn’t help but notice that the whole garden relocated in your chambers.”

  Slightly nodding, Camelia sighed and pinched the arch of her nose. “I’ve been practicing.”

  “And you need to recharge.” He shook his head. “How long has it been going on?”

  Sitting against the headboard, she looked straight at him. “Less than six months.”

  “You’ve been lying to me for the last six months.” All of a sudden, her recent maladies and constant tiredness made perfect sense.

  “I haven’t lied to you. I decided not to share with you something that was very personal.”

  “I’ve been worried about you all this time—”

  “Had I told you, what would’ve been your reaction?” She reached her hand out for him to grab.

  Unable to stay angry at her, he took it in his hands. “You know the answer. I’d have ordered you to stop immediately.”

  “Then you have your answer too.” She smiled. “You are my alpha and I would’ve obeyed you, but it would have made me unhappy.” With a light shrug, she added, “And I know you love me too much to want me sad and depressed.”

  He couldn’t help a chuckle. “You are a sorceress and a vixen.” He brought her hand to his lips. “But you are my sorceress and my vixen, and I forgive you.”

  “Thank you, my alpha,�
� she whispered. “But you had nothing to worry about. I would’ve never put myself in danger.”

  Quintilius heard her unspoken, “I learned my lesson,” and said, “I hope so.” He released her hand and sat more comfortably on the loveseat where he had been waiting for her to wake up for hours. “Who are your patients?”

  “Mostly the family pets. Nothing major though.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not a soul knows of it. Not even Paolo.”

  “If you managed to keep it a secret from our majordomo, then I don’t feel that bad. At least, I am the first to know. After Nero, of course.” He had noticed that his beagle seemed more agile lately, despite suffering from arthritis.

  “Are you going to answer it?” she asked, pointing at his vibrating cell phone that had slid out of his jeans’ pocket.

  He didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was Ludwig calling. “I suppose I should if I want to find any peace tonight.” His eyes went to his wrist watch. “It’s actually four o’clock in the morning already.”

  “Go. I’m fine.” She motioned for him to leave.

  “Rest. We’ll talk later.” He pushed himself up and leaned over to kiss her crown.

  He closed her bedroom door behind and called Ludwig even before reaching the end of her hallway.

  “Quin—” Ludwig sounded hesitant, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “Thank you for getting back to me.”

  “What is it?” He had to force himself to be brisk, otherwise he would end up begging Ludwig to fly over and spend the night together.

  They had gone down that path every time Ludwig had decided they shouldn’t see each other any longer. They would remain separated for a while, then one of the two would cave and called the other. Words would become caresses, soft touches would turn into heated strokes, and soon they would lie entangled, lost in the same passion that had been burning them since the first time they made love.