“You told me he isn’t that fond of me already. I don’t think being stood up will improve his opinion.” Quintilius swore.
“We couldn’t help it.” Ludwig regretted his choice of words right away. “I apologize. I couldn’t help it. Thank you for standing by my side once again.”
Among the two, the only one needing protection from a public outcry was Ludwig. Quintilius had stopped caring about being exposed as an angel-lover long ago. Every day, Ludwig had to remind himself that he wasn’t denying himself and Quin the happiness they deserved out of cowardice.
For the last two millennia, I’ve been sacrificing what matters the most to me for the greater good of my race, was his mantra.
Even now, the shame and guilt he felt at not having contacted the Immortal Council with Claudius’s current address was only mitigated by the knowledge that, in protecting his reputation, he was protecting the Holy Nation as a whole.
Without me, there will be another Arariel.
“You know I’d do anything for you.” Quintilius shored his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on his palms. “Even if we are no longer together, it doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about you.”
“I don’t deserve you.” Sadness filling his heart, Ludwig fought the urge to cover Quintilius with his wings. “I’ll do everything I can to smooth things between you and Lupo.”
Quintilius acknowledged him with a nod, then they sat in silence. They had never been a couple of many words, neither of them the talkative types, but they had shared much in their lengthy relationship and they understood each other. It pained Ludwig to be so close to Quin, his sentiments intact, and not be able to touch him and communicate with him in the language they had created for each other. Both carnal creatures, they needed physical contact to express what they couldn’t in words.
This silent closeness was agony for Ludwig. Mere centimeters apart, and yet as divided as they had never been before.
The warm light of a pink sunset illuminated the room, a servant brought a tray with a light supper, then the majordomo arrived and announced, “Master will see you shortly.”
Ludwig didn’t need any food—same with sex, angels only ate because they greatly enjoyed the process—and he couldn’t think of eating anything at the moment, but he watched Quintilius nibbling at the tramezzini, the small triangular sandwiches that came with the black tea. The fact that his wolf hadn’t devoured the whole tray was a statement of how distressed Quin was.
The majordomo came back accompanied by two vampires, and the trio escorted them out of the room and through a maze of corridors. They descended three flights of stairs in uncomfortable silence, only the majordomo’s heels echoing in the narrow rooms with high ceiling. After they entered yet another hallway, they stopped before a portion of the wall decorated with a drop-leaf table and several paintings depicting bucolic landscapes from the Roman countryside.
Although the art was particularly pleasant to the eye, Ludwig wondered why they had paused before them. Before he could ask, the majordomo pushed the left corner of the painting on the right, and the whole wall flickered and disappeared, as if it had been turned off. To Ludwig’s surprise, beneath the projection, something completely different emerged, an ornate door made of stainless steel and wrought iron. Working with the Immortal Council, he was privy to the latest technology, but never before had he witnessed a holographic projection so lifelike.
The majordomo pulled a lever, and the door opened with a whoosh, sliding inside and revealing how thick the surface was. Ludwig estimated the door to be more than fifty centimeters deep. It resembled the entrance to a crypt and emanated a dark, malevolent vibe.
“Please.” The majordomo extended his arm to the side and invited them to pass the threshold.
Once they cleared a small vestibule and crossed into the room proper, a minute vampire welcomed them.
“Follow me,” she said in a Turkish accent.
Ludwig gave Quintilius a side glance, and the werewolf nodded back. The vampire walked at a brisk pace, leading them farther away from the entrance and down a large set of marble stairs leading to an underground garden.
Bordered by ornate Corinthian columns, a reflection pool graced the center of the vast space, while on its perimeter were padded benches and large couches. On one of the couches, Claudius reclined, a curvaceous mortal kneeled before him. The woman’s neck was arched and her throat was exposed to the vampire.
At seeing Ludwig and Quintilius, Claudius raised his chin and gestured for them to join him. “Illustrious guests, what a pleasure to see you.”
Ludwig couldn’t help but wonder if the unnaturally still woman was a willing feeder.
“Vegan, twenty-three years aged. One fine vintage.” Claudius passed one razor-sharp nail over the woman’s delicate throat. When a red line appeared on the white skin, he dipped and licked the blood. “What a delicacy.” He sighed, then looked back at his guests, his gaze lingering on Ludwig. “I would share my repast with you, but I know that you wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“What do you want from us?” Ludwig asked.
By nature, vampires were prone to mind games, but Claudius was famous for his deviant sense of humor and his tendency to play with his victims. Patience had never been Ludwig’s strongest suit, and the presence of the woman was unnerving him greatly, especially after a day spent at the mercy of Claudius’s caprices, mulling over what would happen. But that was psychological warfare at its best, to let them stew from morning to night until they would act against their own interests, and Ludwig had to remind himself to remain calm.
“Always so direct, archangel.” Claudius lowered his fangs, but didn’t feed. Instead, he pierced his thumb and smeared a drop of his blood on the woman’s skin, sealing the cut. “To ruin such an excellent meal would be a sin.” He patted the woman’s head, and she slowly rose, walked a few steps, then kneeled again, facing the rest of the room. She adjusted her position once, lowering herself to the floor so that her bent legs remained by her side, and smiled.
Relieved that the feeder wasn’t in imminent danger, Ludwig focused back on the vampire who had made himself comfortable, lying with his legs on the couch, one bent elbow supporting his head. Reclining like a true Roman, Claudius was elegant, aristocratic in his lazy ways. His dark, tailored suit fit his slim, yet muscular body to perfection, making him handsome despite the severe facial traits.
“You ask me what I want before even asking me how I fare—?” A slow grin exposed Claudius’s teeth, but he kept his fangs in check in a show of restraint.
Ludwig’s temper on the other hand was about to snap, and he elected to keep his mouth closed.
Last time he had used his Wrath as a weapon and not for training, an entire village had been erased from existence. The hamlet’s inhabitants had committed heinous acts against children and deserved to die. At the sight of the carnage, Ludwig had rejoiced, but he never used his power so recklessly afterward. To be able to melt internal organs by releasing ultrasounds wasn’t something to trifle with—like Arariel had done anytime he was displeased.
Nonetheless, Claudius’s mere existence provoked in Ludwig a primal desire to unleash his Wrath. Knowing that it would be a clean kill only added to the lure.
Only few—and among them Quintilius—were aware that Ludwig could aim his voice at a specific target, without harm to bystanders. Not even the mighty Arariel had known how to channel his power so precisely. After his last mass killing, Ludwig had trained himself to achieve a more intelligent use of the Wrath and succeeded. If Claudius kept on irritating him, he might have a use for his more refined weapon before the night ended.
****
Breathless, Lupo watched as Jasmine raised the garment over her head and tossed it to him, only to remain wearing yet another shapeless blanket that covered her from head to toe.
At his bewildered gasp, she started laughing. “Did you really think I would strip for you?”
“It would’ve been nice,”
he choked back.
“Put it on, before someone sees you.” She waited for him to don the tunic, then she appraised him for a moment before saying, “I liked you naked much better, but this is the only way to sneak you into my room.” Then, without further explanation, she headed toward the building. “Nobody is around. Hurry,” she called from her building’s entrance, holding the big glass door for Lupo.
Hampered by the headpiece that only uncovered his eyes and the tunic that reached his knees, Lupo ran toward her and cleared the threshold.
“This is awful.” He tugged at the veil. “How can you bear to wear it?”
“Without complaining.” She grabbed his elbow and walked toward the elevator.
“How do you plan to sneak me in your house?”
“You’ll see, don’t fret too much.” She entered the elevator cabin, and he followed her inside.
“May I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“You’re a Purist and all that… I mean, you could be in big trouble over this, right?”
“It’s not like I have a choice in the matter, and I knew you were coming.”
Lupo let her first statement pass, but couldn’t help to comment on the second. “How would you know that?”
“My panther has been calling for your wolf non-stop. You had no choice either but to obey our animals’ wish to be reunited.”
He didn’t like the way she kept mentioning they had no freedom of will. “Well, I came here every day for two weeks, waiting for you to come out.”
“I know.”
“You knew I was here—?” He opened his hands to the side.
“I did, but I couldn’t just walk out of the door and throw myself at you.”
“Why not?”
“Like you just said, I’m a Purist. I can’t go out by myself whenever I want or talk to strangers.”
“But it was okay to fall into my naked lap today. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But how so?”
“All considered, perfect timing.” She smiled. “My family is otherwise engaged for the next thirty minutes, and they know I’m in my apartments getting ready for… something I must attend later, so I can let you in without anyone being the wiser.”
“Okay.” He had enough of talking.
Artfully decorated with wrought iron bass-reliefs, the cubicle was small and her scent overpowering. With a roar, Lupo closed the gap between them, wound his arms around her back and pressed her soft body to his, hefting her from the floor. One hand cupping her bottom, the other roaming all over her back and brushing her bra’s closure, he dipped his head only to find both his mouth and hers covered by fabric.
“Stop.” She pushed against his chest.
Her voice was hoarse, but had the effect of a cold shower to Lupo who released her immediately and stepped aside, bumping against the wall. The wrought iron décor prickled his skin, and he swore under his breath, then said, “I apologize.”
“I wanted you too,” she said. “Since the first moment I saw you.” Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes were two large pools of shiny darkness. “But we must wait.” She reached inside her tunic, then brought forth a red card she swiped over the elevator control panel.
The cabin startled, then lurched up and started ascending. Lupo watched as the numbers on the panel lit one by one until they reached the last floor, number eighteen—although there wasn’t a seventeenth floor.
“Superstitious much?” Lupo smiled.
“I don’t think you can find a more superstitious bunch than the Purists. We love our technology, but we can’t get rid of the medieval mentality.” She indicated her tunic with a loud sigh. “I don’t even know why the number seventeen is considered unlucky. I doubt anyone does.”
“In Roman numerals, seventeen is written XVII, but when you rearrange those letters you get VIXI which in Latin means, ‘I’ve lived,’ therefore saying that you’re dead.” Lupo watched with growing satisfaction as Jasmine’s eyes showed surprise first and then admiration at his knowledge.
“You aren’t just a pretty face,” she finally said, but soon after she made a show to give him a once over, and added, “Or just a muscular body.”
“I don’t think it’s fair that you saw me in all my glory, and I can’t even take a look at your lips.”
Jasmine raised an eyebrow in response, then turned, and opened the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
It took Lupo a moment to realize the elevator had opened directly into an apartment. Whitewashed wooden furniture filled a large room with pale-sage walls, cream ceiling, and arched windows. Ethereal-looking Murano glass chandeliers in every marine hue hung from above, while delicate area rugs covered the marble flooring.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“My apartments.” She walked to a drop-leaf table and discarded several items she took from pockets hidden inside her tunic. Keys, the red card she had used to activate the elevator, a slim cell phone. Then she reached down, raised the hem of the cumbersome garment and showed Lupo her ankles.
Lupo’s heart slammed against his ribcage at the sight of her white skin. Then he lost his breath when she started removing her flats by loosening the black ribbons hugging her shapely calves.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered.
“I’ve just started.” She made a come-hither gesture, then when he was standing in front of her, she gently pushed him down on his knees and raised the foot still wearing her shoe.
With shaky hands, Lupo accepted her challenge and placed her small foot on his raised knee, then he slowly caressed her calf, untying the bow and releasing the ribbon aside. He took his time to remove the small shoe, then while he kept her foot down with one hand, he ventured up with the other. His fingers moved along the shape of her leg, discovering her one inch at a time.
At the knee, she stopped him covering his hand with hers from above the fabric. “Your touch is… too much.”
Her admission filled him with pride. “I’ve just started.” Tired of the silly veil still covering his face, he yanked it off and took a long breath. “You should try it too.” He slowly caressed his way down her leg, reached her ankle, then smoothed the fabric back in place, and finally took her hand in his. “Let me see you.”
After a long moment of silence, in which her eyes showed her internal conflict, she nodded. He grabbed the hem of her tunic, bunching up the garment over her naked legs, uncovering her slowly, savoring the discovery of her soft curves.
His fingers aiming for her panties, he was about to reach the end of her legs when the elevator chimed, announcing someone’s arrival.
Chapter Twelve
“You ask me what I want before even asking me how I fare—?” Claudius had asked Ludwig.
Silently praying to the Great Wolf, Quintilius hoped Ludwig wouldn’t lose his temper.
He knew his angel and his incendiary nature well enough to be worried. While Ludwig appeared steely and composed, he was an angel through and through, used to having all his whims granted, and he had to fight his passionate nature every step of the way.
Only Quintilius was aware of Ludwig’s struggle, and how much it was costing him not to silence Claudius, who continued his monologue.
“I’ll tell you anyway. I’m fine.” The vampire smiled. “Sure, hiding for longer than two years in my own house isn’t as fun as it sounds, but I find pleasure in the small things in life. Like visiting friends.” He transformed into a raven, flew over the couch, then landed on the cushion and changed back into his human form. “Or sampling fine blood.” He tilted his chin toward the feeder, whose position hadn’t changed, then looked back at Ludwig. “And I must confess, I’ve daily rejoiced at the notion that the Immortal Council has been looking everywhere for me the whole time.” Laughing, he winked at Ludwig. “While I’ve never left Castel Gandolfo.”
Quintilius knew of the manhunt that still occupied a contingent of enforcers full time. At the beginning, shifters, witches, and warlocks had helpe
d, but neither magik nor animal senses had flushed the vampire out. A few months in, the Immortal Council redirected the taskforce to other missions. Now that he had seen the holographic wall and the stainless steel hatch-like door, Quintilius knew why nobody had found Claudius.
Whereas the Immortal Council had expected the vampire to use paranormal means to hide—he was, after all, well versed in dark magik—he had employed modern technology instead, fooling everyone.
“Last I heard, the Council sent agents to Moscow. Such a waste of resources, isn’t it?” Judging from the glee in Claudius’s cold eyes, he was greatly enjoying goading Ludwig. “It must kill you to be here, archangel, in my presence, and not be able to do anything, least I ruin your career.”
Amidst Quintilius’s and Ludwig’s prolonged silence, Claudius rose from his reclined position in one smooth movement and sat on the couch, then brought one knee up while he relaxed against the back cushion. “The most respectable member of our society, now leader of the Holy Nation, a wolf-lover. Who would’ve thought your sexual tastes were so base, ah?”
Claudius raised his arms to the side, mimicking the flapping of wings, then rested them over the edge of the cushion. “I must admit, the wolf is rough around the edges, but he has a wild, uncultured je ne sais quoi.” His eyes roamed over Quintilius. “I bet he’s quite experienced as well.” With a humorless chuckle, he turned to face Ludwig. “But don’t worry, I have no intention to seduce your pet. I don’t like dogs.”
Placing a hand over Ludwig’s arm, Quintilius stilled him before he would react. His angel had tensed when Claudius escalated his prodding and mentioned him. He was proud of Ludwig, who had resisted so far, but now Quintilius was the one who had enough of the charade. “You made your point. Now, tell us what you want,” he said.
Claudius tilted his head to the side, regarding Quintilius with a grin, then he slow-clapped him. “How cute. The boyfriend is showing some bite.”
Quintilius stepped forward. “Careful, vampire. Don’t forget who I am.”
The Lonely Wolf Page 11