“That would be a record even for me.” Lupo laughed. “You made an impression.”
“The first day I got here, Rico saw me in the courtyard and proposed to me.”
“He doesn’t like to hear the word ‘no.’”
“Don’t I know it—” Paride raised an eyebrow. “But I won’t let him rape me.”
“That’s a good philosophy to live by in prison, but I got that covered.”
“I can’t deny I’m relieved, but what’s going to happen to you?” Paride’s eyes went over Lupo’s shoulders. “I mean you’re a powerful alpha and all—”
“Let’s leave it at powerful.” Lupo’s nostrils flared and his wolf raised his ears.
A disturbance rippled down the lines, scattering inmates in its wake, and announcing the arrival of an enraged werewolf who reeked of V. Lupo looked around, but there was nowhere to go to avoid the confrontation with Rico.
“Stay behind me.” Lupo stepped in front of Paride as Rico emerged from the crowd.
“You!” The Red pointed at Lupo.
“You’re waking the dead.” Lupo didn’t move an inch, but waited for the werewolf to reach him.
Rico stepped to the side to look at Paride, then said to Lupo, “Move out of the way.”
“Leave him be. He’s under my protection now.”
“Aren’t you funny?” Rico pushed a fat finger against Lupo’s chest.
“Leave before the guards arrive.”
“Release the puma to me, and I might consider leaving you alone.” Rico reached around to grab Paride’s arm, but Lupo was faster and chopped Rico’s arm down.
Rico lashed at Lupo, his canines bared and white foam spitting from his mouth. With a growl, his hands went to Lupo’s throat.
Lupo shifted and swept Rico’s hands away with his clawed paws that slashed skin and tendons, then he closed his mouth over the man’s neck. He was about to press his fangs down when whistles and shouts reverberated all around. He was back in human form before the guards could catch him as a wolf.
One of the official rules of Regina Coeli was that alpha shifters weren’t allowed to change outside of the full moon. Not complying with the decree meant two months in isolation. As much as Lupo didn’t care for the company of a bunch of criminals, he cared even less to spend time in the pit.
Three floors below the dungeon, in the most humid and coldest part of the prison, the pit housed the inmates who had committed the most heinous crimes and weren’t deemed redeemable. If the dungeon was claustrophobic, with its low ceilings and cubicles, the pit was downright oppressive.
Lupo had heard horror stories about the pit and how a man could lose his mind after an hour there. Always on the verge of calling it quits when it came to his mental sanity, he didn’t need the push, so he stepped away from Rico.
“What now?” Paride’s eyes were wide and his voice shaking.
“Now, we exit the scene.” Lupo took the were-puma by the elbow and dragged him toward the front of the room.
“You are naked,” Paride whispered.
“Thanks for letting me know.” Lupo had a hard time suppressing the laughter building up inside of him and demanding to be let out. He kept walking as if he were wearing the jail uniform he had shredded during the shifting.
As the guards crossed the hall to reach the back wall, Lupo and Paride navigated the crowd in the opposite direction. Omertà, the great wall of silence governing the inmates, worked for everyone on the other side of the law, and Lupo too was aided in his quest to bring Paride and himself to safety. Seemingly coming out of nowhere, a hideous gray jumper was pushed into Lupo’s hand, and he hastily pulled it on. As they moved from row to row, the sea of humanity broke in waves that swallowed them and propelled them forward, until they reached the front.
Among whistles and angry shouts, Mr. Lantini reentered the hall. He wasn’t alone. Two immortals were at his side, their eyes studying everything. Escorted by six guards who opened a path before them, the warden and his guests strode toward the corner where the brawl had happened. From the silence that followed, it was clear he found nothing, and the inmates were going to pay for making the warden look bad before the council.
Chapter Six
“You look pale,” Quintilius commented as soon as Lupo entered the visitation room. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lupo sat on the metal chair that creaked under his weight.
“Are you hiding something from me?” His father’s eyes probed into his, and his wolf nudged at Lupo’s.
“Prison life is never dull, but don’t worry about me.” Lupo took his father’s hand for a gentle squeeze. “I’m the big, bad alpha.” He smiled.
“You’re my boy. I’ll always worry about you.”
“Dad, I’m taller than you.” Lupo laughed. “I can take care of things.”
Quintilius shook his head and sighed. “You’re also young and foolish—”
“I’m fine, really.”
“You would tell me otherwise?”
Lupo opened his hands to the side and shrugged. “You know I wouldn’t.”
“At least you are being honest about that.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Lupo asked, “Did you have time to talk to Angel?”
“Yes, and from what he told me, Paride was framed to cover a ring of illegal adoptions. For now, it’s just Angel’s word, but Ludwig appointed Peter and Ravenna to investigate.”
“Good. Paride seems like a nice person—”
The sound of heavy boots echoed from the outside, distracting Lupo.
A moment later, the door opened and Ludwig entered. “Sorry I’m late, but the Holy Nation has convoked a last minute meeting to decide on the date of the election.” He walked to Lupo and passed a hand over his cropped hair, then kissed his forehead. “Hi, puppy.”
“Papà.” Lupo had started calling the angel “dad” only recently, but he was happy he had opened up to Ludwig. Guarded by nature, he’d had a hard time trusting both men with his sentiments, but their commitment to him had changed his mind. “You’ll win by a landslide.”
“Everything will be okay,” Quintilius said, as Ludwig leaned over him and brushed his lips.
“I’m not sure about that.” Ludwig lowered his huge frame into the reinforced chair the prison had provided for him after he broke a few of them.
“Then you’ll have more time for me.” Quintilius took the angel’s hand in his.
Their intertwined fingers with matching rings were a beautiful reminder of how much the two men loved each other.
“You’d like that,” Ludwig said, his tone light.
“You know I would. You were supposed to work only one job.” Quintilius referred to the fact that the Immortal Council had asked Ludwig to keep supervising the liaison office when his successor proved to be a psycho. As a result, Ludwig was splitting his time between Castel Sant’ Angelo, the Immortal Council’s headquarters, and the Holy Nation. “I still expect you to take a three-month sabbatical for our wedding as we planned.”
“I can’t wait,” Ludwig said.
The devotion Quintilius and Ludwig had for each other was what had changed Lupo’s mind toward them. If they were capable of such unconditional love that had lasted for centuries, they couldn’t be bad people. And he soon realized that if they were capable of bestowing upon him even a fraction of that affection, he would be exultant.
“How are you, kiddo?” Ludwig asked, his cerulean eyes mirroring the worry Quintilius had shown only a moment earlier.
“He won’t tell us.” Quintilius gave Lupo a raised eyebrow, challenging him to answer.
Lupo opened his arms to the side with a shrug. “Tell you what, I’m as fine as I can be in a prison.”
For the rest of the hour, Lupo dodged his parents’ questions, but deep inside he was happy they cared enough to keep pestering him.
Later, back in his cell, he lay on his cot and told Jasmine about his day.
I didn’t think I would, but
I miss the courtyard time. And I miss talking to Paride. The way Mr. Lantini reacted, you’d think we’d lowered his pants before the council.
In a way, it’s what you did though. Jasmine had become the adult in his imaginary conversations. His conscience. Or the older and wiser version of himself.
I still think that punishing the whole prison by revoking our break for fourteen days was too much.
It’s true you look a bit pale.
And spending two weeks in the dungeon without seeing the sky, it’s like being in solitary.
At least he didn’t revoke visitations.
Of course not. The convicts’ families would’ve started asking questions—
You mean your parents would’ve asked for the warden’s scalp.
That too.
So, your mates should thank you for that.
Lupo snorted. I’m sure they see me like a spoiled brat and would teach me a lesson or two if they could, but not only do I have powerful fathers, I’m also a strong alpha. Rico could only best me because he drugged me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Always so cocky, my wolf. Jasmine’s argentine laugh warmed the cold cell.
You love me for that.
I love you.
I miss hugging you. I miss your soft curves. I miss making love to you.
All his pretend dates with Jasmine ended on a bittersweet note, but more so lately. After spending seven days in the dungeon, he craved to stretch his legs and longed for a glimpse of the blue sky, alongside some mindless chatter with someone who didn’t want to kill him.
Lupo’s sickly appearance was due to the lack of sun and the brutal conditions of the dungeon, but he wouldn’t say that to his fathers, because he worried they would take action.
After Ludwig’s love story with Quintilius had become public, a substantial part of the Holy Nation had asked him to resign, while his supporters had fought for him. Several discussions had been ended by the unlawful use of angelic Wrath. To avoid an internecine war, Ludwig proposed a democratic election—a first in the history of his race once the archangel had been already appointed—and he was now running to keep his seat.
Out of respect for the gentle giant, Lupo didn’t want Ludwig to expose himself on his behalf and ruin his career. The angel had enough denigrators already, and having ties with an inmate didn’t help his cause.
After dinner, Rollo, one of the volunteers from the local branch of the Redemption Order—a group of mismatched paranormals coming from all species who believed in second chances and the power of love—stopped by Lupo’s cell.
“Hi, wolf.” The lithe aerialin, an airborne elf, hovered by the bars with his diaphanous wings splayed to the side. He pulled a small cart before Lupo. “What do you want to read?”
Several charities provided secondhand books for the order, and his members visited prisons to better inmates’ lives through literacy. Some of the convicts complained that the Redemptionists were on the preachy side, but Lupo found them amusing for the most part.
“Not in a reading mood, and I haven’t finished the one you gave me last week.” Lupo raised the book that lay face down on the floor.
Rollo’s eyes shrank in blatant disapproval. “You still should read this one.” Without hesitation, he fished a small book from a chaotic pile of tomes precariously balanced on the cart, and thrust it between the bars.
“Okay.” Lupo leaned forward to receive the offering. “What’s it about?”
“Friendship.” The aerialin gave him one last look loaded with censure, and before leaving added, “Take better care of this one.”
“See you next week, Rollo.” Lupo lowered himself to his cot and turned the book in his hands. “The Art of Making Soap Bubbles,” he read the title out loud. “Is this a joke?”
“Have fun,” Rollo answered from a few cells ahead.
“You have the strangest sense of humor, elf.”
“Aerialin,” Rollo corrected him with a laugh.
“Whatever.” Lupo opened and closed the book, shook his head, passed his fingers over the fore edge, then noticed a piece of paper stuck between the pages and pulled it out. It was folded in half, and when he opened it, he was surprised that it was a note meant for him.
Hi, wolf. Hope you’re okay. P.
Only a few words scribbled in a lousy penmanship, but to Lupo they were so much more.
****
The next day, Lupo received another surprise. When he entered the visitation room, Raphael was sitting in Quintilius’s spot.
“I asked your dad if I could visit. He’s waiting outside so we could talk in private.” Raphael stood and gave him a one-armed hug. The werewolf looked bigger, as if he had grown some muscle over his tall, wiry frame. “How are you?” He patted Lupo’s elbow and added, “I won’t repeat anything you say.”
“All things considered, it could be worse.” Lupo smiled.
“Still being beaten daily?”
“I did the beating last time. And I almost got even with Rico. He’s alive only because the guard intervened.”
“What Rico did to you is terrible. I was once shot with curare, but I guess it was a different mix, because I can’t remember anything of what happened.”
“It was awful—” At the mere thought of being under the drug’s effect, Lupo shivered.
Raphael nodded. “Tancredi isn’t the forgetful type.”
“Nor does he forgive.” Lupo shifted his weight on the rear legs of his chair and rocked it.
“Nope.” Raphael’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “What do you plan to do about it?”
“I’d like to survive the rest of my sentence without having to fight the whole of Regina Coeli.”
“Hang in there. You’ll be out in no time.”
Looking for a different topic of discussion, Lupo remembered what he had wanted to ask Raphael. “Did my father tell you that I met a friend of yours, Paride?”
Raphael sat on the edge of his chair. “Yes, I was going to ask you about him next. How is he?”
“Too pretty for this place,” Lupo said.
Raphael nodded, and his long blond hair fell to the side. “Angel is worried about him.”
“As far as I know, nothing has happened to him, but Rico has set his eyes on Paride, and you know how twisted our big brother is.” While he talked, Lupo realized that Paride would be in jail for much longer after he would be released. Who would protect the were-puma then?
“Quintilius told me the reason why Paride is here, but he would never do anything like that. He’s one of the nicest guys I know—”
“I haven’t known him for long, but I believe you. I hope Ludwig’s team can exonerate Paride."
“I hope so too.” Raphael pushed his chair back and stood. “I must let your dad in now or he won’t take me along to visit you again.”
Lupo stood too to hug him. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’d come more often, but I don’t want to use your dad’s time. You and Quintilius have so much to tell each other, and I already feel bad I cut your visit short today.” Raphael’s hand was on the door handle, when he said, “I’m looking forward to meeting you outside.” He winked.
“You and I both,” Lupo said.
Raphael gave him a two-finger salute to the temple and opened the door as Quintilius entered with a pastry tray dangling from his finger.
“Fresh almond paste croissants from Drako’s kitchen. Marta made them especially for you,” Quintilius said, setting the tray on the table and opening the paper guarding the pastries.
The sweet scent of baked goods wafted over to Lupo, and he sighed in contentment. “Today is my lucky day.”
Lupo was still high from the sugar rush induced by Drako’s chef’s croissants when he was escorted back to his cell. The guard closed the gate behind him with the hateful clank sound Lupo so much despised and left him in the damp and scarcely lit cubicle without a word. The cold treatment had never bothered Lupo before, but it was starting to grate
on his nerves.
“Did you have a good time with your daddy?” a despised, yet familiar voice said.
Startled, Lupo spun around, his hands closing in two fists as he faced Rico, who pushed himself away from the left wall, the darkest in the cell.
This time, warned by previous experience and a suspicious silvery flash in the otherwise dark chamber, Lupo didn’t give Rico time to use the syringe he held in his hand. Channeling all his strength in his fist, he punched Rico’s arm at the elbow and was satisfied by the man’s grunt and the sound of the hypodermic hitting the cobblestones.
Once the curare was out of the equation, Lupo shifted. It wasn’t ideal in the small confines of the cell, but he wasn’t up for a lengthy fight.
Rico’s eyes shone with that manic red, suggesting he had more V than blood in his veins, and although he wasn’t an alpha and he couldn’t shift, he still attacked instead of submitting. With a low, guttural growl, Lupo’s wolf went for his opponent’s jugular. Fueled by unnatural strength and the lack of survival instincts, Rico defended himself by pushing the wolf against the wall, opening his throat for a bite.
With his claws, Lupo’s wolf slashed at Rico’s hands, then smashed him down with his weight. Rico hit his head on the metal frame of the cot, and Lupo’s wolf closed on his throat, pressing his canines down.
Chapter Seven
The aftermath of Lupo’s encounter with Rico could have been bloodier. He wanted it to be a massacre, but commanded his wolf to spare the sorry excuse for a werewolf, because nothing good would come from slaughtering the Red.
First, it was evident that Tancredi had the guard in his pocket, since Rico had entered Lupo’s cell the old fashioned way, walking through an open gate. There were no signs on Rico’s hands that he had touched the silver-coated bars, which showed that the previous time, he had done so to prove a point to Lupo.
Second, by killing the insane bastard, Lupo would add years to his sentence. Even if he could convince a jury he had acted in self-defense, as an alpha he was stronger than the attacker, so murdering him would be judged as unnecessary force, and, most importantly, he wasn’t Rico’s alpha. Long gone were the good old days when shifters could mete out justice as they saw fit.
Lupo (The Immortals Book 8) Page 4