Nowadays, thanks to the Immortal Council, politics regulated every aspect of the paranormal society. To further complicate Lupo’s position, he was the biological son of the most powerful alpha in all of Europe, and the adoptive son of the archangel. Lots of people were waiting like vultures to take advantage of any mistake Lupo or his fathers made.
Moreover, Lupo’s sense of justice was more on the eye-for-an-eye, a dose-of-curare-for-a-dose-of-curare end of the spectrum, so he searched the floor for the syringe. He waited until Rico looked as though he was about to regain consciousness, then plunged the needle into the big brother’s arm.
“Nice feeling, ah?” Lupo kicked Rico’s side.
A commotion from the hallway interrupted Lupo from teaching the Red a valuable lesson in reciprocation.
“Saved by the bell.” Lupo sat on his bed and waited for the guard to arrive. His jumper lay in tatters on the floor, but he didn’t attempt to cover his nakedness.
“What’s happening here?” the man asked, sweating profusely as if he had run for kilometers, instead of walking the half a minute stretch from his office around the corner.
“Not what you expected to find, I imagine.” Extending his bare foot, Lupo pushed the still form on the floor toward the guard.
“I didn’t—” The man’s voice was a squeal. Eyes wide, he pointed a shaking finger at Rico. “Who’s there?”
“You know who this is.” He flexed his arms and stretched his neck with an audible pop.
The sound frightened the guard, who stepped away from the gate until he was safely ensconced by the arch’s shadow. “Stop being confrontational or I’ll call the warden.”
“I’m behind bars. I don’t see how you could feel threatened by me, but please, call him.” Without breaking eye contact, Lupo sat more comfortable on his cot, raising one foot to rest on the frame, while he tilted his chin down. “What about him?”
“How did you let that man in?” the guard asked from the darkness, his fear permeating the moldy air.
Lupo raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He studied the man for a moment, then leaned against the wall and couldn’t help but laugh. “You escort me in and out of this cell.” He tried, but he couldn’t stop laughing. “I can’t touch the bars without frying myself.” Even the thought of burning his skin was cause for mirth. “But most importantly, why would I let Rico in when he tried to kill me?” In between breaths, he hugged his stomach. “You’re more of an idiot than I thought.”
“You can’t prove it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“The warden won’t believe you.”
“He doesn’t have to believe me.” Wiping away a few merry tears, Lupo nudged Rico. “The bleeding werewolf on my floor is proof enough you were involved.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The guard stepped forward and his head entered the cone of light for the briefest moment, then he immediately backed into the safety of the arch.
“It doesn’t take a genius to understand you were bribed.” Lupo waved him away.
“I didn’t have a choice—”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Again, I don’t care. Go fetch the warden.” Lupo’s wolf growled.
Instead of scurrying away, the guard walked out of the shadow and stopped before the bars. “I have a daughter. They showed me her picture, in front of her school.” He didn’t waver when he talked, but his eyes were haunted and his fear had transformed into terror. “When they know I’ve failed, they’ll come for her.”
“Who’s they?” Lupo asked, wondering about the plural. As far as he knew, Tancredi was behind the attacks.
“She’s dead if I talk.” The guard looked around, as if worried someone was spying on them.
Lupo pushed himself up and stepped over Rico to stand as close to the bars as he could without touching them. “She’s dead if you don’t.”
A horrified expression crossed the man’s face. Muttering under his breath, he shook his head, then passed a hand through his short hair.
“You know who my parents are. I can ask them to keep your daughter safe.”
“She’s everything to me.”
“Tell me the names of the people who want me dead.”
The guard’s mouth tightened as he started softly crying. “If something happens to her—”
The faint sound of booted steps resonated in the hallway.
Lupo cocked his head to the side and raised one hand. “Someone’s coming. It’s now or never.”
The guard turned and his breath hitched.
From the scents, Lupo counted at least four men approaching. “My fathers can save your daughter.”
As if possessed by a sudden resolution, the guard reached down to the gate, and it took him a few tries but he opened the cell, then he grabbed Rico’s hands and pressed them against the bars. The stench of burning flesh filled the cell, its sickly sweetness hitting Lupo’s nose like a punch. The guard didn’t release his hold on Rico until he was burnt to his bones, then he removed a key from the key-holder ring dangling from his pants and threw it next to the still body.
“Panthers,” the man said, a moment before four guards cleared the arch.
****
“I don’t want an innocent to pay.” Lupo hadn’t wasted time in greetings. As soon as he entered the visitation room, he explained to both Quintilius and Ludwig what had happened the night before.
“I’ll place the girl under my custody,” Ludwig said, then stepped outside to make the necessary calls.
“Don’t worry. We won’t let anything happen to her.” Quintilius took one of Lupo’s hands in his. “But how are you? Did Rico hurt you?”
“No, I shifted and took care of business.”
“That’s my boy.” Quintilius’s chest inflated as he smiled.
Although Lupo liked to remind his father he wasn’t a child, he was affected by his blatant approval as if he were a green pup.
“Do you think he was telling the truth when he mentioned panthers as the ones who commissioned your attack?” Quintilius asked, reclining in his chair.
“Scents don’t lie,” Lupo answered.
“I didn’t believe Tancredi when I confronted him.” Quintilius caressed his goatee, a new look he had espoused to tame his wild appearance. “When I summoned him, he had the gall to say he had nothing to do with it.”
“I still think Tancredi is involved somehow. The way he sees it, I’m a menace to him. I could always come back and challenge him.” Lupo had wondered about the guard’s confession, but he couldn’t make any sense of it.
Ludwig reentered the room, holding his cell phone. “Done. I called the guard’s home and spoke to his wife. She and the girl are both fine. I sent Peter and Ravenna there.”
“Good.” Lupo exhaled in relief.
One hand on the door handle, Ludwig said, “I’m going to call the warden.”
Lupo stopped him. “Wait. There’s no need to involve the warden.”
“Why?” Ludwig and Quintilius asked at the same time.
“Because the guard covered his involvement with Rico by making it appear Rico had acted alone, and I doubt the warden was notified about it. I don’t want to stir trouble for the guard.” Also, Lupo didn’t want to receive any special attention from the warden, but he didn’t say it out loud.
Ludwig passed his hand through his short hair. “I’m not sure this is something we should keep quiet. You were attacked, again.”
“I agree with Ludwig. The warden should move you somewhere safer.” Quintilius slammed his hand over the table.
“Rico was up and about soon after, as if nothing had happened to him. He’s even less interested in talking to the warden than I am,” Lupo said.
“Exactly like it happened when he attacked you the time before.” Quintilius frowned at the news. “What is he taking to heal so fast?”
“That’s not just V. Vampire blood would explain his overl
y aggressive behavior, but not his healing powers.” Ludwig hugged himself, pushing his wings back to the side.
“Whatever it is, you are in grave danger and we should do something—” Quintilius said.
“Dads, it’s okay. Nothing happened, and I can take care of myself. If the warden treats me any differently from the rest of the inmates, I’ll pay for it daily, and I still have five months to go. My life will become hell, for real,” Lupo said.
“Is there something else you didn’t tell us?” Quintilius’s eyes narrowed.
“There’s plenty I didn’t tell you. Just be assured I’ll be fine as long as I’m not singled out by the warden.” Lupo gave both of them a smile, then turned toward Quintilius and said, “You never told me if you delivered the flowers to Jasmine’s tomb.”
A month ago, Lupo had asked Quintilius to commission a garland of fresh jasmine flowers to deposit on her resting place, but whenever he asked, Quintilius had always dodged the question with vague answers.
Quintilius and Ludwig exchanged a look, then Quintilius sighed. “There’s no tomb in Rome.”
Lupo pushed his chair back and it hit the wall. “Where did they bury her?”
“We don’t know.” Ludwig opened his hands to the side.
Quintilius stood and walked to Lupo, then placed a hand on his shoulder for a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been trying to find her grave since you asked, but her parents must want to keep it a secret, because nobody knows where they buried her.”
“They don’t want me to find her.” The idea saddened Lupo, and he leaned against his father.
Quintilius drew Lupo closer to him. “We can erect a mausoleum for Jasmine at Casolare del Lupo if you want.”
“Camelia has already offered to plant a whole garden in Jasmine’s honor,” Ludwig added.
“That would be nice, I think,” Lupo said.
Later, back in his cell, he contacted his imaginary Jasmine right away.
Which flowers do you like? He didn’t explain for what reason he needed to know. In all of his conversations with her, he had never acknowledged she was dead. Besides jasmine, of course.
I love freesias and lilacs and lavender. Anything with a sweet scent. I’d like to have a garden full of flowers in our home, she answered.
Then you’ll have it.
It would be the first thing he would do once he was out of prison.
Chapter Eight
“Did you ever discover if the guard said the truth about the panthers?” Paride asked, watching the other inmates play rugby.
Soccer season had ended when several players had broken legs and arms, filling the infirmary to the brim, and the warden had prohibited the sport until further notice. Ironically, he thought rugby would be a safer choice.
“The guard could’ve made it up. He resigned soon after in any case, and I doubt he would’ve come by for a chat even if he hadn’t left. It doesn’t pay to be friendly to me, especially when half of the guards could be working for Tancredi, and the other half don’t like me because of my father.” Not caring for the game, Lupo sat on one of the fallen columns, enjoying unseasonably warm sun rays. “Plus, nobody seems to understand how Rico could get back on his feet so soon after I gave him a dose of his own medicine. It took me almost a day to recover from the curare, and I’m stronger than he is.”
“I’d be worried if I were you,” Paride commented. “Too many people want to hurt you.”
“Just tough luck. I’m used to it by now.”
An oval ball whistled over Paride’s head and he extended his arm to catch it. “Tough luck seems an understatement.” Paride threw the ball toward one of the players. “It’s more like you have a cloud following you.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t literal.” Lupo sat more comfortably on the marble surface. “And I can appreciate the small things in life.” He pointed his chin up. “Like a full hour of fresh air.”
The day the warden announced the sixty minute break was back, Lupo scratched the date on the wall. After two weeks of semi-isolation in the dungeon, talking to someone again was something to commemorate. Funny how before Paride had come along, Lupo hadn’t missed human company that much and had thought his parents’ visits were enough.
“I wish I could be as positive as you are.” Paride’s eyes went to the Christmas tree haphazardly slanting toward the wall.
The holiday season was around the corner, and Lupo didn’t look forward to spending it in prison, but it could have been worse. “Why, don’t you like the cheap plastic decorations and fake wrapped gifts the guards have thrown under that anemic pine tree?”
“I’ve spent the last six Christmases at the Den of Rejects, and I can’t stand the idea of not being with Angel and my sister this year.” Paride caught another ball flying by and hurled it back.
The clouds had covered the sun, and the first drops of rain splattered Lupo’s face. Maybe he did have a personal cloud. “I don’t have particularly nice memories of my past Christmases, so I don’t have great expectations.”
Paride gave him a penetrating gaze. “That’s sad.”
“It’s not that I’ve had horrible holidays. They just weren’t as fun and full of fuzzy feelings as you see in the movies.” Lupo tried to remember his Christmases back at the orphanage, but besides those stockings with candies and books, nothing else came to mind.
One time, the stocking was heavy, and he flipped the oversized woolen sock upside down to throw its content on his bed. Among a sea of colorful honey drops, two squared tomes stood up. The History of Florence was one, while the other was titled, Mediterranean Temples. They were both illustrated with drawings rivaling his comics, but he wasn’t interested in history or art, and they resembled his scholastic books too much. Before his shifter puberty hit, he usually gave his gifts to Carlo in exchange for a few hours of immunity from his relentless bullying. The boy was mean at heart, but also an intellectual. Go figure.
Paride leaned against the wall. “I love the decorations, the smell of roasted chestnuts sold at the street corners, the carols, the food—” he let out an audible sigh that made Lupo laugh “—snuggling in bed with Angel, waiting for the morning when I can give him his gift.”
Lupo’s thoughts went to Jasmine, and he wondered about their first Christmas together. A day that would never come and he could only imagine.
“I’m sorry.” Paride leaned to pat Lupo’s shoulder. “It was insensitive of me.”
Lupo gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. I have to get used to her not being around anymore.”
The were-puma opened his mouth to say something, closed it, tilted his head, then finally said, “Would you like to talk about her?”
Paride’s request startled Lupo. He usually didn’t talk about Jasmine. Besides his imaginary dates, he only mentioned her to his fathers. “What do you want to know?” he surprised himself saying.
“How did you meet?” Paride asked.
“I delivered V to her building.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
“You could say that, although I saw her face only the night we ran away.” Lupo smiled at the memory.
“What do you mean?”
“She was a Purist—”
“No way!” Paride scoffed, his eyes wide in surprise. “Your soulmate was a Purist. I can’t believe it.” He slapped Lupo’s arm. “They are the most elitist among the shifters. One of them used to sneak into the den a while back because he was friends with a reject boy, and he told us the most incredible stories about the Purists. They are worse than my parents’ sect. I mean the Puma Aryans are insane, but they don’t force their women to hide under those black garments.”
Lupo chuckled. “I hated that chiton with all my heart.”
The image of Jasmine raising the hem of her shapeless dress filled Lupo’s mind. She reached down, baring her feet and ankles, then stopped and looked at him…
Lupo’s heart slammed against his ribcage at the sight of her white skin. Then he lost his brea
th 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. 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 covered his hand with hers from above the fabric. “Your touch is… too much.”
Her admission filled him with pride. “I’ve just started.” 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.”
One fat drop of rain splashed over Lupo’s nose, and he blinked back to reality.
“But how did you even manage to talk to her? I know the Purists guard their women like their greatest treasure.” If possible, Paride’s eyes had grown wider.
“It all happened relatively fast, but when we met the first time, she was coming back home as I was almost done with my delivery. We locked eyes and I was smitten. Of course, I knew we would never meet again, but I couldn’t stop thinking of her. No girl before Jasmine had ever held my attention for long. Sure, I liked seducing a curvaceous shifter, but I wouldn’t lose any sleep over any of them. Then I had that one glimpse of Jasmine’s dark eyes and I couldn’t breathe for the longing—” Some of that longing filled his heart, and Lupo paused.
Shifting his weight on his legs, Paride asked, “So, what did you do?”
“I changed my schedule. Instead of taking a break for lunch, I would drive by her place and wait outside her building, hoping she would come out so I could see her one more time.”
“For how long?”
“About two weeks, I think.”
“And did you see her?”
Lupo (The Immortals Book 8) Page 5