by L E Franks
“In the end, I guess it all worked out. I buried myself in my studies and made some great business contacts and Carlo is back home where he belongs. But in answer to your question, before the move, we were tight, now…not so much. That’s why I’m here. Even though I have his back, I don’t think he trusts us enough to run, but he needs to know he’s still my best friend.”
Ted nodded. “But what about Angelo?”
“Fuck Angelo. It’s going to be a long time before either of us run with him.”
They were both silent as Joey turned off the highway and onto a side road, the trees curling in over them, shading the lane like they were in a green tunnel. The road narrowed, looking scary and almost abandoned. A broken gate and a few mangled cottages dotted the roadside. The potholes were jarring enough that any lost tourist would turn around, fearful of getting stuck, or something worse. Of course the pack knew the road was staged to look this way and Joey continued on until he came to a gate. He clicked the remote on his keyfob and it slid open.
As Joey drove on, thick pines lined the now smooth driveway. The road curved every few hundred yards so the house wasn’t visible. Plush, luxurious, and extravagant were words used to describe the compound. When Joey’s mother married into the pack, she’d brought a touch of her aristocratic upbringing and her love of formal gardens with her. Joey sighed, looking around, making a note to call his mom.
Joey loved this area with its tall trees and Spanish moss. He remembered running through the marshy waters to get to Port Royal Sound—he and Carlo racing to see who ran the fastest, stripping off their clothes to get into the water first. It had been so long since they’d played here, well, since they’d played at all. He missed his friend and though Carlo had returned, it wasn’t the same. He took the last turn on the drive and saw the house—the view always took his breath away. The white columns and wide windows made him think of the movie Gone With the Wind, though this house was bigger, and more modern. He still wondered if one day he’d see Carlo standing on the front steps, his chin high, telling the world he didn’t give a damn, that he was gay and an Alpha.
Ted blew out a whistle, “Damn, this place is nice. Much nicer than the place I grew up.”
“Where was that?”
“Ketchikan Alaska. Nice, but nothing like this.”
Joey turned off the engine and sat for a moment, taking in the new flowers gracing the bed and the ceramic pots scattered on the wide porch. His mother would be glad to see that they’d kept the place looking nice. He opened the car door but didn’t move. “Best find out what hell Carlo sent us into.”
Ted patted Joey’s leg and slid out of the car, loping up the steps two at a time. Joey followed at a much slower pace. They hadn’t even knocked when the front door to the house creaked open, revealing Francesca. Joey shivered.
“You’re not who we were expecting.” Her voice was sharp, but nowhere near as sharp as her bite. He never tangled with Francesca, Angelo’s pet Beta; he was smart enough to avoid her teeth at all times.
“You better come in.” She turned and stalked down the hall, Joey followed, dragging Ted with him, knowing that if he didn’t, they’d probably be handed their balls on a platter before they were allowed to leave.
≈ ≈ ≈ ≈
Angelo paced the long balcony outside his office—no, the pack office. After all these years it still didn’t feel like his; not when Constantine Montefiore haunted every corner. From the family pictures on the shelves to the gigantic antique cypress wood desk made by Con’s grandfather, Carlino, over a hundred years ago—there was no room for anyone else.
The Alpha had been a giant of a man, spending his youth under the iron thumb of the old world Italian immigrant. Con’s father, Celso, had left Con in the care of his grandfather while he traveled the world on business and pleasure—eventually sending Con a half sister from Florence.
She arrived at the compound in the care of nuns, a squalling bundle of energy at three months old. From the stories still passed around, it was love with at first sight—Con’s sister became everything to him, even at age ten.
Apparently Con’s Alpha instincts made themselves known that first day by snatching the wailing child straight from the arms of the nun and soundly chastising the woman for her ill care of his sister. It was quite the scandal at the time—he refused them shelter and threw them off the property. When his grandfather returned that evening he only laughed. Rumor was, it had cost Celso a hefty donation to the nun’s order back in Rome to smooth away the insult and prevent damage to their business interests in Italy.
That infant grew up to be the woman who rescued Angelo as a young child back in California. Angelica. He felt the familiar pain at losing her not long after she sent him to her brother, Con. He was nine, and it was so confusing. One minute she was taking him to spend the summer in South Carolina, the next minute, she’d arranged for him to travel alone—handed off from one flight attendant to another, all across the country.
He had never been so scared before, had never traveled away from home, had never flown on an airplane—even scarier was the man he’d never met or spoken to standing there, at the arrival gate, waiting for him. He was a giant of a man. He had thick black hair and eyes that glowed with a brown so dark they looked black. Each one of Con’s hands was large enough to hold four of his. Angelo remembered the sensation of leaning over backwards trying to get a good look at him.
Con wasn’t cruel, and he wasn’t stupid. He’d dropped to his knees in the middle of the airport in front of Angelo, sweeping him into a hug, welcoming him home. It wasn’t until years later that he realized Angelica was probably already dead by the time his plane had landed and Con was waiting for him to feel safe enough before he broke the news, almost a week later.
It seemed so strange that death seemed determined to chase down all the members of the Montefiore clan before their time. It was almost as if they were cursed; either living short lives, or lives without their chosen partners. Carlo’s mother had died in a car crash in California when he was one. At the time, doctors considered it a miracle that the little boy in the car with her had survived. They weren’t aware that the shifter genes had accelerated healing, altering a fatal injury into just a severe head trauma. Angelo hadn’t been around at the time, but he remembered Angelica telling someone about it over the phone not long before the trip East.
He paused, filling his lungs with the tangy scent of pine, fresh water, and the wild roses and magnolia currently in bloom across the property. It was a brilliant blue sky with no clouds in sight. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it. As soon as Carlo arrived they’d hash things out once and for all.
Angelo glanced through the French doors at Giorgio sitting calmly in the office, a cup of coffee balanced on his knee as he chatted with Charles and Daniel. Joshua was making his way over to him through the French doors with two cups in his hands and a friendly smile on his face.
“Nervous?” Joshua handed over a cup before settling his arms on the railing to enjoy the view.
“Nervous? No. Worried, yes.”
“Daniel only told me last night of the final stipulations in Constantine’s will.”
“Yes, they’ve been sealed pending Carlo’s twenty-fifth birthday.” He sipped the strong brew and looked around for a moment. Joshua had caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and grunted, sticking his hand in his suit jacket pocket only to pull out an assortment of sugar, artificial sweeteners, and packaged creamer. They looked a little travel worn but Angelo picked two packets of raw sugar out of the pile with a small smile.
“It’s Daniel, actually… he’s the one always looking for something sweet and always forgetting to pick it up. It’s an old habit now, all my coat pockets are filled with the stuff. Drives the cleaners batty.” Joshua turned back to the view.
“It must be nice having someone take care of you…” Angelo mused.
“Oh, it is. And it’s even nicer to take care of someone else. Every time I hand hi
m a sugar all he sees is love, and all I feel is love. It’s a great thing when such a tiny gesture can mean the world to both of us in the middle of a frenzied day.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“Though I think stealing sweeteners from all over New York and stashing it in my clothes isn’t very taxing overall. I have it pretty easy in the love department.”
“I can see that… but still, Daniel is lucky to have you.”
“Yes he is. Very lucky. But it goes both ways. He gave up a lot to be with me, and if it wasn’t for Con, we’d never be together and I’d probably be dead. And even with all of that, it’s only been a short time that we could be married in the state of New York. So I don’t take even a second I have with Daniel for granted—if it means I’m thrown out of some of the best restaurants for pilfering their supplies… so be it. It makes Daniel laugh.”
Angelo sighed. He was about to ask Joshua more about Constantine when he heard the ruckus downstairs.
Joshua raised one perfectly scaped brow. “Francesca?”
“Yes.” Angelo confirmed over his shoulder, “Sounds like our guest has arrived.” Heading back into the office he felt Joshua’s eyes on his back.
Angelo had barely reached his desk to sit, when Francesca strode into the room.
“I hope you’re finally going to do something about that insolent mutt!” Francesca’s voice was pitched higher than ever, forcing the words out through her clenched teeth.
Angelo looked around her for Carlo. Instead, Joey stood frozen in the door blocking Angelo’s view of someone else, his face a study in self-control. How Joey accomplished this with his body was beyond Angelo. When their gazes met, Joey’s blazed in fury. Angelo was actually surprised Francesca was still in one piece. No one was more fiercely loyal to Carlo than the furious man before them. They’d grown up that way, each trying to take the blame for the other, even when the truth was obvious to the least observant among the wolves.
Con had indulged them both, in a way—splitting punishments between them. He’d been asked about it once, and Con had said that you can’t buy loyalty, you have to bleed for it. Joey and Carlo had bled for each other so many times they were almost like one; he envied them their relationship.
In his own way Con had been gifting his son with his first lieutenant. Francesca was the one exception to the ‘obvious’ rule. Her blind spot with regards to Carlo was so pervasive it also blocked her understanding of Joey. She really had no idea how close she was dancing to disaster today.
“Fran—”
“Do you see how he disrespects you in front of your elders?” She seethed, sweeping her arm around the room. “Don’t you understand what message this sends to the rest of our pack? He is inviting rebellion!”
Joey pushed forward, entering the room and stepping into Francesca’s face, their noses almost touching. “Fuck you Francesca!” He spit out, his voice so in control it sent shivers up Angelo’s back. “Carlo has done nothing to any of you. He’s stayed out of all pack business—in fact, he hasn’t even left the island since his return! I didn’t see you throwing him a welcome home parade, you tattletaling bitch!”
Francesca turned bright red and lunged at Joey only to be thrown backwards by a muscular arm. Angelo didn’t recognize the blond wolf pushing between the pair.
“Damn, that’s not cool.” The man shook his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes, frowning at the woman. The thick cords of his muscled neck bunched, power radiated from him. Angelo’s wolf rose, but didn’t come out since he didn’t sense a real threat from this one. His intent smelled pure.
“Watch it! I’m your Beta, wolf!” she hissed.
The man turned to Joey, “Is she?” He turned back to Francesca. “Are you? Is she really, because I have to say she’s not very good at it.” Joey was smirking at the blond’s words, provoking Angelo’s Beta even more.
Francesca’s words were low and measured, “Your fucking little band of misfits has run loose long enough. The island is still pack territory and it’s past time that Angelo put his foot down and enforced the rules. I can’t wait for him to give me the order.”
“Francesca! That’s enough!” Angelo growled. “Wait downstairs for me.”
She didn’t move and the hairs on his neck went up. Her initial refusal to budge had Angelo gripping her arm and dragging her away from the others and into the hallway. He was open with her and she understood much of the pack—hell, she knew his deepest secret, but she didn’t know it all, and now wasn’t the time to get into it with her.
The door closed behind them cutting off the Alpha’s carefully modulated words from those left in the office. Holding onto Francesca’s arm, and taking her to the far end of the house, he asked her politely to stay. When she protested, he held up one finger and shook his head.
“I said I would deal with Carlo my way. Joey is Carlo’s and they are closer than two molecules fused at the atomic level. Even when they are separated physically, they are still together.” He turned from Francesca, leaving her fuming downstairs. Angelo took the long way, mulling over what he was going to do about Carlo. Fifteen minutes later he reentered the office, seating himself behind the desk before addressing the newcomers.
“Joey, it’s always a pleasure to see you. However, I was expecting Carlo this morning. Problem?”
Joey had the good sense to keep his neck bent and his eyes at edge of Angelo’s desk. “Um, Carlo was under the impression that you had a package for him. He was unexpectedly delayed with urgent business so he asked Ted and I to pick it up for him. He wanted to save you the inconvenience of delivering it yourself, Alpha.”
The nervous energy spilling off of Joey made Angelo want to laugh. He wouldn’t hurt him and Joey should know better than to think he would, but he was angry and he’d just put his Beta in her place—as pack Alpha, he couldn’t afford to let anyone question whether he was prepared to defend his pack or the lengths he’d go to strike out at those who threatened it. Angelo snorted. “Very nice Joey. Theater major in college? I hadn’t heard about that from your father. He must be so proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
Joey had the grace to blush, though he kept his eyes down, ignoring the chuckles coming from the other men stationed throughout the room.
“I should let Francesca have you as a chew toy. You can thank your friend here that I haven’t. Yet.” Angelo turned to Ted, finally addressing the white elephant in the room “And you are....?”
“Ted Amarok.”
“Really?” Angelo was suddenly very interested. “Where is your Pack, Ted Amarok? You don’t smell like mine.”
Joey jerked his head up and moved closer to Ted as Angelo stood before moving in front of the wolf. This was an interesting development, one Angelo hadn’t expected. Joey would defend Ted as well as Carlo. Angelo sniffed in deeply, catching a whiff of Carlo on Ted. He didn’t want anyone else to notice his disappointment, but the rumors were true. Ted was Carlo’s lover—at least it seemed that way from the scent.
“I don’t have a pack.” Ted hadn’t bent his neck or lowered his eyes in front of Angelo, and Angelo could hear Joey’s pulse rate and breathing increase. There was a stillness in the room that added to the sense of danger.
Angelo Dante was a quiet and fair man. But those that knew him best did not mistake those qualities for a lack of strength or an iron will. Angelo had faced down many a challenger in the days following Con’s death. More than one man in the room bore scars inflicted by the young Alpha.
Joey gripped the blond’s wrist. Angelo could tell that he was squeezing tight based on the way Ted’s pulse accelerated.
“I think you do, Amarok. The question here is why are you in mine? And why do you smell of the ocean?” Angelo leaned in once more, taking a deep, deliberate sniff of the man’s neck. “Don’t worry little wolf. I won’t bite. Yet.” He smiled at the man, letting his canines show. “Just know this,” he whispered in the blond’s ear, “everything that belongs to Carlo is alre
ady mine.”
Angelo moved back to perch on the edge of the desk behind him, staring at the two wolves for several long moments. The other people in the room began to breathe normally, smiles replacing the thin-lipped grimaces they’d all had seconds earlier. Joey was trying to maintain his facade of calm and failing while the other one remained still and unruffled; turquoise-blue eyes placid, a small smile curving his lips. Just this side of a challenge. Fascinating.
All this drama for nothing. Angelo sighed, reaching over and grabbing a single manila envelope off the desk before handing it to Joey.
“Take this to your master… tell him to expect my call. Tell him that the time for games is past. If he’s still as clever at putting himself first as he ever was, well… tell him to take the call.”
≈ ≈ ≈ ≈
Daniel Richards froze with his hand over his mouth, his eyes narrowed as he studied Angelo interacting with the unknown wolf. Angelo remained calm, but Daniel could smell the emotions and anger brewing beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.