The wolves stood at attention when we came outside and there were a few tense moments when everyone watched how the new comers were going to react with Diana and Jean Rene’s guard wolves. After checking each other out, and confirming everything was copasetic, it was obvious who the little darlings were there for. Josette didn’t pussyfoot around she went right over, bent down in her black leather I-don’t-fuck-around ball gown, and petted the wolves. She picked out two and stood up. With their long narrow muzzles pointed upwards and their heads cocked a little to the side, we knew they all were listening. When she was done working her magic they scattered like paper in a strong wind.
“What did you tell them,” Diana asked.
“I told them to go find friends and be back here by tomorrow morning.”
“Taking back-up tomorrow?” Jean Rene asked stepping next to his mate.
“We need all the help that we can get.”
No one argued.
The royal estate was not called a castle, for reasons I knew not. The damn thing certainly looked like one. Tan-grey brick, elaborate multi-point roof line, windows big enough to drive a car through. It was a pretty nice set up for covert werewolf American royalty.
Our cars pulled up and men stepped forward to open the doors and then stepped back when the wolves got out. We gathered in groups of two, except for Joffrey who didn’t have a date or a companion guard like Wallace and Rob. He took his place behind Josette without being asked and I would have cried again but we were in front of strangers and hell, I’m the king.
We lined up by title with Josette and I going first, followed by Joffrey, then Jean Rene and Diana and their guards, followed by the Comte and Comtess Deply, after that I had no idea. I had enough to worry about like meeting the mad man who’d killed my grandmother and Josette parents and wanted to kill me and keep my woman as a sex slave. He didn’t say it in those exact words but it’s what I took from the conversation.
We were fashionably late, an hour or so. It was suppose to be thirty minutes but the mysterious wolves’ appearance took a minute to sort out. Diana had calling cards made for everyone at a local copier shop that did a pretty good job for something done on the fly, or at least in my opinion. What did I know about calling cards? They looked like business cards to me. Diana would have preferred their house crest on the top. She told us we had to come up with one and went on about all the other tiny details most people don’t think about when you think of running a country, or ruling a people. The knickknacks instead of large furnishing; the things that made a house a home. Constantine cleared up all confusion when he whipped out a proper calling card. Thick rich paper that felt a little like cloth and a little like skin, and nothing like paper, elegant letters that appeared to roll across the paper that were raised. Okay, got it.
Joffrey leaned passed Josette to hand the guy standing at the door at attention the card and he looked at it and then at us with an are-you-shitting-me look that I fought to shrug at. He took a nice long breath because he was going to need, and I stifled a laugh because if he thought ours was bad wait until Rob handed him the Nonakris and Lycaon’s card.
“Presenting the Daughter of Geri and Freki, Nonakris of the House of the Black Warrior Clan, Ulrich of the Nuntis Clan, Marie Elizabeth Josette Dupre and Maxwell Dupre, Lycaon of the House of the Black Warrior Clan, Ulric of the Nuntis Clan and black wolf to call of the queen.”
Yeah that right. We represented baby.
Conversations stopped, heads turned, people gathered. We were escorted in by two red wolves. Behind us in the same loud voice the doorman, or greeter, or official name caller-outer yelled:
“Presenting Diana, daughter of Geri and Freki, Accalia of the Nuntis Clan, Nonakris of the House of Lycaeus, white wolf to call of Jean Rene Alphonse de Laurent, Lykos of the Nuntis Clan, Lycaon of the House of Lycaeus, wolf to call of no one.
Pause.
Wait for it...wait for it...and,
“The White Queen and the Sun Wolf”
That announcement really got people moving. When Josette and I were announced people moved around silently, coming to get a gander at the young couple to be slaughtered. When the Lycaon and Nonakris were announced, I could hear the rustle of a hundred ball gowns, gasped breaths, a few murmured words of shock and disbelief.
I didn’t know what good old Ronin’s plan had been. He hadn’t met us at the door. It felt a little like a dis, but he hot footed it right on out before the “queen,” in White Queen, was done echoing the halls of the great estate.
Thomas Ronin remembered he was the big bad wolf at this party. He squared up his shoulders, straightened his back and walked towards us with a look that I’m sure had struck fear in a lot of people. He towered over every man in our group, Wallace was the only man that looked bigger, but even he was shorter.
Black tuxedo I knew was custom only because every piece of clothing the man owned had to be. He was the size of a small car. White shirt, white vest, white tie, he looked like the ringmaster of a circus. Josette gave me an odd look and I opened myself to allow her a quick peek into my head. She had no luck biting back the smile. She raised her opera length gloved hand to cover it.
The Lycaon and Nonakris were standing beside us by the time the ringmaster reached our party. I’d missed the introduction of Constantine and Virginia, but not that of Thomas and Lillian Wolfe, Wolfe Hunters. There was some other gibberish about king’s personal guard, Odin and what not, but in a room full of werewolves the words wolf and hunters made you stand up and pay attention.
Most of the group wasn’t armed. Jean Rene said it would be tacky. Okay, Jean Rene didn’t use words like tacky, but that was the gist of the conversation. So why was Thomas? Because dammit—he was a Wolfe Hunter.
He and Lillian took their place on the other side of the people he protected. Dressed in black leather pants padded on the thighs and shins, a long sleeve black shirt and padded leather breastplate with his family crest of a wolf and two long swords, he had enough weapons on to add about twenty pounds...I exaggerate...fifteen. Guns strapped to both hips, daggers on his thighs and calves, longer ones on his forearms and a long sword on his back. Thomas Wolfe was the boogieman every young werewolf was threatened with if they were bad. Everything from pulling your sister’s hair to lying about brushing your teeth warranted the possible appearance of the infamous Wolfe Hunters.
“Welcome to my home,” Ronin said looking over the group. He’d dropped menacing when Thomas joined the group and was now going for fake polite.
“Josette, Maxwell,” he said tipping his head at the two of us before he turned to the real center of attention.
“I take it you are Alphonse Jean,” he said to Jean Rene.
“Forgive me for the deceit Freki. We simply wanted to surprise you.”
Ronin laughed. His big belly, full body laugh he’d done on the phone. It rivaled Wallace’s.
“Forgive me but all among us know that the Sun Wolf and his great White Queen are mere stories, fairy-tale at best, rumor or hearsay at worst.
Poor Ronin, I almost felt sorry for him. If he only knew.
“As I spent a great deal of my life being the very one to set my name to legend I will forgive your offense Freki. That, and the fact that I am here as an honored guest of the Ulrich and Ulric of the Black Warrior Clan, is the only reason I will not take the insult as a challenge. Your manners have been found wanting. Tread carefully Thomas Ronin, the abuse will not be tolerated a second time.”
Man. I can’t wait to talk like Jean Rene. The softly spoken words were so threatening that I saw a few people take a step back. Ronin nodded once and turned to Thomas.
If he didn’t believe the legendary king and queen of wolves were standing before him, the look on his face said he was leaning towards Thomas Wolfe was the real-deal-Holyfield.
“The legendary Wolfe Hunter,” Ronin said running his eye up and down the man. Taking stock of his size, his height, his girth, the expanse of his chest and broadness o
f his shoulders, the thickness of his arms and legs and all those magnificent weapons.
“Freki,” Thomas said in a voice that was both business polite and I’ll-fuck-you-up.
Ronin swung his big beefy head past the hunter and his eyes widened when his gaze landed on Lillian. A werewolf knows the claw mark of our kind. I bet Lillian was pretty damn tired of getting the same reaction, but she handled it with grace. She smiled that beautiful smile that made me think what all kids think of when raised by a good mother. There’s safety in her, a kind offered only in her embrace, one that can fight back your worst fears and slay the biggest dragon. She was the smallest among us but she carried her own kind of power. She and Mrs. B.
The three vertical claw marks running the length of her face, down her throat and onto her collarbone didn’t take away from her beauty, it added to it. With her pulled back hair and, open smile, she made it a part of who she was and it said she was bad-ass. She was the first person that got any real respect from our host.
“Welcome Mrs. Wolfe,” Thomas said and he bowed to her from the waist.
I would have been offended but you had to give props were props were due, and the fact that this tiny woman, a victim—no survivor—no, warrior, of a werewolf attach could walk shoulder to shoulder with werewolves into a packed house of opposing werewolves warranted the respect offered her.
“Freki,” she said and curtseyed.
The rest of the introductions were non-eventful.
It was a public challenge and therefore the ball should have had people rooting for both sides. Ronin had stacked the house in his favor. Three hundred guests and ninety-nine point nine of them were wolves from his pack. There was a sprinkling of wolves that I recognized, but they looked away when my gaze fell on them, telling me everything I needed to know in regards to whose team they were on.
We walked about nodding, but not talking because no one approached us and no one gave off approachable vibes. It would have been awkward except our party was large enough to entertain ourselves.
Our evening went more like a guided tour to Mrs. B’s tour guide. She walked us through the house giving us the history of the large estate, pointing out priceless works of art. Descriptions of the place included words like: Châteauesque, balustrade, soffit and cornice. The invading wolves may not have wanted to talk to us but, we picked up a few that followed along ear-hustling Mrs. B’s tour. Oh, they didn’t join the group like polite civilized people would do. We were tailed by the worst group of secret observers ever. When Mrs. B told one bad follower that the vase she was holding was a blue and white moonflask Ming Dynasty vase, worth one point three million dollars, the woman almost dropped it. Wallace big bellowing laugh didn’t help the shaky hand woman’s attempt to place it back on the small round table that was totally inadequate to display something worth so much.
Diana had warned Wallace to be on his best p’s and q’s, which in laymen terms meant, don’t get sloppy drunk and do something to embarrass us, but how he was throwing back drinks he looked like a man on the wrong path. I kept waiting to hear the sound of a smashing glass and then Wallace’s loud voice yell out, “Another!” Or for him to throw one of the finely dressed women over his shoulder and announce he was retiring for the night to deflower the young maiden.
We didn’t see our host for two hours. Rude...maybe. The house was big, maybe he was giving his own tour. Maybe he was upstairs cowering in a corner, rocking back and forth sucking his thumb because he’d finally realized there were bigger and badder things in this world than him and he’d just invited a few to his stolen home and challenged the biggest of them all. Yeah...a guy could hope, couldn’t he? More than likely, my best guess was he was checking out the European parts of our group.
A little past the two hour mark our host reappeared. If he’d proved or disproved anything was anyone’s guess. He was polite, smiled in the appropriate places, asked a few questions of his own to Mrs. B and complimented her on her knowledge on the history of the estate.
Three hours in Jean Rene announced we would be leaving and the Freki escorted us to the door bowing and kissing hands. He reminded us that we were welcomed at anytime tomorrow for the hunt and would be allowed to stay at the estate afterwards for the next day’s challenge. He addressed Josette as Ulrich, and me as Ulric, and we were on our happy way.
We were in fairly good spirits when we pulled turned on the long stretch of road leading to the front drive my house. When I saw the front door open it kind of killed the mood. The car went silent and the tension built as Joffrey pulled up at the porch. The lights were off and the interior dark. We left Rob, Thomas and Constantine with the women while the rest of us went to find out what had happened.
We broke into two teams with me, Joffrey and his dad going to the basement to check on my dad. Open steel door, torn bits of cloth and blood. Fresh and my dad’s. No need for CSI when you have a werewolf. I knew the smell of my father’s blood. We went back upstairs to find everyone left outside was now inside, including Diana’s five wolves that had been patrolling the house and the two red wolves Josette had picked up.
“What the hell are you doing in here!” I shouted. She was going to be the death of me...really—her, not any challenge or fight I had in her stead, but her.
She didn’t even give me the courtesy to look sorry. I’d tried brutal no-holds-barred fighting, as soon as we got upstairs I had another way I was about to make her ass submit. She’d learn to listen to me if we had to play this game every day.
Diana spoke up seeing how upset I was. “The wolves came back and told Josette that there was no one in the house.”
“What’s that Mon Lune?” Jean Rene said. The guy didn’t look the least bit upset that she’d come in the house. I guess his words were a request and not an order.
“The whole thing is staged,” Josette answered and had the nerve to roll her eyes at me.
So help me...
I was shaking I was so mad.
“Excuse me,” Constantine said.
“Mr. Dupre and Marilyn left shortly after our departure,” Diana said.
“Why didn’t they stop them, the bloody beasts?” Wallace asked giving the lot of them the evil-eye.
“Because no one told them to, they were guarding the house from people coming in not going out,” Josette said.
Oh.
There were theories on why Marilyn and my dad had staged the house before leaving. The wolves hadn’t been in the house so there was no story to be learned from them. I didn’t care about the whys; I didn’t care about my dad being gone at all. Our relationship had been built on blood, sweat and tears. Those were requirements for building a company from the ground up, not earning the love and respect of your child. No, there was no great loss with the disappearance of my father and his whore. Good riddance to bad rubbish. All I cared about was going upstairs and teaching my wife that, by God, she would follow my directions when it came to her safety.
I was a low growling mess by the time our impromptu meeting was called to an end. When I stood up my chair flew across the room and pounced off the wall.
“Josette.”
The one word command had Mr. and Mrs. B looking at each other a little nervous, but the rest of the group hid smiles beneath tucked and turned heads. Josette smelled a little of fear.
Good. About damn time.
She called her wolves and they got as far as the opening to the dining room we had all congregated in.
“Stay!” They backed right the fuck off. They may have been hers to call, but they didn’t want a part of me.
My jacket, vest and tie were saved only because I’d taken them off at some point during the meeting. Josette’s dress didn’t stand a chance.
We didn’t make it to my room. We went to the master suite on the first floor. By the time the door closed I was a seven and a half foot beast. I grabbed Josette by the arm and swung her around to face my wrath full on. She gasped a little but didn�
�t struggle. Good girl.
I could feel her call to the power that changed her form. I could read and hear her thoughts and emotions. I could calm her down when she was upset or frightened. Why couldn’t I stop her transformation? The question was—why hadn’t I thought of it before.
The power built between us thick, making it hard to breath. As hard as she called to her power, was as hard as I pushed it away. I saw her eyes widen when she figured out what I was doing. The grin of a werewolf can only be described as horrifying. I don’t think when God was thinking up the form he took happy thoughts in consideration. Josette tried to pull away from me and I grabbed her harder, pressed her into my chest with one arm while I used the claws of my free hand to rip the back of the dress to shreds. I held her away from my body and yanked the dress the rest of the way off and my knees almost gave out.
Under the dress Josette was wearing a black lace bustier, matching thong and lace top thigh eyes. She was still wearing the opera length black leather gloves and above the knee, black leather, pointed-toe, stiletto heeled boots.
My God. Have mercy on me.
I didn’t have to worry about my clothes they fell from my body like confetti at a ticker tape parade. I swung her around, pressing her back into my chest and grabbed her hair.
“Who am I Josette,” I said in a low voice.
“Max—” was as far as she got.
“Who am I Josette,” I asked again.
“Lycaon,” she said.
Better, but not what I wanted to hear.
“Who else,” I asked.
“My husband,” she said.
“Now what am I Josette? What am I to you Tehila?” I asked pulling her hair tighter.
She took in a deep breath when my arm tightened around her waist at the same time.
“My mate, my wolf to call,” she said in a whisper.
“And what are you, my love? What are you to me Josette, my lover, my queen.”
She whimpered. That’s right. The sound was the sweetest music.
“Yours,” she said in a shaky voice. I pulled her hair, pulled her head to the side, and stretched her neck so I could have full, unobstructed access to the spot I wanted.
“Mine. You are mine in all ways. And what do I do for what is mine.”
“Protect, love and die for.” she said.
My arm loosened from around her waist, I lowered my hand, I kicked her legs far apart with my feet.
“And you will do what Ulrich?”
She didn’t answer. I don’t think she was being resistant, I think she couldn’t form words. Her heart rate was off the charts, I felt it along my skin, her breathing was hard and heavy, with each panted breath she took it fueled the need to dominant her.
I filled her body, in one great thrust; stretched her to fit me in one brutal push. She cried out.
“What will you do Josette,” I said in a low voice after my evasion.
“Obey,” she said.
“Damn right.”
And then I bit the shit out of her.
Lupa (Second Edition) Page 33
