by Noah Harris
For the Love of a Friend
Dante and Apollo
A Family Secrets series story
NOAH HARRIS
NOAH HARRIS
Published by Books Unite People LLC, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 by Noah Harris
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. All resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Editing by: Jo Bird
Beta Reading: Melissa R
Table of contents.
Chapter 1 – Dante
Chapter 2 – Apollo
Chapter 3 – Dante
Chapter 4 – Apollo
Chapter 5 – Dante
Chapter 6 – Apollo
Chapter 7 – Dante
Chapter 8 – Apollo
Chapter 9 – Dante
Chapter 10 – Apollo
Chapter 11 – Dante
Chapter 12 – Apollo
Chapter 13 – Dante
Chapter 14 – Apollo
Epilogue
About the author
Chapter 1 – Dante
~~*~~
“Damn it all.”
Pain lanced up his side, forcing Dante to stumble away. He’d been expecting a blow to his middle, and his poor concentration had cost him another bruise. Sure, it would heal in no time; fast healing was just one of the benefits of being a werewolf.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
Kat bounced from one foot to the other, chuckling. “Am I being a little too rough on you? I can take you down to the lessons I hold for the pups.”
Dante’s fingers at his side tightened into a fist. “Don’t start with me, Kat. I didn’t ask you to help me just so you could give me shit.”
“If you didn’t want to be given shit, you shouldn’t have asked me to help you train.”
It was true, and Dante had considered asking Mikael to help him instead. But, when it came to combat training, it was Katarina everyone went to. It usually meant you got your ass handed to you by the end of each training session, but Dante had yet to meet anyone who hadn’t greatly improved after a handful of rounds with her. But at least with Mikael, he wouldn’t have had to endure quite as many snarky comments.
“Your brother is currently wrapped tight around Dean,” Dante told her.
Kat laughed. “Well, of course, he is. I would have thought you’d be used to that by now; it’s just how mates are.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “A little scar on Dean’s shoulder shouldn’t mean they have to be almost literally attached at the hip. Seriously, they’re like bunnies.”
“You do realize they’re not always screwing, right? I’ve never caught them in the act, only you and Apollo seem to have that luck, and then only because Apollo lived with them.”
“And I’m just fucking gifted,” Dante grumbled.
Kat shrugged. “I’ll take Mikael as he is now, rather than the quiet grump he was before.”
Despite his complaints, even Dante had to admit Mikael was considerably happier now than he’d ever been. As much of a pain in the ass as Dean could sometimes be, he had awoken something in Mikael in the time since they’d started seeing one another. Once, Dante might have thought Mikael had forgotten how to laugh, and now it seemed like all the guy did was grin like an idiot. It would be nice if it weren’t so damned sappy.
Kat’s grin widened. “Having two of you grumps stomping around was starting to become too much.”
“I’m not a grump,” Dante growled.
“Yes, you’re right. You are just a dazzling ray of sunlight. Everywhere you go, you completely light up the room with your sunny disposition.”
“Don’t hurt yourself with all that sarcasm,” Dante warned her.
“Pretty sure you’re the only one who needs to be worried about getting hurt. Well, that is, unless you’re tired of getting your ass kicked and you just wanna stand around and gossip all day,” Kat said, head canting to one side as she waited.
Dante smirked. “Sure, we can talk about boys and our love lives while we’re at it. All the best gossip, just for you.”
Kat looked unimpressed. “If we talked about the guys you’ve been with, we’d be here all day. And another one if we brought in the women.”
Dante snorted, taking a ready stance. “Then let’s cut out the chit-chat and get on with what we’re here for.”
Kat darted forward, her fist driving toward Dante’s middle. Dante twisted, batting it away and lashing out at her leg. He wasn’t surprised when she managed to push away, dancing just out of reach but only barely.
“About time you focused more,” Kat said, sounding a little impressed.
It was Dante’s turn to push forward, bringing his shoulder up and preparing to charge through her. When Kat turned, preparing to move out of the way, Dante pivoted, shoving his weight in the direction she’d moved. Despite Kat’s superior skill and considerable strength, Dante’s bulk was greater, and he bowled right past her, sending her stumbling away.
Without losing his momentum, Dante turned, bringing his foot up and driving it into her gut. He felt the muscles of her stomach contract, taking the worst of the force and spreading it across her midsection. Kat’s hands slammed down over his calf, gripping hard and shoving him away, attempting to make him stumble. Rather than going down easily, however, Dante used the momentum to spin back around, shoving his foot into the ground and moving back into range once more.
Dante looped beneath her next blow, moving with the same speed and dexterity he used to chase down his prey. When focused on the job at hand, Dante prided himself on how light on his feet he was, and how frustratingly nimble he could be in a fight. It had marked him as a capable tracker and an equally adept hunter.
Spinning around Kat, Dante prepared to counter with a kick to her side. His eyes stuttered away from her at a flash of movement just over her shoulder. All thought and decision making was wiped from his mind as he realized he was looking at Apollo.
The quiet werewolf was making his way from the direction of the nearby river; his body still glistening from the cool water as it ran down his bare chest. Apollo’s presence was usually unobtrusive, and Dante bet no one else would have paid Apollo the slightest bit of attention. It was, Dante knew, exactly how Apollo preferred it, having always been more comfortable in the backseat, allowing others to take the wheel.
Apollo wore only a loose pair of shorts, wet in places from the water on Apollo’s skin and clinging to him. Dante’s eyes were drawn to the dark-hair covered skin, tanned from hours spent in the sun, and tight over shifting muscles. Apollo wasn’t huge, but just like his personality, his body exuded a quiet sort of strength.
Pain lanced up the side of his head, and Dante’s knees gave out beneath him, pitching him backward. His breath left his lungs as he slammed into the ground, unable to make even the slightest groan. Katarina’s blow had been true and hard, and Dante was left lying there, staring up at the sky, dully trying to reconstruct what had happened.
Kat gaped down at him, her leg still extended into the air where it had frozen after hitting him. Dante’s vision slowly reduced from triple to double, and he found he could move. Air found its way into his lungs once more, and he let out a low groan to signify he was still alive and well.
Kat withdrew her leg, still gaping. “Holy shit.”
It was what Dante would have said if he could have found sufficient breath to
speak. Instead, all he managed was another low groan, flinging his arm to one side as he struggled to roll over. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d taken a blow from Kat, but it didn’t make it any easier.
That woman could hit.
“What the hell happened?” Kat demanded.
“What?” Dante asked stupidly.
“You should have seen that coming a mile away and, oh, I don’t know, got out of the way, blocked it, parried it? Anything but stand there and take it to the side of the head like a lump!”
“I think I’m gonna have a lump,” Dante grunted, pushing himself to his knees.
“One you’re going to have earned. Shit Dante, there’s no reason you shouldn’t have been able to get out of the way of that, you had the advantage. What happened?” Kat asked.
Dante rubbed the side of his head, thinking it was what always happened. Something important was happening, and he just had to go and let himself slip and screw things up. Dante was fairly sure that was the story of his life, and someone should just mark it down on his tombstone and call it good.
When his vision finally cleared enough to see further than just a few feet in front of him, Dante cast his eyes around, searching for Apollo’s familiar face. The training area was empty, save for Dante and Katarina. It seemed his friend either decided he didn’t want to be under Kat’s crosshairs by remaining in sight or had simply acknowledged that training with Kat was going to come with its fair share of bruises.
Kat bent down so she could look into Dante’s face, brow furrowed. “Dante? You okay?”
Dante shook himself, turning his attention back to his cousin’s concerned features. They weren’t technically related, as Dante had been an outsider when he’d been brought into the pack at The Grove. Dante wasn’t related by blood to any member of The Grove, but at least he could say he’d never been treated as anything but family.
Dante rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah, I’m good, you just…hit like a truck.”
“How many trucks have you been hit by?” Kat asked.
Groaning once more, Dante pushed himself to his feet. He would have thought with all the knocks he’d taken over the years he’d be used to a few head wounds. It still took him several seconds to stand steadily on his feet, shaking his head gently as he tried to clear his vision completely of the stars.
“Let’s just call it a day,” Kat suggested, her hand hovering as though to take his arm.
Dante pulled his arm away, shaking his head. “I’m fine, nothing I haven’t been through before.”
“Yeah, well I’m not going to go and have you get seriously injured in a sparring match. I don’t know where your head is at, but it’s obviously not on training,” Kat said, drawing her hand back to cross over the other across her chest.
His head had been distracted by the sight of Dante’s longest-lived fantasy strolling by casually with little regard to how off-putting he was. Dante cursed himself inwardly, chiding himself for his lack of control. While it wasn’t the first time in his life that the sight of Apollo had caught him off guard, he’d become quite skilled at keeping his thoughts, the shifting, aching emotions in his gut from distracting him. Despite the practice over the years, it still bothered him that even the sight of Apollo could tear his common sense away from him so easily.
Dante shrugged. “Just made a mistake, shit happens.”
Kat shook her head, sighing. “One of these days, Dante, you’re going to have to tell someone what’s going on in that head of yours. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re in a pack, a family. You don’t have to be macho and deal with everything yourself.”
Dante frowned. “Who said I was dealing with anything?”
Kat rolled her eyes, turning away. “Fine, be stubborn. But don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”
He didn’t consider for a moment telling Kat anything as she walked off. Dante had never so much as hinted to anyone what he felt for Apollo all these years. Not even from the first moment, when he’d been just an awkward, gangly teenager, and he’d witnessed Apollo, shirtless, sweaty, and wrestling around with Artemis as they were trained under the watchful eye of the then battlemaster.
He was all too aware of how lucky he was, as a former lost pup, to have a pack of his own, and a family to back him up. Dante knew himself well, how difficult and unlikeable he was, and he considered himself graced by some distant deity to have a friend as true, loyal, and kind as Apollo.
Dante wasn’t about to go screwing that up by proclaiming his worthless feelings to his first and best friend, a man who deserved so much better.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dante grumbled.
Chapter 2 – Apollo
~~*~~
Watching silently, Apollo smiled as the children of the pack ran, leaped, and flung themselves about in their latest game. He wasn’t quite sure what the aim of the game was, but it soothed him to watch them as they cavorted, screaming with laughter as they tumbled to the ground.
One of them, a boy with a flyaway mop of black hair, looked up from the ground to Apollo and waved vigorously. From his spot beneath the shade of his favorite maple tree at the edge of the clearing that served as The Grove, Apollo waved back. He was neither surprised nor offended when the boy immediately turned back to his playmates, tackling a larger boy to the ground without so much as a moment of hesitation.
Apollo turned his attention back to the pad of paper lying carefully on his crossed legs. Fiddling with the small pencil between his fingers, he considered how to continue. His dark eyes swept over the page for a moment longer, before he pressed the graphite tip to the paper. The sound of the scratching pencil was drowned out by another set of squeals, and Apollo smiled distantly as the lines on the page came together with each stroke he made.
“I haven’t seen you do this in quite some time.”
Lucille’s soft voice brought Apollo’s head up, swiveling around slowly as he tried to find her. The diminutive woman was perched beside a bench near a patch of flowers. Her attention wasn’t on him, but on the yellow and white flowers, her fingers dancing among the petals as she scrutinized them carefully.
Apollo looked out on the playing children. “I find their joy soothing.”
Lucille laughed softly. “And how many people know that the ever-quiet Apollo enjoys being surrounded by the din of others?”
Apollo shrugged lightly, not really sure who might know. Anyone who watched him close enough would know he had a habit of surrounding himself with others, even if he kept himself off to one side in an unoccupied corner. Artemis had known of course, but as his twin, she knew the inside workings of his mind and heart better than perhaps even he did.
Lucille held one of the flowers carefully in her hand, picking it daintily. “And I meant the drawing. I haven’t seen you pick a pencil up in quite some time.”
Apollo smiled knowingly, appreciating her tact but thinking it wasn’t necessary. The last time anyone had seen him draw had been the day Artemis died. Apollo flipped the page of his sketch pad back, looking down at the drawing he’d left unfinished from that fateful morning. It had been one of his many failed attempts at drawing a landscape, and it still stung that he had unconsciously chosen the very meadow where Artemis had met her death.
“I suppose it has been long enough,” Apollo said softly.
Lucille cocked her head. “Found the spark again?”
Apollo fell silent, watching Lucille as she busied herself with the flowers once more. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but considering how often people were confused by her, he didn’t think he was alone in that. Lucille was one of the strangest people Apollo had ever known, and despite having grown up alongside her, he still knew very little about the woman. He shared that with her, as many people professed being puzzled by him.
Finally, Apollo smiled. “I found something that caught my eye. I considered letting it pass, but then I heard her in my head, chiding
me.”
Lucille smiled at that. “Artemis was never one to simply chide.”
Apollo chuckled. “No, she would have given me an earful and forced me to sit down and draw what I’d seen. She never could quite get the grasp of drawing, and always wanted to see what I could create.”
“Living vicariously through her twin’s talents,” Lucille said.
“She could sing like an angel,” Apollo added.
“When you could convince her to.”
It had been one of the stranger things about his sister. She had positively radiated confidence and strength, willing to face down any problem and rush into any fight without hesitation. Yet, when it came to the gift of voice that she’d been given, she so rarely used it. Very few people were aware that Artemis had been self-conscious about singing. Not because she’d thought herself bad, but the idea of being on display as she showcased her emotions through song left her feeling vulnerable.
“She had her own way of doing things,” Apollo said, not wishing to betray his twin’s innermost feelings.
“Until the very end,” Lucille agreed
Apollo nodded, bringing his attention back to the old, half-finished drawing of the meadow. He had run all the alternate possibilities of the night Artemis died through his head hundreds of times. Perhaps if they’d been faster in getting to her and Dean, or maybe if they’d recognized the threat the tainted shaman Nox had represented. Any number of things which might have helped to keep his sister alive.
All that restless thinking had been for nothing. In the end, his twin had died, protecting Dean to her very last breath. It was exactly the sort of thing Apollo would have expected from Artemis, defending someone she cared about. Apollo could only hope Dean had finally found peace with himself and had stopped carrying the guilt of that moment with him. Apollo would forever mourn the loss of his sister deep within him, but he would never blame anyone but the now dead Nox for her death.
