Lupo (The Immortals Book 8)

by La Porta, Monica

  “Yes, you are, and a strong one at that.” Miss Valeria laughed and pet his fur. “Your wolf is so eager to meet you, he came a few hours earlier. I wonder if that means—”

  Play? Play? Play? The wolf danced on his legs, raising and lowering his muzzle, demanding all of Lupo’s attention.

  Play! Lupo answered and relinquished the control of his body to his wolf.

  Chapter Three

  According to the clock on the wall, it was four in the morning. Down in the dungeons, time flowed either too slow or too fast. Lying on his side for four hours after a ferocious beating equaled an eternity in Lupo’s mind.

  He wasn’t uncomfortable. Yet.

  Rico hadn’t killed him. He might have, but his orders must have been to incapacitate and punish him. Tancredi wanted Lupo to suffer. In the last month alone, Lupo had been attacked more than fifteen times. Since he took residence in the dungeon, inmates approached Lupo during the mandatory hour of fresh air to try their fighting skills against the alpha prince.

  Although he kept to himself, the rumor that Quintilius was his father spread fast and the nickname was born. It seemed as if all of Regina Coeli had a beef with Quintilius and wanted to send him a message through Lupo. None of his attackers had had any luck in defeating him. Until Rico had cowardly tricked him.

  Lupo recognized the drug the werewolf had used on him as curare by the immediate paralysis that had numbed his pain receptors as well as his limbs. Depending on the percentage of the poison, he would be drooling on the floor for several hours, but as soon as the drug’s aftereffects faded, the hurt would be unbearable. Especially if he couldn’t call forth his wolf and shift to accelerate the healing process.

  Immobilized and awake, Lupo shut off reality and took refuge in his mind, where Jasmine was still alive. The love of his life. His soulmate. His impetuous were-panther who had changed his world and left it too soon.

  My love, I miss you.

  And I miss you, my handsome wolf. How was your day?

  Same old, same old.

  Are you hurt? A note of worry in her voice.

  Not at the moment.

  What happened?

  A friend from the past came to visit and left a present.

  But you’re okay?

  I will be.

  I love you.

  I love you, my sweet panther.

  Lupo talked to Jasmine every day. He knew she was a construct of his mind, but it gave him solace to hear her voice.

  “What are you doing on the floor?” The guard’s voice interrupted Lupo’s internal conversation.

  He tried to answer, but the sounds coming out of his mouth were guttural and didn’t resemble words.

  “Is that blood?” The guard opened the gate and was at Lupo’s side a heartbeat later. “What the—”

  From his position on the floor, Lupo could only see scuffed shoes and dark jeans, then the man lowered his face and came into view.

  “Are you awake?” The guard waved his hand before Lupo’s eyes.

  Lupo couldn’t blink, only stare.

  With his hand over the radio on his shoulder, the man tilted his chin and called for help.

  When the paramedics arrived with a stretcher, it took four of them to raise Lupo from the floor. Sensation was slowly coming back, and his muscles screamed in agony as he was hauled toward the infirmary.

  All the while, the guard hurried alongside, asking questions about Lupo’s health.

  Lupo couldn’t see him, but he heard the frantic note in the guard’s voice, when he said, “Someone should call his father.”

  Half an hour later, Lupo lay on the infirmary bed attached to several IVs, and despite the heavy dosage of painkillers pumped through his system, the ache in his body had reached the point where he couldn’t think straight. He called his wolf, but the animal was no more than a shadow sluggishly moving at the periphery of his mind.

  People moved around him. A few nurses, Regina Coeli’s doctor, and the guard. Their rushed movements and worried voices disrupted Lupo’s focus when he tried to rouse his wolf. Meanwhile, his senses awakened to their fullness, and Lupo hoped everyone would leave, so he could faint in peace. All the stimuli were making him worse.

  With the incoming hours, and to Lupo’s dismay, the state of agitation in the infirmary grew, until the glass door was slammed against the wall, and the scent of werewolf and angel filled the room.

  “Alpha—” The doctor, who was at Lupo’s side, taking his vitals once again, lowered his head before Quintilius, who passed the man without acknowledging him.

  “Lupo.” Quintilius brimmed with fury, but his voice was soft when he looked down.

  Finally able to interact with the rest of the world, Lupo nodded, turning a little to include Ludwig in his silent greeting.

  “Son…” A curse escaped Quintilius’s mouth after his wolf reached for Lupo’s.

  “What happened to him?” Ludwig demanded, in his voice a faint trace of Wrath that sent the nurses scampering to the four corners of the infirmary.

  “I think he was p-poisoned—” the doctor stammered.

  “You think?” Quintilius turned to the cowering man. “Didn’t you run blood tests to make sure?”

  “I—we don’t have the instruments to—” The doctor looked around, his hands on his stethoscope, grabbing at the rubber necklace. “We aren’t equipped to run those kind of tests.”

  “Our son has been poisoned and you don’t know with what?” Quintilius towered above the man.

  Had Lupo not been in pain, he would have enjoyed the exchange more, but Quintilius and Ludwig were acting like overbearing, protective parents, and that made him happy despite the situation.

  “Curare,” the doctor whispered.

  “Curare?” Ludwig stepped closer to Quintilius, caging the trembling man between them. “You are saying that one of the inmates attacked and almost killed Lupo with an illegal drug?” His feathers glowed, illuminating the doctor who paled to a spectral white. Pivoting on his heels, Ludwig faced Lupo, then walked the three steps to the bed and studied Lupo from head to toe, his stormy-gray eyes lingering over a few spots. Once he was done, he turned toward the doctor again. “And did you X-ray him? Because he has several broken bones and some internal bleeding.”

  At the statement, the man blanched, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. It was universally known that angels could scan a body as effectively as an MRI.

  In the moment of silence that followed, steps resonated into the room. Ludwig and Quintilius moved at the same time to face the newcomer, creating a united wall of muscles and barely caged testosterone.

  “Archangel, alpha,” Mr. Lantini, the were-puma warden said.

  “Lantini.” In two angry steps, Quintilius moved to the warden’s side. “I want Lupo removed from here and transported to the Tiberina Island Hospital where he can be properly treated for curare poisoning.”

  The warden sighed. “I can’t authorize that.”

  “Our son was almost killed because of your negligence.” Ludwig pointed at Lupo. “Who knows what else can happen to him here?”

  “I assure you we will investigate the matter thoroughly, and Lupo will be taken care of.” Lantini kept his back straight, even though he had to tilt his head up to look at the angel. “But I can’t release an inmate to his family just because they demand it.”

  Quintilius stepped forward, his chest expanding and his hands fisted to the side. “You promised us he would be safe. Instead, every time we visit, he has a new scar to show off.” His wolf growled, and Lantini’s puma answered in kind.

  “I understand your worry, but I won’t tolerate being disrespected.” The warden stood with his legs wide and his arms crossed over his chest.

  “He’s been beaten so much, his wolf can’t heal him fast enough,” Ludwig interjected.

  Lupo thought that he had suffered worse injuries when he was a member of the Reds, but to be defended with such passion left a heady feeling, and h
e savored the moment. He wished he could talk though to reassure Quintilius and Ludwig.

  “He is somewhat a celebrity, and that tends to draw attention from the wrong crowd.” Lantini shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “If he were anyone else’s son—”

  A roar silenced the warden. “Are you saying it’s his fault, because he is from the House of Quintilius?” Quintilius stepped before the man, his face mere centimeters from Lantini’s.

  Ludwig stood by, his wings glowing a too-bright white, while his feathers bristled in waves.

  With great effort, Lupo raised a finger, and croaked, “I’m okay.”

  From the corner, the doctor exhaled a long breath and moved closer to Lupo, while signaling to one of the nurses to come over.

  While the doctor took Lupo’s wrist in his clammy hand, Quintilius and Ludwig crowded the other side of the bed, hovering over Lupo.

  “What happened?” Quintilius asked, taking Lupo’s free hand in his and stroking it.

  “Rico.”

  At Lupo’s answer, the warden swore.

  Ludwig frowned. “Rico from the Reds?”

  Lupo nodded.

  “Tancredi is going to pay for this.” Quintilius gave Lupo’s hand a soft squeeze. “I promise.”

  Lupo tried to say something, but there was no swaying his father’s resolve.

  In the few months they had known each other, Lupo had seen how Quintilius was a man of his word. Once the most powerful alpha in all of Europe made a decision, the deed was done.

  “And you will allow my aura healer to visit Lupo now. She’s outside, waiting to be let in.” Quintilius waited for the warden’s unenthusiastic nod, then reached for his phone and sent a text.

  A few minutes later, Camelia Del Rei was escorted into the infirmary by a young guard who blushed when she disentangled her arm from his elbow, and thanked him for his help. Before she could take two steps on her own, Quintilius strode to her and offered his arm. On uncertain legs, but safely anchored to Quintilius, she reached Lupo’s bed.

  “Hi, puppy.” She smiled at him.

  Ludwig disappeared for a moment and came back with a chair for Camelia. “We’ll leave you alone.” With a motion of his hand, he ordered everyone out of the room.

  The warden raised an eyebrow, but the doctor intervened by saying, “I know of Ms. Del Rei’s healing skills.” Then the man bowed to Camelia and exited the infirmary with the nurses in tow.

  “Very well.” Looking at Quintilius, Lantini pointed at the door. “We can finish our conversation in my office.”

  “We’ll come back later.” Quintilius gave Lupo a small brush on his forehead and left with Ludwig.

  “How do you feel?” Camelia asked, sitting on the chair.

  “Been better.” Lupo wanted to return the smile, but he couldn’t.

  He had met her twice, and the she-wolf had already become one of his favorite people. She embodied the mother he had always wanted. Calm, elegant, sweet, frail and yet powerful, Camelia had conquered his affection the first time Quintilius brought her to visit Lupo in jail.

  “I bet.” She leaned toward Lupo and reached for his face.

  Her soft caress warmed Lupo, who pressed against her hand and said, “You can almost walk by yourself.”

  The last time he saw her, a few months earlier, Camelia was still using the wheelchair. If he thought he had had bad luck in life, Camelia had worse. Once Quintilius’s betrothed, she had refused to marry him, because she was in love with another man who abandoned her when she became crippled. After living with the severe handicap for more than a century, she had been attacked by vampires hired by her sister, Iris, who had been poisoning her all along to keep her on the wheelchair. The only positive aspect in her story was that Quintilius didn’t follow werewolf custom and never repudiated her, but gave her a she-alpha status in his house. To this day, she was still governing Casolare del Lupo with the blessing of both Quintilius and Ludwig.

  “The physical therapy is gruesome, but I’m getting better.” Raising the cane, Camelia pivoted on her heels. “Now, let’s heal you,” she said, caressing Lupo’s jaw.

  Lupo knew of her prowess as an aura healer, but he had never experienced such treatment and didn’t know what to expect.

  She must have read his thoughts, because she said, “I promise it will be painless.”

  In the whole paranormal world, there were only a handful of certified aura healers, and Camelia had been chosen for Quintilius because she was universally acclaimed as the best in her field.

  “Do your magic.” The muscle on his face had relaxed enough to permit him to curl his lips into a smile.

  “Open your mind,” she softly ordered.

  Her white wolf gently nudged at Lupo’s, and his wolf answered her call, not as strong as he was capable of, but enough for Lupo to notice the difference. As Camelia pressed her hand on Lupo’s jaw, her wolf cantered in the dimly lit meadow where his wolf aimlessly wandered.

  Lupo urged his wolf to meet the white wolf half-way, but he whined and lowered his big, furry head. Like Camelia, the white wolf was unsteady on her legs, and the terrain wasn’t flat, but made of valleys and ridges, and it took her several minutes before she could reach Lupo’s wolf. Then she was at his side and raised a tufted paw to his muzzle.

  Puppy.

  Whitey.

  Wanna play?

  Can’t. Hurt.

  Help you.

  Light. Pretty.

  Yes, pretty light. Heal you. Better?

  Amidst soft, golden light, Lupo’s body was engulfed by pleasant warmness that relaxed his muscles. The heaviness weighing him down was lifted, and he breathed in a long gulp of air. At the same time, his wolf roared and shook his fur, as if getting rid of the poison. As his wolf regained his strength, the white one collapsed to the grass.

  Whitey?

  Only tired.

  Guard you.

  Yes.

  “Camelia?” Despite the pain still riding him inside and out, Lupo felt much better, but Camelia had fainted. “Camelia—”

  She roused at his touch. “The light—” Opening her eyes wide, she gazed at him with a perplexed frown. “You are not alone…” Her voice trailed at the end, then she shuddered and added, “Call Quintilius, he knows what to do.”

  Lupo pushed the help button, and a moment later both the doctor and a nurse appeared at the door. Quintilius arrived soon after and commandeered a bed for Camelia to rest.

  “What’s happened?” Lupo asked as soon as Quintilius sat on the vacated chair.

  “Aura healing takes a toll on her. She needs a moment to regain her strength. How do you feel?”

  “Better.” Lupo shored his weight on his elbows and sat, only to wince at the stabbing pain in his side.

  “Easy, son.” Quintilius rearranged the pillow behind Lupo’s back to help him in a straight position.

  In moments like these, when his father fussed over him, Lupo thought that he was lucky they had found each other, despite the pain and suffering he’d had to endure.

  Chapter Four

  The air was crisp, a perfect October morning framed by a cloudless sky. Outside, the trees were covered in red and brown, but Lupo could only imagine the autumn scenery beyond Regina Coeli’s walls.

  The internal courtyard was filled with activity. Two teams of rowdy inmates played a game of soccer, while the rest watched from the perimeter. The sounds of thin soles hitting the concrete floor was accompanied by crude swearing.

  Like any shifter born and raised in Rome, Lupo loved a good game of soccer, but he never asked to play. Two weeks after Rico’s attack, people treated Lupo as if he had the plague. If before they had used him like a punching bag, now they avoided him at all costs. As a result, he stood all by himself, leaning against the wall, soaking in sunrays and filling his lungs with fresh air before he had to go back to his musty cell.

  “You don’t like people much, do you, wolf?” A were-puma asked him.

  With his ey
es on the sky, Lupo had sensed the shifter walking his way, but he was still surprised when he approached him. Lowering his eyes, Lupo shrugged at a tall and muscular were-puma around his age.

  The were-puma gave his back to the game. “You are Lupo Solis, Quintilius’s kid.”

  Lupo let his wolf warn the newcomer with a growl. “What do you want?”

  The were-puma laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Not here to pick a fight.”

  “Then get lost.” Lupo pushed himself away from the wall, and turned to face the shifter, ready to preemptively strike to nip the incoming attack in the bud.

  The were-puma read Lupo’s intentions and stepped back. “I just wanted to chat. We have a friend in common—”

  “Who?” Lupo could call only a few people friends, and among them Rock, his big brother. With a pang, he realized he hadn’t seen Rock since he visited Lupo in the hospital a lifetime ago.

  “Raphael Letta.”

  His other friend, the one who got away from the Reds and was finally living his happily ever-after. “You’re friends with Raphael?”

  “He’s friends with my boyfriend.”

  “And you are?”

  “Paride Amati.” The shifter reached out his hand, and Lupo took it for a vigorous shake.

  “What are you here for?” Lupo asked.

  “I was charged with one count of infant kidnapping,” Paride answered, his face an expressionless mask.

  “Did you?”

  “No, I didn’t, but it doesn’t matter, because the ones who framed me are powerful, and I don’t have the money to hire a good lawyer.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Big time. What are you here for?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard rumors.”

  “I did.”

  “What do they say?”

  Paride hesitated, then said, “That you killed your fiancée.”

  “That’s true.”

  “You killed your fiancée.” Paride’s face expressed his revulsion more than anything he could have said.

  “She’s dead because of me.”

  “But you didn’t want to kill her.”