Prodigal Wolf

by L E Franks

  “Thank you all for coming to welcome Carlo home now that he’s finally an educated man, and to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday pack style!!!” There were shouts and howls and raucous laughter to punctuate Joey’s speech. It was so loud that when Sebastian and Carmine sidled up on either side of him, Carlo was completely caught off guard as they hoisted him up next to Joey. Joey wrapped an arm around his waist, grinning like a fool.

  “Wait, wait!” Joey laughed when the two wolves grabbed his legs out from under him yanking him down. Carlo grabbed Joey’s shoulders as he went down, but almost immediately he found himself alone, the center of attention once more.

  “Um, thank you. Thank you Joey. I don’t know how you managed to fit almost the entire pack into the beach house without me noticing. I can’t tell you how great it is seeing you all again…” he trailed off, embarrassed and a little upset.

  “I think I can speak for the entire pack Carlo when I say we’ve missed you the past four years.” Angelo didn’t need to stand on a bench to command the attention of the men and women around him. His power as Alpha rolled off him in seductive waves. His eyes appeared to glow—Carlo supposed it was a trick of the weakening light. Twilight was falling fast and Jeanette had a pair of adolescent wolves lighting the citronella torches placed around the patio walls. She hovered at the french doors, fixated on the Alpha.

  Angelo approached the table where Carlo stood, his gaze never leaving Carlo’s. The crowd parted like a rolling wave, stepping out of his way then closing ranks behind him. When Angelo was only a foot away, his face broke into a sweet smile, tugging like fuckin’ hell at Carlo. He felt like an utter ass, standing on the bench while Angelo looked at him from below.

  “Most of you know that Carlo’s father, Constantine, dreamed of watching Carlo walk across the stage at Pepperdine to accept his diploma.” No one spoke as Angelo talked, every head was swiveled toward Angelo, even the children. “It was a place that always held special meaning for Carlo’s mother and him. And even though neither of them could be there in body, they were there in spirit. They would be very proud of you, Carlo, like we all are. Welcome home and happy birthday.”

  The whistles and clapping were more restrained in the presence of their Alpha, but the affection came screaming through to Carlo, forcing a lump in his throat. Angelo remained fixed in his spot, presenting him with a box, wrapped in silver paper with a black silk bow.

  Carlo refused to take it. He shook his head and jumped down to face Angelo. It was a mistake. Face to face, only inches apart, Carlo realized that he’d gained height on Angelo since California—able to look into his eyes without looking up.

  Angelo gripped his bicep through his linen shirt. He leaned in, whispering, “Take it. Don’t worry it’s nothing distasteful like a present from me...” Anglo stepped back, his voice rising, “… just, this was in the safe. There’s a note tucked inside. The wrapping was Jeannette of course, I can barely use a gift bag…but the gift itself is from your father.”

  Little gasps filtered through the crowd followed by silence spreading like ripples in a pond after a stone had been tossed into the water. Carlo felt a little like that metaphorical stone right now, drowning in the sea of his pack. He took the box, feeling the weight in his palm. It was about the size of a cigar box, maybe slightly smaller. He lifted it to his nose to sniff and Angelo snorted next to him.

  “Oh for fu—” Jeanette’s expletive was muffled by Carmine’s giant hand and he tilted his head to indicate the twins, staring raptly at their parents from perches atop Joey and Ted. “Just open it,” she finished, prying the hand off her face.

  The first thing to go was the bow. He slipped it off the end before tossing it to Meegan with a wink. The little girl shrieked in delight. Carlo considered the box, turning it over in his hands until Joshua stepped into the light and handed him a tiny pocketknife with a mother of pearl handle. Carlo barked out a laugh. “Couldn’t Daniel find you anything bigger, or is he afraid you’ll hurt yourself Joshua?”

  “Laugh all you want, Carlo—that came to me from my great grandmother. She used it to stab a cutpurse in the neck when she lived in England. It’s very lucky. I never go anywhere without it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about my husband, Carlo—Josh has a great deal of experience handling a much much larger blade at home!” Daniel slipped next to Joshua, dragging him under an arm with a kiss on his cheek.

  Carlo snorted. “God I hope so. Otherwise he’d have tossed you aside for another man long ago!”

  Still laughing he slipped the razor sharp blade under the tape at both ends before attacking the middle, letting the paper fall to the ground before returning the knife. He turned to smirk at Jeanette who was rolling her eyes in frustration at the delays.

  “What’s the matter Jen? I don’t remember you being this antsy about a present before… besides don’t you know what’s in it?”

  “No! Oh, you’ll see—hurry and open it up, it’s getting past my bedtime!” she wailed.

  “It’s only a little after eight!” Carlo protested.

  “Just wait until you have cubs. You’re going to be one of the walking dead, too! I can’t wait. Payback will be sweet my friend!” Jeanette laughed and waved him along. “Hurry up. Open it!”

  The box itself wasn’t anything special, just a white cardboard box with a lid. Jeanette hadn’t bothered to tape it down and Carlo was glad—he’d hate for Joshua to offer that puny blade again. He lifted the lid. There, wrapped in a piece of black velvet, lay a smaller box made of the same cypress wood found throughout the Pack House.

  He lifted it out, running his fingers over the silky wood grain. Sniffing it, the scent of beeswax and earth and wood floated through his senses, with a harsh metallic chaser. Constantine. Angelo moved closer. He now had a fine gold chain looped over the fingers of his right hand. The chain itself looked long enough to fit over the head, but dangling off the chain was a small gold key. It looked like a miniature skeleton key, about the length of a ballpoint pen cap.

  “Read the note, Carlo,” Angelo reminded him, holding the key just out of his reach.

  It was just a simple sheet of stationary with his father’s initials embossed in the lower left hand corner. It had been folded in half, and then in half again. He stared at the handwriting, memories from his past hitting him hard. With his forefinger he touched the first word. Just three little lines:

  This has been passed from father to son since the beginning of our family. It belongs to you now. I love you, Carlo. C.

  Carlo looked up, his gaze catching Angelo’s. The note would have been enough, a connection to his father. He handed the note back to Angelo, finally taking the key from him. It fit the lock perfectly, the mechanism silky smooth. Inside the box was a ring box covered in purple velvet, the color of the pack. It was simple really, but the significance strong. He hesitated before opening the box, his thumb resting on the gold band around the middle before prying it open. A heavy gold signet ring bearing the Montefiore coat of arms, and the family seal, was perched perfectly in the white satin folds of the box.

  Angelo stepped close and gazed over his shoulder into the box. “It’s fifteenth century. That’s what Charles says. He was around when Con received it from his grandfather. It skipped Celso all together.”

  Carlo admired the ring a moment longer. The enameling looked like it was brand new, not five hundred years old. Reverently he closed the ring box and placed it back in the wood case. He took the key and turned the lock, securing the case. Without a word he slipped the key chain over his head, tucking the key under his shirt.

  “Lock it up again, please Angelo.” That smile was back and the man tipped his head at him, ever so slightly tucking the box into the pocket of his suit. Carlo waited for him to turn away before he slipped into the crowd and out into the night. It was time for a little air.

  Carlo walked out onto the beach, his thoughts on his father. He remembered the key on the chain around his father’s neck. The h
andwriting had been so familiar too. Memories of his past were chasing him here and he couldn’t get away. The beach was empty and the tide high, breaking against the wrack that had washed up on the sand a few weeks ago. A huge tree branch rode the waves in and would probably be stuck on the beach for months, maybe years, bleaching in the sun as it rotted away. Is that what was to become of him? An old relic, weathered and worn but totally useless, trapped with no hope of escape?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Seb could see how agitated the man was. Carlo would pace a narrow track just above the high water mark before pausing to stare out into the distant horizon. The sun had set and twilight was quickly being chased from the sky by an inky blanket shot through with the first planets of the night. Sebastian watched Carlo make one more pass and decided they’d both had enough.

  “Carlo,” he called, drawing the younger man to a halt. Carlo turned, facing him silently, his face wiped of all expression. Seb squared his shoulders and continued, “I need to speak to you.”

  Carlo sneered. “How is it, that wherever I go to find a little solitude, I end up sharing it with you?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.” Sebastian turned back to staring out over the ocean. They were silent for a few minutes, the pounding of the surf keeping time for them.

  Seb’s role was to stand next to the Montefiore Alpha, to protect him from threats both physical and political. Carlo Montefiore was proving to be a wrinkle in his plans to secure the family. By all rights the man would already be under his protection instead of running around on his own, stirring up trouble, leaving himself vulnerable and distracting Angelo from his duties. The dissension that rose among Angelo, Francesca, and himself whenever Carlo’s name was mentioned couldn’t be allowed to continue. One word from Seb set Francesca off whenever the situation with their errant wolf was discussed, which in turn sent Angelo into an aggressively defensive position. No matter how painful, Angelo refused to press the issue with Carlo, even though he could simply use his position as Alpha to force the younger man to submit.

  The safety of the Montefiore family members was Seb’s first priority while the rest of the pack came a distant second; Francesca’s primary responsibility was the wellbeing of the entire pack, including those who ran it. It was a subtle difference, but Angelo, Francesca, and he used these subtleties to their advantage. For Francesca it meant that she played more of an administrative role in the running of the pack. She had the authority to move pack members around on the giant chessboard they called her brain, and she was very good at it—with one exception. Carlo. She’d always had blinders on where he was concerned.

  “Well?” Carlo moved closer to stand next to him, mirroring his position looking out to sea. The onshore breeze had picked up, ruffling his hair and filling his nose with the tang of salt and wolf. Seb waited another few ticks of the invisible clock that had been counting down the minutes until they had this confrontation.

  “Tell me about Ted?” he finally asked, glancing over at Carlo. There was a flash of surprise and a narrowing of his brows.

  “Oh, I see. For a second I thought you’d come here as my friend, checking on my welfare, making sure I didn’t drown myself before they served me cake and a life sentence on a silver platter.” He huffed and turned back to gaze at the water.

  “When I walked into Alpha’s office yesterday only to find a strange wolf playing house with members of my pack; breaching protocols that have stood for hundreds of years, keeping everyone safe, then no, I don’t have the luxury of just being your friend. Pack safety comes first. And as my friend, I think you’d have remembered that and called me privately when you first returned, to avoid all of this.” Sebastian swept his arm to indicate the beach house and gathered wolves.

  “So, what? You’re here now as the enforcer to get rid of Angelo’s little problem?” Carlo snarled turning away to stare back at his home in the distance. With the torches lit the party was easy to spot. Between gusts of wind you could hear the music and laughter as the party continued on without them.

  “Tell me about him.” Sebastian placed a gentle hand on Carlo’s back, turning him around so they were face to face.

  “Why? You’re here to run him off. I don’t know why you’re persisting with this farce. Just know that I won’t stay in a pack where my family isn’t welcome. And to be clear—Ted is family.” Carlo’s expression was fierce, causing Sebastian to consider his next words carefully.

  “He’s your family? What exactly does that mean? What’s your relationship with this wolf, Carlo?” Sebastian felt a rising urgency to get to the bottom of this potential threat. Family could mean anything, up to and including marriage – since they’d both been in California during the brief period it was legal. A marriage trumped everything and would stand the pack on its ear. Seb wasn’t sure the rest of the pack was ready for a gay alpha.

  Carlo shrugged off Seb’s concern, “Ted’s my family, my pack. He belongs to me and if he’s not welcome, then I guess my time with the Montefiore pack is over. I don’t really care what you think you need to know. My relationship with Ted is private. I’d like you to trust me that he’s no threat to you or anyone else in this pack. He’s a simple man, what you see is what you get.”

  “I think, this time, you’re wrong Carlo. There is something more here. I can smell it and I can taste it. I’m never wrong about these things, though it’s possible that he’s fooled you. He’s a beautiful man, I can see the attraction—”

  Carlo rounded on him, shoving with both hands until Seb stepped back into the surf, soaking his feet. “You fuckin’ bastard! You think so little of me, that I’d throw away everything I know about being a wolf… being a Montefiore wolf and just let some pretty face fuck me into stupidity? Talk me into moving him across the country so he can… what? Steal from me? Kill me? What? What do you think he’s doing here? Obviously my friendship alone isn’t enough to make someone live with me. So, I’m either a brainless toy bending over for him, or he’s some great con artist, lying his way into the pack with criminal intentions. You’re ridiculous, Seb! Dear God! If you’re the best Angelo has to offer, then I’m sorry for you all.” Carlo was furious and panting, hands on his hips and eyes blazing.

  Fuck. Sebastian hadn’t intended to go down this road with Carlo. His temper was always legendary and it didn’t seem to have improved with age.

  “You need to calm down.” Seb used his enforcer ‘tone’ which only made Carlo snort.

  “Really? Look. I do understand that you have certain protocols in place. You need to check your damn boxes so that at the end of the year you can qualify for your bonus. Well guess what? I. Don’t. Care. Ted has been my friend for four years and my roommate for three. He doesn’t need my money—he doesn’t even need Angelo’s. He just didn’t want to be left behind because he’s family, he’s already lost his own and he didn’t want to lose another. I realize that you may not understand how that feels, but I for one, do. It hurts Sebastian. When they put a knife in your back, it bloody fuckin’ hurts. I won’t do to Ted what Angelo did to me. I will not throw him to the wolves!” Carlo stomped off over the loose sand, trying to put as much distance as possible between them as he headed back towards the house.

  Fuck me. That could have gone better. Seb slowly walked back to the party. He’d just reached the side of the house when a blond figure slipped through the gate to face him. Ted stood with his arms loosely folded across his chest, the illusion of peace settling over him like a shroud. He stared at Sebastian, his gaze a hair’s breadth shy of overt challenge to Seb’s authority, but with enough attitude sizzling around him to communicate clearly what the smaller wolf thought of him.

  “I wish you had just come to me. I have nothing to hide.” He looked Seb straight in the eyes, unblinking until Seb found himself looking away. It was unnerving and his wolf stirred inside. Ted continued, “Carlo has made the three of us into his own mini pack. He may not realize what he’s done—but his wolf has, my wolf has, and even Joey’s
wolf has. He was broken when I met him on the beach in Malibu. All you’ve accomplished tonight is to push Carlo further away from you…”

  “You’d like that!” Sebastian interrupted the smaller wolf.

  The blond snorted in derision. “I want what’s best for Carlo—I always have.”

  “But?” Seb prompted.

  “But? There is nothing after. My interest lies solely in seeing Carlo happy. I came out East with him hoping he’d be better once he came home, but I see it’s not the place that will heal him.” Ted trailed off thoughtfully.

  “Let’s assume that all that is true, tell me who you are. Tell me where you come from and who your people are. Show me that all my worries about you are unfounded.”

  “But they’re not unfounded, Enforcer. I am a dangerous wolf. But not to the men living in this house.”