Prodigal Wolf

by L E Franks

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Seb stepped closer.

  “Not my problem.” Ted smiled sweetly, not moving back, frustrating Sebastian.

  “Then just tell me, what are you doing here in South Carolina, besides playing watchdog to our wayward Montefiore wolf?”

  “Me, I’m just a simple student, looking to make my way in the world, and I happened to land in your backyard. Is that such a terrible thing?”

  “On the surface, no. But we both know that you’re anything but simple. Tell me, do you love him?”

  “Who? Carlo?” Ted barked out a laugh and leaned closer, giving him a little sniff. The smile broadened on Ted’s face and the restlessness from Seb’s wolf was back. “I don’t think I’ll answer that Enforcer. I don’t think you’ve earned the right to know what’s in my heart. If you want to know anything else about our relationship, I suggest you ask Carlo.” Ted paused and stared deeply into his eyes. Seb wondered what he saw there because the next second he smirked and continued, “Oh. I see. You did ask. No wonder you’re all worked up.”

  Seb sidestepped the man to open the gate when Ted stopped him, covering his hand with his own. A shiver ran up Seb’s spine as Ted leaned into him once more and whispered in his ear, “Feel free to go back to sniffing up the backside of your Alpha, and leave me to mine. I won’t let anyone hurt Carlo—not even me. Never again. And not your perfect Alpha.” Ted turned away leaving Sebastian speechless. Before the other wolf disappeared through the gate he’d opened himself, he threw over his shoulder, “Amarok. From Ketchikan”

  “What?” Sebastian was baffled.

  “My name and my home. The rest is up to you.” Ted disappeared leaving Sebastian with a phone now in his hand.

  ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

  By nine-thirty the pack members with children filtered home, leaving about fifteen wolves ready to party. Ted had found a stash of industrial-sized spirits and was turning the kitchen counter into a makeshift bar, complete with cut fruit and mixers. Joey beamed and felt like a million bucks when he found another bottle of Carlo’s good whiskey. He poured a glass and settled in for some fun. The younger wolves had pushed the kitchen table to the side and had set up a game of caps. Carmine was trying to explain the rules to one barely legal team, having just returned from dropping off his family. Carlo had given him no end of shit about it, but Carmine just grinned and said he now owed Jen a girl’s night out to be named later. The excuse seemed to satisfy Carlo and he slapped Carmine on the back, grabbing a fresh drink and returning to the larger group lingering around the fire pits.

  Carmine plopped down next to Joey on the floor—leaning against the Italian leather couch to watch the game in progress. For wolves, they had shitty aim. No one had taken a drink in five rounds, and not because of their high degree of accuracy. Finally Carmine’s pair sunk a cap into the pint glass of pale ale which Ted’s team, he’d adopted the other losers out of pity, had failed to rebut. By now half the older wolves had surrounded one team or another, trying to coach them in loud bursts over each other. Joey could see the four were thoroughly confused and not a little intimidated by their elder pack brothers. Before long, caps were snatched straight from their fingers, only to be flipped with deadly accuracy into the lukewarm beer. The proxies so thoroughly dominating each rebuttal, the younger wolves remained parched. In disgust the four young ones abandoned the game to their coaches and wandered out back to finally get drunk.

  Joey glanced at his watch, wishing the twinks had shown up. They probably would have been intimidated by the pack. After the fit Carlo had thrown, it was probably just as well. Reaching between his thighs, Carmine claimed Joey’s bottle, holding it up to the light to check the whiskey level.

  “Wasn’t this full a minute ago?” Carmine nudged Joey in the ribs before taking a swig.

  Joey grunted, grabbing the bottle back and peering down its neck. “Not quite. More than now, f’sure. You ever swim with a dolphin, Car?” Joey leaned closer to Carmine but couldn’t stop himself and slouched against his shoulder. Carmine laughed then pushed at him.

  Carmine yanked the bottle back and drained it of the last few swallows. He slapped Joey’s grabby hands and flagged down one of the wolves from his original caps team, telling him to fill it.

  “How’s zat work?” Joey was very curious. His mind wandered around trying to think what he could use to fill an empty whiskey bottle.

  “Dunno, we’ll either see in a minute, or we’ll get up and beat his ass. Either way’d be fun, yah?”

  “Cool. Ice cream.”

  “In the whiskey bottle?” Carmine was a little confused by the left turn Joey’d just taken.

  “What? Nah, though the right kind of ice cream’d make a hell of a float. Yah. Cool... Ted!!!” Joey yelled at the blond, hanging out in the kitchen and peeking into the oven every few seconds. He popped his head up and raised an eyebrow, waggling it in Joey’s direction, which just cracked him up even more.

  “Make me an ice cream float, Ted! Make me an ice cream float with whiskey, Ted!” Joey bellowed across the room.

  Carmine snickered, before rolling over onto the floor yelling, “Make me one too Ted! But I want Butter Pecan ice cream, Ted! Ted?”

  Joey crawled over to Carmine and dropped on top of him, rolling over. He heard Ted laughing at the two of them, now wrapped around each other, rolling on the floor giggling and shouting out ice cream requests.

  They rolled to the center of the room and ran into a shoe. Joey looked up, Carlo was standing over them holding his empty bottle of twenty-one year old Bushmill’s whiskey, murder in his eyes. Their giggling petered off and the laughter began in earnest as Carlo’s silence stretched on.

  “I’m cutting you off,” Carlo finally snarled at them both. Using the Bushmill’s bottle to point directly at Joey he continued, “You are on garbage duty. Get your ass up and haul the trash bags out to the cans. Now!” He swung on Carmine. “And you! How in the hell am I going to explain this to Jen? For fuck’s sake, you have children. What ever you do, don’t let Angelo see you like this.”

  Carmine leaned back against Joey and blinked up at Carlo, “Hey Carlo? I got a question...” he squeezed his eyes tight, peering up at the man. “How’d you get the bottle anyway?”

  Carlo’s body shifted and he tucked his chin down, into his chest, obviously trying hard to maintain his composure. Without looking at them he began, “Doug came over to me and asked where I kept the whiskey refills.”

  Carlo lifted his face and Joey could see by the twitch of his mouth that it was too much. They all bust out laughing. “Dumb shit. He’s like, what? Three in dog years? Damn. What a waste of a perfectly fine body. He’s dumber than a box of rocks.” Shaking his head in disgust Carlo strode away muttering as he went.

  ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

  Trash duty wasn’t a big deal. The ocean breeze felt nice against his skin and someone had already filled the black plastic bags. All Joey had to do was tie them off and haul them to the cans along the side wall. He’d gotten his fingers tangled in one and kicked a hole in another but with no witnesses around it couldn’t be proven. After the third trip Joey leaned against the fence and thought about his twinks, Kevin and Grady.

  Damn, he wanted to see them. It was so disappointing that they hadn’t shown up. After running into them twice he would have sworn it was a sure thing. Hell, they were just across the street and he deserved to have some fun after throwing such a sweet party. Carlo be damned! He was going to get himself some cute twinks even if he had to catch them himself.

  Joey stood, swaying a little, ready to tackle the task of obtaining the pair, when a stray orange tabby launched off the fence post and onto his shoulder, knocking him backwards into the wall before slashing him across the face with its claws. He roared and shifted so fast he didn’t even take off his clothes. He heard his shirt ripping and his shoes were pushed to the side. The cat had already bounded away but he didn’t care. Joey wanted revenge and his wolf had risen to the ca
ll.

  Joey tried to run in a straight line, but he wasn’t having any luck. He tumbled down the stairs and out onto the beach. The alcohol still affected his brain and he lost track of the cat. Breathing in deeply, his wolf nose caught the sweet tang of Kevin; honing in on their condo he loped haphazardly across the lane and into their yard. The tabby hissed at him, leaping from a tree onto the fence, diverting him. He couldn’t let the cat get away with her invasion, not on their pack territory. Stupid cat!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Something crashed outside, clattering under his window. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking twice. The noise sounded again, forcing him to make a decision. Bed or get up? “Damn raccoons,” Kevin grumbled. Grady was sprawled face down in bed next to him; covers slid all the way down his back, revealing long, lean muscles and skin glowing pale peach in the moonlight.

  Another loud thump had him upright, lurching out of bed and grabbing the khaki shorts he’d worn earlier. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was closer to ten-thirty than nine o’clock. Crap, they’d slept through the party. The racket continued so he hurried, taking the stairs two at a time—hoping that Grady wouldn’t wake. His madras shirt hung off the newel post at the bottom so he snagged it as he swept by; shrugging it on, he hit the kitchen at a run.

  Yanking open the back door, all he saw was shadow and darkness. He didn’t need light to tell him his unwelcome visitors were still there with all the snarling and hissing going on, the minimal amount of light pooling from behind was hardly enough to illuminate the steps, much less the rest of the patio.

  He could barely make out the garbage can on its side, cans and bottles glittering in the dim light from the kitchen. Thank God they hadn’t been here long enough to do more than eat a little take out, drink plenty of beer and, of course, the large bottles of Arizona Teas that Grady craved.

  A hissing in the far corner drew Kevin’s attention. Great. It took a second’s fumbling to find the light switch on the wall with his fingers. Blinding light froze the tableau. Clinging to the top of their wooden fence was a very large orange tabby and an equally impressive gray dog below.

  “Shit,” Kevin grumbled, “that is the largest damn cat I’ve ever seen.” Large or not, it was also one very pissed off pussy. From where he stood it looked like a large husky or malamute had the cat trapped between the house and fence. No matter which way the feline moved, the dog was tracking it, snapping and whining. As far as he could tell, it hadn’t turned his eyes from his prey, not even as he stepped further into the yard.

  “Hey! Dog!” He yelled, looking around for something he could distract the dog with. As soon as the words left his mouth, yellow eyes swung his way, growls immediately stilling.

  A chill swept over him, his hair stood on end but he was determined to save the cat. Kevin moved a step further, gingerly reaching his hand flat towards the animal as he’d been taught to do as a child.

  The dog crept closer to Kevin, stopping just out of reach. “Ah, you’re just a sweet puppy! Where did you come from boy?” He cooed as a long furry tail swept back and forth, trailing in the debris.

  A quick glance up and he could swear the cat looked disgusted. Without the dog’s focus, it yowled once and slipped along the fence, over the eaves and to freedom beyond.

  “Hey there!” The dog had moved in to sniff his hand before licking his fingers and palm. This close he could see the fur was gray with darker fur mixed in. He had a broad head and a long muzzle full of sharp white teeth. “You must be a hybrid of some kind,” Kevin mused, running his hands back and forth along the animal’s ribs.

  “You look healthy—obviously you belong to someone. Where do you live boy?” still rubbing his hands all over, fingers sliding around the thick ruff at the dog’s neck, searching for a collar or tag. Leaning over he barely had time to brace before he found himself flat on his ass—arms full of dog.

  The dog started licking his face and neck, before moving down and licking his exposed chest, sliding over his nipples with a harsh rasp. Kevin had to grab his muzzle and move it away. “Hey there—not so fast! First you have to buy me a drink!”

  It looked like the mutt was grinning—tongue lolling out the side, ears pricked forward as if he understood that what Kevin was saying. Huffing, the animal launched at him once more licking his face, with gusto.

  “Ack! Come on don’t eat me! Don’t eat me, don’t eat cats… let’s see if I can find you something better.” Shoving him away, he gingerly stood up and immediately got a dog snout shoved in his crotch. Ugh.

  “Okay, that’s it, you’re outta control pup! Maybe this will help.” Sliding his canvas belt out of his shorts, he used it to create a collar and leash on the dog.

  “What the fuck is that?” Grady was now standing in the middle of the doorway, sleep rumpled and naked. It was a glorious sight. Kevin was tempted to open the gate and shoo their visitor out into the night so he could take Grady back upstairs.

  The dog took one look at Grady and moved as if to go to him, tail waggling furiously—Kevin held him back.

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s pretty, but he’s not into dogs either.”

  “Kev, that’s no dog.” Grady was slowly backing away, into the condo.

  “Hey, don’t freak—it’s some sort of husky hybrid—he just looks fierce, he’s really tame—sweet as pie. See?” Kevin dropped to his knees and the dog moved back into his arms, licking his face and ear.

  “‘Kay—so he was making the racket?” Grady still looked dubiously at the beast. “The head on the thing is huge. And he doesn’t look like any husky I’ve ever seen… though, as a given, there aren’t that many wandering around Manhattan.”

  “Get dressed Grady… he must live somewhere close by. It looks like he slipped his collar. If we call the authorities, they’ll probably send him to the pound. Someone’ll be missing their baby. If it’s not too late let’s see if anyone is around and missing a dog?”

  ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

  Carlo sighed as he surveyed the party. Murder by Death was growling from Ted’s iPhone and most of the wolves had drifted back inside, eating the snacks Ted kept producing out of thin air. Ted was currently humming and swaying in the kitchen, arranging cilantro and slivers of jalapeños across a huge platter of black bean and smoked pork nachos, guaranteed to make both the mouth and eyes water.

  A quick glance outside confirmed that Angelo hadn’t left with Joshua and Daniel. He was sprawled in his deck chair deep in conversation with Sebastian, a glass of something smoky in his hand. Dammit, someone had found his Glenfiddich.

  “Don’t pout.” Ted offered up a chip, teasing his bottom lip until he opened his mouth. It was hot and smokey, the pork stripped from the leftover ribs, bright hints of tangy barbeque sauce dancing with the guacamole and jalapeno jack on his tongue.

  “Oh man, that is awesome!” Carlo relaxed into his friend who beamed with pleasure. “Let’s keep this in here with us, the rest of them don’t deserve you!” Snagging the tray away from Ted, Carlo moved deeper into the kitchen to eat.

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. You didn’t eat much. Did you even get cake?”

  “Cake, oh man. Jen is a fantastic baker. I ate that straight off, fuckin’ Joey was trying to steal it from me… think he ended up with three or four pieces.”

  “No way!” Ted laughed and bumped his hip. “Hey, you know, if you stopped trying to avoid your Alpha you’d have more time to enjoy your own party.”

  Carlo harrumphed, still shoving nachos into his mouth.

  “Man, watching the two of you circle around each other—hilarious!” Ted turned away with a small smile and Carlo figured he was already dreaming up the next treat. “Hey, speaking of Joey,” Ted was looking at him, “have you seen him around lately? He’s usually first one through the door when I do Mexican.” Carlo shook his head, pointing to his overfull mouth.

  “Hmmm. Well, lucky for you then,” he said, pulling a Corona from the bottom of the refrigerator. Bottle cap o
ff, a squeeze of lime juice, swipe of fruit across the lip and a sprinkle of sea salt, Ted was ready to hand it over. Carlo had already gone through a good third of the tray and accepted the beer gratefully. Mmm, tangy and salty, just what he loved. Ted gave the best beer.

  “I like these guys… wasn’t what I expected from the way you always talked about the pack over the years.” Ted was doctoring his own beer, except in this one he first gulped a third of the beer, replacing it with an equal amount of Patron before continuing on with the lime and salt. “Carmine’s a hoot.”

  “Yeah. I don’t remember Carmine being that cool.” Carlo shrugged.

  “Probably cuz you had his girl.” Ted tossed him a look over his shoulder. He was standing in front of the refrigerator, drink in hand, gazing inside like he was worshipping at an altar.

  “What?” Carlo shut the door in his face to get his attention back, just missing the blond’s nose.