elbow. Brown eyes, older and colder than the girl’s, stared at Lupo. The revulsion in the woman’s look was evident and hit Lupo with the strength of a punch to his stomach.
The older woman pushed the girl forward and they hurried past Lupo and toward the gilded elevator. Before Lupo could say or do anything, they entered the cabin, the woman closed both the wrought-iron gate and the internal door, and they disappeared from sight.
Shaken by the fleeting experience, Lupo let out a long breath. The weight of the V container reminded him of the reason why he was there, and he walked to the mailboxes wall, went straight to the designated box and delivered the package. The box locked itself with a soft clicking sound, warning Lupo his services were no longer needed.
On his way to his next stop, Lupo wondered about the she-panther and how his wolf had gone crazy over her.
After seeing the girl, Lupo thought there might be some truth in the rumors about the Purist women’s spellbinding beauty. In just a few seconds, those black eyes had imprisoned his heart, and he could think of nothing else but meeting her again. And he had only seen her eyes. What would her mouth look like? Her throat? From the little skin exposed, he knew she was fair skinned. Did she have freckles? Where did she have those freckles?
His wolf whined in pain.
****
After a full day of tedious work at the office, Quintilius felt he could go home and have enough strength left to fake he wasn’t heartbroken.
For the last few days, he had done his best to avoid Camelia. Staying late at night at the office and leaving early in the morning had helped. Camelia worried about him, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain why he wanted to punch a concrete wall until it broke.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, passing Iris’s desk on his way out.
His secretary waved at him. “Have a good night, alpha.”
Lately, it was easier to deal with Camelia’s twin sister, Iris, who looked nothing like her. Where one was all light and pleasantness, the other was dark and meanness.
Iris was efficient and unpleasant at the same time, making her the perfect person to have in the office. There was no love lost between Quintilius and Iris. She worked for him, and that was the extent of their relationship, although she had tried to change that.
Soon after Iris had moved into Quintilius’s house—he owed Camelia too much to deny her sister a roof—one night, she asked for a private talk and said, “You need a woman, and I’m not frail Camelia. I’ll give you strong and healthy cubs.”
At first Quintilius had been so enraged with Iris, he had almost thrown her out on the spot. Then he considered how Camelia would suffer when she knew about her sister’s duplicity, and sent Iris to the guest house in the back of the park instead, with the excuse she had asked for privacy. A few days later, he summoned Iris to his office and told her she would never overstep the bounds of his hospitality ever again, and that she would work for him to earn her keep. He also made abundantly clear that she would treat Camelia with the utmost respect or she would find herself out of the clan.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
That was Quintilius’s motto, one that had served him well for the best part of two millennia at the head of his clan. A clan that had flourished under his reign like no other tribe in Europe.
Already outside his Casolare del Lupo , Quintilius’s cell phone rang and he pushed a button on the wheel to accept the call. “Peter, how are you?” Meanwhile, he raised a hand for the security camera on the right column to wait before opening the wrought iron gate.
“Hi, Quintilius, I apologize for calling you so late, but I wanted to inform you I’ll be meeting with Raphael tomorrow to ask him a few questions about the kid Ludwig saw at Castel Gandolfo.”
As Raphael’s alpha, Quintilius was his official legal guardian, although the kid and his
The older woman pushed the girl forward and they hurried past Lupo and toward the gilded elevator. Before Lupo could say or do anything, they entered the cabin, the woman closed both the wrought-iron gate and the internal door, and they disappeared from sight.
Shaken by the fleeting experience, Lupo let out a long breath. The weight of the V container reminded him of the reason why he was there, and he walked to the mailboxes wall, went straight to the designated box and delivered the package. The box locked itself with a soft clicking sound, warning Lupo his services were no longer needed.
On his way to his next stop, Lupo wondered about the she-panther and how his wolf had gone crazy over her.
After seeing the girl, Lupo thought there might be some truth in the rumors about the Purist women’s spellbinding beauty. In just a few seconds, those black eyes had imprisoned his heart, and he could think of nothing else but meeting her again. And he had only seen her eyes. What would her mouth look like? Her throat? From the little skin exposed, he knew she was fair skinned. Did she have freckles? Where did she have those freckles?
His wolf whined in pain.
****
After a full day of tedious work at the office, Quintilius felt he could go home and have enough strength left to fake he wasn’t heartbroken.
For the last few days, he had done his best to avoid Camelia. Staying late at night at the office and leaving early in the morning had helped. Camelia worried about him, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain why he wanted to punch a concrete wall until it broke.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, passing Iris’s desk on his way out.
His secretary waved at him. “Have a good night, alpha.”
Lately, it was easier to deal with Camelia’s twin sister, Iris, who looked nothing like her. Where one was all light and pleasantness, the other was dark and meanness.
Iris was efficient and unpleasant at the same time, making her the perfect person to have in the office. There was no love lost between Quintilius and Iris. She worked for him, and that was the extent of their relationship, although she had tried to change that.
Soon after Iris had moved into Quintilius’s house—he owed Camelia too much to deny her sister a roof—one night, she asked for a private talk and said, “You need a woman, and I’m not frail Camelia. I’ll give you strong and healthy cubs.”
At first Quintilius had been so enraged with Iris, he had almost thrown her out on the spot. Then he considered how Camelia would suffer when she knew about her sister’s duplicity, and sent Iris to the guest house in the back of the park instead, with the excuse she had asked for privacy. A few days later, he summoned Iris to his office and told her she would never overstep the bounds of his hospitality ever again, and that she would work for him to earn her keep. He also made abundantly clear that she would treat Camelia with the utmost respect or she would find herself out of the clan.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
That was Quintilius’s motto, one that had served him well for the best part of two millennia at the head of his clan. A clan that had flourished under his reign like no other tribe in Europe.
Already outside his Casolare del Lupo , Quintilius’s cell phone rang and he pushed a button on the wheel to accept the call. “Peter, how are you?” Meanwhile, he raised a hand for the security camera on the right column to wait before opening the wrought iron gate.
“Hi, Quintilius, I apologize for calling you so late, but I wanted to inform you I’ll be meeting with Raphael tomorrow to ask him a few questions about the kid Ludwig saw at Castel Gandolfo.”
As Raphael’s alpha, Quintilius was his official legal guardian, although the kid and his
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