Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

Pompeia’s porcelain face appeared every bit as luminous as it had the last day I saw her. She stood in the light by the window, her black satin dress even more striking under the gleam of her golden hair.

Pompeia’s welcome shook me to the core. The devil who had conspired to destroy our father unexpectedly stood meekly before me, and I felt my hold slacken. My body pushed painfully against the seams of my corset, and I could think of little else than ripping through my garments to stand at vengeful attention.

A sound came from Duccio. It was nothing any of them could likely hear. It wasn’t a word or even an emotion, but some resonance that calmed me and restored my self-control. It felt as if he extended the indefinable power to offer me aid. And without considering it for more than a second, I knew he desired for me to restrain myself.

“The day has come for justice,” Pompeia continued when I didn’t answer.

“Justice?”

She sighed quickly and cast her eyes to the floor, sensing my disbelief.

“You have every right to despise me for my part in what befell us.”

From my mind, I extended to Pompeia the gruesome sight of Apollonia’s savaged body, her arms outstretched and nailed to her bedroom wall. An aborted child lay dead at her feet in a pool of black, coagulated blood, still attached to its mother’s womb. Swarms of houseflies swarmed around them both, buzzing with determination over the feast. Scrawled above her head in blood was the word ‘TRAITOR.’

The image was flawless and vivid, drenched in every emotion of horror I felt that day. I recalled my helpless agony at witnessing the scene, and then my debilitating anxiety as I wept alone on the street and in the cathedral.

I forced it all upon Pompeia’s mind with such severity that I saw her stiffen before she could draw her next breath.

“Indeed,” I answered, hearing the memory of Sempronio’s voice guide my response.

Emotion overtook Pompeia’s face, and she placed her hand on her stomach as if to hold herself. Did she feel the same child in her womb as I had? Did she see it fall painfully into the world with no hope of a mother’s love?

“I could give you reasons,” Pompeia said when she finally could. “But there’s nothing I could say that might ever atone for what I’ve done. I have no excuse.”

“Very well, then. Give me your reasons.”

Her voice stumbled as if she was unprepared for me to ask for her account.

“I loved him,” she said at last. Her eyes fell to Duccio, who stared at the floor on his knees between us. “And I believed him when he told me why I must kill the human; why I must take you to your husband’s house as I did.”

“You believed him? What did you believe?”

“That you had betrayed him. In your silence on that night when Father had banished him from the castle, you had betrayed him.”

“Were you any less silent on that night?”

“No,” she shook her head wearily. “But my silence was the obedience of a wife. And yours was pure defiance.”

“Defiance of his decision to cast you aside and take me as his possession. Still, you forgave him and held me accountable for refusing to watch him betray you? How could you possibly have done that? How could you have agreed to such malice toward me? You loved him—that was your reason?”

“I did!” she insisted. “He was my husband. More than that, he was our master.”

“He was not!” I shouted back at her. “He was never our true master. He certainly wasn’t after Sempronio cast him into the night. And do you recall why Father did that? Because Duccio tried to betray us both again after he’d been forgiven of his crimes. How can you have aided your husband as you did? How can you have helped your husband slaughter Father in his own home?!”

“I didn’t!” she cried. “I didn’t understand that he meant to kill Father. I only thought he’d take Father to Duke Sforza to stand trial for his crimes.”

“Liar,” Duccio said. He forced his voice to echo into the minds of everyone in the room.

From beside him, one werewolf slashed deeply at his back to quiet Duccio.

“It’s the truth!” Pompeia screamed at him. “I would never have—.”

I raised my hand to stop her, and she swallowed her words. I must end this, I thought. I’ve forgiven her just as Duccio, have I not?

“Sister, forgive me for allowing this to continue. Your answers confound me, but it’s my fault for asking the questions. I do not quarrel with you—with either of you. And you need never ask for my forgiveness. I gave it to you a century ago. All I ask is that you keep the past in the past and trouble me no more.”

“Is that what you came here to tell him? That you wanted nothing more of him? Or did you fly here the moment after my man informed you of Prince Adelchi’s offer? Have you merely forgiven Duccio of his crimes, or did you mean to warn him of his peril?”

I didn’t answer Pompeia but stared with indignant disdain.

“No, you’re right,” she stopped herself. “None of that matters anymore. Let’s start again. Help me now, sister, please. Help me rid the world of this monster. Stop him here and now from the betrayals and slaughters that will come if we allow him to live.”

“I will not,” I declared without hesitation.

From somewhere, I felt others approaching. They moved from the rear of the house up the servant’s staircase.

“I cannot allow him to live, little sister,” Pompeia said, drawing back my attention. “You do not know the extent of his treachery.”

“None of that is my concern.”

“Please, I beg of you. Do not stand apart from us. Don’t you remember when we were together—when we were a family? You are all I have left of that time, and my heart aches for you.”

From behind me, two lycan males brought in a human woman. They’d bound her hands, and she couldn’t support herself without their support. A sack covered her face, but I didn’t need for them to remove it to know they held Vivian in their arms.

One man was Signore Foscari, and he looked upon me as if he had expected to find me standing before him.

“Help me do this now,” Pompeia said, “and I will return your human servant to your home in Washington. We will all leave here together with Duccio’s corpse, and you will enter Venice as Prince Adelchi’s heroine.”

The proposition flabbergasted me—it made no sense. What was she thinking to say these words of endearing praise while her bravos held Vivan’s life in their hands? What else could Pompeia hope for but make sure I received her every word as a threat? She must believe I could still be subdued by her people, even as she seemed to need my help in destroying Duccio.

From Pompeia’s mind, I saw a flash of the kitchen below, where the bodies of Duccio’s human servants lay in a gruesome stack on the central workspace. I couldn’t decide if she meant for me to see it—if the thought was also a warning, or if it had carelessly slipped free. Either way, I became enraged.

“Doña, please,” Foscari called to me.

He held a knife to Vivian’s throat under the lip of the sack that covered her face. I heard her pitiful reaction and saw a look of fear in the other man’s eyes. Perhaps I only sensed it from his mind, but at the taste of his fear, I could restrain my wolf no longer.

An explosion of growth ripped through my dress and undergarments, pulling them apart as if they were nothing but delicate lace. I roared at Foscari as he pulled the knife across her throat with a jerk. Both men released her as they pulled their clothes off clumsily to transform, and Vivian fell to the floor, writhing involuntarily as her life bled away.

I leapt forward to cut down both men, slicing through before their slower transformations could complete. Fresh blood shot out in strong spams from their ripped torsos, painting the walls in deep red.

I turned in fury to see the six werewolves charge toward me. The others pulled off their garments in a frenzy to transform and follow suit.

But before any could reach me, a blast came from Duccio, who loudly snapped apart the heavy links that bound his hands behind his back. He swung his massive arms forward and swiped mercilessly, breaking the strides of three wolves and forcing them to crash upon the floor at my feet.

Without hesitation, I sliced open two of them, splitting their stomachs to let their intestine spill out. I then cut through the third wolf’s neck, severing his head from his torso in a merciless rage.

The scene paused the other wolves’ advance, but they hesitated only a second before turning on Duccio, who they foolishly believed was their real adversary.

With a roaring burst of energy, each of the three wolves fell to the floor. Their brains exploded within their skulls, and the liquified remains shot hotly out of their eye sockets and ears.

Duccio looked to me with astonishment for only a moment before he shot off toward our remaining adversaries. With a violent grace, his deft, powerfully muscled arms slashed through each of them, one by one. His raw power moved like a symphony of destruction until all that remained alive was a single werewolf.

Pompeia stood alone, her light fur gleaming in the daylight that poured from the French windows onto her back. She crouched as if preparing to take the brunt of Duccio’s final attack.

I saw fear in Pompeia’s eyes as we both realized at last what he’d done. Duccio had suffered their slashes and cruelties, kneeling naked and helpless at her feet, all as a simple rouse. He had used their mindless confidence against them, tricking his enemies long enough for Pompeia to prove her treacherous nature to me.

For you, Duccio’s mind grumbled.

I clearly understood that he offered Pompeia’s life to me. After forgiving him of his unforgivable crimes, it was the only vengeance he could offer my broken heart.

I stared at Pompeia, smelling her fear, tasting it in the thick air of the room. Some part of me wanted to stop my advance, but the idea was fleeting.

I leapt at her, sinking my talons into her chest, mercilessly ripping as she struggled. I coated the glass doors with her blood and tinged the light that fell upon us with a red hue. Over and over, I ripped into her, my strength overwhelming us both as my fury poured forth without control.

Her last cry came as I ripped the flesh from her face with one maniacal pull. Then I severed her head and broke the bloody skull between my hands, squeezing it until nothing recognizable remained.

I roared with delight.

When my breathing slowed enough to take stock of the carnage and destruction around us, I looked to Duccio in triumph.

He stared at the ground where Vivian’s remains lay, and I felt his great agitation at not acting a moment sooner. I ignored it, as nothing else mattered to me now but the exhilaration of the moment.

I approached him and reached to touch his arms. They were dripping in blood, both his own and that of his victims. I felt the warm fluid drench my hands as I ran my fingers through his black fur. Exhaling at the proof of his strength, I reached down between my legs to coat my sex with the blood. Then I wiped the mingled scent over his face.

With my other hand, I reached for his cock and rubbed it relentlessly with the dripping blood, bringing it to immediate attention.

His tongue touched my lips, taken by my heat, and I felt his passion rise.

Duccio pulled me angrily to him, pressing his hardness against my abdomen, and again I smiled at my triumph.

He then pushed me to the floor and set upon my sex with his mouth, invading me greedily with a ravenous tongue. He rubbed his face into me, driving himself wilder as he spread my scent over him.

When he could stand no more, Duccio rose to his knees and rolled me onto my stomach. He pushed my upper back impatiently into the rug and brought my hips up to meet him. Then Duccio drove into me, his unyielding cock wet both by my insatiable hunger and the blood of our enemies.