Wolf Omega: Lykanos Chronicles 2

At dawn, I awoke in Maximo’s bed, lying with my head on his chest, cradled in his arm. A delightful sensation of peace overcame my limbs, and a lazy smile set in when I remembered where I was. The sublime feeling of content, being wrapped in his luxurious warm skin, was one I never wanted to end.

I stretched subtly, not wanting to give up the perfect spot but needing to move. The adjustment drew Maximo from his slumber, and he inhaled deeply. I ran my fingers lightly through his loose golden curls for a time before he moved his head to recognize the morning light creeping into his bedroom.

“We should get you back to your room before the house wakes up,” he mumbled.

“Must I?” Leaving his arms was untenable, and I buried my face into his chest to escape the dim light.

“We shouldn’t rush them into this,” he said, pulling me closer to kiss my forehead. “Change happens slowly here, and we should ease them into it. Sempronio may not like it. Duccio may like it even less.”

The idea of calling out Sempronio’s disapproval struck me, and I sat up in Maximo’s bed.

“Do you really believe the master would object?” I whispered.

“There is an observed order to this sort of thing among wolf packs. The alpha must approve pairings.”

“You’re joking,” I scowled.

“Of course not. How many girls have you known who married without their father’s consent?”

“But among us?” I asked, appalled by the notion. “Sempronio wouldn’t care. He would strongly oppose such a custom—I know he would. Besides, we are not engaged to be married.”

“You think that would make this easier for a father to embrace?” Maximo smiled, turning to stretch into his pillow. “Do us a favor, huh? Let them discover this slowly while we’re on our feet. There’s no point in risking their opposition unnecessarily.”

With that request, Maximo rose and pulled my garments from the haphazard pile we’d built on a side chair hours earlier.

Last night had changed everything for me. It reset me in ways I believed could never be accomplished. The fear—the menacing anxiety it controlled me with—all of it was gone, ended by my wolf protector.

It was a wholly intoxicating sensation, breathing without the slightest morsel of fear. Even as Maximo helped me to dress, it wasn’t fear that motivated me to return to my room, as he requested. I dressed out of simple courtesy for the sensibilities of my pack and the master.

“Go quietly,” he whispered and kissed my lips.

Maximo handed over my shoes so I could walk along the marble floors in silence.

I tiptoed through the castle, determined not to draw even the rising servant’s attention, and found my way back to my door in minutes. Slipping inside my room, I closed the door behind me to find Pompeia sleeping on the sofa in the drawing-room. My heart froze, and I thought I might continue past her into the bedchamber. Instead, I stopped myself and sat down beside her.

Pompeia, I whispered with my mind to draw her from her rest. It was the first time I’d realized I could see a person’s dreams. They differed from waking thoughts in that they included only the imagination, devoid of normal active senses. Still, I could hear voices of conversation from her mind and the delicious smell of freshly baked bread.

I ran my fingers lightly along the side of her peaceful face until her eyes opened and focused on me.

“Were you waiting for me?” I smiled.

“Where d’you go?” Pompeia managed to ask when her voice returned to her.

“After dinner? Just outside—I went for a lengthy walk to think about my lessons.”

“By yourself?”

“Maximo was with me,” I whispered in delighted confidence. “I’ve just returned from his room.”

Pompeia’s forehead attempted to scowl in her sleepiness, and then I sent an image of the sensation of waking up Maximo’s arms to her.

At the moment, I didn’t recognize how much I’d grown to trust her. Looking into her blue eyes, filled with wonder, I fancied the blonde siren to be an older sister. Though, in truth, I didn’t know her age. She was older than Maximo, I presumed, but her personality exuded a youthfulness that made it difficult to imagine her otherwise. She likely viewed me as a daughter. For a moment, I considered she might view me as a grandchild, but I stopped thinking about it when her concerned expression drew me back.

“Does Duccio know this?” she asked gently. “Does the master?”

“It all happened just last night. No one else knows.”

Pompeia sat up on the sofa, and I shifted to let her place her feet on the floor.

“You don’t approve of him?” I whispered, the first hint of concern coloring my words.

“It’s not that. But Duccio must first approve of any pairing within the pack.”

Hearing confirmation of Maximo’s earlier words, I took her hesitation seriously. It was the first moment in all my time at Castello Palatino that I felt we were still part of the outside world—the darkness to which I’d been born. Under Sempronio’s tutelage, I’d reveled in the strange sweetness of our enlightened hamlet, where the conventions and mores of the region seemed like those of an alien world. Perhaps, in losing some, I should’ve realized I would gain others.

“Maximo said the same to me, but I can’t believe it. Sempronio would disagree, surely.”

Pompeia shook her head.

“This is Duccio’s pack to govern, and he upholds more traditional rules.”

“Rules more traditional than Sempronio’s?” I asked incredulously. “Does such a thing exist?”

Pompeia moved to answer, but she silenced herself as if it would be a mistake.

“Please,” I pleaded in time.

“The master is...”

Again, she stopped herself as if unable or unwilling to speak her mind.

“The master is a renegade,” she said finally. “Do you know what that word means?”

I thought I knew, but I let Pompeia define it for me.

“He does not live within the laws of our kind. Packs throughout the world oppose him, his beliefs, and his behaviors. If they could, they would destroy him.”

The notion infuriated me. Sempronio was a person I held so deeply within my heart that I would give my life to protect him. I knew this much for sure, even after barely three months’ under his roof. He was everything I hoped to one day be.

“Whatever do you mean?” I scowled.

“The master doesn’t agree with the dominance of lycan over men. He sees us as siblings, whose true purpose is to be guardians for the weakest of them. He insists that we are the arbiters of justice for mankind. No one outside this place believes as he does, and only the master’s strength keeps those who oppose us outside the lakes region. The ruling dens of Venice or Milan would claim Como as their territory if they could.”

“But Duccio doesn’t agree with Sempronio?” I pushed, unable to prevent the confounded look of shock on my face.

“Nonsense,” Pompeia stopped me. “Duccio is loyal to the grave. He loves the master as a father, as we all do.”

She paused as if she would have me resolve my tone, and I remembered that she was Duccio’s spouse.

“It is Duccio’s belief that Castello Palatino must be able to stand against the opposing houses on its own, without the master’s strength to keep it safe. Nothing is forever—they are the master’s own words—and Duccio looks to the day when he must protect it alone. He means to show to the world that we are no different in our customs and organization, but only the philosophy by which we govern our lands. They may not believe this now, but in decades? Duccio believes that seeding this behavior alone will convince the others to respect him and find him worthy of this hold one day.”

I was unsure what to think, but I presumed the master held great confidence in Duccio’s decisions. Thoughts of what I’d done last night seemed less magical and more perturbing. Beyond my dalliance with Maximo, I had dealt justice to three bandits, retaking the liberty without any concern for the alpha’s permission. It seemed that within my wolf’s form, I focused only on results instead of methods. I decided to keep my destruction of the rapists to myself, at least for now.

“Do you agree with him?” I asked. “Should I go now and request his permission?”

Pompeia’s answer seemed pensive as it stalled in her throat.

“Why don’t you leave that to Maximo? The request should come from him because of your station.” She thought silently again for a time, appearing to resolve her concern, but then smiled brightly. “I really must be asleep still. I haven’t even asked you what you think of Max.”

I couldn’t repress a girlish laugh.

“I knew what he wanted the moment he asked me to join him for a walk. He’s been trying to get me alone all week. He’s so clever and charming, I couldn’t say ‘no.’ I didn’t think I could feel this way again, but...” I laughed again and blushed.

“Max is important to us all,” Pompeia confided. “You won’t find any resistance from the family if he requests our alpha’s approval, I promise you.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked.

“Duccio is very much like his father—he believes in the power of love. Don’t worry, it will be fine,” she sighed, “and I won’t bring it up again until it’s done. You have my word.”