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Keep The Wolves Away

SAVVINE

H ours later, Savvine stood near the edge of a ballroom, her gaze lured beyond the expansive windows to the shimmer of distant stars.

She shifted on her feet, a little restless, and switched her focus to the happy couple gliding over the dance floor for their first wedding waltz.

The bride was one of Savvine’s closest childhood friends, Laleh.

She was an ethereal vision in an ivory silk gown with petal-draped sleeves and a crown of woven blooms from her garden in hydroponics.

Her new husband, Dorian, a redheaded, tall, freckled, broad-shouldered, and love-struck-eyed man, held her close, their laughter rippling through the air.

The reception was in full swing in the event space spanning the ship’s width.

Its ceiling was a transparent dome showcasing the infinite velvet of space, streaked with distant nebulae and the trailing glow of passing comets.

Garlands of gravity-defying orbs floated overhead, pulsing with a warm golden hue in time with the music’s rhythm.

The aroma of seared venison, saffron rice, and buttered greens, along with the rich perfume of spiced wine and candied spirits, teased the senses.

Servers in graphite-toned uniforms danced between tables, balancing platters of delicious finger foods, farmed oysters, and shimmering cocktail flutes.

Guests wore a riot of color and elegance.

From long velvet gowns and embroidered silks to antique military coats reworked as fashion, polished chrome lapels, and diamond-threaded gloves.

Joy bloomed, accompanied by full-throated laughter, the clink of glasses, and an impromptu tango as someone shouted for one more song.

Love, it seemed, floated free on the Eterna .

Laleh and Dorian swung past, and Savvine waved at them, smiling.

This made her satin bridesmaid dress, which flowed in gentle rose-gold pleats, stretch under her boobs and hug her waist too tightly.

She sighed as she reworked her bosom.

Savvine had always felt more like herself in elegant jumpsuits and trousers, featuring clean lines and tailored comfort.

Nothing that clung or dipped where it shouldn’t.

The bridesmaid dress Lelah had chosen was a little more revealing than she’d have picked, the neckline low and strapless, offering no room for a decent bra and even less for her peace of mind.

It wasn’t Savvine’s style, not remotely, and she didn’t feel particularly good in it.

However, this was Lelah’s day, and she had generously covered the cost of the dress, so Savvine bit her tongue and wore it without complaint.

The last thing she wanted was to be the reason for any bridesmaid drama.

She straightened, pulled up the dipping cleavage again, and smoothed her hair.

The thick, dark waves pulled into a half-crown braid, framing her face with soft ringlets, the rest cascading down her back in polished, bouncy curls.

She winced at the pins in her bun .

Thank heavens she wasn’t wobbling around in heels.

She thought of Lelah’s initial choice of footwear, silver stilettos that sparkled with embedded chips of starlit quartz.

The thought made her feet ache in shining combat boots hidden under her dress.

Still, her smiles and waves to the bride and groom hid the fact that she was still rattled by her encounter earlier with a deadly missile and her unknown knight in freakin’ wolf skin.

Savvine smiled as she raised her glass to Laleh and Dorian. They kissed again, radiant in their matrimonial glow.

Her gaze followed their dance, and they held each other, close bound, eyes closed, and foreheads pressed together.

An old ache stirred.

Not bitterness, not envy. Just a craving that lived under her ribs and tugged in lonely moments like this one.

‘Yearning, cara figlia ?’

She turned to see Enrico, the ship’s Chief Engineer, and her father appear at her side with his usual crooked grin.

Tall and lean, he loomed over her, his silver and brown hair receding at the top, his expression laced with tenderness underneath his amusement.

He wore his old naval dress coat, his medals polished, and his beard well trimmed.

Her mother, Gaya, followed.

She was diminutive, dark-haired, jade-eyed, in a sea foam wrap dress, hair in a loose bun, a beauty at sixty-four.

Gaya looped an arm around Savvine’s waist.

‘We’re not judging,’ she said. ‘But, we’re just wondering if we should start tracking down Auntie Domina, she’s ace at arranging marriages.’

Her parents were her safe space. The two people in the entire flotilla who accepted her for who she was, with all her fierceness and ingrained loyalty.

Also, unabashed matchmakers who were both dying for her to get married soon.

‘Did you just leave NICU, ma?’

‘ Naam , why? Do I smell of babies, sterilizer, and lullabies? Speaking of babies, when are you going to give me some?’

Savvine groaned, but her smile gave her away. ‘Can I not enjoy a wedding without being ambushed by Enrico and Gaya Bianchi’s marriage bureau?’

Her father raised a brow. ‘You were gazing with wistful sighs at the kissing couple.’

‘Was not,’ she lied.

‘Oh, yes, you were,’ Gaya teased, squeezing her. ‘It’s alright, love. Your knight will come riding his proverbial horse to sweep you away, and he’ll be totally smitten.’

If only, Savvine sighed, her mind flitting unbidden to the spectral stranger.

She tilted into her mother’s shoulder, letting the laughter and lights blur just a little.

Her father leaned in, the lines around his eyes deepening with curiosity and concern. ‘Got wind of your wild incident earlier today.’

She tensed as the memory of him loomed behind her eyes, the improbable missile, the unbearable close call, the impossible man. Her breath caught, just for a second.

His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘What happened?’

She exhaled and closed her eyes for a beat before opening them. ‘A Lombardi stealth fighter rode dark inside the safe perimeter. I was alone and must have surprised it. It deployed an illegal warhead, a Hades variant I’ve never seen. Full kinetic payload. I couldn’t outrun it.’

Her father’s brow furrowed, arms crossing.

‘But then,’ she hesitated, the words absurd even as they left her mouth, ‘another Corvette showed up out of nowhere. It matched my trajectory precisely, like it had me clocked down to the heartbeat. This man, no helmet, no gear, leaped onto my racer. Absorbed the missile’s momentum.

Rerouted it. Threw it back at the Lombardi ship. ’

Enrico blinked. ‘He caught it?’

‘With his freakin’ bare hands, papa.’ Her voice dipped. ‘He had this energy around him, violet flames, black and gold glyphs, glowing. Like he’d been stitched with aether and xentium.’

Repeating her saga made the encounter sound even more absurd.

Her father muttered a curse. ‘ Stronzo !’

Then, after a beat, ‘A mostro .’

She jerked her head in surprise. ‘You think?’

Enrico arched a brow and nodded. ‘It’s plausible.

We engineering folks get gossip from the freelance mechanics and equipment haulers below.

We’ve intercepted chatter that the mostro fly among us, that they’ve organized into forces and clans all of their own and have unknown sources of tech and weapons. ’

Savvine took a jagged breath, her mind replaying the scene of the man who saved her transforming into a spectral wolf form.

One so familiar to her, the same vision from her dreams.

Yet undeniably a mostro , one of the forbidden.

After the Great Apocalypse, Earth had burned, and with it, new species and creatures rose from the ashes.

Tradition and laws were hastily redrawn by fear, mostly from purists and conservative thinkers.

In the chaotic years that followed, the Holy See in the Vatican and the Syndicate Commission cracked down on what they called ‘racially mixed unions’: relationships between humans and those altered by the nuclear fallout; shifters, metas, and enhanced beings.

The mafia world, already steeped in tradition, aligned with them. Bosses sent quiet directives through bloodlines and ranks, warning against concubinage or marriage with non-human entities.

Too many young mafiosi had fallen for those with otherworldly blood, drawn to the lure of the forbidden, which stirred even more unease among the clans.

Brotherhood, the Church argued, was one thing.

Bloodlines were another.

Before the flotillas ever left Earth for Pegasi, the laws had calcified.

Human citizens were forbidden from marrying shifters or shape changers.

Permanently.

For humans, especially those of pure blood, being seen in the company of a mostro was frowned upon unless conducting business.

Dating or marrying them was worse, like, actual clan betrayal level banishment.

Which meant the man she saw was out of bounds , she thought, even as a frisson of desire arced through her.

She focused on her father. ‘I’ve heard similar.

Not sure how much of a worry the mostro present to us now,’ she muttered.

‘We need to focus on the fact that the Lombardis are escalating, throwing out banned ordnance like it’s confetti.

I need to find out who’s supplying them and if these mostro, as you say, have sources for it, perhaps I’ll start there.

The one organization that might have a clue is Signet.

They’ve got their fingers and eyes in every corner of this flotilla, perhaps even making deals with the mostro and Lombardis behind our backs. ’

Enrico tut-tutted. ‘Still sore about the Kyrian pass incident?’

Savvine huffed. ‘ Fokk yeah. Signet tried to interfere with our apprehension of a Lombardi operative. One who attempted to smuggle an explosive-laden flyer into the Bianchi safe zone commercial crossing. The clashes resulted in the injury of four, including two members of my team. Signet never explained what they were doing stealthed on our side of the safe perimeter and have never apologized for it.’

‘Don’t jump to conclusions, cara . Signet Co is keeping their word to the Syndicate, safeguarding their clients in the flotilla.’