Page 56

Wolfe

W olfe’s mate was most assuredly pouting, for lack of a better word.

Off in the spare bedroom all by himself, tossing and turning without Wolfe by his side.

Wolfe could hear the subtle rustling of Eric’s restlessness, as he settled himself in the sitting room with a massive tome on the American political system (he always thought it best to have a handle on the inner workings of whatever country he found himself in).

Wolfe had felt it, back in the kitchen: Eric’s yearning. He would bet his finest suit that his doctor wanted nothing more than to touch him, to be near him, to be claimed by him. The new beast within him clearly knew who he belonged to, even if Eric’s more logical brain had yet to catch up to it.

But apparently Wolfe’s mate was a stubborn one, under all that surface gregariousness. And who could really blame him? It had been a fairly shocking twenty-four hours by anyone’s estimation.

Wolfe flicked through his pages listlessly, finding it uncharacteristically hard to focus when the so much more interesting puzzle was just upstairs, hiding from him.

Eric wasn’t frightened—or he wasn’t sending anything through their bond that Wolfe could recognize as such—but he was angry.

Wolfe could feel the hot pulse of it, delicious in its insistence.

But what was anger other than the first step toward acceptance?

And Wolfe supposed he had the young nurse to thank for that.

As irritating as it had been, having to suffer through Johann’s group of meddlers insisting on interviewing his mate, the conversation had clearly served to help convince Eric of the reality of his situation.

Wolfe had caught snippets of it, as he’d sequestered the others in this very sitting room. Danny had explained things neatly enough, from what Wolfe had been able to gather. And he hadn’t overplayed the psychopath hand to scare Eric off.

And the injustice of the whole affair had been made just the slightest bit sweeter by the delicate threads of want Wolfe had been able to feel coming from his mate while they’d been apart, twining around Wolfe’s own agitation and need.

Eric could pretend all he wanted. But as soon as Wolfe had left the room, Eric had wanted him near again. Just as he wanted Wolfe near now.

And yet, despite that, here they were, in separate rooms, that beautiful body hidden away from him, just as Eric had hidden his vampire features from Wolfe’s gaze. To be denied the closeness they both so clearly wanted in this transitional time, just to soothe Eric’s newly awoken temper…

It should have been annoying. Infuriating. Too much to bear.

Especially with Wolfe’s own beast clamoring in his head, mindless and yearning. Time to claim our mate. Take him. Bite him. Fuck him deep.

The thing was absolutely relentless in its new one-track focus.

And really, Eric had looked so delicious sitting on their temporary bed, his blond locks disheveled, his robe barely managing to contain that gorgeous, broad chest, with its smattering of blond fuzz.

He’d been hungry and irritable and out of sorts, and Wolfe had wanted nothing more than to pin him down and bite every inch of him.

Alas, it hadn’t been the time.

But Wolfe couldn’t access the proper irritation for his plight.

Instead, he found himself oddly intrigued, almost delighted by this turn of events.

Eric was—on the surface, at least—a people pleaser above all else.

He was the kind of human who wanted to be wanted, liked, desired—even if only for a single night at a time.

For him to be so petulant with Wolfe, commanding him…

Wolfe’s lips twitched at the memory. “Turn around” indeed.

It was all a sign of Eric’s subconscious trust in him. Eric knew, somewhere deep in that willful soul of his, that Wolfe wouldn’t reject or leave him, no matter what games he played.

Was Wolfe’s cock currently straining in his slacks, achingly hard with the knowledge that his tempting mate was so close yet so unreachable? Of course it was. Did he want nothing more than to kick in that offending bedroom door and claim what was rightfully his? In every part of his rotten soul.

But, recent events aside, restraint was Wolfe’s gift, at odds with a psychopath’s usual impulsivity.

It was a point of pride for him, really.

And he had to admit their new bond was already tenuous, what with the traumatic way in which it had been forged.

It was concerning that Eric was so exhausted after having just woken as a vampire, for example.

Wolfe could only conclude it had to do with the doctor’s resistance to consummating their bond, either by touch, affection, or intercourse.

But to tell his dear doctor so would be fruitless: Eric would only think Wolfe self-serving. Conniving, even. And he wouldn’t exactly be wrong, even if it didn’t apply in this instance.

So Wolfe would be patient. He would wait for this petulant creature to come to him.

He’d waited patiently for an entire century already.

The women were back again.

Wolfe knew the pair was already aware of him—had probably registered his presence long before he’d registered theirs—but they kept up their study of watching the crowds go by.

They were fashionably dressed in their dramatic coats, and Wolfe could smell the money in their clothing, as he had with every bit of their attire he’d seen the past few nights.

Envy gnawed at his gut. He should by all rights be wearing clothes just as fine. Not this single drab suit, pressed so carefully for repeated use.

Wolfe sidled up next to the park bench. “Looking for your next prey?” he asked, keeping his voice low enough not to carry past his intended target.

The taller of the pair, a pale, curvaceous woman almost matching Wolfe in height, with chestnut waves cascading down from under her chapeau, tilted her head up to look at him. “Pardon me?”

“Your next prey,” Wolfe repeated, gesturing to the people walking past on the path, some few kilometers away. “Your dinner.”

The first woman looked to her partner, a petite woman with luminous dark skin and matching ebony curls who had kept her eyes on the crowd during their exchange, a small smirk gracing her lips.

“You were supposed to be keeping watch,” the chestnut-haired woman accused, managing to sound more fond than angry.

The smirk grew to a mischievous grin. “I was, Sybil darling. I knew he was there.” At Sybil’s shocked look, she let out a tiny, tinkling laugh. “What? I liked him. There’s something odd about him. Positively gives me the chills.”

Sybil narrowed her eyes. “ I’m the only one who should be giving you chills.”

The petite woman rested a reassuring hand on Sybil’s arm. “And you do, darling. He’s just intriguing is all. I thought I’d let him have a little peek.”

Wolfe cleared his throat, polite but pointed, eager to get to the matter at hand. He gestured with his chin to Sybil. “You were hurt last night. That man lashed you with a knife; the wound healed immediately.”

Sybil shot a reproving look to her partner. “Oh my, so you really let him see everything .”

Wolfe pressed on. “You told him to stop being afraid, and it worked. As if you tricked him somehow.”

The women continued to gaze at each other, ignoring him.

“Can you die?” Wolfe asked, unwilling to be deterred.

It was the petite woman who finally answered, to Sybil’s chagrin. “We can, technically, but it takes an awful lot.”

Sybil threw up her hands. “ Daphne. Really.”

“What?” Daphne giggled. “He’s curious. And we can always make him forget later.”

They could, couldn’t they? He’d been right.

These women had money. Proximity to immortality.

The ability to manipulate others with just a few words.

Wolfe felt a pinch of true excitement replace the envy in his gut, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, not since his parents had lost their fortune.

Since he’d been left out in the cold despite a lifetime of careful, contained behavior.

He was bored of it. Bored of keeping himself under such tight control without reward.

And with nothing left to him? Not even what was supposed to have been his due?

It was only a matter of time before he was going to snap.

And then he’d be risking prison or a hanging.

Consequences. It was all about consequences.

It was time to change the stakes.

“How did you come to be this way?”

Daphne looked to Sybil, a flirtatious pleading in her gaze. It took only a moment before Sybil sighed and waved a hand, giving her tacit permission. Daphne rose in her seat to peck her on the cheek, then turned to Wolfe with a cheeky smile. “We were turned into what we are by another like us.”

There it was. Wolfe stepped closer. “And you can do the same?”

Sybil let out a sigh, her fingertips toying with the ends of her heavy waves of hair. “I don’t like the direction of this conversation.”

A pity she felt that way, but no concern of his. “Turn me,” he ordered, unable to bring himself to make it a request.

Daphne only smiled, but Sybil laughed at him, low and mocking. “You have no idea what you’re asking. Have you already forgotten what you’ve seen?” She gestured to the passing crowds. “You’d need to regularly consume human blood to survive.”

Wolfe nodded. “Fine.”

“And you wouldn’t age.”

“Excellent.”

“ Meaning ,” Sybil stressed, as if he were one of the dim-witted masses and hadn’t followed that thread to its logical conclusion, “you’d have to leave your family behind, abandon your position in this world.”

“Not a problem.”

Sybil leaned forward in her seat, seemingly intrigued despite herself. “You might kill, when you’re starting out. You’ll be out of control. You’ll most likely take human lives.”

Should he pretend remorse over that fact? But Daphne, for her part, was looking him over with a knowing gleam in her eyes. He wasn’t so sure she’d be fooled. For once, Wolfe chose the plain truth over manipulation. “I’m not particularly bothered by that.”

“What a little monster,” Daphne crooned approvingly. It seemed he’d chosen correctly. “Maybe we should turn him.” At Sybil’s look, she shrugged prettily. “I’ve always wanted a child.”

Sybil looked Wolfe over with distaste. “He’s a fully grown man. And a creepy one, as you said.”

“Still.”

Sybil frowned at her paramour. “He won’t be like we were when we turned. He doesn’t have a mate at his side.”

“A mate?” Wolfe asked, not willing to let them deny him on a technicality. Would they really refuse to turn him because he didn’t have a wife? He could get a wife.

Daphne smiled winningly at him. “A beloved, just for you.”

Sybil let out an exasperated noise, apparently displeased with that explanation.

“Our kind. We’re given a…matched spirit, you could say.

Fate designates us a person, to spend our extended lives with.

If we can find them. If not, this path won’t end well for you.

You’ll go feral. You’ll be put down like a rabid dog. ”

Wolfe would like to see them try. Still, best to be cautious. “How long do I have to find them?”

“Hard to say. Decades? Centuries? It varies.”

The imprecision was frustrating, but Wolfe could manage. He had faith in himself above all else, including fate. “And how will I know?

“You’ll just…know. They’ll be yours, and you’ll know it.” She exchanged a disgustingly loving look with Daphne, who preened under the attention.

Wolfe took a moment to ponder it. He hadn’t intended to factor anyone else into this transformation. But there was something to it, to the thought that there was someone out there, someone for him. Someone just for him.

He looked to the pair in front of them. He’d seen them in action; he knew the two of them were bloodthirsty, maybe even cruel. But they still had companionship, acceptance, devotion.

He could have that too. He could have everything.

His resolution strengthened.

“Turn me,” he said again, trying his best to make it a request and not a demand. “I’ll find my mate. You have no need to doubt me.”

The two women shared another look, wordlessly communicating. And Wolfe would have that one day, wouldn’t he? Then Daphne turned to him and smiled. “Come back tonight, little monster. We’ll give you what you need.”

Wolfe left the park with long, eager strides, triumph running through his veins. He’d known there was something off about the pair from the first moment he’d seen them. And he’d been right to follow them that night. It was destiny that he’d seen what he’d seen.

And now he had the perfect path in front of him. Longevity of life, eternal youth, eventual fortune (because how long would it really take to earn back his family’s wealth, when he had whatever supernatural manipulation these women had displayed?).

And a person just for him, someone to keep for always.

Wolfe wondered what they’d be like. He wondered if they’d really see him—each one of his dark corners—and accept him anyway.

Well, they’d have to, wouldn’t they? If it was fate. Destiny.

His smile grew as he walked down the path. Yes, everything was going to be perfect.