Page 49 of Wild Wolf

“Your mommas call here daily,” she told me. “Whenever you are ready for them, let me know. They’re welcome here any time.”

I nodded stiffly, unsure when I’d be ready for such a thing. Facing them like this, telling them what had become of my Lion didn’t seem like an option, though I felt guilty for leaving them in the dark. I just wasn’t ready to face it yet.

Bianca grasped my hand and tugged me along. “Come, come. I’ve made your favourite dessert. Brambleberry pie with fresh whipped cream.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I said, though hell if I hadn’t dreamed about Bianca’s brambleberry pie in Darkmore.

She led me into the kitchen where the huge pie was waiting on the counter, but my attention was drawn away from it to Luca and RJ who were standing up on the long dining table with a paper mâché Lion standing in front of them. It was as tall as the little one, RJ, and she hugged its neck, the painted face of it grinning at me.

“Is you!” she announced.

Luca did a little dance around it, showcasing the beast and despite the pain in my soul over the lack of my Lion Order, I couldn’t help but smile at what they’d made for me.

“It’s purrrrfect,” I said and RJ squealed a laugh as I petted the beast’s head.

Bianca wasted no time in dishing me out a slice of pie, soaking it in cream and handing it to me in a bowl with a spoon. “Buon appetito, leone mio.”

I spooned a piece into my mouth and damn well groaned at how good it tasted. “Nothing compares to your baking, Bianca.”

She swatted a hand at me but grinned all the same.

“I want pie,” Luca said hopefully.

“Then pie you shall have, nipote,” Bianca said, heading over to grab some for him while RJ begged for ice cream.

The Wolves were pouring into the kitchen, some looking hopefully at the pie while others crowded around me again, asking questions about Darkmore. Someone put music on and Dante’s Uncle Lafeto started up a conga line, shoving a set of doors open and leading a bunch of the Wolves out onto the porch. I’d never known any Fae who could descend into a party faster than the Oscuras.

The celebrations were quick to escalate, the family wine was passed from hand to hand, bottles uncorked and glasses filled with such efficiency that it was a marvel in itself. Rosalie found me again and I tucked her under my arm, holding her close while a song broke out about her, like they’d been waiting for this moment to present it.

“There once was a Wolf that shone like the moon,

Her fur so sleek and as bright as a spoon.

She was daring, brave and gave what-for,

When she went deep down into Daaaaarkmore.”

“Per la luna,” she cursed, embarrassed as the song grew in momentum, everyone around us seeming to have learned it. Rosalie tried to escape, but I held her tight, a grin finding my lips as I stared down at her.

“You earned your legendary status, pup,” I said. “Now stand here and endure the repercussions of your greatness.”

Sin pushed into the room with two glasses of wine clutched in his hands, one red, one white and he sipped intermittently between them. He tried to sing along, mumbling when he didn’t know the words then making up his own in places, but catching onto the chorus quick enough. He loudly introduced the talian corvid on his shoulder as ‘Crow-thing’ and the pups at the party howled excitedly, half climbing him to pet the creature.

Between the music and the wine, it was easy to forget our problems and fall into the lull of safety and joy this house was known for. The Oscuras had a way of banishing the woes of the world and brightening all the dark shadows of the night. And as Rosalie pulled me into a dance and I held my girl against me while the music swallowed us up, I knew nothing could shatter this moment of rapture while the moon was rising. Not until the dawn came. And for now, that seemed like an eternity away.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

No one could party like the Oscuras. It was a fact, pure and simple. The Wolves were going all out and finally having the celebration they had planned on giving me when I’d first returned here – Roary’s appearance meant it was time to indulge at last.

I stayed close to him as the festivities grew louder and more chaotic, the party moving outside onto the sweeping lawn above the vineyard where the moon could watch over us in our revelry.

Drinks were passed out, toasts made and though the aching loss of Roary’s Lion and the bastardo who had escaped with it still hung over us, we were in desperate desire of a little reprieve.

The Oscuras gathered around us, seeking stories from Darkmore, every detail of our escape, the full tale of my mating to both Roary and Ethan, and they demanded every scrap they could get.

Hastings caught my eye as he lingered at the edge of the group while Sin recounted the mayhem he had caused rescuing Roary from Grimolda Isle. Guilt stirred in my gut once again for having forgotten him. But damn, he was just kinda forgettable sometimes.

“You’re leaving out the most important part,” I interrupted loudly while Sin reenacted a moment where he had supposedly wrestled eighteen alligators by hand. I wasn’t certain when the story had turned so fictional but I did have an idea of how to say sorry to Hastings for treating him like a stronzo. And for accidentally unleashing jazzy eyes on him too. “Hastings over there saved all of our asses by leading the wild beasts and monsters away from us when we needed him the most. He saved my damn life out there then swam half way across the ocean to reunite with us for good measure. He’s a motherfucking hero! And he should be rewarded for such loyalty and bravery, don’t you think?” I raised my glass to him and the Oscuras all whirled his way, calling his name out in a toast and howling in celebration of him.

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