Licence To Howl by Helen Harper

Chapter Thirteen

At least Scarlett’sdisbelief gave them both something else to think about beyond the near miss mutual seduction that had happened only moments ago.

‘You came to Rome and you didn’t check in with the Lupo clan upon your arrival?’ She stared at him with the same sort of expression that she might have also worn if he’d stripped naked, placed a pineapple on top of his head and performed the macarena in front of the Trevi Fountain.

‘I didn’t know of the Lupo clan. How could I check in with people who I didn’t know existed?’

Scarlett leaned across to press the button for the lift. He allowed himself a heart-stopping gulp of the heady scent of her hair before she continued to berate him for a fool.

‘Jesus, Devereau. You’re not naïve enough to think that only England has supes, right?’

He inhaled again. Damn. She smelled better than that weird shit they pumped into the atmosphere of Heart, the vamp nightclub in Soho. Then he met her eyes and remembered to focus on the conversation. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘In fact, I also know that Rome was founded by werewolves.’

‘Did Nicolo Moretti tell you that right before he beat your arse?’

‘You know him?’

‘I’ve met him once or twice.’ Scarlett sighed. ‘You should have done your homework, Devereau. Visiting Moretti and the rest of the Lupo clan should have been the top of your agenda. It’s common courtesy. Not only that but your unannounced arrival could be seen as a genuine threat. Wolves are territorial creatures. Even you know that.’

The lift dinged as it finally arrived at their floor. ‘I had other things on my mind than the werewolves of Rome, Scarlett.’ They both stepped into the lift. ‘But, yes, I should have considered them and done more to seek them out. I’ve learnt my lesson.’

The doors closed and the lift started to descend.

‘However,’ he added, ‘Moretti didn’t beat my arse.’

Scarlett sniffed. ‘Not yet. But he definitely will soon.’

‘I’m the most powerful werewolf that’s been seen for generations. It took four separate bites to turn me,’ he reminded her.

‘You might be powerful, Devereau,’ Scarlett said. ‘But you’re nothing compared to Nicolo Moretti.’

Jealousy flared deep in his chest. ‘You sound like you admire him,’ he growled.

She shrugged. ‘I do.’ She paused. ‘Even if he is an ostentatious furball with an ego the size of Mount Etna.’

The lift dinged again and the doors slid open to reveal the hotel lobby. Devereau blinked. Aldo Costa hadn’t been lying when he’d said there was a large group waiting for him. There had to be at least twenty werewolves standing in wait for him. Scarlett let out a low whistle. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘You’re screwed.’

He threw her an irritated glance and strode towards them. There was no sign of Moretti himself but Devereau recognised a few faces and individual scents from the previous night’s encounter. He smiled broadly in a bid to put the other werewolves at ease and then inclined his head to show a modicum of respect.

‘You’re earlier than I thought you would be,’ Devereau said to nobody in particular. ‘So I apologise for keeping you waiting.’

‘You knew we were coming for you,’ rumbled a dark haired male with ominous intent.

Devereau looked him up and down. The Lupo clan didn’t appear to wear helpful tags indicating their ranking like the London clans did. All the same, he reckoned this fellow was a beta. He had both the age and the poise to be one of Moretti’s most trusted wolves.

‘I did indeed,’ Devereau said cheerfully. There was no reason to antagonise the man. In fact, the more amenable and less aggressive he could appear, the faster he’d extricate himself from whatever idiocy Moretti had planned for him. The clock was ticking after all and there was the far more pressing concern of Christopher Solentino to worry about. ‘My name is Devereau.’

The older wolf rolled his eyes. ‘I know who you are.’ Then he glanced at Scarlett and his demeanour changed instantly. ‘Scarlett Cook. It’s a pleasure to see you again.’ He looked as if he meant it.

‘Orsetto, the pleasure is all mine.’ Scarlett grinned at him.

‘You’re not with this pezzo di merda, are you?’

Devereau wasn’t sure what pezzo di merda meant but he could certainly guess. ‘She’s already told me off for not following the appropriate traditions,’ he said.

‘I’d expect nothing less.’ Orsetto raised his busy eyebrows at her. ‘Are you coming with us tonight?’

‘That depends,’ Scarlett said. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Il Colosseo.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I thought you might be heading there. It wouldn’t be my first choice of evening’s entertainment.’ She pointed at Devereau. ‘But I can’t afford to let this one out of my sight. If I do, he might run away when I’m not looking.’

Scarlett’s words were an obvious dig at his own attempt to get her to leave the city. Orsetto didn’t know that, however. His head snapped towards Devereau and his eyes narrowed, a sheen of lupine yellow lighting up his irises. ‘If you run, little Englishman, we will rip the fangs from your mouth, the fur from your body and the tail from your bony arse.’

Devereau frowned. ‘Bony arse? I have some curve appeal.’ He nudged Scarlett. ‘Right?’

She clicked her tongue but he was sure he could see at least some amusement flickering in her face. ‘Ignore him,’ she told Orsetto. Then she tilted her head and softened her voice. ‘I am not apologising for Devereau Webb and I’m certainly not excusing his actions. But he is here in Rome because he must deal with a serious, time-sensitive matter. Do you think it’s possible to appeal to Alpha Moretti’s better nature and let him off with a warning on this occasion?’

Orsetto’s response was immediate. ‘No.’

Scarlett’s mouth twisted. ‘I thought as much. You understand I had to try.’

‘Of course.’

‘He’s a new wolf but he’s no weakling,’ Scarlett said.

‘So we have heard.’ Orsetto’s eyes gleamed. ‘But that is all the more reason to ensure he understands his place.’

If there was one thing Devereau despised, it was being spoken about as if he wasn’t here. ‘Come on then,’ he said aloud. ‘Let’s get this over and done with.’

‘I wouldn’t be in a such rush if I were you,’ Orsetto smirked. He snapped his fingers and half a dozen other werewolves immediately stepped forward, encircling Devereau and separating him from Scarlett.

‘I always wanted an entourage,’ Devereau murmured. He smiled again, although his thoughts were in turmoil. Just what sort of shady shite was he about to find himself in?

‘One question,’ Scarlett said, from over to his right. ‘Will you make him wear the costume?’

‘If we’re going to do this,’ Orsetto replied, ‘we should do it properly. Right?’

Devereau could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Right.’

Now he had a really bad feeling about this.

* * *

Although it was barelycocktail hour, Rome was no different to London at this chilly time of year. Sunset had been and gone and the sky was dark and cloudy. Devereau could only catch a bare glimpse of the moon as he was marched out towards one of several waiting cars.

‘I trust we’re not travelling far?’ he inquired. He flicked a look to his right. The mysterious motorcyclist was still there, sitting on top of their bike across the road. Whether he would continue to follow them now that most of Rome’s own werewolves were involved, only time would tell.

The six wolves encircling him didn’t answer. Apparently Orsetto was the only one allowed to talk.

‘Don’t worry, Signore Webb,’ he said. ‘We’ll be there soon enough, even with the rush hour traffic.’

‘Is it closed to tourists?’ Scarlett asked.

‘From 4.30pm.’

Devereau’s left eyebrow twitched. What was it Orsetto had said to her before? Il Colosseo?

‘We’re going to the Colosseum?’

This time, Orsetto elected not to answer. Devereau thought he glimpsed a smile on the face of one of the other wolves, however. Huh. Somehow he didn’t think they were heading to arguably Rome’s most famous tourist spot for some sightseeing. He sighed to himself and got into the backseat of the first car as directed. He’d promised Moretti he’d do this. He had to man up and take his lumps. With any luck it would all be over soon.

Despite the heavy traffic, they pulled up outside the Colosseum within less than twenty minutes. The circular half ruins were lit up from within by warm inviting lights and, despite his attempts at maintaining a cool façade, Devereau felt himself drawing in a sharp breath. It was stunning. He would defy anyone to look up at the structure and not imagine what it must have been like during its heyday almost two thousand years ago.

The werewolf seated next to him, who hadn’t uttered a single word to Devereau yet but who was communicating a great deal from the stench of his breath, turned and grinned at him. Devereau didn’t know if it was caused by excitement or a deliberate attempt at intimidation, but his teeth were bared, shifting before his gaze from stubby human canines to elongated lupine fangs. ‘You can run now,’ he said. ‘If you dare.’

‘You’re talking to the wrong wolf.’

‘Thought you were a sheep, not a wolf.’

Don’t rise to the bait, Devereau told himself. ‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing,’ he answered.

‘We’ll soon see about that.’

Yeah. We will.

Devereau and the others got out of the car. Scarlett emerged from the vehicle behind. She sent him one brief wary look before curving her lips into a delighted smile. ‘It’s been too long since I’ve been here,’ she cooed.

‘Then we are pleased to welcome you back.’

Devereau’s head turned and he spotted Moretti walking towards them. He automatically straightened his spine, drawing himself up. No, he didn’t wish to antagonise the Italian alpha. And no, he wouldn’t act submissive either. He wasn’t beyond playing the role of dippy English tourist, however.

‘We should immortalise the moment with a selfie!’

Moretti grinned. He pulled out a sleek phone and posed, taking a photo only of himself. ‘Looking good, Nicolo. Looking gooood.’ He winked at Devereau and put the phone away.

Devereau couldn’t do anything but smile in return. Despite the situation and the man’s propensity for grandstanding, he had to admit that, like Scarlett, he liked the man. He had a sense of humour and was quite willing to poke fun at himself. Devereau didn’t think he was particularly under-handed or manipulative either, which was both unexpected and unlike the other werewolf alphas he’d come across so far. Of course, whether he would feel quite so amenable towards Moretti by the time this evening’s shenanigans were over, only time would tell.

‘I’m here as you demanded,’ Devereau said. ‘I do have a request to make of you, however.’

Moretti seemed amused. ‘A request? I’m not sure you’re in any position to be asking for anything, Signore Webb.’

‘I have important business to take care of here in Rome,’ Devereau told him. ‘Life threatening business. I would appreciate it if this,’ he waved a hand around, ‘whatever this is, doesn’t take too long.’

‘That will depend on whether you still have a life to be threatened when we are finished here.’ Moretti’s words were ominous but there was a sparkle in his eyes which belied the gravity of what he was saying.

Devereau didn’t smile. Not everything was a joke. ‘It’s not my life that’s being threatened,’ he said quietly. He’d barely finished speaking when Solentino’s obedient motorcycle man appeared on foot from round the corner. He must have parked the bike somewhere nearby – and it was clear he wasn’t about to give up his chase any time soon.

Moretti gazed at Devereau. ‘I see.’ He nodded thoughtfully while Devereau breathed out. The alpha wolf wasn’t going to cause him too many problems now. He was sure of it. ‘Well, we’ll do our best to be finished by the witching hour but I can’t make any absolute promises. Our audience won’t wish to remain here all night anyway.’

Devereau’s brow creased. ‘Audience?’

Moretti smirked. ‘They’ve paid good money to be here,’ he said. ‘They deserve value for money.’

Scarlett spoke up from the side. ‘I doubt you’ll have any worries on that score.’ She curtsied mockingly.

In return, Moretti bowed, throwing his arm out in an unnecessary flourish. ‘Ciao, Signorina Cook.’

‘Ciao.’ She tapped her watch. ‘Shall we get started?’

‘Va bene.’