It wasn’t that he hated Miguel. Or even his mother and father.
More so, he hated that he was an insatiable beast. With charming good looks. The moon would be full soon, visible there in Lisbon. Mateo picked a bar brimming with unbeknownst humans, his partner wide eyed at him. He’d been newly turned, so it would end up being a blood fest.
Mateo liked the idea of this, it aroused him. He was watching his waitress – no older than twenty-five twist through her customers, constantly eyeing him and looking down, grinning.
It’s a shame she didn’t know what he had planned. To seduce her, to have his way.
To feast.
His friend was getting antsy, clearly he was tipsy. And as far as them fitting in…Mateo was sunburned from being homeless. He smelled as though he hadn’t bathed recently. His hair was oily, his face with dirt patches. And here was a young woman, flirting with him. The only thing grand about him were his replacement fingers – made of white gold and chrome. They were adorned with beautiful filigree and font of a language no one knew.
Mateo felt confident until he saw The Stretch of Concord walk through the doors, casting their shadow on the polished granite floor. With their crisp white uniforms, as if their stances weren’t boastful enough. The left pockets were lined with navy blue, as the flap stated their positions, neatly scrolled in cursive. On the right were golden badges of honor. The collar, lapels and pockets were outlined with navy as well. The crowd hushed slowly as the top wolf, the only one wearing a hat, strolled through the tavern leading his betas.
Leo Ramos, the alpha, pulled out his chair, smiling as it scooted and stirred the already tense moment between he, the stranger, and the tavern’s familiars. This did not include Mateo, but at least he hadn’t made a grand entrance.
Leo was average height, but he had a stocky build. He kept his dark and curly hair in a ponytail, and always shaved his face. Mateo didn’t know exactly how old Leo Ramos was, he just knew he didn’t like seeing him.
“Lord Cervantez, good to see you on a full moon,” Leo started, sitting down and eyeing the grim and contempt riddled upon Mateo.
Mateo’s hands slammed down on the table as he stood aggressively to leave, he wanted no part in this conversation. Either he had a request or he came to gloat. Mateo just wanted to drink and fuck.
“Sit, you’re still a part of this order. As is your brother, your father. And god rest, your mother too.”
Slowly sitting, Mateo glared long and hard at Leo, then motioned for a drink.
“Two please,” Leo said quickly, eyeing Mateo with the same intensity.
“Go find Miguel then,” Mateo muttered, knowing Leo would end up paying for his drinks and controlling the conversation.
“Haven’t you heard? The master is dutifully married to a beautiful half bred. He’s been pretty occupied, according to a spy of mine. We rustled his feathers a bit before leaving…before the monsoon…”
Mateo grimaced, he and Miguel hated rain. More because you could smell a dog quicker, and that anytime it rained, it was a reminder of how he murdered his mother.
For nothing.
Mateo had a scar on the right side of his face leaving him blind in that eye, and he was missing two fingers to prove that point. He pushed Miguel too far, this time. He figured Miguel would succumb, surrendering the estate and its benefits. But he was stronger than he realized, faster.
The only thing Mateo had going for him was the fear he knew Miguel still bottled up at night – newly wed or not.
Their drinks came, as Mateo watched Leo converse with one of his soldiers. Then he looked at Mateo, attempting to toast. He hesitated, hoping this wouldn’t be his last shot. It’s when he realized it was still early. He had a couple of hours before the sun would set and the moon would rise. He then hated Leo for existing at this moment, it meant they had been watching him too.
When their glasses clinked, Mateo delivered his liquid refuge back, hearing the familiar sound of silver encased iron. Handcuffs specifically made for werewolves like him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to run and leave this town. But he knew it was probably surrounded, and he began to question if Miguel had set this up.
“If you go willingly, I have a paying job for you,” Leo said, interrupting his thoughts.
“And if I don’t go willingly?”
“A job, then.”
Mateo cursed to himself, hateful toward Leo. He wanted to rub his face clear of his perspiration. The waitress eyed him nervously…Mateo wanted her. He could hear her moans echoing in the background, as she pleaded with him, pleasurably of course.
Then Mateo hated himself, more than anything. Because he was wide open at this moment, The Guild using arrows…and he an empty field. He sighed, presenting his wrists for cuffing. The Guild would pay handsomely. The old wolf just wasn’t sure as to why they couldn’t retrieve Miguel themselves.
The tavern was still quiet, the patrons wide eyed and receptive of silence. All were watching Leo and his men casually stroll outside. Mateo caught one last glimpse of the waitress, who was now avoiding eye contact, pretending she didn’t see him.
He swallowed hard. Tonight would be rough – in a silver cell, under the full moon? He would be huddled up in a corner, wild with fever and no one to let forth upon. Cursing again, he realized they came at this time for a reason. Mateo boarded the back of the wagon, his cuffs now attached to the bars. His friend came scrambling out, a scared look in his eyes.
“What about me?” He asked cautiously, looking throughout Leo and his men, “this is my first night alone and-“
Leo moved quickly with his sword, as he swiftly disemboweled the young man, then swiped and watched his head roll. Mateo screamed in absolute anguish, smelling the blood having splattered his face and the bars. That was his only friend. The last one he had ever made. He’d known him long enough that he should have remembered Leo would kill him.
Leo’s eyes were glowing. He sneered, his teeth had come out a bit. He cracked his neck, then spat on Mateo’s friend.
“You know the rule,” Senor Ramos said calmly, “he hadn’t been inducted or properly turned. Besides, I have a job for you…”
That didn’t change the fact that his companion was murdered in cold blood. How quiet everyone was. How strange it was that no one protested, yet watched. It was as if the entire town knew Mateo would be here…and be caught by men wearing shiny buttons on their jackets and bows in their hair. Mateo was beginning to hate a lot of things.
His drunken mind knew the cell he was going to. He had been here before.
****
One. Three. Eight howls now. In unison. They were inebriated, loud. Showing off. Mateo, however, was crouched in the corner, shaking violently. He’d thrown up. Now he was seeing things. Miguel, sitting across from him, laughing,
Ugh, he thought, too much licorice.
More howling, off in the distance. Local wolves turning and probably killing. All free, but Mateo. He understood fully. He hated that too. It would be a few hours before dawn, before the moon would lose its sway. Until then, all he could do was shiver, cry silently and ache. This cell was definitely lined with silver. He suspected the floor was as well.
Leo and his men never spoke out loud about their plans to use Mateo, not that he could make out their side conversations. For all he knew, they were all fucking each other. Or each other’s wives. Mateo couldn’t tell.
He huffed out a shallow howl, winced and whined. That hurt entirely too much. Then he panted, curling up half human, half dog. Breathing faster – he was nervous.
The howls let off again, irritating Mateo. So up he pounced once more, trying to peer out of the bars of his confinement and finding the silver stung just as bad as the first time. He whined, curling into a ball on the floor, on the one spot where the silver had been worn off.
Mateo was also mourning his friend, simply named Junior. He was only twenty-four years old. He sired him last month. Junior and his men thought they could best the wolf, following him into the woods. After he killed every single one of his friends, he gave Junior a choice.
He should have just killed him then and there. Mateo needed someone young enough to know the customs of the world he reentered, yet old enough not to be scolded for drinking and whoring. He whined again, feeling the sting from wounds trying to heal, hoping the sun would rise soon.
Now, he felt it was best to close his eyes and rest – even if the howling started again. Whatever job Leo had for him would be his last, and he was certain it had everything to do with Miguel. His brother owned the island he lived on, as well as the ports. However, an age-old vampiric council made roots nearly one hundred years ago, but this was during a time that Miguel was in mourning himself.
That made Mateo’s lonely heart ache. He still didn’t know why he killed his mother, as it had all been for nothing. For nearly hundreds of years, Mateo had been homeless, close to being so…and running for his life. The only times things made sense was when the moon was full and he was free. He could smell the dinge and sweat that had gathered on his matted hair. There were scabs around his hands and ankles.
Mateo had been sensible and handsome once. Until the day he realized his father didn’t care much for him. He whined again, wincing at the pain from the cell. That still wasn’t a legitimate reason to kill anyone.
While Miguel was holding down the fort (slowly imploding) Mateo saw fit to fuck and fancy with the entire continent of Europe, and the islands in the Caribbean where his father owned a home. He hadn’t been there in a while, he hated boarding ships.
What possessed his brother to marry now? He had so many opportunities to do so. Miguel was just as old as he, younger by only thirty years. His brother initially bit a woman who pledged her undying love to him, and with that she killed an entire town, leaving only a small child behind. Mateo had done the same, after having killed his mother.
He couldn’t help himself.
During all of this, he wondered if he’d ever run into his brother, but he never saw a sign, or anything. Then Mateo grimaced. He never saw his father. Perhaps that beast was dead.
Their father, Eduardo, a Moor muddled with Spaniard blood, had always been ambitious. Traveling the world, always on his own. He often visited the Caribbean, and that’s how he met their mother. Shortly before the crusades had ended, Eduardo found himself confused about the landscape, considering he was dark. None of the people in his household were considered slaves; he gathered they needed jobs and he needed help.
Their mother, Mariposa, was working in his household when Eduardo decided he wanted to marry her. He, however, didn’t realize she was a werewolf as were her sisters and brothers he had hired alongside her. Eventually, he had been turned to ease tensions within their relationship, but this was after Mateo was born.
Life was good before Miguel came along. Mateo was always under his father, even as he grew with age. He didn’t start showing signs of wolf hood until his mother ended up pregnant with Miguel. When he turned, it was ferocious, scary. He was unhinged.
Eduardo fought to keep Mateo subdued so the island and household would not suffer any casualties. And because of his poor behavior, Eduardo eventually banished Mateo. Tying him to a ship, and letting it sail off to sea. He said if he found him later, he was stronger than he thought.
So, Mateo scrambled to get back to the islands where he was born, only to find an empty manor, and wide eyed residents of his old home. Seeing that he had been abandoned because of his rage and jealousy, Mateo stuck close to his family once finding them again and only interfered when he heard the plans his father had, despite there being another son.
Mateo whined again, more high pitched this time. He quivered, wincing pains palpitating throughout the stench, scabs and matted fur. It was simply that no one told him otherwise. He found out the hard way.
And here, even still, he should have never killed his mother.
***
The cell had suddenly become increasingly warm, the sun near high noon and Mateo had finally fallen asleep. He heard Leo’s footsteps approaching, but didn’t feel like moving. Leo would demand something ridiculous of him, and send him on his way.
He could smell lavender wafting in, the efforts of trying to cover up his excessive drinking. Mateo felt he could use a bath as well. He was hoping that would be the case.
Leo huffed, as if hesitant to wake Mateo, who simply sat up and stretched now, knowing he’d be leaving the cell.
“An age-old vampiric council settled on your brother’s land and he hasn’t budged. Instead, he marries one of their half breeds and expects leniency…”
“So long as he doesn’t sully her womb…”
“The council suggested Miguel was saving the mother at firsthand, knowing she was with child…”
Mateo didn’t understand why that was bad, except the young woman was half human. He gazed across the cell, doing his best not to answer in a condescending tone.
“The girl’s mother was royalty. From a bloodline that has been around for far too long. My sources believe Miguel sits on the vampire’s fortune. The House of Desespere, as they are named, are asking for extraction-“
“They signed a deal with him and don’t want to seem like blood sucking, tyrannical ass wipes?”
“Well, they are. They want the girl dead. By any means necessary.”
Leo was asking this of him because Mateo didn’t care much for anyone else’s life the majority of the time. But Leo didn’t understand that Miguel would flee, and or fight to the death. Both were things Mateo didn’t feel like seeing through, especially dying. However, he could leave his cell, accommodate new clothing, and have some spare change for the trouble. Perhaps he wouldn’t kill the girl, and pretend to do so. Maybe he would disappear, again.
This seemed worth it, how would Leo make sure he followed through?
Mateo stood, sticking his hand through the cell bars to shake on it. Leo grinned, directing his men to open his cell.
“Maybe after you bathe…” he chimed.
Ah, yes, Mateo thought. A basin filled with lavender and rose, with warm water. Wide eyed servants…
Except no, as they rounded the corner.
He saw smaller basins filled with water, new clothes draped over the stone benches in the courtyard. Mateo certainly wasn’t anticipating what came next.
“Strip him of his clothing, and begin please…” Leo said, behind him.
Mateo was quickly stripped bare, standing on the stone which had been weathered from the sun and rain. It was hotter here than his cell. He became a little angry, especially after the first bucket was thrown on him. The sweet water stung in a way, as there was now a procession of water from all directions until he screamed out that it cease.
“My wife doesn’t want you in the house!” Leo yelled back.
Mateo nodded as he wiped his eyes, knowing more water would follow. Through this, he could hear the laughter, taunting and jokes. He knew the barber was disgusted with his partially dreaded hair, still covered in layers of filth. And when he was finally dressed and ready, he still felt dirty in a way.
The sun was starting to set now, one of Leo’s men came around the way with a horse, and a pouch of money. Mateo took the reins, immediately petting the horse, calmly talking to it as Leo conversed with his men, taking time to glare at him receptively.
“Miguel will run,” Mateo said loudly, mounting his steed, “am I to chase him?”
“No. You are to rendezvous with my men near his town. His wife makes frequent trips down to shop now, almost weekly. You are to wait until the time is right and then strike. Kill her and only her. Once you return, I’ll pay you the full amount.”
Mateo frowned. He wasn’t trying to come back. He knew not meeting Leo’s men would end badly for him, so he nodded despite what he was feeling.
“You’ll ride to Valencia, since we’re nearer the Atlantic coast now. A ferry awaits you. It’ll be free. It takes a few hours to cross the strait that connects to his island. After that, follow the instructions of Roberto and Gustav. No matter how stupid they sound….” Leo said, as if disgusted with his options of officers.
Mateo caught that, and it made him nervous. Stupid men were jumpy and greedy. This probably wasn’t going to go according to his plan.
When Mateo looked ahead, Leo quickly grabbed the reins of his horse and glared up at him,
“If you run, you better hope we don’t find you…”
Mateo glared back down, doing his best not to waver even with all that was on his mind. He sighed deep, looking ahead at the crystalline night approaching near the west, oranges, pinks and blues swirling and forming the greatest of views.
“Then we better hope it doesn’t rain.”
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The Heiress JCS 