Free The Wolf's Captive by Chloe Cox

Ramora for his help.
    She held the satchel close. With growing dread she realized that offering the Duke’s Blend to Paolo Ramora would give him a powerful weapon over her. She had committed a crime for him.
    “Lucia.”
    She jumped at the feel of a warm hand on her bare arm, and jumped again when she saw that it belonged to Paolo. Immediately she remembered his face as it had been the previous night, angry and vengeful and lustful, and contemplating the unthinkable.
    He flinched. It seemed he was remembering, too. She’d never seen him look so uncomfortable.
    “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
    She didn’t know how to respond to that, and he didn’t seem to know what else to say. It occurred to Lucia that Paolo, the pampered only son of a merchant prince, and with a famously overly indulgent mother, did not have much experience in offering apologies.
    At last, he reached for her hand, prying it away from her bag. “I have something I have to show you, Lucia,” he said.
    She gritted her teeth. He meant for her to follow him. Where was David? She’d assumed he would accompany her; she’d never thought of being alone with Paolo again, although now she realized how foolish that had been. Of course she would have to be alone with him. Many times. Probably for the rest of her life.
    And she needed his help.
    “If there’s something I can ask of you in return,” she said. She looked up at him through her mask, knowing he would read her eyes. She tried to make them look promising. “But I have something for you, too. A present.”
    “Of course,” he said, waving his hand like he expected it. “But come with me first, Lucia. It’s important.”
    “Let me find David—”
    “It’s a surprise, Lucia.” There was an edge to Paolo’s voice. No more argument. He reached down and pulled her up from the grave where she sat, cradling her in the crook of his arm. “Just for you.”
    Did she have a choice?
    She thought of her father, so inept at so many things, never quite knowing how to get on in the world, not understanding anything except for the wonderful alchemies that produced the many varietals of amberwine. She swore her father could weave a spell in his still, could make potions with specific effects, could blend vintages to order to give his customers the exact feeling they most desired. He was an incomparable genius, and yet he couldn’t balance the books, or carry on a conversation with a stranger, or even remember to eat regularly. And he only loved, and understood, two things in the entire world: amberwine and his daughter. And if she did not act, both of them would be taken from him. Or worse.
    “Show me,” she said, and forced a smile.
    Paolo smiled back, and his relief was almost enough to calm Lucia’s nerves. Almost. He led her through the towering, ancient tombs of the city’s ancestors, lit sporadically from below with the soft white lanterns of Bacchanal, and adorned with flowering spring vines and rutting couples. Frenzied drummers, hidden behind skeleton masks, beat out a feverish rhythm while Father Ash danced on top of the largest tomb, watching over his kingdom.
    “Where are we going?” she whispered, already knowing the answer. He was leading her to the giant tomb where Father Ash danced.
    “It’s all right,” Paolo smiled at her. “Trust me.”
    Well, that’s not possible , Lucia thought. But it didn’t matter either way. She would have to indulge his surprise, and pretend to like it.
    It was the tomb of the Patriarch that David had mentioned. The exact names had long since worn away from the crumbling stone, so the inhabitants of J’Amel knew their Patriarchs by their choice of tomb. This one had favored snakes. Stone serpents coiled around the base, up the sides, and over the open, arched doorway. Faint music wafted from inside, though it looked empty.
    “Here?” she asked.
    “Trust me,” Paolo said again, and pulled her into the darkened tomb. From above she saw