Free Wolves of Haven: Lone by Danae Ayusso

“Give it time.
Connie is a special kind of creature, one that doesn’t allow the
darkness of the world to shadow him. He sings because it keeps him
from succumbing to the darkness of humanity that he must face on a
daily basis. You should respect him for being able to separate
himself from his work as he does.”
    “I respect him as a very talented
doctor and M.E.,” Akia admitted. “But I cannot respect the way he
approaches his work. The childish antics were disrespectful to each
victim and their families. Death should be respected-”
    “And life should be enjoyed,” he
countered warmly, with a smile. “We each deal with death in our own
way. You, sadly, have always embraced the darkness and shadow which
is death. Connie has always tried to illuminate those shadows and
darkness with humor and light. You cannot fault him for that. Come,
dinner will be ready soon and then we’ll catch up,” he said and got
out of the Jeep.
    Akia softly growled under her
breath, well aware that he was trying to change the
subject.
    Beowulf opened the driver side door
then offered her his hand.
    She shook her head in resignation
and took his hand, and he pulled her out of the Jeep and into his
arms and hugged her tight.
    “Welcome home, Daughter,” he
whispered.
    Akia returned the embrace and
hugged him tight. “Thanks, Dad.”
    ****
    “Huh,” Ulrik huffed, looking out a
second story window. “I was expecting more,” he commented, watching
the couple in the driveway hug.
    Louvel shook his head, drawing the
curtains the inquisitive young man was looking out. “Leave them be.
Go see if Fae needs help setting the table.”
    Ulrik groaned. “But I don’t want to
help Ginger Bear,” he whined. “He keeps threatening to tie me to a
chair so he can give me a makeover.”
    The amused Frenchman chuckled.
“What would it hurt to humor your big brother? Fae only wants to
help you pick a color and stick with it… What do you call that mop
on your head? Blueberry, teal, turquoise?” he asked with another
chuckle, eying the questionable locks of hair standing up every
which direction on the young man’s head.
    “I call it Smurf in a blender, but
the bottle called it Atlantic Blue,” Ulrik said, making a face, as
he walked with his uncle to join the others in the dining room.
“Can I get a tattoo?”
    “No,” Louvel said. “Those adorned
with tattoos are questionable at best.”
    Connell snorted, following them
down the stairs now that he had taken a quick shower. “I resent
that, Uncle,” he said, pulling a shirt over his head, concealing
the tattoos covering his chest, back, and arms to the elbows. “If
the kid wants tattoos, when he’s older you should support him. They
hurt like hell and might help put hair on his balls.”
    “Hey!” Ulrik whined, spinning
around, punching him in the arm before he hurried the rest of the
way down the stairs, out of Connell’s reach. “Not cool. I have hair
on my balls. Unlike you, I don’t wax so I look like a Ken
doll.”
    Louvel shook his head; why he
bothered he didn’t know.
    Connell pulled open the front of
his sweat pants and looked down. “Don’t mind him, Boys. Kid is just
jealous that his balls haven’t fully descended yet.”
    “And now it officially feels like
I’m home,” Akia said from the foyer with Beowulf’s arm around her
waist. “My brother is talking to his balls as if that’s an everyday
thing and no one is remotely surprised or put off by this.
Seriously, if he starts licking his balls in front of company, I’m
leaving.”
    Connell looked up from his crotch
to his sister and smirked. “Aw, it’s just like the holidays!” he
beamed with a smile.
    “Oh yes, because having to bust
Father out of jail is what kicks off every holiday get together in
this family,” she retorted.
    “It should be,” he said before
sliding down the banister to the foyer, joining them. “Sis, you
look tired. Did you want to freshen up first?”
    Akia gave him a look.