The Pack House sat close to the beach, and from the top floors, the view was amazing. But in Lupine, they could walk out to the pier. People passed them on the sidewalk on foot, on skateboard, on bike, and the group greeted each of them by name.
“Do you have your phone?” Van asked him and he nodded. He had no real need for the internet or to call or text, but apparently it was a safety measure he was expected to follow. Lycan did like knowing there was help, and that if called, help would come.
They walked and browsed for hours. Lycan didn’t go into Lupine often, and so it made for an easy place to find the distractions his friends had promised before the coven convened that night. His footsteps faltered only outside a bookstore, and Caine noticed immediately. Caine’s curiosity at his reactions to things was ever-present. Smells that he liked, smells that took a moment longer for him to process, things that made him comfortable, things that made him uncomfortable. He felt like Caine’s science experiment in a way, and it was amusing to see how Caine cataloged even his smallest reactions.
“Let’s go in here,” he offered and Lycan nodded immediately, eagerly pushing open the door.
The scent of books washed over him, and even without any additional ability to scent things with his wolf-nature, the smell was definitely comforting and Lycan could feel his entire face light up with the delight of being in the bookstore.
“What do you like to read?” Caine asked.
“Everything,” Lycan responded, breath coming quickly and eyes bright. Caine let him browse the shelves, observing what interested him, but not so much that he distracted the wolf.
Soon, it became obvious that Lycan could stay in the bookstore for hours, but the sheer joy that seemed to buzz off of him around the books made it almost impossible to deny him the pleasure of it. Caine would guess Lycan had no idea the amount of time that was passing and so he left Lycan to it. Trav, Van, and Puck all moved on to other errands, but Caine stayed to watch Lycan get completely absorbed in the large selection the store offered.
It was getting on in the afternoon though, when Caine looked over Lycan’s shoulder, peering at the title. They were in the Philosophy section, a section that once Lycan had found, he hadn’t left.
“Cicero,” Caine said, reading the spine of the book Lycan held. “Not a bad choice.” Caine looked at the title of the other book Lycan had, this one protectively tucked under his arm, “neither is Nietzsche for that matter.”
Lycan smiled and it lit up his face in a whole new way, behind him Caine could see another customer, an attractive Alpha, stumble into a shelf. No doubt Lycan had that effect on people without the smile, with it, he was a hazard.
Caine watched as Lycan’s long fingers brushed over the pages with a bit of reverence.
“Well, I think that Cicero could well have been the perfect philosopher, at least from Plato’s perspective, you know? But Nietzsche . . . Nietzsche questioned many assumptions about society, religion, and morality . . . Heunapologeticallycreated a philosophy that put the individual responsible for creating meaning in life.”
Caine blinked a few times, enjoying the thrill of still being shocked from time to time.
“Well now, Little Wolf, I can’t say that you are wrong. I met Nietzsche briefly in Germany . . ..”
“Did you?” Lycan sounded eager, “You must tell me the story, Caine.”
Caine nodded with a smile. “Of course, and I think this book,” he plucked the Nietzsche from under Lycan’s arm, “would be a great addition to the library at the Pack House.”
“There’s a library?” Lycan’s eyes looked as bright as they did when Caine had told him there was a gym at the Pack House.
“Indeed, there is. Now, let me have this,” he said, slipping out the other book from Lycan’s hands.
“Wait,” Lycan said softly, his long fingers carefully catching the vamp’s wrist. “Caine - I - I mean, I don’t have a job, yet, and you can’t just . . .I mean all of you can’t just . . ..” Lycan tilted his head, a proud stance, and Caine smiled at the thought of him standing up for himself. “First, the earring,” he touched it briefly, “and now this. It’s not fair for you all to spend your money on me like this. Not when I can’t repay the favor.”
“Am I your friend, Lycan?”
“Of course you are, but I must insist . . ..”
Caine put a hand on Lycan’s shoulder. “Then allow me, please, to give you something that brings you joy. Your friendship has already repaid me.”
“How?”
“You, Lycan, are both an enigma and a delight. Has Seath mentioned how he found me, years ago?”
“No, not to me.”
“Well, let me buy this, you can keep it in the library at the Pack House if you would like, although I would be honored to help you start building your own, personal collection, and I will tell you the story on the way back. Then maybe you can understand.”
Lycan nodded, dropping the wrist he still ensnared. “Thank you, Caine,” he said with a smile, and Caine noted the propriety of his manners, refusing once, then, accepting with grace. That was something ingrained in him, not something magic could bind.
“Do you know much of vampires?” Caine asked as they began strolling back from Lupine to the Pack House, the group reunited once more after lunch and walking on the pier. Lycan would still need to rest before the coven that evening.
Lycan’s forehead creased in concentration. “I think I know some things.”
