“Humor me, please, alpha.” Regis was having too much fun with Titus’s confusion.
“I can only speak for wolves.” Titus straightened up. “According to my father, an alpha wolf is highly protective of his pack. He is strong, honest, and fair, and treats younger and less strongwolves under his care with compassion and empathy. Is that what you’re talking about?”
“You missed the one other important part. Weird if you think about it, as it’s a core part of who you are and what you are known for.” Regis chuckled. “You forgot about virility. An alpha wolf is known for his raging virility.”
“I’m a wolf in a suit. How raging can that be?” Titus let out a long breath. “Okay, so you’re suggesting the goddess side of the godly partnership is offended, bothered, or feels uncomfortable because of the way I naturally present myself?”
“As a sexually virile, objectively handsome wolf shifter? I imagine so, yes.” Regis nodded. “It might pay to tone it down a bit if you want Orion’s business.”
“I don’t deceive anybody in any aspect of my business dealings, and that applies to all areas of my life.” It was Titus’s turn to grin. “If my rampant virility bothers the fair lady, perhaps she should let her brother handle the negotiations. In fact, I’ll suggest it if he’s not present at the appointment I have with them this afternoon.”
“God chasing.” Regis shook his head as he got out of his chair. “I definitely need a new alpha bingo card. Happy hunting. Let me know how it goes.”
Chapter Three
“Hi, Mrs. Taylor, is there anybody in the music room today?” Apollo slipped through the wide glass door of the youth center, ducking his head as if he were shy. If anybody had seen him, they would never recognize him as an ancient god, or even the half-owner of Orion Industries.
Once a week, Apollo glamoured himself to look like a young man, Ace. He appeared with a mop of dark curly hair and a skinny frame - a man who favored baggy faded blue jeans and old band T-shirts that were one wash away from being rags. He’d been volunteering as a music tutor of sorts at the youth center for a couple of years. It was the highlight of his week and an opportunity for Apollo to allow the power of his muse to run free.
“It’s good to see you, Ace. I don’t think there’s anyone in there at the moment,” Mrs. Taylor said ruefully, flicking a glance at the music room door that was just down the hall from where her desk was. “You know what these youngsters are like. When the sun’s out, so are they – I think there’s a football match going on or something.”
“At least you know they’re getting some exercise.” Apollo flashed a grin. “That’s not a bad thing. Not everyone feels the music in their soul, and I can totally respect people wanting to spend some time outdoors.
“But if you don’t mind, I’ll pop in there and just have a bit of a play around for an hour anyway. And then, yeah, if people come in, they do. And if they don’t, I would have had fun anyway.”
“Would you mind leaving the door open if you’re going to play?” Mrs. Taylor developed a sudden pink on her cheeks and fussed with some papers on her desk. “I love listening to your music, especially when you play the guitar.”
“Of course I will, and thank you for your kind words.” Apollo nodded, keeping up the bashful act. “Music is meant to be shared, and if it can make you smile, then that’s a bonus too.” He nodded again as he quickly hurried through to the music room, making sure to prop the door open. The room was empty as Mrs. Taylor feared, but Apollo didn’t worry about it.
The youth center served as a drop-in space for young people between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, who, through no fault of their own, had been dealt a harsh hand in life. While Apollo knew he was not allowed to interfere in mortal affairs, no matter how tempted he might be at times, a few years before, he recognized that music could serve as a communication tool, reaching parts of the human soul that a lecture often missed.
Sometimes there could be up to a dozen young people milling around the music room, looking for some direction. Other times, there might be one or two, or, like now, the room could be empty. Apollo was quietly confident it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Wandering across the battered wooden floors, Apollo looked at the meager range of instruments - six guitars, including a couple of bass guitars. A trumpet, a clarinet, two flutes, and four tambourines. In the corner of the room, there was a set of drums that was still intact. Apollo resisted the temptation to fill the wall with every instrument known to mankind. That was a giant step too far. He’d once donated money to the center, in the hope that some of the funds might be used in the music hall, but of course, young people needed more than music to sustain them, and it didn’t happen.
The guitar he picked up was in desperate need of new strings. That was something Apollo could do. A little flick of magic, and Apollo strummed over the new strings, smiling as the notes rang true, the way they were meant to. Perching himself on a stool bythe side of a little wooden stage, Apollo let his mind wander as he started to play.
The one known as Titus dominated his mind – Apollo expected that. He hadn’t been close enough to register that the man was a wolf shifter, but in hindsight, he should’ve realized once Artemis mentioned it.The man is so damn confident, no matter what he’s doing,he thought fondly. It was totally understandable that Artemis would have an issue with that particular alpha wolf’s virility…Although personally, I could’ve had some fun with it.
Plucking the strings of the guitar, Apollo considered what might happen if he approached his love interest. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, it’s just now he had added context. Not that it mattered, he decided sadly. Some things never changed for him personally, so it just couldn’t happen. Apollo’s heart was already invested, and he hadn’t even spoken to the man yet.The kindest thing I can do for him is stay away.
Recognizing his thoughts were delving into dreary spaces, and his music clearly followed, Apollo deliberately changed the tone. Light, bright notes floated among the dust motes in the hall, making Apollo smile.
He’d been playing for about ten minutes when he felt a disturbance in the air.Ah, there he is. “Hey, Timothy,” he said softly as he continued to play. “Come on in.”
Timothy was around fifteen or sixteen years old. Apollo wasn’t sure of the specifics, and it wasn’t important. The young man was tall, far too slim to be healthy, with a mass of blond hair that always looked as if it needed cutting, half covering a thin, gaunt face, and a mouth that rarely smiled.
It was Timothy’s eyes that first caught Apollo’s attention when they’d met three months before. Haunted, full of fear, those eyes had touched Apollo’s heart in a way that hadn’t happenedbefore. He didn’t know Timothy’s story. It wasn’t his place to know, but from the moment they met, Apollo recognized the muse buried deep inside the troubled young man, and that called to him.
“Did you want to join in?” he asked, indicating his guitar. “You can use this one if you like, and I’ll grab another one.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” But even as he was talking, Timothy was crossing the floor to take the guitar Apollo offered him. “You always make these old instruments sound good.”
“You do, too.” Getting up, Apollo grabbed another guitar, giving it the same string treatment as the one before. “And never think you’re disturbing me,” he added as he sat down again. “Music is something that should be shared with anyone. I’ll play something random, you just add your sound as you feel it. We’ll have an old-fashioned jam session.”
Apollo let his fingers dance over the strings, playing a series of light, breezy notes with no fixed tune. That was the joy of music – notes could convey any mood. It didn’t have to follow a specific tune, music that had been played before. Sometimes the greatest fun came from mashing notes together and seeing what happened. Apollo kept the tone light and simple – in his head, he was invoking the feelings of spring and hope, of new life and dreams – and although it took a few moments, eventually Timothy started playing too.
Apollo shook his head and smiled, listening to how cleverly Timothy was ranging his notes around Apollo’s – providing the deeper notes sometimes and the higher notes at others. Timothy’s instincts, when he just let himself focus in the moment, were impeccable, adding a depth to Apollo’s sounds as if he could read Apollo’s mind. His note choice encouraged Apollo’s muse.This was why I came into being,Apollo thought.
