The Alpha Emperor’s Resurrection

4: Saga

My brother was sleeping peacefully beside me when the flight landed in Rome, and I had to nudge him hard in the ribs to wake him up.

He was still annoyed at me, as if it was my fault the flight to Stockholm had been overbooked; I could tell from the look on his face that his nap had done nothing to ease his frustration.

"Saga," he grumbled my name sleepily. It was supposed to be a warning.

"Andiamo!" I shoved him playfully.

He looked confused as he unbuckled the seatbelt and stood up to stretch. He didn't speak a word of Italian, and he wouldn't have appreciated me urging him to hurry up anyway, so I didn’t repeat myself.

We had flown Business Class, but we were both over six foot tall and the admittedly generous legroom was not enough to make a twelve-hour flight comfortable for either of us.

"How long do we have to get to the next flight?" he asked, through a yawn.

"Long enough," I smiled.

Robin narrowed his eyes slightly; he knew me too well.

"Long enough for what?"

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged. "And hurry up, they're opening the door. I don't want to get stuck in a queue at customs."

"Why would we be going anywhere near customs? We're catching a connecting flight, we're not leaving the airport."

I rolled my eyes, and took my bag down from the overhead storage as an overweight man with body odor bad enough to make a human gag tried to push past me.

"Naughty boy," I shook my head and blocked the aisle so the man was forced to wait.

He danced impatiently from foot to foot as Robin took his time getting our hand luggage down, then checking for his phone and passport.

The vile human man smirked. He didn't know that I could read his thoughts.

"Barbie's Airport Adventure..." I muttered under my breath, loud enough for him to hear. His eyes widened at the sound of his own thoughts spoken aloud, and I smiled sweetly as he stepped back to give me and Robin more room.

At least my brother found the puerile comment amusing. He smirked, and I shot him a warning glance before we were finally let off the plane.

He paused in front of one of the screens displaying flight times and gate numbers, searching for any potential connecting flight we might be taking.

"We have to pick up our bags from the carousel,” I explained, tugging on his arm; he exhaled wearily.

"I didn't sign up for this. I agreed to come to Sweden with you, not —"

"—you insisted on coming with me. I don't recall asking you to join me, Eddowes. And my plans have changed; I’ve decided I want to spend a few hours in Rome. You can either join me, or wait in the airport."

"Decided? As if this stopover is a choice..."

I hated it that he was right, but I ignored his indignation.

"Rome is a part of our heritage, Robin."

"It's part of yours," he murmured.

"Ours," I corrected him sharply.

Werewolves had ruled over the entire Roman empire, once, and Robin knew that; my interest in visiting the city had nothing to do with my personal heritage, but I couldn’t lecture him about that when we were around humans.

He kept staring up at the screens, weighing up the choices as if he was seriously considering staying in the airport on his own for hours while I was exploring.

“The next flight to Stockholm leaves in 6 hours,” he muttered to himself, then looked at me. “We can’t risk leaving the airport for more than a couple of hours. I don’t want to miss it.”

I smiled warmly, and he frowned; he already knew what I was about to tell him.

“We’re not taking the next flight. Ours leaves in twelve hours, which means we have plenty of time to go to the city and get back here.”

“You couldn’t have told me this at some point on the flight over here? Seriously?”

“And spend my entire flight stuck next to a miserable, grouchy spoilsport? You’re insufferable enough as it is right now. Besides, I didn't want to ruin the surprise.”

He groaned, and buried his face in his hands.

I almost regretted teasing him like that when I saw his expression darken, but that was the entire reason I had let him join me; he didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't in a good place, and he needed to get away from everything to sort his head out.

He had been pushing away anybody who cared about him for months, and the fact he was still on speaking terms with me was a miracle.

"I'm not in the mood to go sightseeing," he muttered, but he was already heading towards the baggage claim, and he clearly wasn't going to sit in the airport for twelve hours on his own.

"We can find a bar, then? Or a concert, or something?" I suggested as he leaned across to pull my heavy suitcase from the carousel.

There was no need to check the label on it; the candy pink case was distinctive enough that it couldn't be mistaken for another, and as much as he teased me for it, he appreciated that it was practical. His own suitcase was just as distinctive; it was covered in stickers bearing the logos of the countless heavy metal bands he had played with over the past few years as a session guitarist.

He had given that up a few months ago, too. He was supposed to be touring with a band over the summer, playing some big festivals across Europe, and he hadn't justified his decision to walk away from that to me. Not yet, anyway.

He had always seemed to love his work, and I knew he still loved it in some respects, but I suspected he was getting tired of being around humans all the time.

He attracted almost as much attention as I did, and he had been hopelessly naïve about that possibility when he first started to work with better-known bands. He only wanted to play guitar and hang out with likeminded people, but he was a walking thirst-trap for women in that scene, and he had cultivated a fanbase without intending to.

The comments on his pictures and videos were full of women fawning over how passionate and dedicated he was as a guitarist, but the only time he had ever shared a picture with me in it...the comments had morphed into snide remarks about real women.

Robin's father had been an Alpha; in another life, he would have been in charge of his own Pack by now; but I was the heir to my parent's Pack, and my brother had never seen himself as a potential Alpha. I had never thought of him that way either until recently, but the way other people responded to him was revealing, and he had no doubt realized that was part of the reason people were so drawn to him when he found himself swarmed by human women and surrounded by men who were trying desperately to gain his approval.

As soon as we were out of the airport he pulled a pack of clove cigarettes from the pocket of his beaten-up leather biker jacket, and fumbled for a lighter.

“So, what's the plan?” he asked, as he lit up the cigarette and took a long drag from it. "I presume you have one?"

I shrugged. “We can do whatever you want."

I had suggested finding a bar, or going to a concert. I didn't really want to do either of those things, and the fact he didn't seem interested in that either was a relief.

He looked thoughtful for a few moments, then smiled as he flagged down a taxi. “Let's just take a walk around the city, see what we can find.”