Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

29. There Ain't No Mountain High Enough

August 2018, Los Angeles

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Volya understood that drumming his fingers on his knee while tossing furtive glances toward the door didn't recommend him to the immigration officer. But what was he supposed to do?

He was sweaty, hot, under-slept and Liam didn't reply to the last three texts. Probably too busy.

Hopefully, he was too busy.

Volya's flight from Moscow had circled the tarmac, aiming for the runway, but before he relaxed his head back and blew a sigh of relief, it had turned around, unloaded the passengers, then reloaded them seven hours later. Seven!

Naturally, once they finally landed in L.A., it wasn't a quick stamp on his visa.

Oh, no, no.

It was, please, Mr, Wolkov, step into the office to continue processing your visa. The lawyer was on his way to defend the impeccable paperwork package their firm had prepared. The problem was, it was August 27th, so Liam also was on his way. On his way to Europe.

The black guy in his middle years and spiffy uniform scanned his paperwork one more time. He thumbed the line requiring more scrutiny. "No relations in Russia, hmm..."

Right. Young, single, unattached—the primary flight risk category.

"The boys from my orphanage are like brothers to me," Volya replied.

Plus, he was related to a bunch of werewolves, but he didn't want to fail his medical check by talking about having a family on a magic island in the middle of the River Don.

"Uh-huh," the officer said.

Volya wished he didn't peek at his cellphone. Still nothing from Liam.

"You have a full scholarship from Supra-Agrino Fund at UCLA, yet you stated that you will be residing with a family. Anders' family."

"Yes, sir. The invitation is attached."

"As in Liam Anders, the pop-star?"

"The same," Volya muttered, fidgeting under the man's piercing gaze. There was an invitation attached! "Would you like to call Liam to confirm?"

The officer graced him with a knowing smile. "My two daughters also love what they call 'imaginings'."

That did it. He had had it up to the wazoo with this conversation. Did the guy really think that Volya would be a moron enough to forge paperwork using a pop-star's name?

Volya surveyed the room, security and officials in the other cubbies, other applicants seated in front of each for an interview. As much as he wanted to jump to his feet, grip the ergonomically curved edge of the man's table, get into his face... he couldn't.

He leaned back, hooded his eyes and called upon every ounce of compulsion he had. Then he threw all of it into his words.

"Sir, you have me figured out. Liam Anders is my lover. Yes, me, an orphan from the wild steppes of Russia who should only see billionaires in his dreams. And right now..." he gritted his teeth, pummeling his opponent's will. "Right now I could lose my lover, if you don't stamp my visa. Let me out of this room right now."

The man wiped the perspiring dome of his beautifully-shaped skull.

"Liam Anders' lover. Go figure." His hands went to work, typing on his keyboard, stamping, processing... whatever. "Welcome to the United States, Mr. Wolkov."

"Thank you," Volya said with genuine feeling. "Thank you."

He walked out of the office with the precious visa and proceeded in a stately fashion of a lawful citizen until he was out of the security's view. Then he broke into a headlong run so abruptly, that his sneakers skidded on the non-slippery surface of the airport's floor.

He was no longer afraid of being a lone wolf. Such was the paradox of true love. Fear of being rejected, of being alone, forever hinders it. Yet, he was ready to give his heart even if the guy on the other end of the love-line didn't pick up the figurative phone... but he wanted Liam to answer so much!

Volya ran. Somewhere in the airport maze was his soulmate. He had to reach him before it was too late.

Seek, he ordered his mist-wolf—the beast took off, baying, on the scent, guiding him.

At first, Volya tossed a random excuse me, as he shoved people out of the way, then gave up. He had to save his breath. And he had to focus on keeping his human shape when his instincts pushed him to transform.

He'd run faster, see farther... and would get deported for sure if he transformed into a werewolf in a public space. It was disruptive behavior at a minimum.

Luckily, Liam was as easy to pick out as any werewolf by the swarming of the fans in the general flow of the crowd.

Volya cut through the remaining yards to the Buzzkill boys and yelled, "Step aside."

The pent-up will of an alpha werewolf splashed over the crowd, parting it as if with a knife. At the end of the human tunnel stood Liam.

Volya marched toward him. "I've made it."

Liam was a master of smiles, all kinds of smiles. He literally lit up stadiums. He made his fans scream and whatnot. But this was the smile Volya had never seen before.

Happiness, he realized, this smile was of genuine, no-nonsense, plain vanilla human happiness.

It drew Volya in like a magnet. Before he could talk himself out of it, he kissed Liam.

It was a light kiss, but it was on the lips. PG-13, at most, but people surrounding them expelled a collective aww. The stupor he had momentarily imposed on the crowd wore off. One by one, the phones were raised to capture Liam and him in an embrace.

"I can never go back to the way I was, can I?" Volya asked with a nervous chuckle.

"Neither can I," Liam replied.

Volya slanted his eyes at Harris and the others. "If anyone tries to convince you otherwise, tell them you have a jealous werewolf boyfriend waiting. Always."

"Some of them," Liam replied, kissing his cheek, "some of them might even believe it."

THE END

Calgary, Alberta

January 4th, 2022

Last edited: July 20th, 2023

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We live in scary times. May the better ones come and may we soar again. Glory to Ukraine and Freedom for Russia.