Cantata of Bewilderment (SevenS 2)
The second work in the SevenS series. As always, do enjoy!
 There was a clatter from inside the bar; Kaze's heart pounded: someone was coming! The assailant suddenly drew in closer, minimizing his profile to make him and Kaze harder to see. His smell, previously harder to notice amidst the panic of the moment, now flooded Kaze's nose--there was a definite tone of male need there, but also the smell of wolf fur, mingled with a cologne that blended with it in a nearly masterful complementary pairing.
 The head of the bar owner craned out the still-ajar doorway leading into the bar. "Kaze, are you still out here? We need someone on the bar, pronto!"
 At the first motion the owner made of moving outward, Kaze's assaulter suddenly fled into the shadows of the alley, using Kaze's body as counter-momentum with a shove. Kaze hurtled over into the dim light cast by the porch lamp, and landed roughly, having not at all anticipated such a sudden move. He gave a grunt with a few notes of whimper in it as he hit the ground, then coughed, his throat a chaotic jumble from the hand that had been clamped around it before suddenly hurling him aside.
 "Kaze? What happened to you?" It sounded more like "yew," with the manager's accent.
 Kaze turned his head, still coughing. There was no sign of the larger canine; it seemed he'd made good on his escape, and not a sound from that direction besides the muted bustle of the city could be heard. "There was a guy...he...I don't know what he wanted, but he *cough* wouldn't let me go..." His voice sounded strange to him; panic wasn't an emotion he generally allowed himself to talk to people while experiencing, though the rush was beginning to slow now that he seemed safe again...
 The manager's eyebrows flew up. "You mean some kind of hooligan held you up back here?" The clatter of cowboy boot heels accompanied him as he darted to the edge of the alley and looked both ways, taking a few slower steps in either direction thereafter.
 Kaze got up slowly, his limbs shaking and threatening to fail him. What had that creature wanted? And what in the world did he mean? It sounded as though the assailant knew someone who knew Kaze, but who would that be?
 "Crap, we missed that sonofagun," said the Texan. "I'd have given him a licking he'd never forget, and then I'd have let the police have him...!" Kaze turned his head to look at the returning fellow, and saw that the expression on his face was one of deadly seriousness. It wasn't uncommon for the boss to be angry or disgruntled, but this was another mask entirely. A flicker of instinctive panic thrilled through him, simply from seeing that expression in his already-tenuous state, but it passed as his mind realized it wasn't directed at him. "You alright, son?"
 Kaze nodded, but his expression seemed to disagree. "I just took a bit of a harsh fall there; I think I'm okay otherwise..." At least physically, he thought to himself. It would definitely take some time to get over this on an emotional level, and he'd probably never feel safe taking out the garbage again...
 "Hmph. I think we'd better get the police on this one anyway--maybe that rascal hasn't gotten far yet." He reached for his cell phone.
 "But I didn't even get a good look at his face--he could have been anyone!" said Kaze. It was true; in the shadows his impression of the wolf had been vague--and pain and panic hadn't made sight any easier on him.
 The Texan hesitated. "Well, still, don'tcha think they could put out like a dragnet, catch the sucker?"
 Kaze shook his head slowly. "They're not going to try that hard when they hear the victim works at a gay bar, and especially since I didn't even get really hurt. They'll probably think it was a pimp job gone wrong, or something like that," he said, feeling more bitter than he allowed himself to feel. It was true, however; the police in this town were rather self-absorbed, and when a long-time patron's car had gotten broken into, an officer didn't even show up until three hours after the 911 call--then proceeded to write off the incident as unfortunate but not worth the department's time for investigation. A similar robbery happened just down the street the next day, at a bar frequented by a more posh clientele, and the day after the newspaper crowed that the thief had been found because the very same officer arrived within ten minutes.
 His boss gave a disgruntled sigh. "Well, let's get you inside and make sure you're not bleedin' or anything. I'll give you a short break to compose yourself if you feel like you can continue the night, but with you and the janitor out I don't know how we'd make it through the rest of the evening..."
 "I...think I can handle it," said Kaze, breathing in shakily. "I'll just have to leave the trash business to Roald or something, for a while..."
 "Hmph, I'll be escorting you guys out here any time one of you have to come out here. With my thirty-ought-six, no less!" The boss's shotgun, Lorilene, was one of his most treasured possessions, and it rested aside his desk like an umbrella. It was always loaded, or so Kaze had heard, and he noticed that when crime happened in the area, he'd find his boss oiling or cleaning it fondly more often than not. It was odd that his boss had never mentioned his past voluntarily, as he seemed to have a lot of history with the burnished firearm, but Kaze had a feeling that it wasn't merely around for show.
 Kaze found himself becoming somewhat numb, retreating into himself as though the "ghost in the machine" was off haunting somewhere else. Somehow he worked through the evening, practically unaware of what exactly happened. In what felt like a molten flow of liquefied time, his awareness blurred together the hours until quitting, and he only began to feel he was coming back to himself as Orieon's pad came into view through his car's windshield, on the drive home. His legs felt shaky again as he parked his car and got out, making his way inside. Some nights Orieon stayed up to wait for his lover's return, and with the light in the front room glowing through the entry window, Kaze felt endlessly relieved that this was one such night.
 The door was unlocked, and as he swung into the house of it, he felt his breath come in in a shuddering wheeze, the mixture of the tension of the night that he'd had to repress in order to finish his shift colliding with the comfort of being safe and home again.
 Orieon heard the strange noise, and with a merest moment's glance at Kaze he could tell that something was not right. He became a whisking blur of orange, black, and white as he swooped in to hold his lover. "Whoa, Kaze, are you alright?" He had to ask, just in case it was something simpler than it seemed, but his intuition insisted something else was at hand...
 Kaze's lungs kept him from answering straightaway, but once they found purchase, he responded: "I...at the bar, I...I got mugged, or something..." Didn't mugging involve someone getting hurt and robbed, he wondered? He did get pushed around a little bit, but it was nothing he couldn't have done to himself by being a klutz, and he hadn't been robbed...
 Orieon gave something of a gasp and a growl at the same time, the resulting noise being something that would have been cause for laughter in most other circumstances. "What? Are you hurt? Who did it to you?" His mind whirled with anger, shock, reproach, and a reflex of vengefulness seared forth in his awareness...
 "I'm...I'm okay, just shaken up mostly...it was a wolf, a big one I think..." He felt his body beginning to calm, if only a little, in response to the reassuring hold of his feline lover...
 "What did he do, Kaze?" Maybe it had been something of a fluke, maybe it was supposed to be someone else and Kaze was just in the wrong place at the wrong time...
 Recalling the events wasn't difficult; on the contrary, Kaze had a feeling that he'd been reliving them all evening while his body executed the role of a bartender without him, but that wasn't to say it was pleasant to remember. "He...he knocked me into the alleyway, then pinned me to the fence, told me that obviously he didn't want to kill me or I'd be dead already...then he said something about seeing something with me, and then he...he felt up my groin..."
 Orieon's brows flew up and another growl escaped him. "What?!"
 Kaze continued, though, almost as though Orieon had said nothing. "About then, Rory made some noise from inside the bar, and I guess it spooked the wolf and he ran away...it was too dark to make out his face really well, so I don't know if I'd recognize him if I saw him again..." His arms were tentatively sliding around Orieon of their own accord, trying haltingly to draw closer to that warm source of security out of some kind of inarticulate instinct...
 Orieon growled again, this time much lower, conveying anger that had cooled from rage to enmity. "Whoever that was, if he shows up again, get a good look at him so I can teach him for touching you wrong...! I won't let this happen twice if I can do anything about it..."
 The smaller wolf shook his head, the motion small and subdued. "Rory has said he'll send someone out with me whenever garbage needs taking out, to prevent that from happening again. And he's said he'll be keeping his shotgun close at hand in case that guy shows his face again..."
 "You don't say," said Orieon, a touch surprised that Kaze's employer, who had only ever struck him as someone who wouldn't lift a finger to help a gay guy, was willing to rise to the occasion like that. "He'll be closer than I can be in a hurry, so I'm happy to hear that, at least..." Gratitude seeped into his mind, putting cracks in the stalwart wall of defensive anger he'd so spontaneously erected. He squeezed Kaze tighter, sighing noisily. "I'm just glad you're okay, in the end, Kaze. Ugh, I can't believe people these days..."
 "Yeah..." said Kaze, his body responding to the tighter embrace in kind.
 "You're shaking still," noted Orieon. "How'd you finish a shift like this?" One of his hands rose to clasp the back and side of Kaze's head as he looked into his lover's eyes, his gaze softening from frustration to compassion.
 "I'm...I'm really not sure," said Kaze. "I managed, somehow...didn't drop anything, either..." He wasn't really sure what he'd even done at work; bits and details of the evening had long since fused into unrecognizable clumps of sensory detritus.
 Slowly Orieon straightened up, and one of his arms slid along Kaze's body, below him, scooping him up like a father might carry a hurt child. "Then relax, Kaze...I'll get you ready for bed." Methodically he turned to transport Kaze down the hall to their bedroom.
 A tiny whimper left Kaze's throat as he clung to that strong form, suspended against gravity for the moment; he was, by nature, an emotional individual, and by necessity he'd learned how to suppress emotion just like he'd done that evening in the latter part of his shift--but that emotion had to come out, and now that he was safe, it had been given release.
 Orieon slid down the comforter and sheets with one arm as he neared the grand, soft bed, carefully balancing Kaze with the other and leaning back a touch to support him with more of the rest of his body in the process. Then he gently let Kaze down, dropping to a knee so as not to tower over his somewhat shorter lover. With careful dexterity he began undoing the accoutrements of Kaze's occupation, his attention focused on performing the task at hand with visible consideration.
 The experience was speaking to Kaze at a deep level; it harkened back to his own days as a pup, where he was taken care of hand and foot if he was harmed, where his own mother or father would be treating him much as Orieon was now. It was the kind of treatment where someone who feared losing his own independence or individuality might protest unnecessarily, because of the undeniably intense emotional and historical weight it carried. But here, being tended to by his lover, he couldn't protest, no, because it was bringing him comfort and reassurance that transcended any rational reasoning.
 Orieon's pace wasn't hurried, but it certainly wasn't leisurely; he was performing the task resolutely, so that he could soon join Kaze and help him find a brief solace from the evening's events in a night of dreaming sleep. Vest and shirt soon gave way, baring the wolf's gray chest, and then the shoes, socks, belt, and pants were tended to, folded and placed neatly by the bedside. He saw his love give a little shiver as he'd addressed the closure of Kaze's pants and realized that the smaller male was still a bit gun-shy, due to whatever it was exactly that had happened to him at the hands of that accosting canine...at that moment, then, he'd leaned in with a gentle kiss to help quiet Kaze's fears, and he felt his love's body relax into the bed as he did so. He was about to remove Kaze's underwear as well, but decided it would be best to let the wolf decide for himself if he wanted them on or off, and so he instead drew the sheets and blankets back over Kaze, smoothing them gently once they were in place. "Now give me a few seconds," he said quietly, "and I'll be in there with you, too."
 Kaze nodded, his eyes fixed upon this gentle titan who was ministering to him in such a delicate and kind way. The orange-and-black beast rose slowly as he made his way around the foot of the bed, his hands going at his shirt in the same way they'd worked on Kaze--and the garment was removed by the time Orieon made it to the opposite side of the bed. He gave a near-silent sigh as he saw the strong body of his lover, now half-exposed, and at some wordless level he knew that that masculine body, full of might, was now protecting him, now devoted to him--and it made his heart melt, as it did so many times before. A sense of peace trickled into his psyche like the first rays of a sunrise, and while it didn't utterly banish the evening's apprehension, he could feel his heart rate slowing, becoming more resolute, and with it his shaky breathing gently began to stabilize.
 Orieon paused for a moment, when nothing remained but his boxers, unsure if it might be too much for the sexually-assaulted wolf to handle...but he knew that they generally slept together in the nude, out of some tacit mutual agreement, and he decided that familiarity would probably serve to comfort Kaze more than it might reflexively alarm him--so he calmly slid them off, rendering himself completely nude. He peeled up the blankets on his side and swung his body under them with a practiced grace, the bed not jolting from his weight so much as gradually sighing downward.
 He centered himself over his pillow, mostly facing the ceiling at this point, though he turned his head to look at Kaze thoughtfully for a few moments. "Kaze...y'want me to come over there?" He knew that traumatic events sometimes caused people to be fearful of any sort of contact at unanticipated times, and he wanted to be sure this wasn't such a moment.
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Kaze turned abruptly to face Orieon and slid over towards the larger male, arms already reaching towards that more muscular form. The tiger chuckled quietly, rotating his own body to more fully face his lover as well. "Looks like I didn't have to ask twice..."
 Kaze, feeling the entirely-unclothed body of the tiger before him, replete in soft warmth, immediately let his eyes swing shut, closing off that avenue of sensation to his deluged mind. With so much less information coming in, his awareness could focus on what remained--the touch, smell, heat, and gentle sounds of the love of his life. He was home, body and mind, nestled there, shielded there...loved there. That feeling of safety uncorked the flow of emotion and exhaustion that he'd kept at bay all evening by something like willpower, and he felt silent tears escape his eyes as his consciousness began to flee to the solace of dreams.
 Orieon could feel the wolf slowly going limp in his arms, and held him close so that Kaze could relax further. He'd had a terrible evening, after all...it was only reasonable to help him get to sleep. Now wasn't the time for talking, now that he'd verified that Kaze was alright...it wasn't long before the wolf's breathing became soft and slow. Orieon felt a touch of dampness upon his chest and relaxed his arms just a little--enough to notice the slightly darker tracks of lachrymation on Kaze's face.
 The tiger carefully and quietly eased Kaze down somewhat, into a position where the bed could support his weight while Orieon could still hold to him and yet sleep himself. His adrenaline had flared when he'd heard about what happened to Kaze, and it was going to take a while for his own body to quiet down enough to let him sleep.
 Just then, his phone gave a quiet fleedling noise--he'd received a text message. At this hour? It wasn't Kaze...and text messages would be unusual in an emergency, compared to a straight-up phone call...he reached over with his far arm, trying to reach as far as possible without totally releasing Kaze, and collected the little device. The alert popup on his phone told him it was from Kris...ugh, why now? He thought to himself. Wearily he pushed the button to retrieve the message. It read:
Your little plaything's a pansy--found out myself earlier. We need to talk. Café Roma, tomorrow, 10:30 AM.
 Orieon's hand began to clench with rage, and he might have crushed the phone had the casing not began making squeaks and cracking noises of protest that alerted him to that subconscious response. It was all he could do not to throw the thing at the wall once he finished reading--how dare that bastard! Scaring the daylights out of Kaze, at his job?! Oh, he'd be meeting Kris alright. And at the rate things were going, Kris would soon be answering assault charges...
 Kaze awoke the next morning to an empty bed, finding himself wadded up into a near-fetal position with the blankets. A glance at the clock told him it was about 9:30 AM--and Orieon usually had to be at work at 9. It wasn't an uncommon thing, but he shivered a little for lack of that warmth that kept him so well.
 Blearily he got out of bed, still in his underwear, and padded into the kitchen: he had to figure out if he had work tonight, and heaven help him try to actually remember anything so soon after waking. Oh good, he thought to himself as he spotted the empty square, no work today. That meant he could be a lazy slob all day and no one would mind. Normally he'd himself mind, but after yesterday--he shook his head slightly, not wanting to think about what had actually happened yesterday, but still followed through on the thought that he deserved a day off of just about everything.
 The coffee maker, strangely, hadn't been turned on. He rummaged in the cabinet and found that the reason for that was probably due to them being, apparently, out of coffee, even though there were plenty of filters to go around. He grumbled indistinctly through his hazy perception and grabbed the necessary parts for assembling a bowl of cereal: coffee could be obtained later, but an empty -and- caffeine-less stomach would get him nowhere.
 Orieon's day at work usually began with putting out whatever fires had arrived in his e-mail inbox since yesterday's close of business, and with the smoldering fury that he'd developed the prior evening, he more than zealously dealt with them. While most mornings they might feel like time-consuming nuisances, they almost pumped him up today, as though they were paltry minions that could not stand before his righteous wrath. It helped, as they'd been out of coffee--perhaps what he lacked in clarity, he could make up for in decisiveness.
 Then it was onto some report investigation for the company's current big project--with architecture, things tended to come in waves, based upon what contracts the company could get. One of the e-mails he'd received yesterday near closing time stated that some important progress documents had gone missing, and he'd been more or less volunteered to do the digging--a task normally relegated to clerks, but higher-ups rarely even knew the names of the clerks, so anything they couldn't unceremoniously dump in their little administrative inboxes usually went to someone with a little higher pay bracket instead. It was inefficient, but sometimes work is like that, Orieon mused to himself.
 He met with success after some vigorous searching, leaving him feeling all the more ready for conquest. Then he glanced at the clock--10:15. It was time to roll over to Café Roma and get this showdown started. He stopped by his boss's secretary's cubicle, put on his best "I'm really trying to be awake" face, and let her know about their debilitating deficiency of coffee at his house. The normally-phlegmatic woman surprised him with her empathy about the incident and said she'd take messages if anything came through for him, while waving him off to quest for caffeine. His opinion of her, which was mediocre at best, rose a few notches as he made his way out the building and off to the nearby coffee shop.
 It was one of those bookstore-coffee shop jobbies, but it was done rather tastefully--the two had been constructed together, by a smaller local chain, thus allowing the freedom of design expression that came from not being part of a franchise. And there was no disputing that the beverages the place put together were excellent--with different roasts used for different beverages, their baristas knew all too well how to weave together flavors of awakening.
 Plus, one of them was this wonderfully handsome and charming coyote. Not that Orieon was tempted or anything, but eye candy was always nice.
 He contemplated ordering an Americano, which is essentially espresso and water, but decided he didn't have to suffer to get his caffeine and ordered a cafe mocha instead. That would certainly wake him up enough to have to deal with Kris...whom, he noted with a glance around the store as the cashier entered his order into the point-of-sale terminal, hadn't arrived yet. But that tended to be how Kris worked--arriving fashionably late is a great way to get more people to notice your entrance, for better or for worse.
 He waited by the counter for the beverage to be ready, then took it to a table in a far nook of the store--he had a feeling their "discussion" would get a little vehement, and there was no need to disturb the other stimulant-seeking customers of the store by it.
 Sure enough, it was about 10:40 when Kris rolled in, looking not the slightest bit hurried. The wolf nonchalantly surveyed the people in the store and noted Orieon over in the corner, giving him a meaningful yet alluring look before striding to the register to place his order. It was a look Orieon had seen before--usually one that preceded lusty sex. It rattled him, for a moment, but then he refortified his resolve and looked out the glassy walls of the building, rather than letting his gaze settle on the attractively masculine lupine.
 "Trying not to notice me, tiger?" said Kris a few moments later, as he took the seat opposite Orieon.
 Orieon returned his head to a forward position, and was greeted with the visage of his once-boyfriend. It was a face that he'd tried to make himself dislike, but that was one of Kris' best assets, his appearance... "I'm not here to be courted or flattered by you, Kris. What the hell do you think you were doing to Kaze?"
 The wolf popped an eyebrow upward. "Yes, I'm happy to see you, too. Look, why do you care about that limp-wristed faggot? He can't offer you half of what I can," said the wolf, leaning in on an elbow and raising his thermal-jacketed cup to his lips.
 "Stop it with the diversions, Kris," said Orieon, partially through clenched teeth. "You assaulted my boyfriend. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't report you to the DA's office, today."
 "Well, for starters, you're a soft-hearted sap when it comes to love, and I know you love me, even if you no longer like me as you once did," said the wolf, the very picture of casualness. "If this was really about that, you would have pressed charges already instead of coming to have a nice coffee break with me. Besides, you can't prove whatever happened to Kaze was my fault. What -did- happen, anyway?"
 Orieon's eyes were narrowed with fury. "I can tell I won't get anywhere trying to make you justify what you did. But I will say this: that 'limp-wristed faggot'," he said, using finger-quotes, "as you call him, loves me back. We have something together, something that isn't just about sex and status and lust. Maybe I am a romantic sap, but I know that's one thing you certainly aren't."
 Kris peered back at Orieon flatly from over his cup. "Which is why I'm the reasonable one here. What is marriage, if not a legitimizing of the sex people are already having? It's not like we're going to have surprise illegitimate children, unless fudge babies somehow count..."
 "That's disgusting," said Orieon.
 "But true," cut in Kris, before the tiger could continue the thought. "Face it, tiger, I can give you so much more than that little pansy ever could. He's in a dead-end job, probably gets groped by the customers on a regular basis, he's short and weak and cowardly..."
 "But he loves me for who I am, and not just because I'm a good fuck," retorted Orieon angrily, keeping his voice down to avoid being heard despite the constrained rage in it.
 "Tell me this," said Kris. "Can he fuck you until you scream with passion and beg for more?"
 "He's a sub, Kris, you know that," said Orieon, his focus jarred by memories of exactly what Kris was referring to.
 "Is he strong enough to pin you against the wall and hold you up while you get rutted until you walk funny, your head lolling uselessly because you're enjoying it so fucking much?" asked the wolf, his voice sounding more dangerous by the moment.
 "No, of course not, but--"
 "And does he even know what he wants to get out of life?"
 Orieon felt struck dumb by this question. Kris had always said that his ambition was to ride life like a cheap whore, get would he could out of it, and die happy, probably young, before age could rob him of everything he wanted to keep. But Kaze--Kaze never really seemed to know what he wanted. Sure, he had aspirations of becoming a successful artist, but really? How many of those ever worked out? The number of starving art majors in the world far outweighed the successful ones. Heck, the coyote at the counter could easily be an art major. In fact, Kaze seemed, on this reflection, to be bound to Orieon--he realized that if he ever had to leave the smaller wolf, Kaze would probably be utterly crushed. What then? "Well...um..."
 "That's right, you don't know, and he doesn't know. He's a little parasite, and you just keep him around because he has a tight little ass and moans your name when you fill it. Get a doll and a tape recorder and you'll be just as happy." The wolf slugged back a swig of his drink, then stood. "You know how to get a hold of me if you have to," he said, "and I know you've never forgotten my number." He turned and left, leaving Orieon angry, but more so than perhaps he'd ever been since welcoming Kaze into his life, confused and unsure of things.
 After finishing his breakfast, Kaze made his way on foot at Café Roma to do something about his lingering fugue. He'd donned a hoodie and sweatpants, as he still felt a little chilled and didn't feel like making much of a public showing--he preferred to show a happy or at least peaceful face, and today he was probably wearing a frown like a carnival mask.
 He knew upon arriving that he wanted something with chocolate, because after all--chocolate was a natural antidepressant. Not to mention it tasted wonderful in his face. So he ordered a mocha, just to make sure it'd wake him up, to boot--and the warmth would perhaps ease his chill.
 "Heh," said the gorgeous coyote at the counter, with that smile that always made Kaze shiver a little, "'s funny, we've had a lot of mochas come through this morning. Like that guy in the nice business wear over there--he doesn't look like a mocha type, but hey, they order it, I make it," gesturing with the cup he'd been writing the little secret barista code on towards the far corner of the store.
 Kaze turned his head just enough to glance out the side of his hoodie--and there was Orieon, with that wolf he'd seen with Orieon in old pictures! What was his name...? Chris...? He quickly averted his nose back towards the front counter, his mind whirling and his eyes for a change not fixated on the coyote. He was jolted momentarily when the coyote had to repeat the total cost for the mocha in order to get his attention, and he hastily withdrew his wallet to pay for it.
 Kaze kept his hands in his pockets and his hood up as he waited for the beverage, making sure he couldn't be distinctly identified--he didn't want Orieon to know he was here, so that he wouldn't interrupt the tiger's surreptitious-seeming reunion with his ex. Once the mocha was ready, he withdrew to where the bookstore bordered the coffee shop and feigned interest in a stand of home decorating books.
 Through chinks in the open back of the stand, he stole glances at the pair over the top of a page on burgundy as a trendy color for couches. They were talking pretty quietly, and between the sounds of coffee-making, the street outside, the muffling quality of Kaze's hood, and the quiet bustle of the bookstore, he couldn't tell what was being said. From this spot, he couldn't see Orieon's face, either, but he was hunched forward as though maybe clinging to what the wolf was saying. And he could definitely get a good look at the ex--the wolf was a stud, more so than Kaze remembered, and definitely trying to come off as suave. He seemed quite alluring and knowing in how he was responding to Orieon...what did this mean?
 Eventually the large wolf got up to leave, and a sudden lapse in the store's noise level carried the wolf's parting words to Kaze's ears: "I know you've never forgotten my number." And with that, the larger wolf sauntered out of the store, leaving Kaze to whirl in the other direction to keep his face hidden.
 Orieon wasn't long in leaving, either, though Kaze knew the tiger needed to get back to work. But why would he do this? Why was he meeting with that obviously studly wolf? Was he doing it during the day, when he knew Kaze was less out and about, and assumed Orieon was busy at work, so that Kaze wouldn't know? Though he didn't want to, Kaze felt pangs of betrayal in his chest, but for the moment, he couldn't let on...he'd need to keep a closer eye on Orieon to figure out what exactly was going on here...after all, Orieon really did love Kaze...
 ...didn't he?