The leaves stuttered and danced, and the sky was out when the silver-pelted werewolf made its way through the walloping doors of the Lýkaios Castle. Its hide swirled like bits of sand as it shrunk into a figure of a man who, despite his raven-black hair flying everywhere — was a gorgeous piece of artwork. The moon goddess might have spilled the bucket of good looks all over the pot when she made him. Not that he’d complain about it. If ever, the man would probably even commend and praise the muse for her clumsiness. 

Striding on the hall with his bare feet against the cold marble floor, he grabbed the gold-threaded black robe carried by a servant who had already seen his crotch more than she could count with her fingers, knotted it around his waist, and headed straight to the grand staircase.

The servant's relaxed forehead turned into piqued raised brows when — for the first time — the man did not jest a flirt with her! She'd usually ignore him, but she was just bewildered by the unexpected difference from the usual. She was even more baffled due to the unsettled scowl on his face, which oddly looked different than the usual grimace she had seen more than she did with his underpart.

“Um, my lord—”

“What?” snapped the man.

The servant flinched. Her confusion swerved to intimidation now. 

The man seemed to realize his actions. He shook his head. He tried to compensate by flashing a seductive smile like he always did, but he couldn’t find the will to do so. “What is it?” he uttered, placing a hand on his waist and slightly rubbing his eye with the other palm. 

"I-I would like to ask y-you if you’d like a cup of c-coffee to be brought to your b-bedchamber?”

The man inwardly snapped at himself. Yes, he'd usually demand one to be brought to his room every time he’d return to their fortress. “No thanks,” he replied.

The servant bowed and stepped back.

Suddenly, the man's scowl returned. He massaged his temple and groaned, the image of that lad earlier bombarding his thoughts again. He clenched his jaw and spat silent curses between his lips. 

Why him?

The man's thoughts were cut off when he sensed the hurried-soled steps echoing closer and closer towards the grand foyer, the place where he was. His eyes widened, and he immediately rocketed up to the bifurcated staircase, repeating profanities under his breath as he did.

Too late. 

Midways up to the next floor, someone hollered at the man. He cursed.

“Kain! There you are,” Alistair called out.

Kain slightly clenched his profiled jaw, slowly running his fingers through his raven hair as he turned from his spot. His blue eyes trailed the aged man who came from the right hall. It was their pack’s advisor who, in Kain's judgment, specialized in being a nagging old man.

Alistair made his way towards the bottom of the stairs. He tilted his head up to look eye to eye with the alpha, who looked as if he had only woken up due to his disheveled hair and was just about to jump in for an evening bath.

“Hey, Alis,” Kain greeted, his naturally cocky face surfaced again. He leaned over the ornamented stone railings, crossing his herculean arms against his broad chest.

“I heard the news of what had happened with your crusade.”

“Yes, there’s nothing to worry about. We already dealt with it—”

“I am talking about the werecats.”

Those fuking babbler mouths. 

Kain's composure remained hinged. “Oh... that one,” he replied, shrugging. “... They are not of importance.”

Alistair frowned. “Is that so? Nothing important, yet for some reason, you—” 

Kain's gaze made the older man bit back his words. Alistair knew Kain well enough to know which and what could be probed about, and Kain's expression suggested the opposite. The advisor resigned. He would look into the matter from Kain's six companions then. That is if they'd spill the tea before Kain could empty the cup.

Alistair sighed. “Anyways. I suggest you... lessen your leisure activities and attend more to your responsibilities. Gossips are always sticking to you. The other members are becoming more unhappy with it.”

“Gossips like what?” Kain twirled a fingertip on the handrail.

Alistair inhaled. “That those vampires are running rampant, and one of the alphas is still collecting more cunts.”

Kain snorted a laugh. “You make it sound so bad.”

“But it’s true.”

"Hmph. They should look at the mirror."

Alistair shook his head. 

"Well, is that all? I'm heading to my chamber then."

“I am actually here to inform you about the meeting tomorrow."

“So?" Kain waved his hand in the air and turned. "It’s all just blah, blah, blah—"

“Yusef will be attending.” 

The alpha immediately stopped and looked back at Alistair. Yusef, his younger brother, was in charge of operating business transactions and was often thrown at different points on the map. Going back to the stronghold, just for a meeting, indicated something. 

Kain raised a brow at Alistair. “Why is he coming?” 

“I heard there’s something vital that will be discussed tomorrow,” Alistair replied. Kain threw him the look, and the older man already knew his question. “It concerns the disappearance of the civilians,” said Alistair.