5 | The Gray Werewolf

The leaves stuttered and danced, and the sky was out when the silvery-tinged werewolf made its way through the walloping door of 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 raised brows when—for the first time—the man did not flirt with her! She was even more bewildered about the unsettled scowl on his face, which oddly looked distant than the usual grimace she had seen more than she did with his under part.

"Um, my lord—"

"What?" snapped the man.

The servant flinched, her confusion swerving to intimidation now. The latter seemed to realize his actions, and he shook his head and tried to compensate by flashing a seductive grin like he always did... but he just couldn't find the will to do so.

"What is it?" The man uttered, placing a hand on his waist and slightly rubbing his eye with the other palm.

"Um, I," she cleared her throat. "I would like to ask y-you if you'd like a cup of coffee to be brought to your bedchamber?"

The man inwardly snapped at himself. Yes, the coffee he remembered. He usually demanded one to be brought to his room every time he'd return to their fortress. And occasionally, it'd be threaded with a steamy adult affair.

"No thanks," he replied, and the flustered servant then moved along on her way.

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

Just why? he thought. Why him?

His thoughts were cut off when his senses perceived the hurried-soled steps echoing closer and closer towards the grand foyer, to 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 him, and 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 own words, specialized in being a shrewd 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 that looked as if he had only woken up and was just about to jump in for an evening bath.

"Hey there, Alis," Kain greeted, his naturally cocky face surfacing yet again. He leaned over the ornamented stone railings, crossing his herculean arms against his broad chest.

"I heard 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 dare—"

Kain's gaze made the older man bit back his words. Alistair knew Kain well enough to know which and what can 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 for you to... lessen your leisure activities and attend more to your responsibilities. Gossips are always thirsty too."

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

"That those vampires are running rampant, and one of the alphas is still collecting more cunts."

Kain snorted a laugh. "Am I genuinely perceived as a horn dog to those bunch of idiots?"

"You can't help them. It's mostly true, after all."

"They should look at the mirror."

Alistair shook his head.

"Well, is that all? I'm heading to my chambers 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—"

"Your brother, Yusef, is 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. For him to come back to the castle, just for a meeting, always indicated something.

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

"There's something very vital that's going to be discussed tomorrow," Alistair replied. Kain threw him the look, and Alistair already knew what to say. "It concerns the disappearance of the civilians," said the old man.