by J. K. Jones
“Alpha,” Fermin nods. “I recognized this man—I didn’t know Omegas would be fighting with us.”
Micah’s eyes dart between the two of them. “This is my Second, Ryu.”
Fermin's eyes widen. “Oh, forgive me I—”
“No need. Let’s keep moving.” Micah turns around leaving Fermin staring after him before he hastily retreats to his pack brother Caine.
Ryu moves to follow, but Trmon stops him. It’s been many years since they’ve spoken , they weren’t exactly on good terms when he left. Trmon never did like him. Mostly because he thinks he brings Micah too much pain.
Trmon was only happy when Micah was happy. Their friendship being closer than brothers, Ryu respects Trmon for his role in Micah’s life. They had a mutual agreement.
“How do you know that Alpha?”
What a question to ask. Ryu knows immediately where this line of questioning is going. It amuses him to no end. The Silvercrest Howlers admonished promiscuity, it was even a punishable offense, however after Ryu left, he wanted to gut Micah—to hurt him in the worst possible way. If that meant fucking any Alpha he came across and sharing his heat with them then so be it.
At least it would quell the hatred in his heart.
He smirks. “How do you think?”
Trmon bristles at that. “Do not disrespect your Alpha.”
“I’ll do as I please.” Ryu goes to move around him, but Trmon blocks his path again.
“You just don’t get it to do you,” Trmon seethes. “The alliance between the clans is fragile. Anything regarding a scandal can blow it all to pieces. Do not cause a scene.”
So, if he steps on the wrong pebble it could start a civil war? That is why he stayed away from pack matters. Everything is so trivial, so banal and senseless. Each pack only fighting for their self-interest, he cannot offend one without offending the other.
He has no plans to cause trouble.
Fermin was a one-night stand, a decent fuck when Ryu was in heat. Nothing more and nothing less. He just hopes Fermin gets the picture before it’s too late and Micah catches on.
Such things were dangerous.
Trmon wasn’t wrong in his assessment. The alliances were fragile. If Micah decides to challenge Fermin over Ryu then the relationship between the Impure Canines and the Silvercrest Howlers could be destroyed.
Ryu is tired of it all. He wants peace. He wants quiet. He wants this solved as quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to get caught up in all this fruitless drama.
For now, he will keep his toes within the lines. Once the mission is solved, they will go their separate ways. It’s not like he sought Fermin out. He didn’t even recognize him.
“Duly noted,” Ryu moves around him quickly and continues after the rest of the pack.
They walk for several more hours.
By then everyone is suitably exhausted, Ryu feels his body aching for rest. They set up camp deep in the forest near a small stream, the trees providing a great cover for their small tents.
Ryu is just about to set up his tent near the edge of the stream when Micah approaches. His combat gear is different from all the rest, where the others wear black with the Silvercrest coat of arms on their brassard.
Micah wears grey and black camouflage pants, the Silvercrest coat of arms on his chest to show its rank. The black combat gear makes it stand out more prominently.
His black hair falls like ringlets into his eyes, skin nearly glowing in the moonlight.
“You’ll share a tent with me,” Micah says, voice calm and alluring.
Ryu frowns, pretending to be together is one thing, but being together is another. He doesn’t want to share a tent with Micah, nor does he want to be anywhere near him. “We don’t—”
“We do,” Micah commands, leaving no room for arguments. “I have not scented you yet. It is time.”
Ryu clenches his jaw. Shit—he forgot about that.
He stomps his anger down, hoping to quietly suffocate it. The thought of being touched by Micah makes his skin erupt in goose flesh.
It is horrifying and intoxicating at the same time.
Ryu still felt the attraction, the magnetic pull, like an iron chain around his neck. That same chain previously broke his neck. He will never allow himself to make the same mistake again.
This is purely for appearances only.
Just so the other Alphas will leave him alone. So, he bites his lip, steels his nerves, and clenches his fist. Ryu says nothing, following Micah back to his tent, ignoring the eyes that follow his every step.
Chapter 19
This is the one thing he hates about rules.
They are rigid, constricting. Micah lived by the rules his whole life, never challenged them, never thought differently or outside the box. Growing up there had been no time for that, war was upon them.
Micah had no choice but to grow up quickly, under the watchful gaze of the council. After his parents died, he had no-one. Just a strange mold of rules and restrictions, his thoughts and opinions disregarded for the good of the people and the will of the council.
It was only after he fell in love with Ryu he started to rebel.
Suddenly he had opinions. Suddenly he had thoughts and dreams and aspirations. He was no longer a mindless robot, only there to do the council's biddings.
Love changes things.
Micah became vibrant, feared, respected, a force to be reckoned with.
And the council hated it.
Detested Ryu for changing him and sought to drive them apart. Ryu doesn’t like thinking back on those times. It’s too painful. He would rather get this over with as soon as possible so that he can get some rest and they can continue in their journey.
Micah opens the flaps to his tent, it’s large and lavish, easy to dismantle with a small inflatable bed and a table with a few chairs. Ryu sees the plan's outline for their journey, he doesn’t get a chance to look at it properly though, because Micah steps into his personal space.
His eyes are flashing, a deep yellowish gold. “May I?”
Scenting is considered a very intimate act. Both parties need to trust each other fully because they were allowing the other to saturate them in their scent.
Before it had always been the highlight of his morning. To wake with his Alpha and drown helplessly in his scent. Now it makes the blood freeze in his veins, his back stiffens, he goes rigid and he wants this over with swiftly.
“Do it.” Ryu turns away, hands clenching at his sides.
Micah doesn’t hesitate, he rubs his long nose down the column of his neck, takes a long shuddering breath, and begins to rub his nose and cheek over Ryu.
It’s hard to keep still.
White sage saturates the air—his knees feel weak and his heart pounds relentlessly in his chest. Micah finds his glans, rubs the tip of his nose against it causing sparks to fly across his vision.
“Don’t,” Ryu utters savagely, tensing so hard he might pass out.
Micah steps back immediately.
Ryu stares at him, panting softly. That was too close. The action alone made his body swell with desire. But it wasn’t real, it was scent induced, just a release of pheromones and nothing more.
How could he desire someone he hated so deeply?
Ryu flees the tent, storming out just as quickly as he came in.
-
Ryu sleeps like the dead.
His body curls up tightly in a ball in his makeshift tent. He uses his leather jacket to keep the wind at bay but otherwise sleeps soundlessly.
A few hours later Trmon comes to wake him up, stating that they are leaving soon. Ryu runs a hand through his waist-length hair, yawning loudly.
They should get a move on.
He packs up his stuff efficiently, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. And certainly not on the smell of White Sage brimming around him.
Ryu emerges from his tent, he stretches his arms above his head, while his vest rides up exposi
ng his sharp hip bones. He catches Fermin’s gaze, it's raw and thirsty as if he wants to pick up where they left off earlier.
He ignores it, settling for packing up his things and trailing behind Micah.
“Sleep well?” Micah asks, his expression cool and collected.
Ryu sees no trace of the passion he saw earlier.
“Fine.”
“Good.” Micah nods to the rest of them. “Let’s head out.”
-
Silence is the first thing he notices.
Ryu's eyes narrow, noticing that they haven’t even heard so much as a bird or squirrel cross their path. Micah keeps his eyes forward, his face carved from stone.
Stay alert. Stay focused.
They are in enemy territory now. Ryu knows they needed to pick up the pace, most of the Alphas are quiet, each of them sensing something unnatural in the air.
Ryu grips his Katana and unsheathes it.
The shadows grow longer, the branches twisting at unnatural angles as the air around them, getting thinner. A deep fog settles over the ground, and the sky darkens.
The beasts emerge then.
Brooding at the edge of the forest, almost as if they are guarding the Outlands. Ryu slices his sword, face hardening into a grimace.
Most of the Alphas shift, bones breaking and crackling, shredding their human skin as they change into massive eight feet creatures.
Micah is the largest of them all, his eyes blazing a fiery gold, his fur white as snow—Byakuren. He snarls, loud and clear, stance menacing as his lips curl back against jagged sharp teeth. A prehistoric predator, his teeth are twelve inches to the tip and sharper than a butcher's knife
The Lycans crouch forward, digging their claws into the mud.
Ryu counts five of them and points the tip of his sword.
Up close their bodies are malformed, on their hind legs they look like a mixture of man and beast, their snouts foam and their eyes glow a feral red. Their jaws snap viciously, the sound like a crack of a whip.
Ryu feels a thrill.
There is nothing he enjoys more than killing these wrenched monsters. Micah’s wolf coils, its muscles bunching and rippling before he springs forward.
The Lycans sprint, their claws tearing out huge chunks of the earth in an effort to propel themselves forward. The wolves are not far behind, each them snarling and grunting after their Alpha.
Wolves and Lycan’s collide.
Micah severs, tears, and rips their mangled flesh to pieces. Ryu rushes forward, his sword swings wildly as he meets the Lycans head-on. They are strong, but one swipe of his sword with the wolfsbane has them shrilling in agony.
Green smoke emits from their wounds as he slices off their limbs. Ryu is fast, allows his mind to disconnect, and focuses on his task.
It's easy—to kill and allow the mania to take over. His focus is cutthroat, his technique calm and measured as he dices his prey quick and easy.
Victory is upon them. Ryu can smell the stench of rot and decay, these Lycans are low grade, not at all like the ones he faced in the alleyway. They are most likely lower-ranking Betas and Deltas, succumbing hastily to the disease slowly starving them to death.
Their fight pushes them back, further into the forest where the fog is the thickest, almost like a blanket. Ryu can barely see; he relies solely on his senses now. The sound is dying down, he can vaguely hear the snarls of the wolves.
He sheaths his weapon, dashing towards where the sound is the loudest.
Dead Lycans cover the forest floor with their heads or limbs torn off. There—just as he breaches the trees, he sees them. A powerful Lycan, body mass and weight rival Micah’s as they tussle for dominance.
Micah’s pure white fur is dirty, covered in mud and cuts.
Lycan’s claws are like irons, they curl and dig into his flesh. However, wolves’ fur is five inches thick, it would take a lot to penetrate them. Ryu watches on, he takes out his sword ready to jump in before he sees it.
The creature snarls, raving, and foaming at the mouth. It grabs on to Micah, drags, and pulls, vaulting them both off a cliff.
Chapter 20
Ryu’s heart stops. His blood freezes in his veins. Micah. Oh—no. His body shakes with fierce astounding shock. No. He sprints forward, choking on a scream nearly erupting from his throat.
The cliff is vast.
Its deep caverns too wide, increasingly steep and dangerous, the fall alone would kill anyone. Ryu’s breath catches, the mountains and rocks are enormously perpendicular.
“Micah!” he screams, voice echoing off the pointed rocks.
“Yes?” a voice says.
Ryu looks down frantically and there Micah is, in human form hanging from a wayward tree branch, face covered in dust and mud, but otherwise unscathed.
“Micah.” Ryu leans down, making sure his upper body is secure before he helps hoist Micah up. “Are you okay—are—” He swallows down the hysteria.
“Yeah.” He stands quickly dusting off his clothes. “How about you?” He glances at Ryu.
“I’m—” He’s tongue-tied.
Stomach rolling, hands quivering—Dear Christ. His soul nearly left his body when he thought Micah died.
“Relax,” Micah says, the tenor of his voice deep and soothing. “I’m fine.”
“Right. I knew that.” Ryu coughs, feeling explosively stupid. As if a mere Lycan can kill Micah.
Still. It reminds him of when Micah was hurt badly when they were young. A group of Rogue wolves had cornered them one day. They were young wolves, both of them struggling with shifting. One of the Rogues had slashed Micah, permanently scarring him for life.
Ryu swallows—once, twice, and then sheaths his sword. “Good.”
He walks away quickly, finding his own emotions are nearly unbearable. Shit. Why did he act like that? Who cares if Micah died? He should die. After everything he’s done to him.
Ryu shouldn’t care.
But he does, he cares deeply. It seems the lines have blurred, they are no longer foes, but they aren’t necessarily friends either. Ryu feels confused by all of this. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want to understand.
Micah ruined his life.
He should hate him, and he does. Ryu shoves those thoughts aside, helping the other wolves burn the Lycan's bodies. It is the easiest way to make sure the virus isn’t spread to anyone else.
Their blood is very potent, one bite, and the victim would turn within days.
That’s why they needed to find a cure soon.
For the rest of the evening, Ryu keeps to himself. He doesn’t want to think back on how his heart lurched, or the painful twist in his chest.
He’s loved Micah for so long.
Longer than he cares to remember. Since the day he was taken from the Filthy Claws and sold to the Silvercrest Howlers. Maybe that’s all it was. Just the residual affection for something long gone.
There is a bonfire that night.
All the Alphas slap each other on the back, congratulating themselves on a job well done. Ryu sneers at their happiness; there were more Lycans to come. What is the point in getting excited over a few measly kills?
Deryn passes around a small flask of alcohol.
They all laugh and drink, telling stories of their time in the wars. Ryu tunes most of it out, however, over the blaze of the fire he catches Fermin's eyes again.
This might be a problem.
He’s too tired to care right now. He gets up, swaying slightly on his feet, and stumbles towards the river. Ryu takes off his leather jacket and pulls the small vest up to expose a large bruise near his ribcage.
Fuck. He didn’t notice it.
Ryu splashes water over his face, trying to calm his jittery nerves. He touches it, hissing in pain before covering it back up. It will heal within a few hours.
“The mate of a True Alpha,” Fermin says behind him. “I should have known.”
Ryu continues washing his face, not sparing the other man
a glance.
“I just came to apologize again. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was disrespectful.”
Ryu stands quickly, tossing his leather jacket over his shoulder. The moonbeams illuminate his skin, making him look paler. “What do you want?”
“To apologize.”
“You’ve done so.”
Fermin looks detoured as if his original plan is being derailed right in front of him. “Why don’t you shift? I was watching you during the fight. We all shifted but you didn’t.”
Ryu’s temper flares. Wouldn’t he like to know? “What does it matter?”
“We need all the help we can get. I—I was keeping an eye on you, but if you don’t shift how can you defend—”
Alhazred’s cruel laughter cuts him off. “Oh? You didn’t know? Ryu is cursed by the Gods. He cannot shift. No exile can.” He comes through the trees, clearly drunk with two other men.
“I thought I smelled a rat.” Ryu rolls his eyes.
“My dearest adopted brother,” Alhazred smiles cruelly. “Made lots of mistakes. Too many to count. Lots of people suffered from his—choices.”
“Alhazred,” Weiss speaks up. “Watch your words. Byakuren will not like it.”
“I’ve said nothing but the truth,” Alhazred replies. “How about it, Ryu? Shall I regale them all with the past?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Ryu strides away, ignoring Alhazred howling with laughter. He should be used to it by now, being the butt of everyone's jokes—still, it hurts.
To not shift and be held as a disgrace to his pack is enough to make anyone sick to their stomachs. For years he wandered the Outlands, belonging nowhere and speaking to no-one. What was the point? As soon as they learned he was cursed all friendships went out the window.
Ryu was indeed cursed by the Gods and exiled from his pack.
And it was all because of Micah.
Fuck Alhazred. Why did that stupid bastard have to bring everything up? Amaya would have admonished him for even talking about it. Alhazred always hated that she favored him above her biological son.
The thing is Alhazred isn’t worthy of his status.
He was a slow, lazy Alpha with little to no ambition. He wasn’t a very good fighter, organizer, or business owner. He was useless as a soldier, barely managing to contribute anything during the war. Yet, his rank was very high due to his father, who died years ago, but he had been one of Michael’s closest advisors.
