"The gammas caught him wandering at the edge of the woods. I believe he was trying to spy on our activities. He has no mark," Maverick, Denzel's only brother and his Beta, reported.
"A rogue?" Denzel asked, his jaw ticking as darkness settled over his expression.
"Not just any rogue. He is a member of the Blood Demons. We couldn't get him to say any more than that."
The Blood Demons consisted of rogue werewolves, who came together two years ago to form a pack separate from the twelve established packs of West Volken.
Abiding by their different laws, they were ruled by a nameless Alpha and under his leadership, did whatever they wanted without fear of consequences.
Over the last year, they threatened the diplomatic relationship between the wolves and humans through their insouciant killings and maiming of the human population of West Volken.
Through the council which consisted of Denzel, his father, the mayor of West Volken, and the catholic priest, they managed to cover up the murders and injuries as the work of a wild animal in order not to expose the supernatural faction.
However, the blood demons only grew bolder with each day that went by. Their location was still unknown but through Denzel's efforts, five of the members were caught and imprisoned.
Despite the horrific tortures inflicted on them that should have loosened their lips, they never revealed who their Alpha was or what their exact motives were.
Denzel would have preferred to kill them all but his father, the Alpha King lorded his authority over him since Denzel had to always answer to him despite being named Alpha of the Nightfall pack, and decided to send them back to wherever they came from with a message from him.
That was over a month ago.
This time, they had crossed a line by daring to come close to Nightfall territory.
"I don't need him to speak. Enough with the talks. This ends now."
Slamming his fist on the table, he rose sharply from his seat, brushed past Maverick, and began marching down the halls of the pack house, his powerful legs flexing with every purposeful stride.
Maverick followed behind him, his gait mirroring Denzel's.
The pack members practicing in the training yard hurriedly bowed before him as he passed by but he paid no mind to either of them. His focus was on getting to the dungeon where the rogue was being held.
The dungeon was a large two-story building, surrounded by a brick, wired fence manned by guards bearing guns loaded with silver bullets in the case of an escape by an inmate.
Those who went against the pack killed a fellow pack member or a human or committed any severe crime that went against the pack laws were thrown in the dungeons after a fair trial.
The dungeon had a special torture chamber where rogue wolves and trespassers from other packs were sharply questioned.
"Alpha," the guard, a tall, bulky, tanned young werewolf who was stationed outside the torture chambers, greeted Denzel's towering frame.
"I thought the king would be the one to personally—"
"You thought wrong. The king is away on official business. Step aside, Brandon."
With a visible gulp, Brandon bowed and moved out of the way. He could sense Denzel's raging mood and dared not to meet his hardened, green eyes.
Without struggle, Denzel pushed open the heavy, iron door as it squealed on its hinges.
In the dimly lit damp room, the rogue was held in a chair with chains doused with wolfsbane to keep him weakened. His hateful blue eyes glared hotly at Denzel and Maverick as they stalked toward him.
"I...already told your beta. You...cannot get any... information out of me."
His words were punctuated with grunts of pain as the wolfsbane burned his arms, chest, and legs.
"I did not come here for information."
"What?" The heat in the rogue's eyes dimmed with confusion.
"Release him," he instructed Maverick stoically.
"Alpha, he should be questioned further. We might be able to get something out of him," Maverick protested, much to Denzel's chagrin.
His gaze flickered to Maverick.
Narrowing his eyes, he asked, his tone low and dangerous. "Did my command somehow fail to be understood?"
That mild movement cut off any other protest Maverick could have wanted to put up.
"No, Alpha."
Putting on a pair of gloves from his jeans pocket, he removed the chains around the rogue's chest, arms, and legs in two tugs.
"Get up," Denzel commanded the rogue.
Shakily, he rose to his feet and within the blink of an eye, Denzel had his lean-muscular figure in a chokehold.
"What is your name?"
Gasping for air as he clawed at Denzel's arms to no effect, he sneered, "I will tell you nothing."
"It would be nice to know your name before I kill you. You know, to keep a record but since you won't tell me..." Denzel trailed off, sighing in disappointment as his green eyes began to glow vibrantly.
On noticing the change in Denzel's eyes. Maverick grabbed his arm in warning.
"Father won't be thrilled if you kill him like this, Denzel! We're supposed to send him back as a message," He whispered, his tone urgent.
Chuckling mirthlessly, Denzel turned his attention from the barely breathing rogue to focus on his brother.
"Messages have gotten us nowhere. Their leader only knows one thing and that is violence. Sending the others back alive has made us look weak in his eyes. It has only emboldened them! No more."
Turning back to the rogue, he loosened his grip slightly to allow him to catch a breath, and with a devilish grin, he declared, "Dead men tell no tales."
The rogue's eyes widened in fear when Denzel's face horrifyingly twisted and stretched with his teeth elongating and sharpening into points.
Pieces of Denzel's clothes fell to the floor as his back hunched. At the same time, his arms and legs lengthened with fur erupting from every part of his body.
His hands transformed into gigantic paws, almost the size of the rogue's head, as his nails sprouted into claws.
The rogue was used to seeing werewolves shift into their wolf form but Denzel was no ordinary werewolf. His primal beast terrified the rogue so much that urine began leaking down his legs and out of his pants to create a small puddle on the concrete floor.
Denzel stood tall on his fur-covered legs, with his paw constricting the rogue's breathing again.
With a monstrous growl, he tore the rogue's head from his body.
...
Hours later, Denzel sat at the foot of his king-sized bed, whimpering in pain from the transformation.
He thought he would have gotten used to the pain from the day he turned eighteen and first shifted into his primal firm but it got worse each time.
Other wolves of his pack were burdened with the torment of having every bone in their body break and re-shape when they shifted on the full moon but since he could shift into his lupine form at any time, he was only ever in anguish at the end of his primal transformation when he returned to his human form.
A loud knock at the door caused him to compose himself and ignore the agonizing pain he felt. With great effort, he schooled his face into an impassive mask and opened the door to meet the worried eyes of his brother.
"Are you alright?" Maverick asked, his gaze sweeping over Denzel. He knew how horrible Denzel felt whenever he shifted into his primal wolf.
"What is it?" he responded, ignoring Maverick's question.
Maverick knew not to push him. Denzel hated being vulnerable and Maverick wouldn't even have known how bad the pain was if he didn't stumble in on him six years ago, clutching his chest and fighting back tears in the basement of the pack house.
"There's a witch in the training yard. Conall brought her in. She wants to see you and only you."
"Why?"
"I'll be damned if I know," Maverick said, groaning as he ran his fingers through his cropped, dark hair.
...
It was rare for witches to show up in Lunar Crest and even rarer for them to willingly come anywhere close to Nightfall territory.
As Denzel followed Maverick's lead, he wondered what a witch could want from him. They didn't like werewolves and mostly stayed away from them. The only time he had seen a witch around was close to twenty-two years ago when he stumbled into his father's study and overheard him arguing hotly with one of them. He could smell and recognize the aura around her, marking her as a witch.
Sophie stood rod-straight in the training yard with her hands folded in front of her as she waited for Denzel.
She could feel the eyes of the wolves around the yard and even from the windows of the pack house, boring into her from every angle. She knew they could recognize her scent but she wasn't fazed. Harming her would not end so well for them.
With Denzel's approach, the pack members began to divert their watchful stares one by one.
"What do you want?" Denzel asked sharply, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He was not one for pointless pleasantries.
The woman in front of him seemed to be in her early twenties but had a commanding presence. Clad in dark jeans and a simple, yellow blouse that complemented her flowing blonde tresses, she exuded a confident beauty.
"We have your mate. I suggest you come with me to Darah Haven and listen to our demands. Not only will you listen, but you will also have to fulfill them. Your refusal would result in a very slow, excruciating death for her and terrible consequences for you," she told him simply, her face void of emotion.
Maverick's eyes blazed with anger but as he stepped forward to deal with the insolent witch, Denzel held his hand out, stopping him mid-stride.
His eyes ran over her from top to bottom and when he was done, he threw his head back and laughed.
Sophie's emotionless mask broke as befuddlement filled her features.
Denzel's laughter ceased abruptly. A storm cloud blanketed his features.
Slowly, he began to prowl toward Sophie like a predator keen on attacking his prey.
Fear made its home in Sophie's heart. Her confident facade began to melt away with each step that brought Denzel closer to her.
Her feet started to move backward, of their own accord.
Before she could even think of ways to get out of the situation, Denzel was right in front of her.
With his hand squeezing her jaw painfully, he brought her face close to his, forcing her to gaze into his Arctic green eyes, tight and unforgiving.
"You come to my home...my territory, and dare to threaten me? I could break every single bone in your body in a split second without blinking. Do not test my patience, witch," he seethed.
Struggling to find her voice amidst the pain from his tight grip, she grasped at his hand, her blue eyes pleading.
"Gin... Negroni...the lights..." Sophie managed to choke out.
His hand dropped to his side.
"What did you just say?"
He wondered if he had heard correctly. 'Could it be?'
Rubbing her jaw, Sophie repeated, "She ordered a gin negroni. Later in the night, she requested for the lights to be turned off."
From the shocked and longing look in Denzel's eyes, Sophie gained her confidence back. She had been right to make Cinnia tell her some important details that would ensure that Denzel wouldn't be in doubt.
"How do you know of this?"
The fury in his eyes had died down by the mere mention of the memories from that night.
"Come with me and you'll see the person who told me."
A child. Cinnia lay on the hard, iron bed with a hand gently placed on her flat belly. Even with all the proof she needed, she still couldn't believe it. She was going to be a mother. Tracing her belly with her index finger, she wondered what the child would look like. Would it look more like her or like the stranger? Denzel. Lycan. She had never heard of such a supernatural creature before and the old witches refused to tell her anything. When she had asked Sophie, the young witch promptly ignored her questions and instead made her tell her something important that Denzel would remember from their encounter. That one night of pure sensuality. Her heart beat rapidly against her ribs as she began wringing her fingers together. Unsatisfied, she got up from the bed and began pacing back and forth. Despite the cool air in the room, a trickle of sweat ran down her right temple. She was afraid but also impatient. Afraid of what his reaction would be when he saw her after she had
It was all a blur to Cinnia. In merely two months and two days, she had mind-blowing sex with a devilishly handsome rake, found her way back home, got kidnapped, found out she was pregnant with a hybrid baby, and is currently being used as a pawn in a witch game. How exciting. "So, you're telling me that you're putting my life in danger because you want protection from blood devils or whatever you call them? Are you fucking kidding me right now? You witches, are crazy." Cinnia scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Says the girl who was born part-witch," Sophie retorted. "Maybe that's why I'm not as crazy as you and your coven!" "Cinnia." It was the first time he mentioned her name and as she turned to face him, she found herself yearning to hear her name from his mouth every single day. "I'll handle this, Princess," he murmured, stroking her cheek softly. Scratch that previous thought, she wanted him to continue calling her princess every day of her life. Without even rea
The walls seemed to close in on her. The air became suffocating, making it difficult for her to draw a breath amidst the torrent of tears flowing down her cheeks. Much-needed oxygen was stuck in her throat, unable to make its way down to her lungs. She clawed at her neck, gasping in pain from the strenuous effort. Her shoulders began to shake forcefully as memories slammed into her. Memories that she had fought so hard to push into a locked folder of her mind. "Manara! Take Cinnia inside, now!" She remembered her dad yelling. Her father had turned into his spotted brown wolf before her very eyes for the first time since she was born and attacked the snarling wolves advancing on him. Amongst the wolves was one man, his face twisted in a sick grin. Peeking from the window after her mother ran out to help her dad, she saw him for a split second before he transformed into a hulking coal-black wolf and shattered her father's ribs. That split second was enough for her to capture his fa
Cinnia had just stepped out of the stuffy room she acquired for the night, for some fresh air when she noticed the deep blue Ford Fiesta parked across the road. She had seen the small vehicle when she arrived at the motel but paid no attention to it. However, when she saw it was still there three hours after her entry into the motel's surprisingly spacious parking lot, partly hidden in the darkness of the star-studded night sky, she became increasingly suspicious. She still couldn't see who was in the car after many attempts at squinting but her instincts told her that it wasn't empty. Years of running had made her doubtful of cars lingering around wherever she was for too long. 'Denzel couldn't have followed me, could he?' She wondered. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her dress, Cinnia placed one in her mouth and was about to light it when she remembered that she was pregnant. Despite the nagging temptation to get rid of the child and render the witches' pla
"You had one job, Kai. One! And you did it drunk!" Denzel fumed.On second thought, he reached out and delivered a solid wallop to the back of Kai's head."Ow! Easy! I'm simply tipsy and besides, when I do things drunk, they usually turn out better than when I do them sober. You know this."Denzel recalled the many times Kai had gotten things done immensely well even after downing several bottles of whiskey, brandy, and bourbon."You—" At a loss for words, Denzel grabbed Kai's offending neck and shook him, causing his head to bob back and forth."Agh!" Running his hand through his hair, Denzel let go of Kai who began rubbing his reddened skin."Sometimes, dear Alpha, I wonder if this is a toxic relationship we have going on," Kai teased."I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Malakai.""Oof, you used my full name. My, my, this must be serious. Look, Denzel, it's not my fault that your lady is sleek as well. By the way, why the hell would you give her the Bugatti? I'll forget that you pro
"You're going to kill him, Denzel. As your beta," Maverick paused, grabbed Denzel's elbow, and forced him to meet his gaze. "As your brother," he emphasized and with a sigh, placed both palms on Denzel's shoulders. "I am telling you that Cinnia Ramilek is only going to be a weakness to us. She has already been used by the witches to get you to do their bidding simply because she's carrying your child. What happens when 'they' get wind of it?" Maverick hissed. Denzel shrugged off his hands and walked over to his seat behind his desk. "What did I tell you yesterday? Kai understands me so why can't you do the same, brother?" Denzel busied himself with the papers before him. "Kai is not your blood. No matter how much you love him and have accepted him into our family, Kai is only a member of the pack and he'll speak to you as one. I, on the other hand, am your brother, damn it! The man whom you want to fight is also my father!" Denzel shook his head while rubbing his temples. There we
Cinnia could feel her pulse thundering beneath the skin of her neck. Her eyes flicked from side to side, trying to use her peripheral vision to see who had her but it was useless.She could taste the rough leather of her captor's glove as it pressed down on her lips."If you try to scream and alert anyone, I will bury my blade so deep into your spinal cord that you won't even be able to utter a whimper. Do you understand, Cinnia Ramilek?"Cinnia nodded her head rapidly. The gloved hand left her mouth but the cold blade remained at her back. The hand caressed the smooth curve of her neck, a thumb tracing the outline of her throat.Cinnia stood still, all too aware of the danger she was in. "What do you want now? Haven't you done enough?" she hissed, her voice a harsh whisper.Her captor spun her. She came face to face with his masked features. He had the same blue eyes as her daily tormentor but she couldn't be sure it was him. His voice was hoarse, different from the clear baritone of
Cinnia could not breathe. She waved her arms in the suffocating darkness, fighting to get rid of the weight around her neck but with every movement she made, the pressure on her neck increased. The darkness faded and a masked face materialized above her. She was back in that prison and he, her captor, was straddling her legs, restricting any effort she made to kick. Her eyes bulged and she frantically began to claw at his forearms, drawing blood with each deep scratch but it seemed not to phase him. His blue eyes glinted with hate and a lust for her blood. She lifted her neck, straining to catch a breath amidst the crushing tension. Tears spilled out from the corners of her eyes as she struggled beneath her attacker. "You thought it was over?" he asked in a low tone. A slow, muffled laugh bubbled from his lips when Cinnia clawed at him again. Through the haziness in her vision, she saw his face change. "You haven't seen anything yet, Cinnia," A voice she knew all too well, s