Lucius stared at the beautiful woman in the painting. It was something he did whenever he felt lonely which was an irony because that was the only thing other than hate that he felt- loneliness. He closed his eyes trying to remember the sound of her laughter, the feel of her gentle touch, but those memories were distant and fleeting.
He had had a good relationship with his father but there was only so much focus a king could give to his son. His mother had been the one person who truly cared for him, the one who had nurtured him and shown him a love that was rare among their kind. And he had lost her, torn away by the wolves thirsty for power, the kind that came with being the Alpha King.
He clenched his fists, struggling to feel anything other than the overwhelming hatred that had been
