To Kill a Werewolf King

Master Dorian Drake

Hawke

A week.

Do you think he meant five days or seven?

He said five hours…

F.uck, I wish it was five hours for me.

Today is already day three, and I’m dying to start the first phase of my plan. I’ve been working on this for years and I’m getting f.ucking antsy. I’m still pissed that Apollo used that f.ucking power on me to force me to submit to his demand, but then I thought about it.

After I stewed for a day, and destroyed my whole f.ucking gym.

Anyway after thinking about it clearly, I realized it really was the best option he had because I was not going to listen otherwise. Thankfully, because I understood the intent of the command, I do still get to do as he suggested and keep myself busy with work.

It’s just not the work, he thought I’d be doing.

My office couch is comfortably decorated to my taste. I don’t really need an office, but I do like to keep track of all of my investments, financial and otherwise. So mostly my office is for file storage. It’s an in-home office, the third and final room in my highrise apartment. It’s been painted a deep burgundy with a black accent wall, painted to represent the starry sky.

There’s no moon in the scene. Just a silvery blue wolf in the left-hand corner of the wall, howling into the nothingness. Don’t want Selene getting the wrong idea.

The desk I bought is a beautiful mahogany, carved and polished to perfection. The couch I sit on is black pleather, that I had a soft black velvet cover created for.

I raise the decanter of whiskey off the mahogany coffee table before me, pouring myself two fingers, neat, like a lady. I place the decanter down, grab my drink, and raise my phone into my view. Before anything, I take a sip of my drink, letting my nerves settle, then I hit my contacts, pulling up the first of many.

Here goes.

The line rings four times before someone answers.

“Dorian Drake speaking.” The voice on the other end of line is not one I really enjoy hearing in times like this, but… it’s time to call in some favors to prepare for what’s coming.

“Dorian, baby. How are ya?” I ask, pleasantly surprised to find him in his office for once. The sigh of irritation on the other end pleases me also.

“Hawke. How can I help you? No. Don't tell me. You’re ready to call in that favor.” He’s been itching to fulfill that promise since he made it. I’ve never taken him up on it though. Not yet anyway.

“Bingo! Golly, you’re good.” I tease, and giggle at the next sigh of frustration.

“What do you need?” I’m glad it’s not a debate. Dorian and I may not be each other’s biggest fans, but we’ve scratched each other’s backs a few times, not including his owed promise. Besides that, I do love the man in a peculiar way.

“I want your firstborn Dorian. I need to kill it for a sacrifice. Impregnate me.” I state, as cheerily as possible. Then I flat out laugh, a nice good belly laugh at my own stupidity while there is a dumbfounded silence on the other end.

Oh! Right, I forgot to say.

Mr. Dorian over here is one of those vampire debtors I mentioned.

The payment: anything at any time.

Risky f.ucking business if you ask me, but he made the deal so I’d spare his sister when I carried out a King’s order a year back. I’d initially met Dorian while I was still in training, just after I turned nineteen.

He’s a master swordsman and when I told him my interest in learning the skill, he decided to teach me in exchange for a debt of my own. One I have yet to fulfill myself. Though Dorian is not in the same kind of position I’m in. He can wait another three hundred years to fulfill it.

Of course, he’ll only have seventy left from me, if that.

It helps that he’s rich as f***k too for what I need. Because of course he is. He’s a f.ucking five hundred year old Vampire with no real enemies left alive, just disgruntled business partners or former employees. Honestly, if he wasn’t rich as f***k, I’d probably spend time wondering where his skills really lie.

Hawke, stop.

You're gonna embarrass yourself.

Although…

I know my Master has learned some things…

Moving back, my point was he doesn’t and can't have any f.ucking children to sacrifice, so don’t get your panties in a twist.

It’s just a joke between us infertile supernaturals. The silence on the other end of the phone is turning deafening, so I sigh, defeated. For now. I’ll make this f.ucker laugh one way or another. He doesn’t do it often enough. Though I have been lucky enough to hear it on a few occasions. It's like listening to a rich baritone with a fine brass rasp.

“Okay fine. I need help in exacting my revenge. I have other allies, friends and debtors that I will be speaking with, but as you’re one of my oldest friends and debtors I’m calling you first. I am waiting for someone to finish some recon for me. They should be back by the end of the week. In that time, I’d really like to see two things please.” I say, knowing I’m asking instead of demanding my debt be paid as he taught me to.

But I will never feel comfortable ordering this guy around. I’m not afraid of much, but Dorian Drake is a scary motherf.ucker if he wants to be. I’d rather stay on his good side. Which is why I wasn’t gonna kill his sister anyway, but then he struck a deal when he caught me poisoning the glass in the kitchen at his estate.

It’s the only f.ucking time I’ve ever been caught, and I had been maybe two seconds away from either pissing myself or fainting or both when I saw his imposing figure in the doorway. He’d actually been happy to let me continue, even going so far as to stand there giving me advice on how better to complete my mission next time. Hint, hint, without getting caught. It was a whirlwind of emotions for me that was for sure.

In the end, he taught me a lot more than that and I came to respect him as my mentor. Although I’ve scratched his back a few times, he;s done more for me than I could ever repay.

“Go on.” He says, after a somewhat extended silence. I know that he’s trying his best to figure out whether or not this is going to f***k with whatever plans he has going on right now. Too f.ucking bad.

“First, I’d like to see an increase in my bank account by… oh let’s say… Three million. And second, I’d like to use Jay until this is over. Have him at my beck and call, perform my every demand, and serve me loyally as he does for you.” I state specifically. I know all about Vampire deals.

They’re like Fae, only sometimes worse. They never just want blood, or hair or fingernail clippings for a ritual like the Coven does. It’s always got to be personal and usually lands you in boiling water because most people don’t know, or maybe don't care that the most important thing about a Vampire, or Fae, deal, is to be specific.

If you want that deal to benefit you in any way, be specific. Or you’re well and truly f.ucked.

I try to listen to the pattern of Dorian’s breath, but he’s mastered the art of silent breathing. I know he’s not even considering the money. That’s easy and nothing to him. It’s lending me Jay’s presence that he’s pondering.

Jay is Dorian’s Second-in-Command, his Beta so to speak. He’s just as old as Dorian, but has been in twice as many wars, brawls and duels as Dorian as a release of ‘expendable energy’, or so he likes to say. They’re both upper classmen in the Vampire Kingdom. Not royalty or nobility. Just very skilled businessmen.

“Yes. To both. But this is not the favor. I will hold on to it for you.” He says, surprising me. Pleasantly surprised, but it makes me hesitate immediately.

“Why?”

“Because I have spoken to Sylvia.”