To Kill a Werewolf King

Pretending Everything's Fine

Chance

But now, in my line of work and with Loki as my guide, I’m nothing but grateful for it. The form of the man before me moves, the aura moving with him. I can easily hazard a guess that he’s looking at the key in my hands with hope in his bruised and swollen eyes. But there is no hope for him here. If they reach me, there’s no hope for them period.

Instead, I reach up slowly, focusing on where I believe his face would be inside the aura, and grab his jaw. I find it’s not broken and he’s not clenching it, which makes my next move easy. I always ask why they did it, after I’ve pried out all the important information . Nothing as dumb as killing a traitor before they’ve given up the goods. I use my thumb and pointer finger to pry his mouth open a bit more and swiftly shove the keys in, clamping his jaw and forcing his head back from where I'm squatted before him. Then I reach up with my other hand, and swipe my blade across his throat, listening to the gurgles and choking sounds he makes, satisfying some dark thing in my soul.

I don’t move my hand, keeping his head tilted back until the convulsions, jerking, and gurgling stops. He deserved it. If they get to me, they always do. I’ve yet to meet one that I have sent back or wasn’t actively committing atrocious deeds within the pack community and beyond. All s.exes alike. I’ve never had a child at the end of my nonexistent mercy, though I’m not sure if it would matter to me if the crime was heinous enough. Either way, I’m not really that interested in killing kids. They can change, and so can their perspectives and beliefs, a lot easier and quicker than an adult, no matter the s**x.

Finally, once I know the man is dead, there is no longer an aura around him, I move to stand. Once I do, I pull the keys from his blood soaked mouth, tossing them to the table at my side, knowing they’ll be cleaned, sterilized and exactly where I picked them up by the time I need this room again. Then, I turn and leave, counting out the seventeen steps at a catty angle from the man, to the door. I knock twice once I know I’m a foot away, giving space for the door to open so I can exit.

“Open.” the guard states. I know he’s not standing anywhere in front of me. Everyone who works with me in any regard knows the rules of operating around me. So I confidently stride forward five steps and then turn left, striding another forty five steps until I hit the set of eighteen steps. I walk up carefully, placing a hand on the wall and setting my entire foot on the width of the step before moving to the next. I use the tips of my shoes to tap each step before setting my foot down, ensuring I don’t trip and fall on my f.ucking face. Once I’m up the steps, I push open the sliding door in front of me.

Davina had made sure that the doors I would walk through most frequently for my job and in my living space were sliding doors, so I wouldn’t have to spend time looking like a fool while searching for a knob. As much as she tormented me growing up, because she did, she’s also always looked out for me. So her torment has always canceled out in my brain. It never stuck the way John’s or Dad’s words and actions did, and certainly never like any of the people of this pack who bullied me growing up.

I head down what I know is another hallway, leading out to the gardens behind the tall three-story building. It’s not as big as some packhouses I’ve been told, and definitely not as big as the King’s, that I know, but it’s fairly good sized anyway. Our pack is not very big anyway. Only about one-hundred people. Which is small, however, there are two other packs even smaller than ours. We’re all under the rule of the Northern King, or the Pacific Coast King as most wolves call him. He rules every pack in the entire northern portion of the United States, from Northern California through the Rockies to the Appalachians and Canada. He’s said to be a very cruel and ruthless king, but our pack has never had any troubles from him.

Walking down the sidewalk that leads back into the packhouse, I hurry to my room, needing to shower before presenting myself to report. Once I’m done and dressed again, I head towards Dad’s study. On the opposite side of the packhouse. Thankfully, all the important rooms and my own are all on the first floor. So the only thing I have to worry about is the furniture, but that’s never changed either. I know most of the packlands as well as I know the house, because nothing ever changes. The consistency is nice while also being suffocating at times. I want to go out beyond these lands.

I want to go to a concert, hearing the melodies and feeling the vibrations of the soundwaves. I want to feel and smell the air at the top of a mountain. I want to know what it feels like to be surrounded by people, not to be crowded, but to be able to feel the presence of many around me. I want to feel the vibrations of forests beyond the boundaries, to feel the weight and hear the depth of a waterfall. I want to experience what it’s like to go to a carnival, to hear all the laughter and joy. I want to know what it’s like to experience life. I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine.

But that’s my place here in this pack.

I remind myself as I stop in front of Alpha’s door knocking briskly three times before entering. Though I cannot see him, I can smell the guard standing outside his office, as always, and know that he is the one who opens the door for me every time I come here. My father refused to install a sliding door to accommodate me, but I never expected him to. I step three steps into his office then take the soldier’s stance, my feet shoulder length apart, my hands clasped behind my back and my chest puffed out.

I do not look at the Alpha, as that is his personal rule for me upon allowing me this position. He did not want to work with me as much as I didn’t with him, but I would not trade my position for my pride.

“Alpha.” I monotone, tipping my head in his direction in respect. Though I have none for the man himself, I do respect the position as I've met other Alpha’s who are truly decent and deserving of the title.

“Chance, good. What did you learn?” He asks, glancing up at me and then returning to his paperwork. I keep my eyes on the painted family portrait behind him. I know I am not actually looking at it, but I have its description painted in my mind’s eye. I was only three in that photo and my father refused to hang it initially, insisting I not be in it. My mother told him that if he did not hang it, she would take his study and make it my room. It’s the largest room in the packhouse, besides his and mother’s room. He acquiesced quickly after that.

“There’s a plan of attack with a mixed group of rogues and vampires by the time the sun goes down tomorrow night. No more than about ten individuals, two vampires. He said the rest of the wolves were all feral, being led by the vampires. He himself was already over halfway feral. It took a while for the wolf to finally relinquish control to the man. Must have been a rogue for five or six years already to still be alive in the wolf. Being recently cast and working with vampires might be a problem in the future.” I remark. The last tidbit is distraction information. He doesn’t need it, but I’m sharing it with him knowing that he’ll run with it.

“Was he from this pack?” He asks, uncaring, focused on other paperwork.

“No. Blue Ridge.”

“Mmm. Not surprising. With two vampires you say… Anything else?”

“No, Alpha.”

“I have a new task prepared for you. There is a visitor arriving within the hour. She’s from North Haven. Perhaps you can use the next few weeks to discover some secrets of your own.” He says, and I hear the intonation in his tone change, though I’m not sure I’m hearing correctly. My mask slips for a moment as I realize the implications he’s suggesting.

“You… want me to try to seduce her?” I ask, incredulously.

The f***k?

“If you can.” He replies as if it’s reasonable, as if I’m f.ucking Johnathon.

“Surely you see the issue here?” I enunciate, because I really don’t understand what the f***k is going through his head at the moment. I’m not ashamed to admit to being a virgin, or to it being for a lack of trying. I’ve jacked off plenty of times, had a few pack w.hores suck me off as I got older and grew into myself, but I’ve chosen not to have s**x.

What the f***k is the point of me becoming that intimate with someone, allowing them to touch me in ways i wouldn’t be able to anticipate or predict, physically and emotionally? I’m not a fool. I’m not saving myself for my mate or marriage. I’m just not willing to become that attached to another living being. I know myself well enough to know that I am not like some men. I can’t f***k to forget things, to pass the time, to console myself and lick my wounds when I’m down. On the other hand, I know that I am like some men, in that physical touch is needed for me to feel loved, accepted, and I do enjoy being touched.

I also decided a long time ago that when I do have s**x finally, it will not be with a pack w.hore. Though that’s another thing my brother and father love to throw in my face - that I’ll only ever be of use to a w.hore since I can’t do anything else right. Ironic because I know some women in our pack who have heard the same thing from other men. H.ell, my father was tempted to sell me to the pack Madam when I was thirteen for breaking a dish. The only reason why it didn't happen was my mother and Davina stepping in. Not that I give a f***k about what a man or woman does with their body, but I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks s.exually for the off chance that I ever do find a mate.

F.uck…

Ha!

I’m f.ucking lying to myself.

I am waiting for my mate whether intentionally initially or not.

“You think because you’re blind she won’t f***k you?” My father interrupts my chaotic thoughts, drawing my back in with an amused tone.

“No. I think because I’m blind I shouldn’t be her host while she is here.” I comment, knowing I can’t really give the best descriptions of everything. I know where everything is, but not being able to see anything makes me miss things.

“Well, you will be. Davina left for Washington this morning and Johnathon is still visiting the Tillamook Pack. That leaves only you, your mother and I. We will not be available for the rest of the day today as I have a charity banquet to attend at 2 in Portland. So we will only be available for dinner this evening. As it’s only –” He cuts himself off, frowning and staring at his watch “-- 10:02, make sure the kitchen staff does not start preparing dinner before 6. We will be back by then to greet our guest. Dismissed.” He states, before I get another word in edgewise.

Besides that first glance, not once did he even look up at me. I tip my head towards him before turning on my heels and walking out.

F.ucking bastard.