Zeil was trembling from the heat that was building up from inside him, even though he tried to mask it but it was becoming unbearable. Still standing there, breath stuck in his throat, chest rising and falling too fast. His back pressed against the wall, his whole body burning from the inside out.
Kael didnât move, his eyes were still on Zeilâs. There was no warmth in them and that's what excites Zeilâs wolf the most. âTouch usâ His wolf purred, anticipating every kaelâs eye and breath movement. And when their faces looked like they were going to kiss, Kael turned away. Just like that. Zeil watched him pick his shirt off the floor and sling it over his shoulder. His back was broad, carved with scars that told stories no one ever asked to hear. His shoulders moved like a caged beast shaking off its chains. At the door, Kael paused. "Be warned," he said, his voice was calm this time without the roughness around the edge. "Iâm not your regular pushover." Then he left, the door closed behind him, and silence filled every corner of the room once again. Zeil stood still for a second⌠then another before his legs gave out and dropped on the bed. His chest heaved as he panted, sweat running down his neck and soaking into the sheets. His thighs trembled, muscles aching, heart refusing to calm. What in the name of the moon goddess was that? His hand reached for the keys under the drawer beside the bed and unlocked it before scrambling inside, fingers brushing until they found the silver case. He didnât hesitate. One pill. Then another. Swallowed dry without any water, they scratched down his throat. It didnât help. His body was on fire. Too hot. Skin crawling, his inner wolf stirring wildly. A heat he didnât want, didnât ask for, coiled low in his stomach and throbbed through his core. Zeil wiped the sweat from his forehead, whispering, "No, no, no..." He clenched his jaw, teeth gritting hard. This wasnât fear, not even close. It was something else. That bastard. Kael. Who did he think he was? Zeil sat up fast, rage mixing with heat, making his vision blur. The pills werenât working. They always worked. But not now. Not after Kael. Not after those eyes. That voice. That closeness between them and to worsen everything, his warm breath against Zeil's skin. "How dare he come in here and speak to me like that?" Zeil hissed, his voice sharp and shaky. He paced the room, the heat thick beneath his skin. Anger. Shame. Primal Need. All wrapped up in one wild raging storm. Kael had dared to speak back. Had dared to raise his voice. Dared to get close, too close with that well defined toned chest full of old scars, like war medals he wore with pride. And the wolf. That flash of dominance that had stolen the breath from Zeilâs lungs and almost made him submissive. He stomped hard, fists clenched tight. The heat wasnât fading. His legs shook. Chest burned. His wolf clawed beneath his skin. "Damn him! Damn this body!" He hated how alive he felt. Hated the way Kael had looked at him. Like he saw through him. Like he knew. Zeil growled and stomped again. "Heâs beneath me. Nothing but a dirty rogue! Who don't belong anywhere in this pack" But still, the image of him lingered. That stare. That warmth. He dropped to the bed again, cleaning the faint blood on his knuckles, trying to calm the fire inside. Outside, the sun was already out and vibrant. Voices of pack members echoed from the training grounds. She-Wolves who were drooling in lust over the body of the pack warriors and also the Clashing swords and fangs sounds, he heard them all. Familiar sounds. He hadnât slept and he couldnât not after what had just happened in his room. Everytime he closed his eyes in hopes of getting a little shuteye, he saw Kael. His scent still lingered in the room. On the walls, on the sheets and faintly on his skin. Zeil curled into the blanket, clenching his jaw. "I hate him," he whispered. And he meant it. Kael stood knee-deep in the stream. The water was cold, the rocks sharp. But it helped clear his head and his thoughts from running too wild. He ducked under the current, the water rushing over his face and neck. It washed away the sweat but not the thoughts. Zeil. That spoiled, arrogant alphaâs pup. Yelling like he was king. Throwing orders like he was nothing but dirt. All because of one order. "Protect him. No matter what." Even when he curses me? Even when he looks at me like Iâm nothing? Kael splashed more water over himself, scrubbing hard. A giggle broke the air then followed by another. He looked up. Three female wolves stood by the bank. Watching him and whispering to themselves. One had shifted, her fur shining in the light. "Heâs mine," one said. "You wish," said another. They flirted, tails swishing, laughing like he was some prize. He ignored them. Didn't even spare them a glance. He walked out of the water, droplets sliding off his skin. Shorts on, shirt tossed over his shoulder, grass blade back between his lips. They kept staring and darting their eyelashes at him but he kept walking. Adira, the most beautiful of them all, whispered, "He didnât even flinch." "Even beauty," one of them said, "can be ignored sometimes." Their giggles faded behind him. Kael didnât care. His mind was still in Zeilâs room. With that brat. That heat. The scent that felt strange but at the same time pulled him closer to the point where he had almost lost control of his wolf sanity. He shook it off. The training field was filled with life. Wolves fought. Dirt flew with each foot stomp. Orders rang out from the pack instructors and generals. But someone was missing. No Zeil. He was always here. Always earlier than everyone else. Kael stretched. Punched the air. But kept looking around, hoping to see him. Maybe Zeil was still angry. Still resting. Maybe he should check. No. He shouldnât. But he walked anyway towards the Alpha's house, step by step. Until he stood in front of Zeilâs door. He raised his hands to knock but decided against it, instead he just stood there. Waiting. After twenty minutes, Kael sighed. Deciding to give in as he could no longer withstand the harshness from the sun, he raised his hand slowly. Time to knock.The silence between Zeil and Kael throbbed like a wound that refused to close. Their eyes locked, storms locked in storms, and Zeilâs breath trembled between words he could not speak. His wolf clawed at his chest, aching for something that frightened him.And then the door slammed open so hard the hinges squealed.âBreakfast for the half-dead prince!â Lopi sang, balancing a tray in one hand and swinging the door wide with the other. His grin was as wide as the sun, his hair sticking in every possible direction. âHot soup, bread, and humiliation served fresh!âZeil froze, caught between the frame and Kaelâs closeness. His cheeks flamed as if caught in crime.âOh, oh, ohhhh,â Lopi crooned, eyes narrowing with fake suspicion. He set the tray down and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. âWhat is this? What did I interrupt? A duel? A dramatic staring contest? Orâ He paused, lowering his voice in mock scandal, â...something more scandalous?âZeilâs face burned. âLopi, shut your mout
The room was dim, filled with the soft glow of a single lamp which was suddenly blown off by the morning wind. The bird's hand already began to sing their early morning songs. Zeilâs breath came shallow but steady, his body trembling as though torn between sickness and strength. He turned his face toward Kael, who stood like a sentinel in the corner, quiet, unmoving.Zeilâs lips parted, his voice low, uncertain. âYou donât have to stand there all day again? Kaelâs eyes did not shift. âYes, I do.âZeil frowned, trying to push himself upright. His body ached, sharp pain slicing through his chest, but pride forced him up anyway. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles pale.Kael moved before he could steady himself, his steps silent but swift. His hand came down, strong and warm, pressing against Zeilâs shoulder. âLie down.ââIâm not fragile,â Zeil said harshly, but the words quivered, breaking under the weight of weakness.Kaelâs hand did not move. His voice was quiet, deep, li
The chamber was silent except for the faint hiss of the brazier. Shadows bent across the stone walls, firelight flickering in restless waves. The Great Alpha sat tall on the oak chair, his hands resting heavy on the armrests. His eyes were sharp, dark as midnight, fixed on the fish pond as if he had been waiting for hours for a particular fish to show itself. At last, the door opened Healer Lena entered quietly. Her robes brushed against the floor, her steps measured, calm, almost like the rhythm of breath itself. She bowed, both hands folded neatly in front of her.âMy lord Alpha,â she said softly.The Lord Alpha tilted his head just slightly, his stare unmoving. âYou came.ââI came the moment you called,â she answered, her voice even.He gestured faintly toward the space near the fish pond âStand here.âShe did. The flames washed her face with amber glow, painting her features with warmth she did not feel. The Alphaâs gaze was too sharp, too heavy for comfort.For a moment, there
The morning sun was already at its peak, spilling gold over the rooftops of the WindClaw Kingdom.The training ground was alive with movement. Dozens of wolves, both in human form and shifted, were sparring hard. Fists slammed into training posts, claws scraped the dirt, bodies locked and broke apart in wrestling moves.The air was thick with sweat, effort, and the sharp scent of determination. Every strike, every throw was meant to keep the Kingdom strong. No one here could afford to be weak.In the middle of all that noise, a few voices rose above the rest.âWhereâs the Young Lord Alpha?â one warrior grunted as he wiped his brow.Another shrugged. âHavenât seen him in three days. Not here, not anywhere around the training yard.ââThatâs strange,â the first said. âHeâs always the first one to start training, swinging like heâs about to go to war.âA third voice joined in, low and mocking. âMaybe heâs lost his stamina. Imagine someone like him leading us into battle.âA few chuckled at
The silence in the council hall stayed heavy, like a blanket no one wanted to lift. Elder Kyrosâs chair creaked as he slowly stood. His tall frame was outlined by the faint torchlight on the stone walls. He didnât look at anyoneâjust kept his gaze on the wide doors ahead as if they were calling to him.He walked slowly, every step echoing across the floor. When he reached the doors, he stopped, turned slightly toward the Lord Alpha, and gave a deep, respectful bow.âMy Lord Alpha,â he said softly, voice calm but carrying far in the quiet room. Then without another word, he stepped out into the night.The big doors closed behind him with a low thud, and the hall went still again.Only Elder Rion and the Lord Alpha remained.Neither spoke.The torches flickered, making shadows dance along the high ceiling. Outside, the night was at its deepest, the kind of dark that made even the moonlight hesitate.Back at the Malgornâs compound, Adira was in the courtyard with a small group of pups. T
The great hall of the Elders smelled faintly of cedarwood and the warm, smoky burn of old torches. Shadows clung to the carved pillars, stretching high to the arched ceiling. Outside, the late afternoon sun bled in through narrow windows, staining the stone floor in streaks of gold and red.Every council member was present.Every seat taken.The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fire and the measured breaths of wolves who had ruled this kingdom for decades.Then a voice cut through the air.âLord Alpha,â Elder Malgorn said as he rose from his chair. His grey robes shifted around him like restless fog. His eyes were sharp, carrying the same weight they always had when he spoke in council words chosen carefully, like arrows aimed at the heart. âI would like to bring to the councilâs notice that the Young Lord is of age now. As the next ruler of this kingdom, it is best he takes a wife⌠one who is worthy of ruling beside him.âHe paused, letting the words settle in the room like