VEGAS

IX: Burn

You don't play with fire, unless you want to get burned.

TW: Mention of blood. And Vegas's intrusive thoughts. 

~~~~~

Despite the days going on slowly in Kali, time still moves and Pete wakes with a feeling of dread in his gut. As if something inside him was warning him of some inevitable things bound to happen.

His heat.

Pete stared at his feet, thinking. He doesn't have any suppressants with him anymore, and his heat will start maybe a week or two from now. He needs to find himself a suppressant before that.

Pete exhaled as he got off from his bed and into his doorway. He immediately stepped back when his foot stepped on something different, he looked down surprised. Pete didn't expect to see a new set of patten shoes in front of his chamber. He stared dumbfounded before looking to both sides of the hallway. He crouched on the floor, running his fingers down its soles. It's thick, he wouldn't feel any small rocks rolling underneath his feet anymore, he can finally walk freely without worrying about blisters in his heels.

He didn't mention anything to anyone about how his feet hurt because of his thin slippers, but he already had an idea where it came from.

Pete decided to make himself a tea later that morning. His head was occupied with thoughts of his duel with the King and now his upcoming heat. Well, the King defeated him which was expected but he didn't mention anything more to Pete after that. Vegas just left him with Macau after their match. And Macau, well the prince has been aloof from him since yesterday probably because of what Pete had said to him that night.

How did the King know he's from Fontos?

Pete waited for the water to boil, his mind leading him to one thought to another. Did the King remember him from the forest? That's the only possible thing he could come up with, unless the King made a thorough investigation on him, which is possible. He told Macau his real family name, a part of him that was burned ages ago ever since the late King took him. No one in Fontos knows who his family is aside from a handful of nobles, the King himself, and his 'supposed' brothers.

Pete isn't using his family name anymore nor the name of the royal family of Fontos. He's just simply Pete. Nothing more. That's how the people of Fontos know him. The right hand man of the new King.

A low snarl made Pete turn his head to the right corner, his gaze met by a wolf moving into the morning light from the small circular windows near the ceiling of the castle. Fur is white-silver, glossy and thick, her paws a silent touch against the marbled floor as her eyes locked on Pete. Eyes are sharp in streaks of green. It was a rare sight for Pete, a white wolf with green eyes.

Such oddity. Pete thought.

Pete remained still, he can already feel its teeth on his flesh as if the wound from the day he was bitten is still there. It was a standoff, two sets of eyes locked on each other, a small snarl rumbling against the wolf's chest. Her teeth are bare, her stance is confident, her small movements are fluid, her white body is huge and glistening against the soft rays of the sun.

And it walked towards Pete like some kind of magical myth and bewitching spell. This is the first time he has seen this wolf up close and clear. She's like a living form of glacial storm.

Pete took a step back, but did not turn. It's one thing he keeps in mind whenever he finds himself trapped in a wolf's presence — never turn your back on them. He had successfully avoided her for more than a month, there are moments when their paths would almost cross, but Pete would notice it first and would manage to get away.