Written in the stars

12.

Aryan

Days melted into months, and months merged into years. My life had become days filled with hungover meetings, nights with whiskey, women and wolfsbane. The wolfsbane acted like a drug. It numbed my pain, letting me dance, drink, sleep my nights away without feeling anything. Best of all, it shut Niði up. Having been a part of me for almost a decade, this was the first time Niði felt really wild, reckless and difficult to control. It wasn't a good look if an Alpha couldn't control his wolf. 

"Alpha?" A voice came from behind me.

"Hmm?" I turned towards it. It was Willem. He was watching me with a mix of curiosity and something else.. something I couldn't quite place my finger on. It was clear he had said something that I hadn't heard.

I looked around me. I was in the board room, everyone else had gone. It was just Willem and I left. I couldn't even recall what had happened today. My life was becoming an all-consuming blur of monotony. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

"Your father is waiting for you," Willem repeated.

"Of course," I nodded, but I had no idea why he was waiting for me. When had I agreed to a meeting with him? Had I been drunk? Probably. I was almost always drunk these days, numbing the pain, filling the emptiness.

"He has requested you meet for dinner," Willem reminded me.

I hadn't known my father had been back in town, and I wasn't sure what for. Willem knew me too well, he could see I was stumbling my way through life.

"At Choker Inn, seven-sharp."

"Yes," I said, clapping Willem on the back. "Yes, I remember."

He met my lie with a small smile and the same look from earlier crossed his face again. This time, I caught it. It was pity.

***

Seven sharp. I strode in the door of Choker Inn and found my father sitting at a table by the window. In a few quicksteps, I had joined him. He didn't look up as I pulled the chair back. He didn't stand on ceremony. He was the only wolf who didn't acknowledge my very presence. Even now, as a grown man, almost 25 years old, he still made me feel small.

"Father," I greeted him.

"You're late," he said, still looking out the window. His voice was smooth, sharp, and condescending, the way it had always been.

"It's just gone seven now."

"If you're not early-"

"Then you're late," I finished for him. "Yes, I know."

"Then you are late," he quipped, his sharp words cutting the way they always did.

His eyes turned on me now and I held them steadily as they looked me up and down, judging me.

"You look like an Omega."

I grimaced. I knew I didn't look good. My stubble had grown into a beard. My hair was long and wild.

The waitress came over to give us our order. Of course he had chosen what I would eat. He still wanted to control me.

"Two rare steaks. A scotch for you," she said placing the drink in front of my father, "and a water for you." I looked at the water before me disdainfully. Not what I would have ordered for myself, but I guess in the presence of my father, it would have to do.

I smiled at the waitress and thanked her. She smiled, her lips painted a deep crimson red. Her dark eyes shimmered with lust. I watched as she sauntered off, her hips swaying seductively. She glanced back over her shoulder at me and I shot her a wry grin. As dishevelled as I was, she still seemed to want me. My confidence boosted slightly, I turned to my father.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"It will be your birthday soon."

"I am aware."

"You are almost 28."

I didn't know how to respond. What was he trying to get at? I lifted my drink to my lips and took a sip.

"Before the next blue moon, before you turn 28, you must take a mate."

I choked on the water, suddenly forgetting how to swallow. I coughed up the water, trying to keep it out of my lungs.

"Calm yourself, Aryan. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you."

When my coughing fit had subsided, I was finally able to compose myself. My father sat quietly, sipping on his scotch, and eating his dinner.

"You originally said I had till 30 to take a mate."

"That was before I realised what a disappointment of an Alpha you have become. We need to ensure the continuation of this bloodline. I won't have all of my hard work go to waste."

"All of your hard work?" I breathed, stunned. Did it not matter our pack had grown stronger, larger, more fearful under my lead? "This pack has almost doubled in size in the mere two years I have been alpha!"

His hand was across my cheek and back on his scotch before I had even registered that he had just hit me. It had been years since he had laid his hands on me, still the sudden action had caught be off guard.

"You are only the alpha because I appointed you, you stupid boy. I can take your throne as easily as I gave it to you." He breathed, his voice deadly. "Don't forget your place. Don't forget your duty."

The waitress came back over, "just checking that everything is alright? Steak cooked to your liking? Can I get you another scotch?"

"No, we are done here." My father pulled his eyes from mine and looked her up and down. "You can come home with me, it's been some time since I've lain with such a beautiful woman."

She looked slightly surprised, but she covered it well. "I would be honoured and delighted to spend the night with you, Elder Ragnor."

My father pushed his chair back, standing with pride. He was not quite as tall as me, his face was wrinkled, his hair greying; yet he was formidable all the same. The waitress shot me a look out of the corner of her eye. She was my age, and I knew she had hoped she could have gone home with me instead. When my father looked back at her, she smiled her sultry smile at him. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her in front of me. He kissed her the way he has eaten his steak; sloppily and hungrily. I couldn't stop the look of disgust creeping across my face. She did well to conceal hers before he saw it.

He turned back to me, an arrogant, winning grin plastered across his face.

"Before the next blue moon, Aryan."

I sighed as I watched him walk away. I knew what I had to do. After a few minutes, I pushed my chair back, paid for the meals and headed back to my apartment, searching for one thing I had left of her. The one thing with her scent on it; the torn shirt that she had ripped from my body the night we had met. I had kept it, my only reminder that she was real, not some figment of my imagination or a day dream, haunting my very existence.

I took it to Willem's place, just a few doors down. Impatiently, I pounded on the door. When he opened the door, I pushed the torn fabric to his chest.

"Get this to Jacob. Have the trackers find her."

He lifted the torn shirt, his face puzzled. "Aryan," he said softly, "the scent is hardly there."

"My father has given me an ultimatum. I must mate before my next birthday. If I cannot find her, he will choose a mate for me. I can't have him control every aspect of my life. I need something I've chosen for myself. I need her."