DEOLYKOS

Chapter 5.

He had always been prone to terrible sleep and splitting migraines, but he'd never been victim to the level of overwhelming distress he'd felt his first night in the South Pack. He'd awoken with a start several times that night, his heart and head pounding and sweat dripping down his chest. He'd given up, somewhere in the early hours of the morning and decided to go for a morning run to clear his head. The medications the witches of the North Pack had provided him worked less and less and wore out sooner and sooner over the years, nevertheless, he dry-swallowed three doses and set off.

He found it hard to shake the feeling of unease he felt while residing in the palace. Everything seemed to be fine on the surface, but that didn't stop his wolf from being restless and on edge. Something was different but he didn't know what. His feet pounded the uneven surface of the forest floor, and he made his way into the woods. The farther he got from the palace, the more disgruntled his wolf became. Sweat had poured down his bare chest and back and drenched the hair atop his head when he realized his migraines were getting worse; the run had helped nothing.

A few hours later, he found himself sitting among the advisors of the pack, Mordelle, and his niece, Villeta. Their apprehensive looks didn't go unnoticed by him. They were, after all, still loyal to their leader, though he struggled to understand why. Mordelle's leadership seemed like a fragile charade – riddled with incompetencies and far too emotional. Weak.

The absence of a pack Beta in the room stood as an example of this. How could a pack function without an adequate second-in-command? He'd barely heard of Mordelle's daughter since he'd arrived.

He cleared his throat after hearing the concerns of the minister of forestry on his reduction of their hunting grounds.

"Your hunting grounds are large but ill managed, cutting them down will force conservation and better management. Changing patrol routes will encourage more alarm at how poorly the situation with the rouges is being managed." He looked directly at Mordelle across the table, whose eyes were filled with disdain. He knew Mordelle didn't like him, and frankly, he couldn't blame him. He wouldn't like it either if someone challenged his authority and made people see the flaws in his leadership.

"I agree with Alpha Deolykos. We need to push for stricter sustainability and higher alert. We don't want to cause panic in the pack, but they need to know we're up against a large threat." Villeta added, sitting beside her father. She offered a small smile to Deolykos before looking around the table for support. His eyes drifted over her slender physique and her straight blonde hair for a second too long. She was curious, but dull. Nothing about her sparked his interest, or otherwise, something sparked his interest a little more.

The curious sweet vanilla scent that danced in some of the hallways always seemed to gently beckon him. The more he followed it, the more it stirred an unfamiliar longing within him. He couldn't chase his nose around the palace like an inexperienced pup, but the pull grew stronger, urging him to find the source of it. And at that moment, the source stood right behind the large wooden doors of the meeting room. He could smell whoever it was quietly pacing behind the door, their gentle footsteps sounding loud in his ears.

He couldn't just end the meeting and rush out there like a fool, but he felt himself slowly growing more frustrated and impatient as the meeting dragged on, his every sense attuned sharply to them, causing his focus to waver.

He rubbed his temples irritably as his Beta and Mordelle seemed to argue about something. He could barely concentrate on what was happening in the meeting room. The heady scent wrapped around his subconscious, squeezing every ounce of his attention until there was nothing left but to breathe it in. He could smell it lingering and drawing away, as though the person couldn't decide whether to stay behind those doors or leave. It was oddly familiar, yet he couldn't identify it. His agitation at the fact that he couldn't burst through the doors and find out himself who it was that gnawed at him and caused his wolf to tug at his subconscious in frustration.