Sober.

Chapter 6

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Dante

"What is this?" Dante glared at the small bundle the sage held. It had been approximately 200 years he had been alone, and he specifically recalled declaring to the courts that he would never take a mate once he held the throne. 70 years had passed since he'd made that promise.

He hadn't wavered in his decision. Not once.

The sage looked taken aback for a moment before schooling her expression once more.

"It is the mate you requested your majesty. Lord Lysander notified me of your request." The old woman bowed respectfully and held out the child.

Dante's lips spread into a thin line as he regarded the child. Thick brown curls sprouted from its head and it gurgled at him, sporting a toothless smile. It reached out a tiny fist, presenting a small bracelet with a thin golden band attached to it.

"Return it." He snarled. The sage's eyes widened before he turned his back to her and began walking down the hall. He had no time for Lysander's games.

He entered his study, closing the door behind him and dragging a hand down his face with a heavy sigh. The lights were off but he sensed him before he spoke.

"You look like shit, brother." Lysander smirked at Dante from across the room, his eyes caught the light easily enough, glowing madly in the darkness. Lysander was fraternal twins with Dante, this was made more obvious by the light brown, almost yellow pupils he sported and the pale skin with a lean manicured frame. He was playful, sometimes to a dangerous fault, but loyal nonetheless.

Dante on the other hand was a brooding mess of a man. His dark brown hair dusted over thick brows which were constantly set in a frown. His eyes were the color of soot and seemingly never-ending. His frame was one of bulk: hefty muscles lined every inch of his body, allowing him to tower over a majority of his male counterparts. His movement betrayed perception easily; light and quiet with unfettered power lying just beneath the surface of his sinewy frame.

The only common thread between the two brothers were the angular points of their faces, sharp lines that easily portrayed both the playful, and the brooding countenance of each brother.

Dante very rarely broke his composure, but Lysander always managed to get under his skin.

"Get out."

Lysander had always reminded Dante more of a feline than the wolf he was supposed to be, making his knowing chuckle all the more unsettling.

"Did you receive my gift?"

Dante simply grunted, turning on the light and sitting in his chair. His hulking frame always seemed larger behind the large mahogany desk in his office. He began sorting through paperwork. The contracts and official documents made him growl a bit. Anyone could tell Dante was never meant for a suit, let alone an office.

Figuring it was the best time to annoy Lysander he simply stated, "I threw it out." Dante sent a chilling look to his brother but Lysander looked at his brother with his mouth agape. A glare eerily similar to his brothers took over his face.

"That was a literal human being... you can't just 'throw it out.'" Lysander dashed from the room, grumbling under his breath.

Dante sat back and felt an inkling of regret stir in his chest. It certainly wasn't any fault of the child's, but it could easily be considered a liability for a man in his position. He would never take a mate because he found female werewolves to be weak and docile. He also noticed a softening in mated males that was never before present in them when they were alone. He would much rather rule with only himself to worry about. It was cold but it was better than submitting to a life of worrying about a female with little to offer him but her body.