His Claim

Chapter 1

The fire crackles, it's flames scraping against the ancient stone as the two leaders sit across from each other.

The first one has war stories and the scars to show for it. His legs part slightly, and he lifts his chalice of red wine to his lips. He takes a long sip before placing down next to his full plate of food. He has no appetite for the rare steak on his plate and the small assortment of vegetables next to it.

The other alpha meets his electrifying gaze, clenching his fork in his hand. The metal threatens to bend from the force of his palm. The fire crackles against the wall.

Alpha meeting with another alpha, a tradition that dates back hundreds of years. They must choose their words carefully if not a war will provoke between them.

In this case, a war has broken out already and it is time for allying packs to come forward.

"Alpha Orion." The younger male says with superiority. A smile spreads across his face uneasily, watching the older alpha straighten his back. His masculinity and leadership is impossible to ignore.

"Quinton." He says without any hint of emotion. He clenches a paper in one of his hands as he knuckles turn bone white. He looks from the expensive food, to the surprisingly expensive jewels and prizes that sit as decorations in the middle of the table. None of these baubles would've been tolerated back home. A wolf's life is priceless and he must protect each and every one of them.

He can't focus on the meeting as the rest of his pack writhes in the effects of the war between the four packs. His head drops to look at the bulbous steak on his plate. A snarl forms on his face, his lips curling downward in disgust.

Shifting his gaze upward, his eyes are beginning to spark in distaste. Sensing his displeasure, the younger male swallows a ball of spit and bites his lips.

"How can we sit here while our packs suffer? We have wolf's blood on our hands." The northern alpha says with bared teeth. The younger male is no match for this alpha on the brink of his prime-he'll never quite live up to his father's expectations.

The fire begins to die down as they sit in silence. Slowly, the younger male lifts his fork to his mouth and chews a portion of food. The tension in the air could be popped with a finger. Muscles clenching, wolves ascending as testosterone flows.

He opens his lips to speak, his sharp canines visible through the pile of chewed food in his mouth. He swallows and pushes himself away from the redwood table.

"That's why we're meeting, right?" The younger male says softly. The door to the room creaks softly, but neither of the males turn to look. The older alpha growls in frustration at his childish words. His words are unsure, weak, etiolated.

The older male drops the paper onto the velvet carpet and rises from his seat. His instincts refuse to let him tolerate the juvenile behavior of the younger alpha. He tilts his head and his canines slip from under the hood of his upper lip.

Sparks of fire dance in the smoke above the fireplace.

Neither of them stray their gaze. The young male is no match for the older alpha. With years of war experience on his back, he could overtake the younger male's pack without lifting a finger.

He drops his fork onto the fine china and straightens his posture.

"A meeting would be an understatement." He says with a flick of his tongue. He runs his hand along the flecks of black facial hair on his face with satisfaction. A whine rises from the opposing male by accident. The alpha ignores it for the time being, biding his time carefully.