The Lycan King & I.

//two//

Part I: Chapter Two
Elliette Mercer
Gibbons Pack
October

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Lycan named Wells drags me to the Gibbon Alpha's office, located in the back of the Pack Hall building. I'd put up a struggle the entire way, dragging my feet down the hallways. I have never been in the Alpha's private office- or any alpha's office for the matter. It is by far the nicest room I'd ever seen, even nicer than the village's fancy jewelry store I sometimes gawked at from the street before being shooed away. There's plush red carpet that's so fluffy I can feel it through my shoes. Paintings larger than I hang from the walls, depicting wolves in battle.

The office is empty, devoid of a third Lycan who narrows his eyes before grunting, "what is this?"

It is with great effort that I am in this office, still panting from the struggle and panic of the situation. The Lycan who dragged me makes sure I am situated and stable before placing me completely on my feet, though he keeps a large hand firmly clasped around my thin right wrist. To keep me a prisoner.

The third Lycan is front of us is the one to finally make tears break through my shock. He is easily the most terrifying man I have ever seen. With muscles straining against his black cloak, his angry eyes were even darker. He was about the age of the Alpha and Beta, and has less power oozing off of him. That doesn't make him any less scary. The wrinkles in his forehead made him look to be in a perpetual scowl, his mouth flattened into a hard line of irritation.

"He requested I bring the human here." I can vaguely see Wells shrug next to me. I can't quite see his face in our position, but I can hear his voice. It is much more relaxed and warm than that of the Kings, but still does nothing to soothe my heart palpitations.

I'm filled with anger at his shrug and casual voice. How dare he show such nonchalance while I am possibly awaiting my fate? How typical of a wolf, no regard given to humans. Humans to wolves were like ants- easy to kill without a second thought.

"What for?" The angry looking Lycan's face shows mild curiosity as he runs his eyes over me. His examination lasts only a moment before his face turns back into indifference.

"Her scent, it seems," Wells comments, a charged silence following his words. The scary Lycan nods, his eyes scan over me with a new alertness, making me shift uncomfortably. It dawns on me that the two are communicating in their minds; just another thing to keep humans in the dark. Another evolutional weakness I was plagued with. Werewolves are always forgetting what was said out loud and what was mind linked.

"Underling," The Lycan named Wells turns to me. His hand that is wrapped around my wrist tightens painfully. He releases to a softer grip at my cower, "Sorry." He mummers, "What is your blessing?"

Typical Wolf. His only concern with me is of what use I could be to him. They are  all the same.

I knew this question would be the focus of the conversation, it was typically the only conversation that gained me any acknowledgement by the wolves. My gift, my blessing, why I was in the Middle Kingdom. The only humans here were the one who had certain gifts that made them useful. Thiele had a way of sensing when a substance was harmful to the body, as well as an intuition with poisons. The Gibbons Alpha had a assassination attempt months ago. Thiele was summoned here to secure his food and drink from poison.

"You think she's gifted?" The angry Lycan snorts and rolls his eyes doubtfully.

The two Lycan's study me, unashamed at their blatant scrutiny.