Alphas were naturally aggressive and dominant, which was why there was always one Alpha per pack. Having two or more dominant Alphas in the same space for too long was like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline.
For that reason, all the Alphas of the four houses were given separate residences in the palace, lest they tore each other apart in the fight for dominance.
However, a message had been sent out: The Alpha king would see them. Hence, they had to leave their rooms once more for the grand hall. It was not surprising that Henry Nightshade, Alpha of the West pack and Asher’s father, was the first to arrive, considering the man was punctual and disciplined to a fault—a trait he had inculcated into his son who now embodied the no-nonsense nature of the West.
However, Asher Nightshade looked nothing like his father, at least physically. Where Asher was all dark and handsome, Henry had dirty blonde hair and beaded black eyes so dark they resembled the abyss. The man’s features were sharp and austere, lacking warmth and exuding a repulsive aura that could make a child cry if he merely glanced their way.
He was a figure that commanded fear rather than admiration. But just like all Alphas, Henry was tall and strong. His attire was black on black, entirely flawless. The West Alpha was the epitome of organization, showing no ounce of emotion.
They said birds of a feather flocked together, but there was nothing identical between Henry Nightshade and Leon Draven, Alpha of the South and Roman Draven’s father. While Henry was all grim and cold, Leon was sweet and sunshine.
There was no doubt Leon had graciously bestowed his good looks on his son, except his eyes were amber where his son’s were green, inherent to his unique power. Like father, like son, Leon also had
this easy charm that seemed to draw people in effortlessly.
With such stark differences in character, the two shouldn’t even be friends, yet Henry and Leon still got along better than any of the other Alphas.
Caspian Storm, Alpha of the North, entered with his wife, Zara. Together, the two were engaged in a heated debate about one of their latest inventions that had earned their pack a reputation for innovation.
There was no doubt Alaric had inherited both the brains and the looks from his parents. Caspian and Zara bore a striking resemblance to each other, especially with their piercing blue eyes—so much so that one might mistake them for siblings. Kind of... They were actually cousins, three times removed. Thankfully.
The North was known for its close breeding in a bid to preserve the bloodline, hence the saying, "The North Stays Together."
It was said that after the virus decimated the population of she-wolves, siblings had even married each other just to ensure the Storm bloodline didn’t fade into oblivion. If there was any pack resistant to human and werewolf breeding, it had to be the North. Yet, even they had been forced to adapt due to the lack of females. However, the Alpha bloodline would always remain pure and untainted.
And it was at that moment that Alpha Irene, the famous Iron Lady of the East and Griffin’s mother, strode into the hall with one of her two husbands, Aeron.
Irene was a tall, imposing woman, and the furs draped over her shoulders only added to her already formidable presence. Perhaps that was intentional, after all, in a supernatural world dominated by male Alphas, she knew she had to do everything to keep the men from looking down on her and undermining her authority.
And just as she thought, it wasn’t long before the men showed why they were dicks and assholes.
"Finally, the lady of the day graces us with her presence." Henry Nightshade clapped his hands mockingly. "For a moment there, I feared you might keep the Alpha king waiting as well." His words dripped with sarcasm.
Just as was the case with their sons, who couldn’t stand each other, the same tension rippled between their parents. Especially between the East and West—it was no secret that Irene and Henry loathed each other for countless reasons.
Wild wolves were naturally monogamous creatures who mated for life. While werewolves were only half-wolf, some became selective, exclusive lovers, while others embraced polygamy—or polyandry, in this situation—depending on their human side, or, as the wolves believed, the will of the Moon Goddess.
Henry, however, believed firmly in the patriarchal system, where women should remain under a man’s rule and have no authority unless permitted. And having two husbands? That was the final straw. To Henry, Irene represented everything wrong with the world.
To Irene, Henry embodied everything she despised. The women of her pack were warriors, carving their own paths. It also didn’t help that the East had the largest population of pure-blooded she-wolves alive.
To Henry, those women were resources wasted on the battlefield, better off given to men to replenish the dwindling werewolf population. Hence, both Alphas would rather die than give in to each other’s demands.
"Alpha Henry, you must have wet dreams about me to be this excited every time I walk into a room," Irene shot back without missing a beat.
Henry’s eyes darkened with disgust as he spat, "I’d rather become a eunuch than stick my dick into that stretched-out hole of yours. Who knows how many others you’ve spread your legs for beyond your husbands?"
A warning growl rumbled from Aeron’s throat, but Henry didn’t flinch. Instead, he smirked cruelly. "Which brother are you, again? The older or the younger? How does it feel sharing the same hole with your twin? Must be cozy."
Aeron stepped forward, his face taut with anger. "Better to share a woman we both love than to drive one to her death with cruelty."
The jab hit its mark. Henry’s expression fell, his lips peeling back in a dangerous snarl as he lunged at Irene.