Unknown
He sat with a rigid back behind the ornate desk. It had belonged to his father, once – many years ago. He disliked it greatly, for both its bulk and its pompous, gilded edging, but it was a reminder of the father he had lost.
Besides, he thought to himself with a secret half-smile, his father hadn’t liked it either.
He brushed his dark hair forwards, covering the tips of his ears. A soft knock at the door startled him, but he relaxed into his chair as a familiar face peered around the door.
“Alpha,” the woman greeted, smiling broadly before inclining her head. Shimmering waves of golden hair brushed her neck, sweeping across her wide shoulders, only to recoil, like the sea scrambling back from the shore, as she pulled herself upright.
“Beta Ithia.” He inclined his head, too, though it was not expected nor needed. “Please, take a seat.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears as she settled herself in the chair. It was as grossly ornate as the desk, with golden leaves and thick flowers protruding from its arms and legs. They matched Ithia’s hair, which shone in the broken rays of sunlight spilling in fractured pieces into the room. She crossed one leg over her knee and leant forwards, hands splaying across the ugly desk.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m guessing this is about the Blood Moon pack.”
He sighed, grey eyes darkening as he met her gaze. “Indeed.”
She pursed her lips, waiting for him to continue. He sighed again, running a careful hand through his hair, wary of displacing the strands that covered his ears. Ithia knew of his heritage, of course, but it seemed callous to remind her of it.
“They are becoming too bold.”
Ithia snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Despite himself, he grinned. “Considering the distance between us, I had not thought they would become an issue so soon.”
She shrugged. “We have done nothing to warrant an attack.”
It was his turn to snort. “Has that ever stopped them in the past?” Almost immediately he sobered. “White Oak has done nothing to enrage them, and yet their numbers were decimated.”
Ithia pulled her hands back into her lap. “White Oak are a small pack. They have little in the way of resources, and even less in terms of Warrior Wolves. In any case, I do not see how their loss is any of our concern.”
“Careful, Ith. You sound almost as callous as Alpha Atticus himself.” He smiled crookedly, one side tugging up. It accentuated the slashing scar down his face, starting at his left temple, narrowly missing his eye, slicing through his nose and ending just above the right corner of his mouth. It had faded to white over time, stark against the warm brown of his sun kissed skin, but the memory of the wound itself had not dampened at all over the years.
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Your point only serves to further mine. White Oak are hardly a threat, are they? And yet Blood Moon deemed them worthy of not a fight, but a battering.”
“They’re getting cocky. Their arrogance will be their downfall.”
“Perhaps.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “But they may take more of us down first. I cannot allow that to happen. I will not allow that to happen.” He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening further. “There is another matter I must discuss with you.”
His voice sounded false, too formal, even to his own ears. Being thrust into the position of Alpha at twelve years old had played a part in his bouts of formality – focusing on his duty, rather than his relationships with his pack members, allowed him to move past the stress of his position. For a short while, at least.
Ithia clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth before speaking. “Do tell.”
“There are… rumours.”
“How exciting. I never had you pegged as a gossip.”
He rolled his eyes, and their colour lightened somewhat. “About the formation of a new pack – one with ideologies that do not align with our own. They are searching for something.”
“And your oh-so reliable sources couldn’t tell you more than that?”
He shrugged. “Something is better than nothing.”
“Not in this case.” But Ithia’s jaw hardened. “I’ll do some digging.”
He grinned. “You’re a great Beta, you know that?”
She thrust her chin up. “Obviously.” Then her hazel eyes sharpened into chips of ice. “Do the Blood Moon pack have something to do with these rumours of yours?”
“I–“ he cut himself off. His chest stirred, in the very place he had thought would never ache or lust or love ever again. Something snapped into place beside his heart: an echo of his own heartbeat, thumping out a secondary rhythm alongside his own. It settled, warm and soft as summer rain down his breastbone.
He was soaring, ascending, and the pain in his chest began to ease. He had carried it with him for almost two years, and it had become a part of him, a constant ache that never dulled or stilled for even a moment. It had sunk into his bones, her words scoring his insides so that every movement flared with the pain of them. But now, for seemingly no reason at all, it lifted.
In its place was a roaring ocean and evergreen trees, a dappled forest floor and the pounding of blood in his ears. Brown eyes, limpid and yet filled with dancing flame, met his. His heart snapped again, and the feeling began to fade.
He shook himself. His throat bobbed. Slowly, his senses came back to him. The same streak of sunlight warmed the side of his face; the draught from beneath the door tickled his ankles; the smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries rose from the kitchens below; and there was Ithia, arms folded across her chest, one eyebrow raised as she waited for him to finish his sentence.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, standing so abruptly that his own matching, gaudy chair stumbled backwards. “I – I have to go.”
She frowned at him, swivelling in her seat as he darted to the door. Her lips parted, questions rising in her throat, but he was gone.