Lycan's Affection

Alexander pushed his way through the bushy paths, and finally shifted back to his human once the pack came into view. It was the wee hours of the morning, and he had bounded off with his wolf without even waiting for his caravan.

He walked briskly towards the factory, his eyes wide. It was no longer there, the entire thing on the floor in ashes. Nothing could even be saved.

He felt hot tears fill his eyes, the distant sounds of wolves coming out rather negligible to him.

"Where was everyone? How could someone have done this and not even a single person... Not even a single person could salvage the situation?"

He turned sharply, and the guards stepped back, their hands going to their back. Each lowered his head, cowering against his bestial anger.

"Who the hell was in charge?!" He yelled, turning around wildly.

"It was me," One stepped out boldly, his eyes meeting Alexander's. "But the only man who came had the beta's tag."

Alexander's brows furrowed. "The beta was with me."

"Well, I am not sure how. But he had the beta's tag. He didn't show his face, but the tag was enough."

"Did somebody steal Miles' tag?"

"Alpha, Beta Miles himself came two days ago," Another contributed, gaining courage. "He asked me if the children were inhabitants of the pack. I told him they are gotten from the omega villages. He also asked if their blood can be used to make the poison if something ever happens to the factory."

Alexander's eyes went wide. "Miles?"

"Yes, Alpha. When I answered, he laughed and shook his head, saying for a pack like ours, and for such an important project, we didn't even have nearly enough back up plan."

Alexander's hand went to his hair, his knees giving way as he fell to the floor. It was all making sense now. Miles was working for Conaan. No one would have been able to do it.

He found himself extremely foolish for having let a scentless wolf come that close. Turns out he had concealed his scent because he was lycan.

He swallowed, as someone brought a large shawl to cover his clothes that had tattered from shifting, his eyes filling with tears.

He shook his head, his teeth biting down on his lips. The humiliation, the betrayal, it was too much to bear.

"Where is Matthew?" He asked, for the first time needing his little brother's company. If he hadn't caged him away, Miles wouldn't have occupied that position so easily.

"Still in the dungeon. He stopped eating."

Alexander swallowed, forcing himself to stand on wobbly feet. Slowly, he made his way to the large dungeon. He waited till a guard opened the door, before he walked in.

Matthew was sitting on the floor, his head resting on the wall, his eyes half closed. He had grown an unkempt beard and looked way too thin.

Alexander collected a plate of food and a glass of water, then sat next to him.

"Have some," he said, trying as hard as he could to keep his feelings in check.

Matthew weakly looked up, his eyes darting from the spoon to Alexander. In one swift motion, he pushed the spoon away, letting it land on the floor not too far away from him.

"Matthew!"

"What more do you want to do? What are you doing here? The last time your own brother saw the sun was months ago and you have the guts to come here with your measly food!?"

Alexander swallowed, trying to hide the sting he felt. "You just needed to be on my side. Not that bitch Eleanor's. You are supposed to want to protect me and..."

"Why would I want to protect a mosnter?" Matthew asked, standing. His eyes were wide, and his hair unkempt. It gave him a wild look, one that made him look even more menacing. "You were wrong with Eleanor when she gave you everything! You poisoned Conaan! You did all you could, and you are still making poison to attack them! Just when will you stop? You imprisoned your own brother, what sort of an animal does that?!"

"Matthew, don't you dare! You are on her side, but do you know what they did to me? They razed down the factory! They humiliated me, your very own brother! Are you going to be on her side? Are you bewitched or just stupid?!"

Matthew went quiet, his breathing hard and unstable. Slowly, he covered the distance between them, his eyes holding Alexander's. "You know what I will say to that? You deserve each and every thing Eleanor does to you. I wonder why Conaan still hasn't beheaded you yet, especially after your attempt on his life. He must be way more forgiving that I am."

Alexander's already delicate anger boiled immediately over and he landed a slap on Matthew's cheek. Matthew's face swerved violently to the right, his hand coming protectively against his cheek. Before he could recover, he pinned him on the wall, his eyes wide.

"I would rather forget about you in here than have a disloyal brother."

"So be it," Matthew said, his hands trembling from the anger.

Alexander pushed him away, then walked out of the dungeon, shouting orders to lock the dungeon and starve him for two weeks.

Matthew fell back down on the floor, his hand coming up to his head, his strength draining.

He was extremely weak, his body had lost strength. But if he would die by his brother's word, then he wouldn't even try to resist it.

Alexander walked out of the dungeons briskly. He stopped, his hand on his waist, his mind clouding. Suddenly, a hand clasped over his own. He roughly pushed the hand away, turning to the person, his eyes wide.

"Let me help you," Came the voice.

Alexander's eyes squinted hard as he turned, then waved his guards away. The man was wearing a big cloak, one that covered his face.

And Alexander could smell him.

"You are not a werewolf."

"How efficient would a werewolf's help be in conquering a lycan?"

Alexander moved further. "Why are you helping me?"

Slowly, the man lifted his cloak, the light brown eyes coming to a slow reveal.

"You look..."

"I know. Like the vixen Eleanor. I am her uncle, Anderson."

Eleanor woke up slowly, a small breath escaping her lips. She turned around. It was late morning, and she gave a small sigh.

She was alone in the room. Slowly, she let herself off the bed, her feet curling from the cold floor. Slowly, she started to make her way out.

She started to walk down the hall, but then decided to stroll around instead. The bath house was located in a personal chamber, and mostly only Conaan ever used the route except for the servants that prepared his bath.

She walked slowly, sleep still in her eyes, and quite directionless.

"Eleanor?"

She turned slowly. Conaan was standing by the entrance of the bath house, his head slightly tilted to the right.

"What are you doing here?" He asked again, amusement and a bit of surprise filling his eyes.

Eleanor took a bit of time to register it. He was in only a black pair of slacks, his hair, damp and dripping, flipped to one side.

All the sleep that had clouded her eyes before seemed to abandon her as her eyes widened. Her lips parted as she took him in.

The tanned, smooth skin that ripped in all the right places, the single black tattoo on his arm, down to his chest.

Her mouth hung open at this point, as she let her eyes feast down to his stomach. Packs that were sectioned like a master sculptor's work of art, completed his upper body.

"Lord," she murmured, her eyes snapping back to his face.

He slowly dropped the small towel he had been using around his hand, his gaze focusing back on her.

"Are you still asleep?"

She swallowed, then shook her head. "I was...it was..." Her cheeks flared with the heat, and she knew she was as red as ripe tomato.

"Can you get any redder?" He asked, laughing as he took a step forward.

Suddenly, Eleanor's feet came to life, as she turned swiftly and ran away, leaving Conaan standing there, laughter bubbling in his chest.