Allen didn't deny Nyell's accusation, smiling instead. He was no better and had no intention to claim otherwise. If he dared to pretend to be a nice guy now of all times, it'd only annoy Nyell further, for he had seen how ruthless he could get in spite of that innocent smile of his. No matter how saintly he might appear, Nyell knew just how twisted his personality was deep down. That angelic face was nothing but a façade, concealing a merciless beast that was always crouching in wait for the right moment to strike. Or at least, that was the impression Nyell got after getting to know the shaman better. Not like his prejudice about him helped, either.
"So," Nyell sighed after a moment, sprawling on the couch and tilting his head to look at Allen. He weighed his words carefully before asking, "Is there anything else I can do for you? Or anything you want me to know?"
"There are a few more things, yes," Allen nodded as he sat on the armrest beside Nyell, who had taken possession of the whole couch. He was a tad too tall, so his legs hung over the armrest on the other side. "I'd like it if you could display some show of affection in public, just like you did at the harbor. I'll respond in kind, which means everyone will be made aware that you hold a special place in my heart. However, that'll put a target on your back, especially if they think you're a second-rate warrior from the jungle. Although people know the werewolves from the other side of the mountain tend to be tough and better at fighting than the average, they somehow still have this conception that they can best you. They won't believe you're impossible to touch, as long as you're not the renowned 'Nyell' from the rumors, and they'll see you as easy prey. The White Moon tribe is well-respected, and its people tend to think of themselves as small, little gods. That's what happens when you don't experience the world and grow up thinking everyone worships you."
"Right," Nyell snorted, aware of how delusional one could get when they thought of themselves as part of the greatest civilisation in the world. The elders from his tribe were the prime example, and their arrogance led to their downdfall. "You're essentially asking me to be bait, aren't you?"
"Do you mind?"
"Why would I? I was afraid of growing bored, but I guess I won't be," Nyell chortled, already scheming how he'd play with the fearless morons that were crazy enough to go after him, the White Moon Lord's fated mate. "Does that mean I can touch you however I want, too?"
"Since when have werewolves been modest with their mates in public?"
Despite grimacing at the reminder, Nyell nevertheless tilted his head in agreement. Werewolves rarely cared about the time and place, and he had seen way too many intimate moments between mates that should have been brought to the bedroom. He had never understood their habits of showing off their bond for everyone to see, but… Now, maybe he could understand, albeit only a little. The thirst for your mate's body was hard to contain.
Nyell couldn't help but peer at Allen, his gaze landing on his slender waist. He already had a hunch of where his hands would be resting in the foreseeable future. Not like he'd complain. Even if he still had reservations about Allen's character, he had none concerning his body. Absolutely none.
Regardless of everything, Allen was beautiful, almost to the point where he could be mistaken for a divine being. So, Nyell, of course, wouldn't pass up the chance to grope him if the opportunity arose. He'd received permission, anyway. It wasn't like shyness and shamelessness were part of his vocabulary. He had always been very upfront with his wants. Moreover, whether Nyell liked it or not, his rut wouldn't be delayed forever. It would afflict him one day or another, and this thing lasted for about a week. If Nyell could have a partner this time around, he certainly wouldn't refuse, as it was painful as hell to deal with it alone. Normally, he wouldn't dare to entertain this kind of thought, but he didn't care if Allen was on the receiving end of his more bestial side. For some reason, he felt like losing control of himself would be alright if it were with Allen. Maybe it was due to their relationship as fated mates, maybe not. Whatever the case, he decided not to think about it too deeply.
"What's going on inside your little head?" Allen cocked an eyebrow, appearing amused. "You're looking at me with a predatory light in your eyes. Should I fear for my safety?"
"Perhaps. I was thinking about what I could and couldn't do to you in front of an audience."
"Can I conclude that my appearance is to your taste, at least?"
Nyell answered Allen's question with a roll of his eyes. He was not going to say it aloud, for it felt like the shaman was probing for compliments. The guy was not dense, and he must be aware of his attractive appearance. To start with, had he been ugly, Nyell would not have agreed to play along with his little charade, and he'd have even less masturbated with him back in the canyon, destined mate or not. One of the main reasons he could somehow accept the fact that they were fated mates and not go crazy about it was because of that divine-looking body of his. At the end of the day, Nyell had strong carnal desires, just like most young werewolves. He was only good at holding them in and keeping a rational mindset.
"Are we interrupting something…?"
Barely audible voices echoed inside the room, startling Nyell, who thought for an instant that he had heard the wind blow and his ears were playing tricks on him. He hadn't heard anyone come in, nor did he sense any presence. That was until Allen put a hand on his shoulder, the tips of his fingers casually sliding underneath his shirt, and a familiar flow of spiritual energy spread throughout his body. A few seconds later, blurry silhouettes appeared near the doorframe. At first, Nyell couldn't quite distinguish them, but eventually their figures grew clearer, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the entities' youthful appearances.
A boy and a girl with eerily similar facial features stood hands-in-hands in the doorframe, their beautiful purple eyes curiously staring at Nyell. They had the typical whitish hair and pale skin of the White Moon tribe's people, but wore clothing that might hint at another culture altogether, as it wasn't their usual robes and pants. No, instead, they wore baggy pants with a large waistband and their ends tied to their tiny ankles. They were barefoot, while tight shirts and cropped tops with long sleeves completed their outfits. Various unknown symbols were embroidered in their clothing, leaving Nyell at a loss as he tried to decipher them, although to no avail. Even Miell's clothing wasn't as strange as theirs, and as the thought crossed Nyell's mind, the children huddled together closer to whisper:
"Why can he see us?"
"Yes, why? He shouldn't see us or hear us, right?"
"Right, only Al'en can."
"But then…"
"Why is he looking at us?"
"And why is he reacting when we speak?"
The children, whom Nyell suspected were siblings, either answered each other's questions or finished the other's sentence while suspiciously eying Nyell. It made Nyell unsure whether to laugh or cry. But the slight annoyance he had didn't last long when he realized what they were. Instead, a deep sense of pity rose in the pit of his stomach. They had no shadows, and although their silhouettes were now clearer in his eyes, thanks to Allen's spiritual energy, their small bodies and clothing were still slightly see-through.
"They're ghosts, aren't they?" Nyell asked Allen as he threw his head backward to look at the shaman, who responded with a smile. He didn't answer him directly and turned his attention toward the siblings instead.
"Wua'en, Wue'en, don't worry too much. This is Nyell, a trustworthy friend of mine. If that doesn't reassure you enough, he's not a shaman and can't cause you harm even if he'd like to. I'm sorry I didn't ask for your permission before letting him see you, but this is necessary. He's a bit like Layla and Myrven, and will now be part of my life."
"If Al'en says so…"
"Yes, if he says so…"
"Then, he probably won't hurt us?"
"Probably not?"
Even if the children appeared unconvinced, a slight scowl furrowing their brows, they nevertheless came closer, but not without keeping a respectful distance from the couch. They looked like scared kittens, leaving Nyell at a loss about what to do. Not only did he have a few questions for Allen, but he feared scaring the children more than they already were. As such, for now, he decided to remain quiet and observe the situation. He could always bother that goddarn shaman once the ghosts left.
"But Al'en," the little girl, Woa'en, tilted her head. "Why do you smell so bad?"
"Right, you smell really bad!" the brother, Woe'en, agreed.
"Like rotten eggs?"
"Or three-day-old vomit?"
"Or poop?"
Nyell frowned, trying to keep up with the children's quick rambling. They were speaking fast, and the ever-changing voice made it hard to follow at times. Thankfully, they were well-articulated, so it wasn't impossible to make sense of their rambling. Their words were strange, however. Smell? What smell? Curious, Nyell sniffed Allen's wrist, which was close to his face, as his hand was still on his shoulder. It didn't smell strange. It still had that comfortable scent, one that he now could connect to the fresh breeze in the harbor.
"Oh, that," Allen smiled, not minding Nyell's antics. "Let's say that I brought a souvenir from my trip. You've been lonely lately, haven't you?"
For some reason, at these words, Nyell felt a foreboding feeling twisting his guts. Deep down, he just knew Allen had done something only a lunatic would, and his hunch would soon be confirmed, almost driving him crazy. This guy was insane…! A madman, even!