Nyell kept his mouth shut, unsure how to behave at this point. What expression should he show, and what should he say? He had no idea. Let's say that acting meek wasn't something he did on a regular basis, and he was afraid he'd have a slip of the tongue if he dared to open his mouth. A moment of inattention would be fatal, for he was raring to give a piece of his mind to this piece of shit.
Never mind the disturbing feeling in the pit of his stomach: this man exuded a nauseating aura, enough to make Nyell's stomach churn. Goosebumps spread on his skin, and the urge to rip him to shreds rose. He recognized that feeling: it was his inner instinct. Alphas like Nyell were particularly sensitive to other werewolves' show of dominance. More often than not, dominant werewolves would reflexively react to this type of blatant provocation, whereas subservient ones lowered their heads and submitted. It was a way to organize the hierarchy in a pack.
Needless to say, refraining from snarling was no easy feat for Nyell, and he had to grit his teeth to muffle his growl. He clenched his jaw with so much strength that his molars seemed about to crack open. At least, the pain distracted his mind.
How did subservient werewolves react when he was seething in anger, again? Nyell took a second to think, remembering how some of his underlings had reacted the rare times he had been furious enough to release his dominance. Right. It wasn't anything he couldn't do. So, he gulped and did his best to imitate them, showing his throat and exposing his carotid as he lowered his gaze, his lips stretched taut. It was humiliating, but still better than him snapping.
Although… Nyell almost couldn't restrain himself when his nose picked up the smell of excitement. It was oozing from the man, and he did nothing to hide it. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary due to sexual arousal. In his case, it seemed to result from an emotion closer to euphoria. Was getting his hand on his own chief's fated mate this exalting? What a twisted guy.
"Lift your head," he commanded, his voice betraying the exhilaration brewing inside of him. "Now."
So, Nyell obeyed and faced his burning gaze. The man was staring at him and spoke only to him, almost as if Miell wasn't there, even though he was very much curled up beside Nyell with his ears lowered. It seemed like the werewolf's show of dominance had rattled his instinct severely. He was still a beastman, and his animal intuition had the upper hand on his ability to reason at times, overshadowing any rational thoughts he could have. To be fair, neither he nor Nyell had expected to stumble upon a werewolf of this caliber. The bastard seemed to have popped out of thin air. He was nothing like his underlings.
Seconds seemed to stretch for a long time before the man finally nodded in approbation, whistling in a low tone, "Hm, no wonder they're buzzing with excitement. It's been a while since we managed to put our hands on a werewolf from the jungle, and it's been even longer since we got a pretty one."
Pretty? Who was he calling pretty? And who were these 'they' he was referring to? Despite the unruly thoughts troubling his mind, Nyell kept silent. He still wasn't sure what to say and what not to say.
"You're not going to ask questions?"
"…Is there a point in asking you anything?" Nyell couldn't help the snarky remark. Damn it. He pinched his lips immediately afterward, trying to hide his annoyance behind a wall of fear, biting his bottom lip and averting his eyes.
"Aren't you curious about your fate?"
No, he was not. Nyell trusted Allen not to let anything bad befall him. Most of all, he believed in himself enough to get out of this mess, one way or another. There was one thing he was curious about, however. So, he asked:
"I'm more interested in knowing your name."
So that he knew whom to curse in his mind.
"My name, uh…" The bastard smiled before standing up. He had been sitting on a chair, observing them from his seat with his chin raised high. Now, he walked up to Nyell to grab his jaw, squeezing his cheeks enough to hurt, almost as if his bones were about to be crushed. It gave Neyll the impression that he could dislocate his jaw at any given time. The gloved hand felt rough against his skin, and his neck hurt as the man lifted his head so that their gazes could meet. He then answered, "You don't need to know that."
Careful bastard.
"You won't be in my company for long, anyway."
Oh? That piqued Nyell's curiosity. Was he planning to deliver him to someone? An elder, perhaps? Although the questions spiraled in his mind, Nyell decided to stay silent and show signs of discomfort instead. Miell was barely holding on, unable to speak a word. He thought it was better to take him as a reference, however cruel that seemed. Nyell was not afraid and didn't know how to react. He only felt a deep-rooted anger and disgust, but that wasn't what he was supposed to show right now. A subservient werewolf couldn't defy a dominant one, not without their body revolting in the process.
But ultimately, Nyell wasn't fearless. He was startled when the man let go of his jaw and his fingers trailed to his ear, then the back of his head. He pushed his hair aside to take a better look at the nape of his neck, which made Nyell suck in a deep breath. He knew why he was doing it, and his bowels twisted in apprehension.
"Oh my, you're unmarked?" the man seemed agreeably surprised. He caressed the nape of Nyell's unblemished neck, sending shivers running down his spine. For the first time since their abduction, anxiety surged, and his rib cage seemed to tighten around his lungs. The jerk wouldn't dare, would he? "You're tensing up. Are you afraid?"
How could Nyell not be? Marking was something mates did as a sign of belonging. A werewolf, usually the most dominant one in the relationship, would bite their partner's neck during intercourse to mark them as theirs. For some reason, despite werewolves' incredible healing ability, this peculiar bite didn't disappear and scarred the skin. It screamed to others that this person belonged to someone and that it was better to stay clear of them. Nyell had barely broken through the acceptance stage, and he had yet to properly roll about in bed with Allen, so of course, he was unmarked! And why should he be the one to be marked, in the first place? It was an unwelcome presumption. He'd rather be the one to bite Allen's neck if they ever get to that point in their relationship. And maybe afterward, he'd let him bite him in return.
"I guess some will like it, and others are going to be a little disappointed," the man hummed. Slowly, his thumb stopped to caress the nape of his neck, and his hand wrapped itself around it instead. He bent over slightly to whisper in Nyell's ear, "Either way, I'm sure I'll get a good price for you."
These words seemed to strike a chord in Miell, who was close enough to hear everything. He looked at the man, horrified. He mustered the courage to stutter:
"A-are you crazy?!" His body trembled, but he forced his voice out, "A-are you r-really trying to smuggle Allen's fated mate?"
"You would be surprised at how high the demand has been in the black market for him after the trial day," the man shrugged, a vicious light flashing across his eyes. He let go of Nyell's neck to grab Miell's throat instead, applying enough force to choke the beastman but not enough to make his airway collapse. "As far as I know, I haven't allowed you to talk, did I? Stay silent until I say otherwise."
The man let go only after Miell's face had turned bright red. Any longer and Nyell would have pounced on the bastard, regardless of Miell's pleading eyes that told him to stay put. It was excruciating to watch him being mistreated and do nothing about it. Thankfully, the man had his back to him and hadn't seen the glaring, whereas his underlings stood behind Nyell.
"Don't worry too much," he sighed, his voice sounding almost comforting, "you will also be put up for the auction at the same time as him."
"Auction…?" Nyell heard himself repeat before once again averting his eyes when the man peered at him over his shoulder, trying to appear afraid of going through the same punishment as Miell for speaking out of turn. But oddly enough, the man didn't seem to take offense. Instead, he smiled, and that was scarier than any outburst he could have had.
"A place to sell goods, such as yourself." The answer was blood-chilling. "There's one scheduled the day before the festival, and I'm sure the moment we list you, there will be numerous customers applying to enter this time around, especially among the foreign lords. Be assured that we'll find you the highest bidding buyer."
"Well, thank you," Nyell scoffed between his gritted teeth, clenching his fists so as not to let his anger get the best of him. Not yet. He couldn't waste that chance to round them all up. Now that he knew who had been responsible for smuggling the children and women he rescued, he could not let them go. Not a single one of them.
"Can you call Yohan over?" the man asked one of his cronies, patting Nyell's shoulder in passing. "He'll take care of them in the meantime."
"I don't think it's such a great idea to ask a slave to take care of goods, though," the woman responded with a grimace. Nyell recognized her as the one who shackled his wrists. "He's acting tame now, but you know how hard it was to subdue him. I know he's your favorite, but still…"
"Did I ask for your opinion?" the man snorted. "Stop being a worry-cat. He can't disobey me, anyway."
"Alright," the woman nodded before disappearing behind a closed door. A few minutes passed before she came back with a young man in tow. The first thing Nyell noticed was the revealing outfit, followed by his neck, which was bound with a collar. Then, he lifted his eyes higher and met his stunned gaze. His own gaze quickly reflected his.
Oh, crap. What the heck was that guy doing here?!
Before either could react, the man drew closer to Yohan, encircling his waist and dragging him against his chest. His hands wandered and groped, but the young man barely reacted, his crimson eyes locked on Nyell instead. It was like he was trying to figure out whether or not they were playing tricks on him. Seeing the Nyell kneeling and acting meek wasn't something he could have ever imagined, even in his wildest dreams. It was a sight his brain refused to process.
The man didn't seem to mind Yohan's lack of reaction to his fondling, as if this was the usual, and asked in a low voice:
"Do you recognize Nyell?"
"Well, yes, of course…?"
"Sorry, I guess that was a stupid question. Of course you would, since he is part of the Sun tribe like you," the man chuckled. "Then I guess it's only fitting that I ask you to take care of him and his friend until the auction. They'll be up for sale, so make sure they're in good health and presentable. You can take them to your quarters. Filvya will accompany you."
"Right… Sure."