Chapter One – The Lord and the Tramp
His paws made no sound as he dashed from one roof to another. While he was in motion he didn't have to think or feel. Only the brush of the wind against his fur reminded him of who he was, the alpha of Glasstone, the most feared person in the city, the one who held the future of the millions of people living their ant-like lives below him in the palms of his hands.
What a joke. He stopped right on the edge of a roof, his front paws hanging halfway over it. Below him, the city blinked in shades of white, blue and red, hypnotic and lazy. If he wanted, he could destroy everything. Not one of the souls below suspected that they were a boardroom meeting away from a market crash that would upend their livelihood and turn them into homeless, hungry creatures with nowhere to turn.
Theodore moved away from the edge. Power and money had their advantages. With their help, he had procured items that would give him the necessary edge against his enemy.
Because the enemy was coming for him. Finally, Theodore thought as he tipped his head back. The moon showed her face from behind a cloud, not yet full, but still bright and unattainable as usual.
He howled, even though it was in vain. No howl came in response as he let it pour out of his soul, again and again. And none would never come.
Glasstone wasn't his home, and its people weren't his pack. But he would have his revenge. What came after that didn't matter.
***
"I'm telling you, I need to deliver this message personally. It's for him, Theodore Pembroke, I'm telling you. How many times do I have to tell you? It's a matter of life and death. And yes, I'm telling you."
Theodore stopped in mid-sentence, and his personal assistant followed his example as he halted the nervous typing of his boss's orders into his phone. His nostrils flared before his eyes even set on the owner of that whiny voice.
A scent of… cinnamon? As a rule, Theodore disliked sweets and baked goods. His personnel knew his preferences down to a tee, so where was that offensive smell coming from?
"Mr. Pembroke?" his assistant finally dared to open his mouth.
Theodore put one hand up abruptly. It was rare for his wolf to catch a scent that interested him, and it seemed unlikely that it would be this smell of spiced dough that lured him out of hiding. He moved stealthily, taking in the short young man leaning over the front desk in an effort to make the receptionist acquiesce to his plea.
The stranger wore an oversized hoodie and baggie jeans, while his scuffed sneakers looked like they needed to be replaced soon. From the back, he appeared to be shapeless, lost inside those clothes that must have been tailored for someone three times bigger.
The offensive smell was coming from him; Theodore couldn't say he was surprised. It annoyed him how his wolf pulled him toward this strange person, as if bewitched.
"Yes, write it down. A matter of life and death," the young man continued, while the receptionist threatened to throw him out on his ass if he continued to insist. "Do that, or you'll get fired. Theo won't like it when he hears about this."
Theo? Who the hell did this human think he was?
"It's all right, Martha," Theodore told the receptionist. "I'll take it from here."
The receptionist froze, only capable of nodding in reply. His personal assistant no longer moved, either, most likely holding his breath. Theodore wanted to curse his wolf for his inexplicable decision to use his intimidation skills when there was barely any need for them.
The young man tipped his head back, offering Theodore the opportunity to stare into a pair of ordinary brown eyes, magnified by a pair of huge prescription glasses.
"Theo! What's up?" The tone of his voice was easygoing and cheerful, but Theodore's wolf picked up right away on the uptick in the heartbeat of his next prey—
Prey? What was he thinking? Theodore had the most ridiculous thought – that he needed to take a step back and get away from this temptation dressed in oversized clothes and drenched in the disgusting smell of cinnamon.
A soft growl climbed up his throat. Theodore was barely able to stop it. His eyes set on a soft mouth; the bottom lip trembling slightly. All he had to do was to wrap one hand around the human's fragile neck and sink his fangs into the flesh—
"Like I was saying, it's a matter of life and death, and I have this message that I need to deliver personally. Here." The human held a note up high, something that looked like it had been ripped out of an old notebook by how crumpled it looked.
"You're coming with me," Theodore said abruptly and grabbed the human by the back of his hoodie.
"Hey, hey, don't kill the messenger, man," the stranger complained.
"You said you had to deliver the message personally to me. That is what you will do." Theodore continued dragging the human toward the elevator, although it looked like the young man was trying to resist. "First, get rid of that pastry in your pocket."
"What pastry?" the young man protested.
Theodore stopped abruptly. He faced the human, taking in the delicate shape of his face. For a human, he was unusually pretty.
"How old are you?" he growled.
"Twenty-two, I just finished college, and I am successfully unemployed," came the reply. "But hey, I'm not here for a job. I'm allergic to hard work, and I read somewhere that you don't pay overtime--"
All this blabbering was giving him a headache. He shook the human. "Get rid of that cinnamon bun or roll or whatever it is."
The stranger shook off Theodore's hand and began to turn his pockets inside out. "Where on earth do you see any food on me?"
"You have a bag," Theodore pointed at the thing hanging from the human's shoulder. "Empty it."
"Right here, in the hallway? Look." The young man opened his bag and Theodore peered inside. Sundry items, each one more useless than the next, such as a small jar of glitter, the stub of a movie theater ticket, a tiny toy soldier, and many others, nestled inside the messenger bag.
However, there was no sign of baked goods whatsoever. Could it be… Theodore leaned closer to take in the human's scent.
"Hey, let's not sniff each other's butts where others can see us," the human whispered urgently. "Come on, don't make such a face. I know you're a wo—"
Small mercies existed, after all. The elevator doors opened, allowing Theodore to throw his charge, quite unceremoniously, inside.
***
"Can you open a window?" The human scrunched up his nose and wrinkled his entire face in about a dozen shades of disgust.
Theodore examined the young man at length. By all standards, the stranger's face should qualify as ordinary, but Theodore's wolf demanded that he play a little with this field mouse. He never got involved with this sort of small prey. Therefore, his wolf's interest was highly unusual.
"The climate control is perfect. Who are you?"
The young man extended his arm over the desk to wave the note at Theodore again.
"Read it," Theodore ordered.
"Why? Are you illiterate?" the field mouse dared to ask.
"Read it," Theodore repeated, this time boring his eyes into his unexpected visitor's.
"All right, all right, you don't have to bite my head off. Ahem, let's see. This is a note from Ryder Asherman, the alpha of Luna's Sentinels. It says: meet me at the top floor of the highest building at the new construction site north of Eleven Avenue. You are cursed, and you are my fated mate. I must save you." The young man turned the note over, as if he needed to check to see if there wasn't something else to read on the back. "That's all."
"I see." Theodore felt a ferocious smile curling his lips. His enemy was coming for him again, as expected. Just in time. He had assembled everything he needed. "When?"
"Around seven-ish?" The human winced as if delivering a simple message was an incredible burden.
Of course. Despite his brazen attitude, his little mouse heart was beating wildly, and Theodore was grateful for the incense burning in the corner of his office, because the smell of this human's sweat was bewitching. His wolf growled low inside his chest, demanding to sniff the creature at length.
"That's it, so I have to be on my way. You'll be there, right? 'Cause I have to go back with an answer. Be there, or else I'll post on all social media how you suck at being punctual."
"Who are you?" Theodore asked sharply. "What is your name?"
"Oh, you finally thought of asking. How nice and considerate of you." The human clenched his hands together and swooned, blinking a few times prettily.
Theodore licked his front teeth quickly. Were his fangs trying to come out? Whatever black magic this messenger was using on him, like that horrible stench of cinnamon, it had to be quite powerful. Despite his unassuming appearance, this human was far from ordinary.
"Your name."
"Jack. Jack, um, Snail…Snailstone."
Theodore's eyes fell on the paperweight on his desk, depicting a giant tiger land snail, an absurd piece gifted to him by one of the most pretentious and famous artists in Glasstone.
"You're not who you say you are."
"Does it matter?" Jack, if that was his name, exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. "Look, I delivered the message, you said 'yes', and my job here is done."
To show that he meant every word he said, Jack turned on his heel, making a beeline for the door. Theodore moved without thinking. He slammed the door, closing it abruptly before Jack could make his escape, his arm extended above the messenger's head.
The field mouse yelped and began babbling. "How the hell did you move so fast? Oh, right. Okay my name is Jack Sadler I'm a clairvoyant who just found out about it when I read Ryder's future you hold a sword so you're a bad guy please don't kill me."
"Clairvoyant?" A curtain of red began its slow descent over Theodore's eyes. "You're no clairvoyant, human."
"I totally am," Jack protested. "Ryder thinks so, and he's a good guy."
Theodore slammed his hand against the door again, triggering a bout of ridiculous pleas from the self-proclaimed clairvoyant. "You know I am a wolf," he said in a low, threatening voice. "I will exterminate my enemy and then, I will come for you."
"Why?" Jack asked, as if he was genuinely curious and not scared out of his wits.
Theodore felt his pulse quickening. In this position, he was pressing the human against the door, and a part of him he hadn't thought about in ages was coming to life.
"Because," he growled, forcing his lower body into submission through sheer willpower, "the light of knowledge is dim in you, and you're nothing but a fake, just like your last name."
"Take that back!" The field mouse gasped in outrage.
Theodore felt a surge of power welling up inside himself, as he dominated this puny human. He reveled in it for a moment, although he couldn't understand why.
"You are dressed like a clown, your bag is empty just like your life, and you are a complete waste of space."
Surprisingly enough, Jack turned to face him. His brown eyes were ablaze, and he looked like he was ready to commit murder. Theodore stared at his small, clenched fists, imagining for a moment how easy it would be to overpower this rabid rat.
"You're nothing but a tramp, so be thankful that I'm letting you live. For now. Whatever magic you're using to tempt my wolf, it's not working."
Jack shook his head, frowning until his eyes turned to slits. "What magic?" He set his chin high in a silly attempt to show he wasn't scared.
Again, the sight of the upturned nose and full lips filled Theodore's entire field of vision. A strange sensation curled and unfurled inside his lower belly. He pushed himself away from the door and the strange clairvoyant. This little field mouse needed to go, and fast.
"Leave," he ordered.
Jack scoffed. "Yeah, okay. I and my empty bag and clown clothes were just going. I hope Ryder tears you to shreds. Bad wolf. Bad."
Theodore felt his nostrils flaring again. The scent of cinnamon was leaving the room, indeed. And because he was a lowly beast sometimes, his wolf was restless and demanded the human to return.
Of course. His wolf wanted to destroy this human. But his thirst for field mouse blood had to wait.
***
Jack stopped by the side of the building, clutching his chest tightly. What on earth had just happened? One moment, Theodore freaking Pembroke had him pinned against the door, something definitely poking Jack in the back, which wasn't some concealed weapon for sure, and the next, he was threatening to kill him.
Wolves were so weird, he decided. Damn, but the mouth of that horribly handsome asshole was really something. Jack pursed his lips. "I'm not a tramp," he told himself while pulling out his phone.
And sure as hell, he was going to show Theodore Pembroke that he was a real clairvoyant who actually did see things in his cards, things that were real or were about to become real.
After sending the message to Danny, he took a moment to draw his breath. He felt the need to complain about that freaking asshole, but Danny and Ryder had a lot on their minds. Ah, he could always call Vince, who, despite his overbearing personality, was still one of the good guys.
He made his decision in the short fragment of time needed for him to call Vince.
"Hi, my guy," he said quickly. "I just had a wild idea and please don't stop me."
"As if I could," Vince replied.
"I'm going to the meeting point. I'm going after that fucker Pembroke."
"What happened?"
Jack felt a cramp in his jaw. "He's an asshole. I want to strangle him. Not like in killing him or anything. I don't believe in murder but more like in letting him know he's a major asshole."
"What did he do to you?" Vince's voice came out worried and protective.
Of course, one thing Danny didn't know about Vince, but Jack knew because of the crazy conversations – that felt a lot like drilling – he'd had with the man, was that Vince was actually a guardian, something Jack still had a hard time wrapping his head around because of the many strange things happening to him and around him.
It all made sense. Danny was destined for Ryder, no matter what the big wolf was saying, and it felt natural that he had a guardian, too, seeing that there were many dark forces at work.
"Nothing, nothing," Jack hurried to say, although he did feel a bit like crying tears of fury. A lot of people had made fun of him in his life, but he had always brushed it off. Somehow, with Theodore Pembroke, he couldn't let it go.
And it didn't help that he was so handsome. In that horrible office where that disgusting smell was everywhere, it had even crossed Jack's mind for a moment, no, a fraction of a moment, to grab Theodore's nose and pull hard on it, only so he'd make a nasty face that would look awful even in doctored pictures.
"Come on, you can tell me," Vince insisted.
"He made fun of me," Jack blurted out. "He told me my bag is empty, although it's full of all sorts of useful things."
Vince snickered, pouring salt on the wound. "That's a strange insult. And let's say it like it is, Jack, carrying a single sock around is a bit, eh, quirky even for you."
"Hey, it's a good luck charm," Jack protested. "Like a rabbit's foot, but no animal had to die."
"Okay, that's a fair point. But what about the jar of glitter? Is that another good luck charm?"
While searching for a notebook earlier to write Ryder's note on, Jack had unloaded his entire bag in front of Vince. Clearly, he was being judged here.
"No, but it's pretty. Whenever I have a bad day, I take it out and shake it. Then it's not that bad a day."
"I understand that. I know what present I should buy for your birthday."
"But my birthday just came and went," Jack complained.
"Then it's going to be a belated gift. Now, for real, Jack, what did Theodore Pembroke do to you?"
Jack hesitated before expressing his weird suspicions. He lowered his voice and covered his mouth as he spoke into his phone. "He like pinned me against the door and I felt something hard poking me in the spine. Like his… you know what."
"Are you sure you weren't imagining it because you were stressed?"
Jack peered around the corner, checking for Theodore Pembroke. "I was stressed, but that wasn't a concealed weapon, I'm telling you."
"Well, once you pull back your hedgehog spikes, you're pretty sexy," Vince commended him playfully.
"Shut up. I've never been told that. Before you," Jack added quickly. "I just think this Theo character is horny like a dog. Also, he's way too kinky for my taste. I've heard of praise-kink, but insult-kink? Forget it."
"Theo?" Vince teased him. "Let's not forget he's a cold-blooded killer."
"We don't have any proof of that yet. Although he is obviously bent on killing Ryder. By the way, he's very hot-blooded."
"Don't tell me you had the time to get involved in skin on skin action with him."
"No, what the hell, Vee?"
"Ah, am I getting an endearing nickname, too?"
"Who else is?" Jack asked, pulling back fast as he noticed Theodore leaving the building to get into his car, a sleek black thing that looked like a nightmare.
"I'll grab Danny and meet you there. Don't do anything stupid by yourself."
"Don't you worry about that," Jack whispered into his phone. "I prefer doing stupid things as a group."
TBC