"Kayran, save him—right now. That's an order from the Alpha King of this pack."
Ogar's voice was cold, commanding. He shoved Kayran's hand away, his sharp glare cutting like a blade.
Kayran flinched, the weight of Ogar's dominance forcing him to quickly suppress his pheromones.
Ogar was the king of the pack, after all—and that was exactly why Kayran had always wanted to marry him.
Under Ogar's watchful eyes, Kayran pulled out a bundle of herbs. He crushed them with practiced hands, mixing the pulp with a small amount of water before pressing the mixture to Ceres' lips.
"Drink," he ordered softly.
But the moment the bitter liquid touched his tongue, Ceres coughed and tried to spit it out. The mixture dribbled down his chin, and a few drops splashed onto Kayran's arm.
Kayran's jaw tightened. His expression twisted with irritation. A flicker of disgust rippled through him, though what unsettled him more was the ugly anger boiling beneath his skin.
"Ogar, he's not taking his medicine," Kayran said, his eyes flicking toward the bed.
Without a word, Ogar pulled Kayran away, positioning himself at Ceres' side. He sat down, gently taking Ceres' hand in his own.
"Ceres," Ogar said softly, his voice firm but tender, "this medicine will make you feel better. Please, take it."
Ceres shook his head slightly. "Nooo… it's bitter," he mumbled under his breath.
Ceres wasn't fully conscious, but he wasn't completely out either. That was why he could still taste the bitterness of the medicine.
"You are really stubborn," Ogar murmured, turning to Kayran. "You may leave for now. I'll summon you later."
Kayran hesitated at first, then moved toward the cave entrance—but he didn't go far. He lingered there, peeking back inside, curiosity and irritation warring on his face.
Ogar ignored him. He took the herbal mixture into his own mouth, then gently cupped Ceres' chin. Tilting his head, he coaxed him to open his mouth, pressing his lips softly against Ceres'.
He didn't stop. Ogar continued the kiss, controlling Ceres' movements just enough so the bitter medicine wouldn't spill out. The intimacy was firm but careful, ensuring Ceres swallowed the herbs without coughing.
After making sure the medicine had gone down, Ogar stayed at Ceres' side. Carefully, he began to remove Ceres' damp clothes and changed him into clean ones.
Ceres' body was slender and delicate, his skin pale as milk, even more beautiful than that of any omega Ogar had ever seen.
Ogar's jaw tightened. He forced his gaze to remain steady, trying to distract himself and focus only on the task of caring for him. But the temptation lingered—an ache he struggled to suppress as he dressed the fragile boy.
By now, Ogar had realized Ceres wasn't one of them. He wasn't a beastman, nor did he carry a scent like a omega. He was human. But to Ogar, that didn't matter in the slightest.
To someone else, however, it mattered a great deal.
Kayran's dislike only grew, and without hesitation, he went straight to the pack's elder.
"Forgive me for disturbing you, Elder," Kayran said as he stepped into her chamber.
The old werewolf woman sat propped up on a bed of furs, her silver hair tumbling around her shoulders. Her sharp eyes lifted to him as he entered.
"Why are you here, Kayran? You already examined me earlier, did you not?" she asked, her tone calm but firm.
Kayran moved to sit on the stone chair across from her, offering her a cup of water with both hands.
"Actually… Ogar brought someone into the pack today," he began carefully.
"He doesn't look like a beast at all—more like a human. We've only ever heard of such beings from our ancestors' stories. And that boy… he carries no scent. Not even like a beta."
At that, the elder's gaze sharpened, her attention snapping fully to him.
Kayran pressed on, lowering his voice. "It's as if that boy has cast some kind of spell on Ogar. Now Ogar is even speaking of making him his mate."
He glanced up, watching closely for the elder's reaction.
"I will have to see that witch with my own eyes," the elder woman said coldly. "We will go to him."
Kayran's lips curved into a smirk—this was exactly what he wanted.
Soon after, the elder, Kayran, and a few members of the pack made their way toward Ogar's chamber. Their footsteps echoed heavily against the stone as they approached, announcing their presence.
The sound stirred Ceres. His eyes fluttered open, and he realized he must have passed out earlier.
As clarity returned, a memory struck him hard—Ogar's lips on his, the bitter herbs hidden in the kiss he had been forced to swallow.
Ceres' face heated, his chest tightening with confusion and embarrassment.
When Ceres glanced to his side, he realized Ogar was gone. Instead, the elder, Kayran, and several pack members stood at the entrance, their eyes fixed on him.
"Elder, this is the one I told you about," Kayran said, his gaze narrowing on Ceres.
Confusion clouded Ceres' mind. 'Who are these people? And why are they staring at me like I've done something terrible?'
Finally, he sat up a little, his voice cutting through the silence. "Can I ask why you're staring at me like that? Have some manners and get out of here. Can't you see I'm trying to rest?"
His sharp words made the elder's face harden, her eyes blazing with anger.
"How dare you, whore! You appear out of nowhere and already act as if you're Luna here!" the elder snapped, her voice dripping with venom.
She stepped forward, her presence heavy and domineering. Seeing this, Ceres climbed down from the bed—only then realizing he was no longer wearing his modern clothes, but garments similar to theirs.
Irritation pricked at him, but this wasn't the time to dwell on clothes. A far bigger problem stood before him.
Ceres faced the elder directly, though his shorter height made the difference between them more obvious.
"Old lady," he shot back coldly, "one foot of yours is already in the grave, yet you stand here cursing at me. Don't you feel any shame? I'm a guest here. The least you could do is show some respect—because I'll be leaving now."
"I can see where this is coming from. Guards," the elder ordered.
With Ogar absent, they seized the opportunity.
A while later, Ogar returned to his chamber with fresh meat in hand—hunted especially for Ceres. But when he stepped inside, the bed was empty. Ceres was gone.
His heart clenched. The meat slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.
Without hesitation, Ogar spread his senses, sniffing the air. Fortunately, he had already showered Ceres in his pheromones. Following the faint trail, he hurried out.
At the cliffside, the sight that greeted him was both shocking and enraging: Ceres sat there, pale but composed.
The elder woman stood nearby, her expression twisted with disdain. Around them, several Alphas lay sprawled on the ground—unconscious.