He was sitting in his dark room, with a glass of wine in his hand which was almost empty now. He moved the glass in his hand and placed it on his delicate red lips and took the last sip of the wine in the glass.
''Sir! All of our men were killed by those werewolf's''. The man in front of him told him, his voice stuttering and his legs shivering because of the fear.
The young man in his late twenties, wearing a black suit with his two upper shirt buttons left open, were revealing his toned muscular fair chest. The man had the cruellest expressions on his face, his black round eye's red, his sharp nose pointed, his delicate red lips and fair skin made him look worth-watching.
When the man heard that his plan failed, he angrily smashed the glass and pierced in to small pieces in his hand. Blood dripped down his hand, one drop at a time.
The man standing in front of him jumped with fear and stuttered, ''Young master Nile, you hurt yourself..''
