The streetlights hovering above the long cemented poles illuminated the busy night freeway of Dallas. Tristan flickered his eyes shut, rolling those green orbs; he slowly opened them back and heaved a sigh, wondering where Abel, his Gamma was taking him that night.

He had talked to him about Crescent Tavern, where they would eat, drink and maybe have some fun to clear his mind off worries about Kayla, his late Luna. It's been six months since he lost Kayla to the vampires, but her memories were still fresh in his head like newly oven-baked bread.

She was his everything, his Luna, his life, and the only one who understood him better. Her death had taken a toll on him; he was lagging in his duties as the Alpha of the pack, and he couldn't function well at work. He had to hand over to his assistant while getting his shit together. He was sure of one thing; he would avenge her death. No matter how long or complicated it seemed, he would fight until he could no longer war.

"The omegas are lazy with their duties. I fear Aragon pack won't function well without you. It's been six months. Don't you think you should call a meeting to discuss the pending issues that are yet to be resolved?" Abel queried, his hand tightly gripping the steering wheel.

Huffing a sigh, Tristan fluttered his eyelids shut. He understood Abel was concerned, but he also wished he could look deep into his soul and see how much he was hurting. He was the alpha of the Aragon pack; all the werewolves expected that he'd be braver than them, handling any feelings without affecting pack affairs. He could, but the dead woman was his Luna, the woman he cherished with his life. He had to mourn her, and he'd been putting on his human form, not wanting to take the wolf form until he was sure he could let go.

"Soon," Tristan cradled the nape of his neck, "I will call a meeting soon." He assured Abel. "Do you have problems with Dassah?" He asked. Dassah was the pack's Beta and he trusted her so well with the pack.

"No, but Dassah is just a beta. She can't handle all the tasks herself." Abel explained.

Tristan shook his head in understanding.

Abel was the only one he allowed into his part of the house in the pack manor since his mate died. He was the only one who had seen him in his vulnerable state; he was thankful he was able to keep his mouth sealed and deter the members of the pack from thronging into his house with just a simple life; a lie that he was out of town for a while for business purposes.

Tristan knew well that most of the pack members didn't love his wife, and it was a windfall that she died. They had always referred to her as a weak Luna because she wasn't a born wolf but a bitten one. But he didn't care, that woman who was the only woman who made his heart beat erratically.

"We are almost there," Abel announced.

Tristan noted with a bored expression on his face.

Soon after, Abel halted the car in front of Crescent Tavern. Tristan looked at him, "Where is this?" He asked, a hesitant look marring his expression. "A local tavern?" He murmured disappointedly, he expected somewhere sophisticated.

"Yes, local but benign. Sometimes we have to get out of the pack manor and mingle with real humans. I come here once in a while when I need to clear my head." Abel smiled. "Will you come along with me?"

Tristan had the urge to decline; he didn't like associating with humans even though he had their body form. He knew how cruel humans could be, and mingling with them wasn't something he wanted to get used to. But just one night would not hurt, right?

"Just for tonight, though." He said to Abel.

"Sure, but I bet you will want to come back here after tonight." Abel chuckled, finally putting the car to an abrupt end. He wound up the window and got out of the car. He hurried to get the door for his Alpha, but Tristan stopped him. He got out of the vehicle and flexed his long, lean figure.

It's been a long while since he felt the night breeze piercing through his skin; he had stayed at him mourning his dead mate for months that he forgot there was a life outside the four walls of his mansion.

"Shall we?" Abel sought his permission.

"Sure," Tristan nodded, letting him lead the road while following behind him.

They passed people gathered around tables, drinking, chatting, and laughing in a lousy manner. Some of the men around were old, with young girls. Some were groping the more aged men; some were even making out. Tristan scoffed at the disgusting scene; he was sure a werewolf wouldn't stoop so low to make out in the presence of everyone. They liked to mate, hard and hot but not this shamelessly.

They settled for a vacant seat at the nook of the tavern. "What would you like to have?" Abel asked when he saw a staff member approaching them.

"Meats, cold beef, and liqueur," Tristan said sharply.

"I don't want the people around to notice we are not one of them," Abel chuckled. "Cold beef will give us away." He reminded Tristan.

Wiggling his head in understanding, he changed his mind to steaks and liqueur. He had completely forgotten they weren't at the pack's feast night, where they ate raw and cold meats until they could no longer take in more.

"Better," Abel grinned again, revealing his dimples this time. Tristan stared at him; he smiled too much for a Gamma. No one would know how vicious he was from his constant smiles. He had a way of hiding his true identity whenever he was putting on his human form. Tristan liked it; he could easily switch personalities, but it was hard for him as the Alpha. He always had to remain cold, strong, and sometimes heartless.

He hardly smiled; the only woman who gave him a reason to smile was dead. That thought stung his chest, he shut his eyes briefly to feel her warmth, but she wasn't there anymore, he could only dream of her.

"What would you like to have?" The staff asked them. Abel listed out their orders.

Their orders arrived; Tristan quickly bit on the steak, bobbing his head in satisfaction. He ate more and ate almost all the steaks, leaving very few for Abel. It wasn't his fault; he hadn't had anything good to eat for days. Abel understood him, ordered more, and let him eat as many as possible.

As he shoved the steak into his mouth, he downed a glass of liqueur. He knew he was in safe hands, Abel wasn't a heavy drinker, and he would watch after him if he were inebriated.

Three plates of steaks down, four bottles of liqueur gone. Tristan was pressed; he urgently needed to use the restroom. Abel beckoned to the staff and asked for directions. He took Tristan in and left him there for a while to pick up a call he had gotten when they were inside.

Tristan tried to find his way back to the spot they were seated at the tavern, but he couldn't. His eyes turned inside out. The floor was spinning around in his very eyes. He snickered and moved haphazardly towards a door that was left ajar. He got there and heard screams and yelling from people. He shoved his head in and peeked at his scene. He saw young girls all lined up on the podium.

The ladies were arranged on the podium; all dressed in filthy clothes that barely covered their incredible curves.

His blurry vision made out a beautiful ebony from the crowd of ladies; she was tall and slender, well-curved body with a well sculptured, elegant shoulders. She stood tall and different among the ladies. There was something about her that drew her to him, something much more than her beauty; something he couldn't wrap his head around.

"Here is number ten," The merchant in charge of the auction announced, squeezing the ebony's arm. "The last price is five thousand dollars." He said as he hit his hand with a baton. "Anyone else wants to price?" He yelled out to the men around, but no hand was in the air.

With staggered steps, Tristan stepped forward, kicking the table and mounting the podium where the ladies were being auctioned. "Fifty thousand dollars for number ten," he offered, not knowing what was happening to him. But that woman he saw was worth keeping close to oneself.

The merchant looked around for any opposition, but there was none. "Number ten has been bought for fifty thousand dollars." He announced it to the crowd. Turning to Tristan, a smile curled up on his lips. "She will become yours, and you will do with her whatever you want after you pay the money." He pushed the ebony next to Tristan.

"How do I pay?" He asked.

"We will sign an agreement before and after the payment." The merchant said. He pointed to another man in uniform and gestured to him. "Go in with them, let him make the payments, and go with the slave." He commanded.

Tristan went in as instructed. He made some transactions with his phone and signed the necessary documents; she was to be his certified slave, and he would do with her whatever he wanted. That idea sounded cool to him.

He gripped the ebony's slender arms, his eyes boring into hers, he asked. "What the fuck is your name?"

Her knees quivered as he roughly grabbed her arms. Trepidation ran through her mind, she looked into his bloodshot eyes, and with a shaky voice, she responded. "Selena."