Damon.
I hate the rain, I thought as I glared out at the rain-soaked trees, droplets of water sliding down the window pane like tears.
I turned away from the downpour seeking something to distract myself with, but the cloud outside seemed to have dampened my mind as memories came rushing down to me.
Laughter, music, champagne toasts. The Wolvenstar family preferred to live within nature itself. Thus, we lived in a mansion on the outskirts of a forest. That way, whenever we shifted we could run straight into the forest, our real home.
Today was the day my eldest brother, Mark, had bonded; he laughed loudly at the head of the table as his mate, Charlotte, now Wolvenstar, smiled timidly as she sat on his lap.
Poor girl, my brother would be the death of her soon enough.
The house was two hundred years old, a legacy built on sugar and spices; their family was one of the elite of the Werewolves in New Orleans high society; they were happy , everyone feasting, clinking glasses, downing beers, yet for some reason I was sad, angry even.
The memories began to curdle like milk left too long, which was weird, I thought.
The laughter was louder, the drinking more maniac as the resounding jazz music warped into a discordant scream. I could see my family's faces begin to warp in horror as a firm hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder from behind; I turned sharply, and what I saw made my stomach churn as I stared into the eyes of some distant cousin, eyes froze in shock, blood streaming down his face like blood.
I screamed as I stumbled backward on something, not something, I realized as I fell backward on my father's body, still in wolven form, his black fur sticky with blood, his spine jutting out of his back.
Master Damon
Blood was everywhere; the crimson liquid splattered all across the marble floor like rubies on beach sand . Glass shattering around. The smell of death growing stronger.
"Master Damon!" a voice jolted me violently from my memories, I stumbled backward, gasping for air.
The rain was still heavy; the tang smell overwhelmed my senses.
My butler, Daiki loomed over me, eyes looking concerned as he handed over a small bottle of scotch to me.
Good man, I thought as I took a swig, inhaling before throwing my head backward.
"You should go out more," he muttered softly, "holing yourself in this horror would do you no good."
I sighed. The old man doesn't understand.
My very presence would send the others shivering in fright, sure Daiki doesn't mind, but I have a very bad reputation."Demon Alpha", they call me. Going out more would just make the others feel endangered; it is best to keep to myself.
"You say it like it's a bad thing", Malakai, my wolf snorted.
"I would frighten away half the city, Daiki," I laughed, "besides ,I have a meeting with the mayor tonight anyway; that's going out enough."
" Very well, " he sighed as I handed the scotch back to him," Would you be attending the bonding ceremony next week, sir? ".
My jaw dropped," I don't need a mate", I groaned.
Daiki had tried for the last five years to make me attend the yearly Lycan bonding ceremony and five times have I refused him. I was surprised he hadn't given up.
" Everyone needs a mate", he insisted as he paused at the entrance of the room.
I smiled weakly, "Good thing I'm not everyone ".
The dimly lit alleyway was a contrast away from the city's bustling streets, but I preferred it that way: less attention, less screamers.
As expected, the mayor kept shivering; he y the idea of being alone with the 'Demon Alpha.' A portly man in his forties, he wiped a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead, fidgeting with his signet ring as he glanced briefly at me.
My voice was smooth and low, but I could feel his heart beat faster in fright.
"You asked to meet here, Larry".
"Yes of course ", he said as he swallowed down, trying and failing to compose himself,
"It's about what you asked for the last time we spoke"
" And", I raised my brows expectantly.
" We found traces of him," the mayor started," he's been all over New Orleans; the last place he was sighted was the seventh ward; we should find him soon."
" He's throwing them off his trails," I whispered to Malakai , as I leaned against the wall, lighting up a cigarette
" Sorry? ", he asked, feeling nervous again.
" Tell your men to avoid Lakeview," I simply said, "I have a feeling he would return there".
As I started to leave, Larry grabbed me by the hand, his trembling.
I stared back at him icily, a growl emanating from my wolf through me as I glanced at where our hands met.
"I.. if.. he would be there, shou.. shouldn't we be there rather than avoiding it".
"Then you would have a lot of bodies to bury," I said as his hands dropped back at his sides," Goodbye, mayor," I muttered as I stalked off to find the first underworld around.
The underworld was strings of exclusive nightclubs for werewolves; there were places where humans wouldn't stumble into, lest they find themselves as unwilling prey.
They were the most dangerous part of the city and the only place where no one would recognize me due to the body paint smudged all over our bodies. A place where I was free, where no one knows who's who, a place where I could go wild.
The nightclub pulsed with the energy of the French Quarter as I stalked in, smudging crimson paint across my face, neon lights dancing across the crowded room. With a quick stride, I swung upwards into the top box, landing lightly on my feet.
Two female werewolves, omegas, were already there kissing roughly, hands tangled tightly in each other's hair as they growled, the air thick with smoke, sweat, and perfume.
Smelling me, they paused, turning towards me, and grinning stupidly, green paint smearing their faces.
"How about you join us, darling?" one of them crooned, stroking one of her fingers with her tongue.
I grimaced, "Carry on, don't mind me at all".
The other one rose, prowling slowly towards me, "Why? You look familiar", she drawled.
I stiffened, "I suppose?".
"Big, strong Aristocraté", she continued,
"Are you an Alpha?we rarely see those".
"Perhaps", I smiled, my fingers drumming sharply against the railing, as I gazed at the revelers below, their faces a kaleidoscope of colors.
Sensing my impatience, she stalked off with a snort, her lover cradling her head as they went back to their kissing.
I sighed. I was prepared to rip both throats open if they showed even a hint of recognizing who I was.
I needed a drink, I thought, and was about to drop down when I noticed her.
She was dancing without care; her raven hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall in the dark as she swung her head to the bass music, her body moving to its seductive rhythm.
Her face was smudged in paint but her blue eyes sparkled like the sea, the sea under the morning light.
She seemed unbound by anything like a free bird.
I felt a pull, an inexplicable one as if she was the very center of the world; everything else blurring.
A redhead guy walked up to her, whispering something at her which she laughed at. As he pulled her away from the dancing, I could make out bruises on her arms. They were faint, healed, but as an alpha, there were things others couldn't see that I could still notice, it was a wound by a Lycan.
Those abominations, I seethed in anger.
My hands suddenly gripped the bars of the railing in anger, so hard that they were beginning to bend and screech, my guttural snarl frightening away the kissing omegas.
Why was I angry?
I had no idea....