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Written and posted with permission from Leo_Todrius (who also provided the kickass thumbnail icon!)

You can find his profile and awesome stories here: www.furaffinity.net/user/leotodrius

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Lykos - Wild Things

Chapter 8 - The dragon and the small flower

After Drake and Clyde had finally stopped trying to eat each other's faces, Wyatt had grabbed the hand of his beta and mate without saying a word, and had refused to let it go; Drake could feel his alpha's frantic heartbeat and tension trickling through his fingers: despite his brave face he was a bit worried that Clyde could enthral him. "Don't worry," he said to him, before giving him a small and tender kiss on the cheek. "It's not like you'd let someone else steal my heart from you, after all..."

Wyatt beamed him a relieved smile before he turned around. "So, any news?" he asked Joy, who was walking alongside them. Xander had excused himself and had gone back to his own desk, since the pack was now being escorted through the hotel by two alphas: Clyde, in fact, was now wooing Patrick, caressing his cheeks and stroking his beard with a killer smile on his broad face, much to Angela's dismay.

The dark-skinned woman tilted her head to the side. "Um? What do you mean?" she asked in an absent-minded tone. "There are many news, of course. Care to be a bit more specific?"

Wyatt sighed. "Well, are Hyun-woo and Felissa here too, for example?"

Joy nodded, a mischievous smile on her face. "Why shouldn't they?"

"I dunno, Felissa seemed pretty pissed off when she lost that cosplay competition at the comic convention last year..."

"Heh, you know her, one moment she's angry, the other she's the sweetest girl around." Joy tapped a finger against the tip of her nose, her mind lost in thoughts. "Oh, yeah, we have three new packs this year, but of course the number of the attendees has remained basically the same. The two packs from Bellingham defected..."

Wyatt growled in surprise. "Really? You mean we finally got rid of Berke? Thank God, I couldn't stand that homophobic douche." He turned around to stare at the musclebear, who immediately removed his meaty hands from Patrick's beard like a small kid who had been caught with his fingers into a can of strawberry jam. "I don't know how you refrained yourself from punching right through him last year, Clyde."

The manly alpha shook his head. "Me and my boys are tough, the petty bullying of some third-rate alpha didn't bother us in the least..." His sideburns grew and became bushier, as his eyes shone gold and his face took a decidedly feral appearance, with long deathly fangs protruding from his mouth. "But an asshole calling two lovely and adorable ladies 'fucking dykes'? That is something I can't stand."

Joy turned around to look at him: she had the eyes of the wolf too, now, although the color of her irises was more a more subdued and gentle shade of saffron. "Well, Clarisse and Letitia are strong enough to take care of themselves, but I appreciated very much the fact that you stood up to him for them," she said, with a motherly smile full of pointy teeth. "Although, at least from what I heard, some new alpha stepped in and gave him the beating of a lifetime."

"Well, that's exactly what he deserved," Wyatt nodded in approval.

"And not only that," Joy continued. "He also called me to apologize."

The other two alphas looked at each other in mild disbelief. "Okay, that's kinda unexpected," Wyatt said. "Are you sure we're talking about the same Berke?"

Joy shrugged. "At first I was as perplexed as you are, and I really wanted to hang up on him... but he sounded sincere and regretful. He told me that he understood that his past behavior was wrong, and that he couldn't attend because of some turmoil in his region that required his presence." She snickered. "I guess he really needed to be thrashed a bit."

"I see..." Wyatt murmured; he sounded doubtful, but changed the subject of the conversation. "And how about Angela?" Drake gave him a puzzled look. "Oh, not our Angela, alpha Angela."

The auburn-haired young woman behind them failed to repress a shiver. "You know, I'm glad she's not here, she creeped me out so much last year... And she and her pack stank of wolfsbane." The expression on her face was downright disgusted, her fingers distractedly tormenting her scarf.

"So I guess that's the reason why she didn't come this year, huh?" Wyatt asked Joy. "'cause she tried to sneak narcotics in?"

The woman scoffed and shook her head. "Nah, she just wrote me a strange and meandering email that basically said that she and her pack got really bored last year and so she had no intention of coming anymore. Not that big of a loss, if you ask me..." She turned towards Wyatt with a manic grin plastered on her face. "And then of course there's your sister's pack, even though I'm sure you're happy that she's not here."

Wyatt shrugged. "To be honest, I don't hate her the way I used to anymore. And by the way, I'll become uncle in a couple of months, so I have to keep a close eye on her or she's just turn my future nephew or niece into a horrible little copy of herself."

Joy, as a reply, hugged the other alpha again and pinched his cheeks as if she was an old spinster aunt bent on annoying her youngest nephew. "Awww, my cute little Wyatt is becoming a real man! Aren't you happy, Clyde? Our boy is finally growing up!"

Wyatt pouted, just like a little kid. "H-hey, I'm almost twenty years old, you know!"

Clyde stretched a huge hairy arm and ruffled his hair in a fatherly manner. "Keep giving your best, and one day you may become as big and manly as I am," he joked.

Drake, still holding his boyfriend's hand, looked at the three werewolves teasing each other and then bursting into laughter with a pensive, almost surprised smile on his face. That's... not what I was expecting, he pondered. I mean, I didn't think that alphas could get along so well. He thought at Wyatt and Talia and their years-long grudge, then at Seamus and at his conflict with Marco. I guess it's because they're not competing over a territory... This hotel must act as some kind of neutral ground. He stared at them again, chatting and having fun despite being so different. Or maybe they are just good friends, who knows?

It was in that very moment the Drake felt a painful pang in his stomach, caused by a feeling so sudden it took him some seconds to identify it: he was feeling jealousy, for the first time after he had met Wyatt. Since I've become a werewolf, I basically lived with him and for him... And I forgot that he also has a life outside the pack, his college courses and his friends. He took a deep breath sensing something stirring inside his soul, like the wolf in his heart was kicking in his slumber because of a bad dream. No, I don't want to feel like that. After all, I know I can talk to him about anything... there are no secrets between us.

The group, meanwhile, had stopped in front of three doors marked 1097, 1099 and 1101. "Okay, here we are!" Joy exclaimed after clapping her hands to attract the attention of everyone (except for Patrick, who couldn't hear her and was too busy trying to avoid being frenched by Clyde anyway) "The pass card you got from Lettie at the reception desk also act as the key to your room, so don't lose them somewhere or I'll rip the kidneys from your body and feed them to my pet tarantula, okay?" she added in the same jovial and cheerful tone as always. "Almost everyone is already in the party hall, so I'll give you half an hour to settle in and take a shower. You already know the way... well, except you," and she pointed an finger towards Drake. "But little Wyatt here will show you where to go. Okay, guys, see you later!"

The female alpha sprinted away like someone who had just realized he had forgot a cake in the oven, leaving Drake a bit dumbfounded... and his confusion became even bigger when he felt a warm, naughty tongue leaving a trail of saliva on the side of his face. "My room is number 1005. You know, just in case you want to see how good would you look dressed all in leather... And bring Patrick, too," Clyde murmured in his ear, in a way that made Drake's knees shaking.

A low, disquieting growl came right from the depths of Wyatt's throat: it sounded like the engine of the bike of a demon rider straight out of Hell. "Clyde, I swear to God..." he snarled, his claws honing into points and his ears becoming fuzzy and erect in fury.

The musclebear, not looking intimidated in the least, just beamed at him a good-natured smile. "Oh, come on, I was just joking! Well, except about the number of my room, of course. See ya!" The burly man walked away whistling a cheerful tone and strutting with the attitude of someone who owned the place.

After Clyde had turned the nearest corner, an embarrassed moment of silence followed. "I'm... sorry for before," Drake murmured, his eyes lowered. "I mean, you know you gave him permission, but I probably enjoyed that more than I should have..."

Wyatt snorted in reply. "It's not your fault, my dragon... When Clyde became a werewolf, his natural charisma had been enormously amplified, just like his persistence. Should... something happen between the two of you during the convention, I promise I won't hold any grudge." From the expression on his face, it seemed that saying those words was costing him a lot.

"Huh?" Drake replied. He wasn't sure if he had got it right.

His alpha sighed. "Want me to spell it out loud? I'm giving you a free pass with him, my dragon... And one to Patrick, too." Drake opened his mouth, but Wyatt stopped him with nothing but a quick gesture of his fingers. "In response to your ridiculously obvious question, for two reasons: one, because otherwise he won't leave you two alone for the remainder of the convention; it was already difficult last year with Patrick alone, but now that you're here too... and two, because I didn't want you to feel guilty should he managed to enthrall you. Clyde can be a horndog who's only able to think with his penis, but he's also a friend and a good guy... I mean, yeah, he likes to fuck a lot, and that's the biggest understatement of the century, but he doesn't mean ill will." The alpha fell silent for a moment, before adding an after-thought. "Also, he's a very sweet and caring lover... or so I was told, at least."

Drake couldn't repress a small grin. "You mean you always managed to resist him?"

Wyatt lowered his gaze to the floor, one of his feet scratching against the carpet. "No, I mean I'm not his type, apparently. Oh, well..." He distributed the pass cards among his packmates, carefully avoiding the stare of disapproval that Angela was addressing to him since he had talked about letting Patrick and Clyde play catcher and pitcher. "See you here in half an hour, okay? Come on, my dragon, let's go take a shower."

* * * *

"Um... Angela?" Less than twenty-five minutes later Wyatt's pack was walking down the corridor, heading towards the gathering place of the convention. Wyatt was of course leading the group, while Patrick was busy keeping the two cubs - who, as always, looked overexcited about everything - in check; that left Angela and Drake at the back of the small fellowship, an unexpected occasion that the newest beta of the pack was determined to take advantage of.

The young woman turned around. She seemed surprised, even a bit wary. "Yes, Drake?" The tone of her voice, however, didn't betray her uneasiness in the least; she still sounded as polite and refined as a prim and proper lady taken straight out of a Jane Austen novel. "Is there something bothering you?"

Well, to be honest that's what I wanted to ask you..., Drake thought, feeling a little ashamed of himself for some reason. "No, not really. To be honest I was hoping to find some time to, you know, talk to you a bit. Face to face, I mean." The man tugged his bearded chin: he knew he should have been more straightforward; he wanted to help Angela, trying to solve whatever problem she might have once and for all. "There are things I want to discuss, things that I want to know about you. After all these months, you're still the packmate I know the less about, and... I would like to try and fix that, if you don't mind."

The expression on Angela's face after hearing those words was difficult to describe: in her pale irises and in the corners of her mouth, sadness, anger, curiosity, fear and relief clashed and melded into each other in uneven parts. "Oh. I will be honest, I was not expecting you to say something like that, Drake. And I am glad you want to spend some of your time with me... I hope that the experience will be worthwhile for us both." Angela bowed her head a bit, and a curtain of auburn flocks fell over her forehead. "I think that..." He voice broke, and her left hand massaged the side of her neck through the scarf. "There are things of me that you should know, Drake; there is no point in hiding anything, since you are the only member of the pack not knowing them." For a moment her eyes shone of that strange, alluring mix of yellow and red that both fascinated Drake and creeped him out a bit.

The young man stared at her, quite perplexed: he had expected her to beat around the bush, to try and change the subject, or simply to refuse in the most polite and demure way possible. "Oh. Well, that's... that's great. I mean, I'm glad that you want to talk with me; and if there's anything you want to know about me, I'll be more than happy to reciprocate." She gave him a small smile and nodded. "So, is tonight okay to you?"

"Tomorrow would be better, if that's not a problem," this time it was Drake's turn to lower his head in approval. "Good. You know, I am happy you asked me this, Drake... You really are a good guy." Her expression - that , despite her words, had turned a bit sour and sad in the meantime - became gentle and happy again. "Oh, look, there's the entrance to the party hall!" She pointed at two huge doors at the end of the corridor, behind which a cheerful and cacophonic rumble could be heard. "Prepare yourself to be amazed!"

And indeed, the show behind the doors was incredible: the room was huge, with a tall ceiling decorated with a central fresco portraying - and Drake couldn't help but smiling with wolfish fangs at that - a velvety black starry sky with a big, carefully painted full moon behind a veil of translucent clouds. Against the walls were lined long tables, covered in white and gold cloths that looked like leftovers from some Christmas party, despite of course being crispy clean; dozens and dozens of chairs were peppered here and there across the hall, usually arranged in circles of various sizes to facilitate conversations.

Drake stood on the threshold, filling his lungs with a long, satisfied breath. Hundreds and hundreds of different odors entered his nose, sending his brain into a frenzy: it was like the party was inside his head, and everyone was invited. "My god..." he murmured, looking at the more than two hundred people reunited in the room. "They are all werewolves..." He had never seen so many members of his kind in the same place, not ever in the big blade of Cerulean Falls before a full moon: it looked like every gender, every race and every age had their representatives. And yet, despite being so different, all of them were united by something that set them apart from humanity at large: they carried the power of the wolf inside their hearts and their souls with honor and pride.

Drake had left Underhill house only that morning, but now - after just a handful of hours - he was feeling home again.

The moment they smelled Wyatt's pack entering the room, a couple of persons - a woman and a man - threaded their way through the crowd in order to reach the door and greet them. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, tall and slender with an impressive mane of straight hair of a shade of blonde that looked almost white; a single strand of it was tied with a long, thin ribbon on the right side of her head, just above her ear. She had pristine white high heels on her feet, black stockings covered her athletic legs, and the dress she was wearing was bizarre to say the least: blood red in color, with a long, ample skirt, a wide strip of white lace on her chest and what looked like black fur adorning the top hem of the dress, fur that also decorated the elegant white opera gloves covering her arms and hands; the dress was cut in a way that not only left his shoulders bare, but also the upper part of her perky boobs exposed. She was waving an arm frantically as she approached, a wide smile on her fanged mouth and in her yellow eyes, while carrying around what looked like the sheath of a long katana in her other hand.

The man walking alongside her - as if he was trying to counterbalance the cheerfulness of his companion - was the picture of aloofness. He was probably a couple of years younger than her, even though it was quite difficult to ascertain, since he was wearing a black wool skull cap over his equally dark hair, whose bangs covered his forehead and created a natural set of curtains over his eyes; that, coupled with the poofy hipster scarf he was wearing around his neck, left only the smooth and bronzed skin of his nose and cheeks visible. He was clearly of Asian descent, but it was almost impossible to understand much else. He was wearing a dark green military jacket - and his hands were sunk into its ample pockets - and a pair of skinny jeans. When he stopped right in front of Wyatt, he lowered his head in a small bow and said a "Yo" muffled by the cloth of his scarf.

Wyatt nodded back, then looked at Drake. "These are the two alphas we were talking about before. She's Felissa, from Idaho," the woman held out her free hand; she had a very strong grip. "And he's Hyun-woo, from Oregon," the Asian young man bowed again without saying a word. "Guys, this is my new packmate, not to mention my boyfriend, Drake."

Felissa grinned back at them in hearing the news, showing fangs that were long and pointy even for werewolf standards. "I'm so glad Wyatt finally found a mate! And yes, I'm Felissa, but you may also call me Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade if you want to."

Drake looked at her like she had just confessed to routinely kill baby seals. "I'm sorry, what?"

Even if they were covered by the jet black bangs, it was clear that Hyun-woo had lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "It's the character she's cosplaying," he explained. He had a deep, smooth voice that contrasted with his lithe physique.

Ferissa looked at him with narrowed golden eyes. "Oh, come on, the only reason you're pissed off is because I'm a werewolf cosplaying a vampire!"

"Actually, I'm pissed off ninety percent of the time," Hyun-woo snarked back. "It's just that I don't see the point of you dressing up like the reject from a Tim Burton movie when there's not even a comic convention like last year."

"Because Clyde and his fetish gear are okay, right?" Felissa retorted. "Any by the way, Tim Burton as nothing to do with this, this is an anime character! You're Asian, you should know that!"

"Yeah, because all Asia is Japan, right? Now what, are you going to tell me that because I'm Asian I should be a kung-fu master?"

"I know they don't quite look the part, but I can assure you they are decent alphas," Wyatt was explaining to Drake in the meantime, a big grin on his face. "And even though they keep bickering, they love each other like brother and sister."

Yeah, if by brother and sister you mean you and Talia, I can totally see that, Drake thought. "Is that a real Japanese sword?" he asked to Felissa, trying to stop the two alphas from their pointless quarrel.

Felissa raised the long sheath with a puzzled expression. "This? Nah, that's just a prop. As much as I'd love to, Joy won't let me bring here a real katana..." She looked quite disappointed all of a sudden.

What, is she implying that she has a real sword at home? Drake pondered; the idea of a primal wolf wielding a sword samurai-style popped up in his brain: he chuckled, but to be honest it was kind of a badass image. The beta, lost in his thoughts, looked around at the rest of the hall in a sudden and incredible moment of sensory overdrive, trying to memorize every face, listen to every voice, sniff at every smell with a big smile on his face; when he realized that Felissa and Hyun-woo were staring at him, he scratched the back of his head as always when he was caught doing something embarrassing. "U-um, sorry... It's just that it's the first time I see that many werewolves all in one place." His eyes still darted here and there, trying to find some familiar faces. "Are there some students from Grand Mesa here, too?"

Hyun-woo shook his head. "Too dangerous," he explained. "With all those many werewolves living there, if the hunters should find out... That's why Joy doesn't send invitations to Grand Mesa or to Willow Glade." The Korean man intercepted the puzzled look on Drake's face, so he hurriedly explained. "The sister college to Grand Mesa. It's in Wyoming. Clarisse and Letitia, from Joy's pack, studied there."

"I see..." Drake replied. Well, if there was an all-male werewolf college, it makes sense for an all-female one to exist, too. "But, I mean, seeing and hearing and smelling that many of our kind is..." His eyes were filled with childlike and innocent wonder, and the end of his spine sprouted his big, bushy grey tail just so that he could wag it in happiness.

Wyatt looked at him with a fond smile and scratched his head, to which Drake responded with a blissful growl and the lengthening of his fangs and ears. "You see why I love this big boy?" he told the other two alphas. "Isn't he the most adorable puppy you've ever seen?"

Hyun-woo's irises shone bright through the curtain of his hair. "Yeah, I'd give him a C-," he conceded.

"Which, for his standards, is like an A+," Felissa chimed in.

"Alpha, can I, um... go take a sniff around?" Chance asked Wyatt in a shaky voice. He too was glancing around, but instead of being happy he was nervous and clearly expecting to see someone; and Drake, even if the majority of his brain was focused on the simple yet incredible pleasure that being scratched was giving him, was quite certain about the identity of that "someone".

"Um? Oh, yeah, of course. After all, this convention is an occasion to meet other people, more than anything else," the alpha replied. Chance nodded and disappeared among the crowd, immediately followed by a hurried Kaylee, yelling at him to wait for her.

Angela, in the meantime, was chatting with Felissa. "Are your packmates around here, too?" she asked. "I would love to say hi to Nastassja and Karen."

The cosplayer gave her a beaming smile. "Yeah, they were over there some minutes ago. Jorge was very anxious about meeting Patrick again! He is one of my betas, you see," she then explained for Drake's benefit. "And he's deaf, too, so naturally the bonded quite well last year."

Seems like everyone has friends here, too, Drake pondered, still wagging. I hope I'll be able to make some new friends, too! The young man raised his eyes and noticed that someone was looking at him with an amused but good-natured expression. "Oh. Um..." he mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed to having being discovered behaving like a big dog by a complete stranger (although, since Drake was surrounded by hundreds of other werewolves, that was just a matter of time). "H-hi!"

The young man in front of him was probably two or three years older than he was; he had the typical "boy next door" look, with light brown hair, deep blue eyes and a charming designer stubble that suited him very well. He was in shape and well muscled, although not as much as Drake, and was wearing a white long-sleeved t-shirt with a V-neck that showed quite the amount of clear, wispy body hair. "Your tail is amazing, pal!" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely admired. "Wish I could sprout something that long and wide! I'm Jacob, by the way," he held out a hand, and the moment Drake grabbed it, his claws extended, resting against the skin of the other wolf's wrist; Drake did the same, as a sign of mutual trust and acceptance.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drake," he replied. "This is the first time I attend this convention, and..."

"Really?" Jacob interrupted him. "Me too! We come from near Las Vegas, me and my pack. You?"

"California," Drake replied. "Wait, you said 'my pack'? Does that mean that you are..."

"An alpha, yeah. Although, I probably don't look the part very much, huh?" Jacob beamed him a dorky grin and scratched the back of his right hand with the left. "I'm trying my best to be a good leader for my pack, but it's not that easy, hehe."

Drake smiled back: Jacob looked really friendly, and they both seemed still uncertain on the right way to be good werewolves. Hey, maybe I've already found my first new friend!, he said to himself, leaving his tail free to wag. I'm sure we will get along great. He turned around to look at his alpha, who was now busy catching up with Hyun-woo and Felissa. "Wyatt, sorry to interrupt you, but I've just found another alpha!" he exclaimed in a quite excited tone.

Jacob stepped forward, introducing himself; his appealing dorkiness and his natural charm did the trick almost immediately, and after less than a couple of minutes he had already being accepted inside the small group and was joking with the others as if he had been friends with them for years... or at least with Wyatt and Felissa, since it was pretty much impossible to understand what Hyun-woo was thinking. Of all the alphas I've met so far, he's without a doubt the most mysterious, Drake thought, looking at the Asian young man. I'm quite curious to see who his pack members are, to be honest.

A sudden booming noise made Drake jump and yelp: the double doors behind them had burst open, and a veritable troop of werewolves led by Joy were marching inside, each of them pushing a huge cart filled with dishes, cutlery and enormous serving trays; even if each of them was covered by a rounded lid, Drake couldn't help but starting to drool at the prospect of the delicious slices of meat that surely were being carried inside the hall... And he wasn't the only one: next to him, Jacob let out a pained snarl, as if the hunger he was feeling was causing him hurt, and Felissa was carefully removing her pristine white opera gloves, so that they wouldn't be stained by the gravy.

The wolves parading with the carts must have been Joy's pack, Drake reflected: he had recognized Xander - who was pushing the most loaded cart of the bunch with ease, even if he was huffing and puffing like a locomotive - and the suited girl at the reception desk, accompanied by a slightly older woman with strawberry blond hair wearing a very colorful dress resembling an Indian sari; Dakota closed the procession with an expression of nervous concentration on her pixie face, and Drake could distinctly hear a familiar yip coming from the middle of the crowd.

Joy parked her tray near the table closest to the doors, and one of her betas - a tall, imposing man in his fifties with a perfectly trimmed steel gray mustache and all the composure and self-assurance of an impeccable butler - started coordinating the preparation of the buffet, directing his packmates with simple yet clear orders pronounced in a suave British accent.

The dark-skinned woman had produced a microphone from who knew where, a microphone which was connected to a series of speakers lined all over the walls. "Can you hear me?" she tried, and the resulting screech caused dozens of werewolves to yelp and moan in pain, the sound desecrating their sensitive ears. "Yep, you can. Okay, so... We are going to start serving dinner in five minutes. I know you're all hungry, I can hear your heartbeats and the rumble of your stomachs from here; but please, stay in line and don't start fighting over food, 'cause there's enough for everyone! For those who were here two years ago, remember what happened? We don't want something like that to occur again, right? Because cleaning up all that blood from the walls was a real pain in the ass!"

"Uh? What happened two years ago?" Drake asked Wyatt, but his alpha's reply was cut short when Clyde entered the hall with his pack in tow: at least twenty-five men of different ages and skin colors, all of them very furry and sporting various degrees of beard; the manly musclebear was still wearing his black fetish gear, and was escorted around by three of his packmates, without a doubt his favored betas.

The first of them looked a lot like his alpha - except for the wiry dark blond hair and a nose ring that would've made a bull envious - and even shared his taste for leather, although his harness and pants were tan in color, but was built like a fireplug: he was five feet and a half tall, with a thick and almost invisible neck and a wide, stocky build. Despite the gruff, intimidating crease of his mouth, his chocolate brown eyes and the tiny wrinkles around them betrayed a goofy and playful personality.

The guy walking next to him was a bit taller and leaner, but still packed with muscle. The olive skin of his skin was a clear indicator of his Latino heritage, and the thick, walrus-like horseshoe mustache - completed with a soul patch - he was sporting was jet black and looked sexy and silky, so much so that Drake discovered himself wondering how it would've been to feel that facial hair brushing against his own during a passionate kissing session. He was wearing a full biker suit that hugged his body in a black leathery embrace; the front zipper was down to his navel, however, his hairy chest and washboard abs for the world to see. When he realized that Drake was looking at him he winked lewdly, one of his hands slithering under the buttery leather to play with a dark nipple.

The third man was the youngest of the three, and also the tallest. With his long, quite lanky limbs and a compact and powerful torso, he looked like an orangutan walking on his tiptoes, an impression strengthened by his shaggy red hair. His lobes were stretched by white gauges, and industrial piercings adorned his ears; even his eyebrows and lower lip were likewise pierced with steel rings; his beard was bushy and unruly, and added a lot to his silly and bizarre charm, as did his intense blue eyes. Of the three, he was the one dressed in the least extravagant manner, with a black, white and grey tartan-patterned shirt that looked like it had its sleeves torn off, and a pair of baggy black pants full of zippers and thick chains... Although, fastened around his neck, there was a shiny, thick rubber collar adorned with long metal spikes. Overall, he looked like the lovechild of a hipster and a punk.

The first thing Clyde stared at, when he entered the room, was Joy's pack, who was finishing arranging the trays and cutlery under the supervision of the butler-like werewolf; his half-open mouth let out a small, expectant growl. "Guys!" he exclaimed with his deep baritone voice. "Dinner!"

In that moment, Drake thought that he would have never been able to forget such a show: more than twenty male werewolves, their eyes shining and their fangs lengthening, running towards the tables under the horrified eyes of Joy, who nearly let her microphone fall on the ground. It was like seeing the charge of a herd of bearded rhinoceroses. Of course this caused a chain reaction in the other lycans, causing an assault to the buffet that Joy's pack members tried to fend off as much as they could.

Clyde, in the meantime, was still standing next to the door with his three betas, his arms folded and a satisfied expression on his face. "Look at my boys..." he murmured. Finally, he noticed that Drake was nearby and gestured at him. "Hey, Drake, come here! I want to introduce you to the family! This is Gordon," he pointed at the short musclebear, whose sour mouth turned upwards in a smile that lighted his entire face up. "Eddie," the Latino guy wearing the revealing biker suit caressed his thick mustache and gave another seductive wink. "And Solomon," the red-haired hipster nodded and let out a friendly greeting. "Those guys are my packmates, but these three are family," Clyde explained, with the genuine pride of a father singing the praises of his sons.

"Clyde saved us," Gordon said, looking at his alpha with gratitude and love. "He gave us a place to live, a purpose and a new existence... We'll never be able to thank him enough for his gift."

Drake nodded. "I know that feeling: Wyatt did the very same for me. I was lost in the woods with a broken leg when he found me and turned me into a werewolf... And it was the best thing anyone has ever done for me."

Clyde nodded, and gave Drake a fatherly pat on the shoulder. "I'm so glad that li'l pup has finally found a proper mate. Don't worry, I don't plan on stealing you from him!" His friendly smile, although, became a predatory expression. "Although, I hope you'll consider my offer anyway, me and my boys always love having someone like you arouuuuu_UUUUH! FUCK!_" Two unforgiving fingers had just clamped around the musclebear's left ear in an inescapable pinch. Joy pulled him down, so that Clyde could look at the fury burning in her eyes.

"I swear to God that during the Battle of the Betas I will end you, Clyde," she hissed between infuriated snarls.

Clyde, not feeling intimidated in the least - or maybe just being able to feign quite well, since Joy's wrath was so intense it could be smelled - stuck the tip of his tongue out in a playful manner. "Hey, at least it didn't go like two years ago, right?" he replied. "Come on, Joy, I was just trying to jazz up the atmosphere... Now why don't you let my ear go, please?"

"Jazz up my ass," the woman replied in a bitter tone... Although, she did unclasp her grip. "You're lucky that I consider you a friend, Clyde, or else..."

Clyde lowered his eyes to the ground, looking so regretful and pitiful Drake had to restrain himself not to hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. "You're right, Joy, I've been a real asshole. Can you forgive me?"

Joy lifted her eyes, her cornrows shaking over her shoulders like a nest of nervous snakes. "Gaah, whatever. As I could have ever stayed mad at you..." She still pointed an index finger towards him, like a dog instructor scolding a big rebellious mutt. "But don't do something like that again, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Clyde let his ears grow and become furry just so that he could lower them a bit.

"Battle of the Betas?" Drake repeated after the female alpha had gone back to the buffet to help her packmates serving the horde of hungry werewolves. Clyde ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry, you'll see in due time! Maybe Wyatt will choose you as his representative, this year." Drake, still curious, tried to ask more, but the musclebear pointed at the tables full of tasty food with his bearded chin. "We should hurry, boys, or we'll be left with an empty stomach!"

Drake, not distracted by the burly and garish pack anymore, finally caught up with all the juicy smells swirling around the hall: his mouth salivated as the aromas of beef, veal, chicken, pork and mutton cooked in dozens of different ways mixed together in an intoxicating symphony... but in the middle of that tapestry of odors, Drake's sensitive nose managed to find and follow and single, wonderful thread. The werewolf darted into a short run, not even caring about suppressing a joyful bark; behind the table, the British gentleman looked at him with a quizzical but amused expression when he held out a big plate, with a big toothy smile on his face. "A serving of venison, please!"

The deer meat was cooked just right and covered in rich gravy; of course it wasn't as good as Cordelia's - but that would've been impossible - but eating that wonderful food brought tear of bliss and gratitude in Drake's eyes. He gulped down the serving while sobbing, tears trickling down his cheeks before being trapped into his beard; that was one of the things he loved the most about being a werewolf: the enhanced smell and taste he had gained after the bite were second only to sex in terms of pure physical stimulation... every time he had been eating something good, it was like his mouth was having an orgasm.

"You certainly seem to enjoy your meat!" Jacob exclaimed; he too was carrying around a plate choke full of roasted beef.

Drake wiped his face clean with the back of his hand and sniffed once more. "Sorry for that... I tend to get overly excited when it comes to food."

The alpha gave him a friendly smile. "I don't see anything wrong with that. I mean, we are wolves, right? We have instincts, and I don't think there's anything wrong in satisfying them. We should be free and wild, right?"

Drake nodded at his words. "Indeed! I love eating, I love running through the woods and, well, I love mating with my packmates... Makes me feel way more alive than when I was a human, and I love every single moment of that." He lowered his face on his now empty plate, as if he was trying to divine his own future by interpreting the remnants of gravy. "It probably sounded a bit silly, right?"

"On the contrary," Jacob replied. "I think your honesty is... refreshing. Wish all the other werewolves would see it our way." The brown-haired alpha snorted. "Oh, well, I guess living free is not something for everyone." He shook his head, as if he was trying to get rid of that particular thought. "Anyway, have you heard about that Battle of the Betas, too? Did your alpha... Wyatt, right? Did he say anything about that?"

Drake shook his head. "No, I've heard about it just some minutes ago, but I don't know anything more than its name. Maybe it's like a tournament where betas from different packs battle against each other? I'm sorry, I'd love to be more helpful..."

Jacob shrugged, but the smile didn't leave his face. "Nah, don't worry, Drake. Let's talk about something else, then... So, when did you become a werewolf?"

For the next half hour, the two of them had some friendly small talk... well, Drake was the one speaking most of the time, but Jacob was a great listener. He seemed especially impressed when hearing the story on how Drake and his pack had defeated a direwolf. "Wow, I'm sure you'd be a worthier alpha then I am!" he exclaimed. "I think I would just piss myself in fear, should I find myself face to face with a monster like that!"

The two of them laughed, and Drake shook his head. "Nah, I'm perfectly content in being a beta... And besides, Wyatt is the best alpha I could hope for."

Jacob nodded. "Well, I still think you have what it takes to become a good alpha. Take it from a fellow one."

Drake, as his habit was, massaged the back of his head in an embarrassed gesture. "Well, thanks! Apparently, you're not the only one thinking that..." I still remember what my wolf told me that time... 'I think I can accept someone like him as our alpha... For the time being, at least.' I've never thought about these words, but... Just following that train of thoughts was making feel bad and guilty: to him, it felt like he was betraying Wyatt.

With eyes full of need and sadness, Drake searched for his alpha, smelling frantically to find his wonderful, familiar spicy scent, and he found it in a handful of seconds: he was in the farthest corner of the room with Joy, Clyde, Felissa and Hyun-woo, next to a wide white piece of cloth covering something really big. Drake excused himself and left the dumb-founded Jacob in the sole company of his empty plate, and darted through the crowd. Despite the cacophony of voices and sounds around him, he could distinctly hear Wyatt laugh and exclaim "Really?!" and his heart skipped a couple of beats; Drake covered the last few feet with a jump and hugged his alpha from behind, nuzzling the face against his cheek.

Wyatt jerked in surprise, but his expression mellowed the moment he realized who was hugging him. "Did something happen, my dragon?" he asked, a hand scratching his beta's beard.

Drake shook his head. "No, I was just missing you, that's all." Now that he felt the warmth of the body of his alpha against his, all his worries seemed to evaporate and disappear like dew under the sun.

Wyatt ruffled his hair. "See?" he tell the other four alphas. "Am I the luckiest guy in this room or not?" He and Drake exchanged a quick, tender kiss. "So... You were talking about a surprise, right, Joy?"

The dark-skinned woman beamed at him. "Well, I did promise you something last year, right?" she said, grabbing the cloth that covered the big object.

Wyatt's mouth opened wide. "Don't tell me that..." he murmured.

Joy nodded at the other three alphas, and they pulled the cloth at the same time, revealing what was hidden underneath. "Ta-daan!"

Wyatt let out a small excited yelp: under the sheet was a black grand piano, crouched like a huge, slick, wooden panther, grinning at him with its white keys. "Yes!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together: he looked like a kid inside the chocolate factory of Willy Wonka. "Great! Now we can sign our anthem properly!"

"No, come on, you can't tell me that a werewolf anthem actually exists!" Drake's voice was so surprised and puzzled he sounded almost indignant.

Joy and Clyde looked at each other and grinned. "Nah," the leather clad bear replied. "Although, composing one would be fun!"

Felissa nodded. "Yeah, something about the full moon and how good it is to eat meat," she mused.

"And it should end with 'fuck the principle of mass conservation'," Hyun-woo chimed in; when everyone's eyes turned into his direction, he shrugged. "What, too subtle?"

"Hey guys!" Joy, in the meantime, had produced her microphone again. "A moment of attention, please! Last year we didn't quite manage to do that, but since this time we have little Wyatt here at the piano, we'll try and sing the convention anthem now, so if you know the song feel free to join us, especially during the howls!"

"The howls?" Drake repeated.

"Yeah," Wyatt, sitting on the pianist stool, replied. "Although, my dragon... You should limit yourself to them, even if you know the song." He cracked his fingers, getting ready to play.

Drake sighed. "Hey, it's not like I have to be reminded that I suck at singing..."

"Don't worry, it's also one of the very few things you're not good at," Wyatt reassured him. His hands started pushing the keys, and an upbeat and merry tune rose from the piano; at first, Drake mistook it for Sweet Home Alabama, but then Joy and Clyde started singing the first line, his gruff baritone and her smooth, jazzy contralto blended together in a warm, rich-textured duet.

"I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand..." After a few seconds, many other convention attendees joined the chorus, singing about a lycanthrope and his search for a Chinese restaurant. Drake, who had heard the song a couple of times, braced himself for the end of the first verse; and when more than a hundred werewolves joined in for the first howl, he felt a primal, joyful bliss inside him as he raised his face to the ceiling and let out his thunderous "AROOOOOOO!" along with the others.

With the second verse, almost everyone was singing, even if many of the wolves - especially the younger ones - didn't know the words and just followed the tune and the rhythm, humming with their mouths closed; the howls, however, became so intense, happy and wild that they shook the walls of the hall. It's so beautiful, Drake said to himself, his arms around the shoulders of Felissa and Hyun-woo as the three barked at the painted full moon over their heads. It's like we are all part of the same pack, all of us. And indeed, it was something too incredible to be believed: three hundreds of lycans singing together "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon and howling as if they were one.

After the last chords of the song had been played and Wyatt had lifted his fingers from the white and black keys, a moment of silence followed, before a booming and cheerful ovation exploded in the room. "Yeah, we did it!" Joy exclaimed in her microphone; she looked like she was in the verge of crying. "My god, it was incredible! Thank you so much, guys! Now, who has another song in mind?"

And so, for the next half hour, the werewolves sung while Wyatt accompanied them at the piano: first "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival, then Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf" and "Bark at the Moon" by Ozzy Osbourne. Felissa even insisted to sing a slow, dreamy ballad in an incomprehensible language that, according to her, was about the moon... Although, since she was very good at singing it, no one complained.

"Okay, guys!" Joy exclaimed after Felissa had given her the microphone back. "I think it's time for the juicy part, and I'm not talking about meat! I'm sure many of you were eagerly waiting for this..."

The rhythmic shout "Battle of the Betas! Battle of the Betas!" raised from the crowd; Drake noticed that some of the attendees were losing control over their wolves in the heat of the moment, letting golden eyes, furry ears and clawed hand-paws appear.

"Indeed!" the dark-skinned alpha replied, with a broad fanged grin. With an ample gesture she pointed at the middle of the room, where her pack members were busy arranging the chairs to delimit a large, rectangular empty space. "The ring is almost finished, and Dakota here..." The blond girl run to her alpha frantically, with a small salad bowl full of folded pieces of paper. "Is ready to extract the names for the first match!"

"I w-will do my best!" the girl exclaimed, the bowl almost slipping from her shaky hands.

Drake felt Wyatt's hand grabbing his own: he looked down, and met the loving gaze of his boyfriend. "Are you ready, my dragon?"

"Um... What am I supposed to do exactly?" Drake scratched the base of his neck with his free hand. "You never told me anything about this 'Battle of the Betas'..."

The alpha lifted a single finger. "First rule: you do not talk about the Fight Club." He snickered at his own joke, then went on. "It's just a series of sparring matches between betas from different packs, don't worry. Just remember all the fighting training we had in the past few months, it's really not that different." The two walked to the ring of chairs, who was of course starting to get crowded: everyone seemed very impatient to see some blood... even though Drake hoped that would have remained just a figure of speech. "Last year Patrick managed to reach the final match, but I have the feeling that you may win the tournament, you know!"

"Well, I hope so," Drake replied. Nervousness crept inside his heart like poison ivy, but the werewolf managed to keep the unpleasant feeling at bay. "Although, why don't you alphas fight instead? I mean, you're way stronger than we are, I'm sure the fights would be..."

Wyatt shook his head. He didn't seem pleased by the question. "That cannot work. If an alpha loses in front of his packmates, the respect they feel for him or her may be diminished and damaged: the betas may start to think that their alpha is weak, and that they could be better leaders... A pack could end up destroyed, if something like that happens."

"I see..." Well, I am sure I wouldn't think less of Wyatt, even should he lose against someone. But now that I think of it, my wolf probably has a different opinion on the matter...

Joy and her youngest packmate, in the meantime, had climbed over a strategically placed table, so that they could oversee the situation from above. "So... The first fight will be between..." Dakota fished two pieces of paper out of the bowl and passed them to Joy with a nervous gesture. "Jacob and... uh, little Wyatt! Come on, guys, choose your betas!"

"Great, we can get the party started," Wyatt said, with the grin of someone who was already tasting victory. "Go, my dragon, show them how strong you are."

Drake smiled, grateful for the trust granted him. "I promise I won't disappoint you, my alpha," he replied; he took off his shoes and socks, and - on a sudden whim - his leather jacket and his t-shirt, exposing his furry chest and pierced nipples and eliciting some wolf whistles from Clyde and Eddie. Well, one of the rules of Fight Club was "No shoes, no shirt," right?, he thought, before stepping inside the ring of chairs. And, after all, he didn't want to ruin the Christmas present he had got from his packmates.

On the opposite side Jacob was staring at him, shaking a hand to attract his attention. "No hard feelings, okay?" he exclaimed.

"Do your worst!" Drake replied with an amicable grin. His eyes scanned the pack member of the brown-haired alpha, gathered around him: there were at least three twenty-something young men that could pass for professional football players, judging from their build. It will probably be one of them, he thought. Nothing that I can't take care of. After having defeated the direwolf and the months of training with Wyatt and the others, he felt strong and confident. He let the wolf pour out slowly, reveling in the sensation of his fangs lengthening, his nails darkening and honing into curved points, the fur on his face and body becoming thicker and his muscles getting bigger and more powerful; he wasn't a man, nor he was a beast, but a flawless union of both, and was feeling ready to face anything.

Jacob stared at him, his eyes flashing gold for a second. Then, he said just one word. "Inori."

"Yes," a thin voice with almost no inflection replied from behind him. A sudden movement, like a shadow coming to life, and the most improbable of the opponents jumped inside the impromptu ring.

She looked like a child, not only for her height - she couldn't be taller than five feet - but also because of her delicate, doll-like features: smooth skin, large dark eyes and long eyelashes on a face that could have been cute, should her owner have bothered to show any expression whatsoever. Her long black hair were tied into a high ponytail, and almost reached the ground; she was wearing a simple tank top and a pair of shorts, leaving her slender pale limbs bare. Despite her Japanese-sounding name, she didn't look Asian, or at least not completely.

Drake furrowed at Jacob. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked. I already feel dirty whenever I have sex with Kaylee, but this girl is even more of a Lolita than her! I can't possibly fight against her, I'll break her in half!

Jacob replied with an amused smile. "I won't underestimate her, if I were you... Show him what you can do, my lily of the valley."

"Yes," Inori repeated, her voice cold and impersonal like that of a robot. Her transformation was almost instantaneous: her black eyes shifted to a pale yellow, and a bushy slender tail slithered out of her back, covered in a silvery fur with the same shade of the moonlight; the claws on her hands and feet were unexpectedly long and curved like sickles, looking disproportionate on her delicate hands... and, most of all, deadly. The strangest part of her change, though, was the sudden drop of her impassive mask, so quick that Drake wasn't sure if that had really happened: her stoic expression was - for but a tiny moment, like the missing frame of a movie - replaced by anguish and disgust, as if the shift into the wolf was painful to her.

Okay, it shouldn't be difficult to defeat her, Drake pondered. Judging from her body type, she clearly relies on her speed, but she doesn't appear to have that much stamina... I'll just have to fend her off until she gets tired and drops her guard. He took a deep breath, trying to find the inner peace needed to face the fight, and a strange unexpected odor toyed with his nostrils: it was sweet, even overly so, and made him feel uneasy and a bit excited at the same time. Uh? I've never smelled a scent like this... Is it coming from her?

"Are you ready?" Joy exclaimed in her microphone. "Three... two... one... Fight!"

Less than one second later, Drake learned that he was right: Inori's main strength, much like Wyatt's, was her speed. In the past few months, both during the primal moons and the other nights, he and the rest of the pack had dedicated at least an hour to training, so that they could be ready in case of another direwolf attack; he and Wyatt had sparred against each other many times, and Drake had learned how to deal with fast enemies, and was sure that someone like Inori - who didn't look as strong as Wyatt - would've been easy to defeat. Unfortunately, there was a gap in his reasoning: Inori was fast, sure, but therein lied the problem.

She was too fast.

The very moment Joy had shouted "Fight!", she had darted forward, and Drake had barely managed to let out a surprised yelp and take a couple of steps back to avoid being sliced by the dark sharp-edged natural weapons that adorned the girl's fingertips. What?!, the wolfman could hear his brain exclaim in bafflement. How the hell did she...

Inori didn't even let him finish his thought: she turned around, pivoting on her right leg, and lowered her left foot on Drake's one, managing to puncture the skin and draw some blood before the male werewolf once again moved back, out of her reach.

Drake panted, staring at his opponent with blazing eyes. The skin of his left foot was torn and ruined, and a scarlet stain already marked the floor, but he could already feel the regenerative powers of the wolf starting to knit together, albeit very slowly, his wounds. Wow, she's...

Inori, without even breaking a sweat, rushed towards him again, her clawed arms raised. She tried another attack, lowering her arms diagonally as if she was tracing an X into the air; Drake, this time, managed to deduce the offensive maneuver and took a half-step back; but, before he could counterattack, the girl landed on the floor with her hand and pushed her upwards, trying to kick her opponent right under his chin. Drake bent backwards, but lost his balance and fell on the ground... And immediately rolled on the side, just in time to avoid the claws of Inori, who landed where he had been until a second ago on her four paws. She turned her head slowly, staring at him with yellow eyes that didn't look human in the least anymore.

Drake hurriedly got back on his feet and tried to put some distance between them. Who... No, what the hell is she?! Her agility, her nimbleness, her speed... She surely as hell wasn't human, but she didn't look like a wolf, either; more like one of those small, inconspicuous mammals that appeared to be too weak and harmless to do anything dangerous... that is, until you saw it killing a cobra.

And that was the second problem: Inori wasn't trying to defeat him, no; she was fighting to the death. Drake could easily smell the fierceness and determination enveloping her body like a venomous cocoon, along with something else: the same floral aroma than before, this time more intense. The scent seeped right to his brain... and another part of his body responded. W-why am I feeling aroused all of a sudden? he thought, while avoiding another quick jab directed to his abdomen. Inside his pants, his human penis had already turned into a canine sheath, and even if the red sensitive prick still hadn't emerged from his furry hole, Drake knew it was only a matter of time.

Apparently, the mysterious and sudden feeling of arousal wasn't something limited to himself: many of the male bystanders beyond the barrier of chairs were looking at Inori with predatory eyes, licking their lips with elongated canine tongues and, at least in a couple of instances, sporting a small but visible stain on their pants.

Damn... I have to find a way to counterattack, Drake said to himself, still keeping himself at a relatively safe distance from the creepy, enigmatic girl. And then I'll be able to fuck her. No, wait, I meant... W-wait, what did I mean? His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he could feel himself burning with need. M-my God, she smells soooooooo good... I bet she'd love my big cock in her tight pussy, like the little bitch she is... When he realized what he had just thought, he shook his head in horror. N-no, I love Wyatt and my pack, and I don't... I don't want to fuck her! I want to fight her, for Wyatt and for my packmates!

Drake closed his fists, using the pain from the claws puncturing the skin of his palms as a way to regain the lost lucidity. She may be strong, but I'm stronger, he thought, blood trickling through his fingers. I can't keep avoiding her blows... I have to attack her, turn the tide somehow; her weak point is clearly her lack of defences. If only I manage to hit her, just once...

Inori stood in the middle of the ring, unfazed by the ever multiplying ravenous gazes coming from the audience; it looked like some of the werewolves were inches away from tossing away the chair and assaulting her. Drake looked at her and a menacing growl made him bare his fangs. I don't know who or what you are, but I won't let you defeat me, no matter what. He charged her head down like a raging bull with his fists closed, ready to hit her, to punch her, to knock her out; he covered the feet separating them in a mere moment, his left arm ready to deliver a blow...

The girl jumped over him as if it was nothing, as if gravity was of no concern for her. Drake stopped his run, dumbfounded, and looked around. Where did she go?! Is she disappeared?! Only in that moment he realized that he was feeling the pressure of her lithe body against his back... And less than a second later, her deadly claws scraped lightly against his throat. "Give up," she murmured in his ear, her voice still inexpressive and flat. "Or I will kill you."

Drake's eyes were lost in the distance, even if they wasn't seeing anything. The voices of the crowd had been reduced to a small, persisting buzz in his ears, and all he could feel was the bitter, burning taste of defeat at the bottom of his throat. "I... I give up," he murmured, lowering his head in shame.

A moment of embarrassed silence followed the words. "W-well, that was unexpected!" Joy exclaimed, trying to go back to her usual cheerful tone and succeeding, even if only partly. "The winner of the first match of the Battle of the Betas is Inori, from Jacob's pack!"

The small girl slid down Drake's back, her wolf form disappearing in a mere second. "I am sorry for your foot," she murmured. "I hope it didn't hurt."

Drake snarled at her in response. Not only she has beaten me, now she even mocks me? Inori, however, didn't react at that.

"You did great, my lily of the valley." Jacob had stepped into the ring, and had placed a hand over his beta's tiny shoulder. "As I said, no hard feelings... right?" The brown-haired alpha was clearly happy for his victory, but he also seemed preoccupied for Drake.

The defeated wolfman couldn't find the strength to lift his head. "...right," he murmured in a begrudged tone.

"You see, the lily of the valley is a tiny flower," Jacob explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "Its scent is sweet, and it's a symbol of humility... But it has a dark secret: every part of it is highly poisonous. Even if it didn't seem all that much by looking at it, the lily of the valley is more dangerous than one could imagine." Jacob stood silent for a moment. "Never underestimate your opponent, Drake. Sometimes, even a small flower can defeat a dragon."

Drake walked out of the ring with his head down, barely registering where he was going. When he felt the arms of his packmates hugging him and their voices telling him that everything was alright and that he had fought well, silent tears began to trickle down his cheeks. No, I didn't fight well, I was completely thrashed. I didn't last even five minutes... How can I look into Wyatt's eyes again?

The answer to that anguished question came soon enough: two fingers forced his head up, and Drake could feel warm, familiar lips caressing his mouth. At first, he tried to squirm and free himself from the hug, but then he gave up and kissed back, tears still streaming down his face. I don't care, my dragon, Wyatt's lips and tongue were saying, even without words. I love you like always, and nothing can change that.

"I'm sorry, Wyatt..." Drake murmured, after the long, tender kiss was over. "You put your trust in me, and I..."

Wyatt shook his head, his hazelnut eyes filled only with kindness and understanding. "You beat a direwolf during your very first full moon, I don't need a stupid tournament to know how strong you are." His brow furrowed, when he looked into Jacob's general direction. "And besides, there was something strange about that girl, Inori... I've never smelled a scent like that; she wasn't just in heat, it was like her body was desperately begging to be used by any male werewolf around her."

"Also, her name is strange," Kaylee intervened. "I mean, she doesn't look Japanese, and though her name means 'prayer', so I was wondering..." She too looked at the mysterious girl, who was just standing beside her alpha in the middle of the crowd, her expression unfathomable. "A prayer for what, and towards who?"

(next chapter: Little girl lost)