Chapter 3 An Alpha

The

question takes Heaven by surprise. She remains calm, nevertheless.

"Nothing," she lies, "why?"

"It's

just... I heard when you said

'as long as he's not an Alpha'.

You might have said it beneath your breath, but my wolf ears picked

it up, you know. Does it have to do with you being a dormant wolf,

and envying those with stronger abilities?"

Heaven's

eyes widen a bit at the last question. "You discovered that too?"

"I

did. It's the very first thing I noticed about you."

"I'm

not ashamed of that." Heaven shrugs. "My rogue father with a

dormant wolf married my rogue mother with a dormant wolf. Together,

they had a dormant wolf, though my mom's advantage is that her

lineage has an amazing skill of healing people."

"So

you are a healer of some sort?"

"Not

really. The ability never passed down to me."

"So,

basically, the only thing you know how to do is dance."

Heaven

looks away with a nod.

"How

about fuck?" Ziason suddenly asks again, earning a sharp glare from

the girl. He doesn't mind her glower as he continues, "every

woman should, at least, know the basics of pleasing a man."

"I

have no intention to please any man," Heaven nearly snaps, "and

please add it in the contract that on no account should both parties

cross the boundaries of the other. My boundaries are not to talk to

me about anything relating to sex, and do not try to sexualize me in

any way."

Ziason

looks out the window. "No worries. I have no interest in women

either."

"Good."

But...

If

he isn't interested in women, what else would he have an interest

in when he's looking so hot?

.

.

.

______

Wolf

Kingdom.

Moon's

Wrath Pack.

The

car soon stops after a long journey.

Between

Ziason and Heaven, it has been absolutely silent after that talk of

sex. Both seem to enjoy the quietude too.

Someone

opens the door from outside the car. Since it's his side, Ziason

steps out first without bothering to help Heaven.

She

follows slowly behind him while dwelling more on checking out her

surrounding-a large compound floored with old bricks, rounded by a

great fence that looks like it could fall at any minute, and

harboring a round tower of dark stone walls that rises in uneven

layers, several narrow slits in the walls serving as windows.

A

cool air of damp limestone and old iron whizzes past Heaven's nose,

and-due to the silence within the vicinity-she suspects there may

be fewer or no souls living around the area.

Glancing

up, there aren't any electric wire crossings either, which means

Ziason wasn't kidding when he told her to forfeit her phone. He

really was bringing her to an uncivilized area.

"Just

out of curiosity, Mr. Father," Heaven starts while jogging to catch

up with Ziason's long strides, "would I be allowed the liberty to

use a TV, at least? I cant be dancing everyday all year long, and

I'll certainly grow bored."

The

man

doesn't respond. Instead, he pushes open the heavy, iron, double

doors of the tower that usher them into a large abandoned-looking

hall.

Heaven

gasps as she takes in the view of the hall as musky air clouds her

smell. Since it's empty, she can't help but envision the looks of

it when there were still people living in the tower.

Gazing

up, she notices that the dim lit building rises in tiers, the view as

if staring at a coiled snake of balustrade.

With

no ceiling in sight, the top looks unending, the whole structure

winding up in a spiral pattern with open floors-as in inner

balconies-protected by balustrades, each floor topping another like

an atrium.

Across

the double doors is the start of a stairway, where stands a

nervous-looking man in brown suit.

Heaven

catches him bowing to Ziason, who casually hands him the contract

while halting in his front and mumbling, "Satisfactory?"

The

way Ziason looks at the man seems to intimidate him. The latter dares

not return the gaze, so he just mopes at the contract.

"Uh...

Yes- yes, sir," he stutters.

Heaven

is confused, and doesn't seem to figure out what's going on as

Ziason fakes a smile at the man before going up the stairs.

She

she trails behind him, she has the urge to ask of the man's

identity, and why he looked so scared of Ziason. But she couldn't

find the courage to, so she simply drops the questions.

"This

building looks really old from outside, yet how is it so refined on

the inside?" she queries instead, trailing her fingers along the

rough balustrade edges as they slowly climb up the unending flights

of stairs.

"Maintenance,"

Ziason simply utters.

"Isn't

it dangerous to stay in it? I mean, it could crumble at any time."

"It

has been standing for nearly a century, Heaven. It will not fall on

your head, I promise."

When

they reach the uppermost floor of the tower, they walk through the

dark and chilly inner balcony that has several closed doors, which

probably belong to rooms.

Ziason

uses his phone torchlight to lead the way, as one could barely tell

daytime from nighttime from up here.

At

a point, he opens one of the doors and stands aside for Heaven to

enter the room. The girl hesitates before doing so.

"This

will be your room," he tells her.

"Not

bad." She shrugs.

The

room would be exactly her type had she ever had a private one-big

enough to her taste, aged walls that pull the faint scent of autumn,

a four-post bed at the center that's encircled by a black mosquito

net draping from its canopy, and about four candle sconces on each

wall with lighted candles casting warm glows across the room.

One

small uncovered window lets in fresh air and some light that chases

musk and darkness. And the fireplace doesn't seem to have been used

for ages, telling from how cold the room is. But it's well-kept

anyways.

"I

love the dark aesthetics of the place," Heaven begins after some

moments of silent appreciation, "but what about the kid?"

Ziason

gestures for her to come out of the room. When she does, he closes

the door and continues walking through the floor.

Heaven

counts the doors they walk pass until the seventeenth door after

hers. That's where Ziason stops, opening the door.

The

room's décor isn't any different from Heaven's. Except,

there's a little girl clad in a silk white robe sitting

cross-legged on the bed, her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders

to favor the bed sheet.

She

jumps out of the bed with a smile the moment she sights Ziason,

running to the duo and clasping her little body around Ziason's

left leg.

The

man pats her head while crouching down.

"How

have you been, my little lamb?" he coos, even though his deep voice

betrays him.

The

child nods in response.

"What's

her name?" Heaven asks.

"Kaicha."

Ziason rises to his full height. "Do not bother asking her

anything, though. She would not respond."

"Seriously,

why?"

No

response.

Kaicha

looks up at Heaven, jamming gazes with the latter's.

She's

a redhead like Heaven, though hers is a little darker-as in

burgundy.

And her eyes are so sharp that for some reason Heaven starts to feel

like she's staring directly into her mother's orbs.

She

quickly shakes the feeling off with a question, "Does she listen to

instructions?"

Ziason

nods. "Very well."

"And

her mother?"

"She

left me with Kaicha and left."

"She

wasn't prepared for motherhood, eh?"

Ziason

shrugs. "I will have her maid bring food for you as well. The maid

will also prepare your bath and every other thing you may need."

"So,

will you show me where the dance practice room is?" Heaven

asks while moving out of the room.

"The

ballroom, you mean?" Ziason

follows suit. "It's

on the floor before the ground floor. Come."

The

two adults board the stairs again. When they reach the second floor,

Ziason brings Heaven to a hall introduced through the very first door

in the floor. It's smaller than the bottom hall, yet Heaven can

already feel her feet itching to slide on its appropriately slick

floors.

"It's

my first time seeing a medieval ballroom," she giggles.

Ziason

huffs while leaning against the wall. "It is empty, Heaven, and the

floors were modified recently to fit your practice. You do not think

these floors existed back then, do you?"

"Well,

what do I know?"

"Besides,

most content of this tower have either been destroyed or given away.

If this room still had its matters, you would have been absolutely

astonished by its whole look."

"Why

did you give away the ones that weren't destroyed, then?"

Ziason

pushes himself from the wall and leaves the hall, heading for the

stairs. "To forget past memories."

Heaven

jogs to catch up with him. "I won't ask about the memories, so

how about the kind of dance you want me to teach Kaicha? We haven't

clarified that."

"Any

type that speaks to the soul."

"Oh..."

Heaven stops at the stair

landing

and watches Ziason hurry down the remaining steps

to the bottom hall.

"As

this has been settled, sir, is it okay for you release my family

now?" the man in brown suit, still standing close to the stairs,

asks Ziason who has

already rushed past him.

"Oh,

right! How could I have forgotten that?" Ziason mutters as he

suddenly turns back and approaches the man. "You were such a

patient lawyer, David, and a good one. It will be so sad to lose

you."

"What?"

Panic strikes across David's expression that instant, confusing

Heaven again as he raps breathlessly, "I swear, I don't know this

lady or why you need her! I don't know a single thing and neither

does my family! Please, let us go, I'm begging you!"

Ziason

nonchalantly pauses in front of David, his hands resting in his pants

pockets as he tilts his head down to stare intently at the lawyer. "I

WILL... let your family go," he whispers with a tight smile.

David

doesn't seem to buy it. "Alpha, pleas-"

Ziason

waves his right hand closely across the man's neck with a sharp

movement. Heaven would swear she saw the long nail of Ziason's

index finger slice through the man's throat right before blood

gushes out. But, even at that moment, she's gobsmacked at David's

last words.

"You-

you're an Alpha?" she whispers to Ziason, who merely glances up

at her before making for the door again.