Chapter 3 The Pack of the Westwood Wolf

Dream or Nightmare?

Now, there was only one reasonable explanation.

I was either dreaming or living the most fucked up day of my life.

"W-Westwood Wolves?" I repeated because I could not have heard him right, because I had to have misheard.

Cyrus hardly looked at me, radiating supreme unbothered energy. "Yes."

Yes?! That was it? Just yes? Not even a "Surprise! Haha, just kidding, we're really going to a lovely quiet village where no one ever turns into a fucking monster"?

Before I could process the bombshell that I was apparently dragged into werewolf territory, the naked guy- a fucking werewolf- who just shifted in front of me like it fucking wasn't a terrifyingly insane act to perform in front of someone you just practically met turned to Cyrus.

Because, yeah. Totally normal behavior. Nothing weird here at all.

"Theo, has the crisis been addressed?" Cyrus said, sounding as concerned as someone asking if dinner reservations were set.

Theo chuckled low on the line like they were sharing a private joke rather than discussing whatever horrible thing had just happened. "We reached a compromise."

Cyrus mocked with an eye roll. "Took them long enough. Greedy bastards."

I couldn't get past the fact that Theo had literally been a wolf about thirty seconds ago, so honestly, their casual conversation about "crises" and "compromises" were the least of my concerns. But my brain hadn't quite made it past my mouth yet, so I was still standing there - blinking like a broken marionette.

Then, as if he'd just remembered I existed, Theo's penetrating stare turned to me.

"And who is she?"

I gulped.

Cyrus, the absolute beast, wasted no time before delivering what could only be the worst possible introduction of all time.

"My new slave."

He said it so casually. As if he were reporting a weather forecast. Like this was some perfectly acceptable thing to say in public.

My jaw unhinged. "Excuse me?! "

Theo arched his brow and looked at me like I was a stray cat Cyrus had found on the street. "Again? Another human?"

Cyrus merely sneered, an assuring expression as a knife-wielding clown in a dark alley.

Theo sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have an unhealthy obsession, my friend."

"Not an obsession," Cyrus corrected smoothly, "just a preference.

Oh, fantastic. This complete and utter psychopath enjoyed collecting humans the same way some people collected rare coins. I was living the dream.

Theo shifted his gaze back at me, this time giving me a full once over, his piercing eyes consuming me as if calculating just what level of disappointment I was about to be.

"With any luck, this one lives."

I froze.

Excuse me?

My brain screeched to a halt. My soul briefly left my body. It was like my stomach fell so quickly it broke the sound barrier.

"...What do you mean by that?" I asked, voice embarrassingly cracking at the end.

Theo cocked his head to one side, putting on the most obnoxiously innocent expression I'd ever seen, dancing with devilry. "Mean by what?"

Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the part where you just suggested I was past my prime? Maybe expand on that before I begin screaming?

Cyrus snickered, a nasty little sound that dripped sarcasm and came out totally unaffected by the panic that had begun to creep through my bones. "Relax, Agnes. No one's going to kill you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, very suspicious. "You say it like it's optional."

Theo shrugged. "That depends."

I hated that I needed so badly to clarify that sentence.

"Depends on what exactly?" I did, squeezing my own arms tighter as if that could somehow stop the fucking circus I was in the middle of.

Theo and Cyrus shared a look before smirking. "It depends on how much support you are."

Oh. Oh.

Fantastic. Because that wasn't a totally terrifying thing to hear at all.

I was so doomed.

I looked at him, then his still-outheld hand. He hadn't shaken his hand yet? Not happening.

Instead, I gave him a sickly, false smile. "Who am I to shake the hand of someone so... powerful and good? After all, I'm just a lowly, back-Stabbing human."

The smirk disappeared from Cyrus's face at once. He turned his head toward me so quickly I worried about his neck breaking. Uh-oh.

"Agnes," he said slowly, his voice dipping to something dangerously low.

"What?" I blinked innocently. "I'm just being respectful."

"That was sarcasm," he spat.

"Oh, was it?" I feigned surprise.

Theo laughed. "I like this one."

Cyrus, annoyed not even a bit, found my wrist and pinched. "Apologize."

I raised my chin, unwilling to cower. "For what?"

His grip tightened. "Now."

Every bone in my defiant being screamed NO but his eyes? They were glowing red.

I gulped.

"...Fine."

I gestured to Theo, spat through clenched teeth. "My apologies, great and mighty wolf man."

Theo grinned. "Accepted, little human."

I rolled my eyes.

Oh, I hated it here already.

THE TEA DISASTER

"You have got to be kidding me."

Cyrus spit out the seventh cup of tea that I made for him. SEVENTH.

"This is disgusting," he pronounced theatrically, as though I had given him poison.

"You know," I said, deadpan, "normal people just drink tea and continue with their lives."

"I'm not normal," he said without missing a beat.

"No, you are the pain in my ass," I grumbled under my breath.

"What was that?"

I gave him an innocent smile. "Nothing, Master."

His eyes narrowed. He didn't believe me.

Cyrus crossed his arms. "Are you telling me you really don't know how to make a simple cup of tea?"

I threw my hands up. "Oh, my deepest apologies! "Oh, I missed the course where they trained me for slave work and sold me like a cheap goat!"

His gaze darkened. "Watch your tone."

"You need to be cautious with your expectations. I wasn't exactly brought up in a 'How to Serve Your Overgrown Wolf Master' type of environment."

He leaned in, voice dipping to some low and dangerous. "You will learn."

I puffed, grabbing the tray off the table. "Oh, your Majesty, allow me to make you another."

But as I trudged to the kitchen, a question nagged in the back of my mind.

Wait... is he actually a king?

Everyone in this place would practically bow when he walked by.

I hesitated, glancing back. "So, like, are you, a literal king?"

Cyrus raised a brow. "I am the Alpha of this pack. So, in a sense... yes."

I snorted. "Weird. Kings are usually old. You're... young."

His scowl could have melted steel. "Tea. Now."

I grinned, turning away. My favorite pastime was officially annoying him.

An Unexpected Ally

Just then a girl strolled in while I was trying to remake the tea.

"Need help?" she asked, with a friendly smile.

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?"

"Not someone important," she said cryptically. "But I do know how to make tea that won't have you thrown out a window."

That got my attention.

She ambled over, collecting leaves and grinding them up with honey, and then a squirt of lemon. Then she added the mix to hot water, stirred and strained it.

"There. Perfect." She handed me the cup.

I blinked. That was it?

"That's the very same thing I did," I grumbled.

She laughed. "It's all in the technique."

I squinted at her, then sighed. Whatever.

I took the tray and rushed back to Cyrus.

He raised the cup to his nose, then took a gritty sip.

I held my breath.

"Adequate," he finally muttered, draining the rest.

I could have fallen to my knees with relief.

And then - because the universe hates me - his eyes locked on mine.

"You haven't made this tea yourself, have you?"

I swallowed. Busted.

"...Should it matter?"

Cyrus reclined again, folding his arms. "If there is one thing I hate in this world, it's disobeying my orders,"

Oh, for the love of - he got the tea he wanted, didn't he?!

"Well, sorry for making your life easier," I said.

Cyrus's gaze darkened. "I'm warning you, Agnes. Next time, you obey."

His tailcoat had been removed, and his shirt was half unbuttoned.

I turned away so quickly that I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Damn it.

This place was going to kill me.