Chapter 5 The Alpha's business

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.

Something I didn't get.

His gaze lowered to my lips.

I instinctively bit down on them, concentrating, but his heated gaze made it impossible.

His scent was everywhere.

I hated this. Hated him.

... So why was my chest constricting in ways that felt unfamiliar?

Cyrus leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin.

My throat constricted.

Then, suddenly - his fingers skidded along my bottom lip.

The contact was so short, so featherlight, that it shot an inexplicable shock of something through me.

For a brief moment - one - I thought he'd bridge the gap.

But then he stiffened, just as suddenly.

His jaw set, he recoiled as if scalded.

All the warmth in his expression flicked off.

"Get out," he said coldly.

And just like that, whatever we'd just done with each other?

It was over.

The Alpha's Business

If I had imagined that Cyrus would spare me his meetings, I was mistaken.

So wrong.

Instead, he tethered me to him, like a shadow. Watching, listening, learning things I wasn't meant to know.

Now I sat silently, observing him walk around the room, frustration on his face.

"They've accepted the terms," Theo finally said. "We will be compensated by their government for any stray wolves found wandering on our lands. But if one of them attacks a human under our protection..." He looked at Cyrus and paused.

"They pay double the fine," Cyrus concluded, spinning the whiskey in his glass. "Hmph. I'd like to know how many of their sort actually will survive that rule."

Theo scoffed. "Considering their history? Probably not many."

Cyrus leaned in, elbows on the table. "Remind me why some of these fools like hunting humans over animals, again?"

"Because humans are sitting ducks," muttered Theo. "And some of them get a kick out of the ... thrill."

Cyrus's eyes darkened. "It's pathetic."

Theo let out a tired sigh. "Speaking of pathetic..." He paused, then said, "One of their wolves needs your blood."

Cyrus still.

The entire room went silent.

And then put his drink down slowly. "Excuse me?"

Theo rubbed his forehead. "It's a healing matter."

Cyrus chuckled dryly. "Let me get this straight. They cull humans, break our deals with them, and now they want my lifeblood?"

"It's a peace offering," Theo said irritably. "There's no need for another war over something so petty."

Cyrus snorted. "Which of my wolves did he attacked?"

"He didn't attack nobody," Theo said. "He had an argument with Ava and she scratched him. "She had some type of toxic chemical on her nails."

Cyrus shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. "Then Ava needs to offer him her blood."

Theo snorted. "You know she won't. She's just as stubborn as you are."

Cyrus took a dramatic sigh, in his pocket, and pulled out himself a golden dagger.

He stabbed his own finger without hesitation.

I gasped as dark red blood pooled at the wound ... but the bleeding ceased almost immediately.

The cut vanished.

What the hell?

Cyrus tipped his finger over a glass of wine, allowing a few drops of blood to fall inside, before sliding it toward Theo.

"There," he said flatly. "Tell them that's all they get."

Theo took the glass, shaking his head. "How generous."

Cyrus brushed him off and addressed me instead.

"I'm going hunting," he said. "Have my bath prepared when I come back."

I clenched my jaw. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Cyrus smirked at the sarcasm but said nothing. He just took his coat and walked away.

Cyrus's POV - A Stiff Reminder

I wasn't hunting.

I just needed to breathe.

To be away from her.

Three days. That's all it had been. Three. And somehow, Agnes had awakened something in me I hadn't felt in a hundred years.

I hurried into the church gardens - my safe space.

The destination I had been avoiding.

At the stone gates, I paused. But, taking a deep breath, I pushed them open and entered.

The gravestone remained unmoved. Nearby, the fountain still trickled with water, just as it always had.

A loathsome lump formed in my chest.

Gradually, I knelt beside the grave, dragging my fingers across the cold stone.

"...Forgive me," I whispered.

I picked one red rose from a nearby bush and placed it on the grave.

Another whisper.

A second confession.

"Forgive me."

But today, for the first time since Agatha went away...

I wasn't just mourning her.

I was scared that she was no longer the only ghost in my head.