Curiosity and Interest

Lobo’s POV


I guided my horse to the mountain, just where our safe haven sat, the little cabin. The little rusty, old place bore so many memories. Ones that triggered emotions I’d long wished I’d long forgotten and ones I’d wished I could hold on to.

But I’d severed the latter long when I became king. Those weren’t emotions fitting for a king and not to add the king of a pack such as mine.

With a long inhale, I secured my horse against the tree in the garden. “Be a good boy, ehh.” I stroked the mane as I patted it goodbye.

It was probably ages ago yet it still held all the magic to it, like a fucking mage that my lips almost curled into a long lost smirk.

I held myself as I sauntered to the front porch. In as much I was fond of this place as a kid, I resented a part of it, the part that tended to mother’s bursted lips, swallow eyes and all the numerous cut she’d sustained from being a punch bag to her fucking mate; my asshole of a father.

The man I’d wished I’d shared nothing with, not even his goddamn name. He was a monster, an asshole. Hell! He was the devil himself.

With our hands, my brother and I would treat our mother’s cuts, wounds and bruises to prevent it from getting infected. We didn’t have as many healers close by and yet she’d always be at the receiving end of Father’s wrath.

I hated him, hated his guts, hated anything that associated me with that asshole. That prick.

A bile formed in my throat as the memory reeled in.

Creaking the cabin door open, I crouched as I stepped into the old rusty room.

It still maintained the rusty feeling. The flower vase was exactly as it was as my mother had left it.

She was obsessed with flowers, plants and anything nature related. A pure angel who was mated to a monster. Placing the flower vase as it was, I meandered across the room, where an old dusty Italian chair sat. Upholster of the finest artwork.

On one of the days when father had abused her, whipped her like she was nothing more than an omega to him, or worse, a slave, she’d stayed up here, sewing a petal of flowers, each for I and Zeeb.

Tears welled up in her eyes even as she smiled and sang to us with a voice coarsed like that of a frog. We’d hug her. It was then and there I made up my mind even if my weakling of a brother would not.

I swore it to my life.

Pushing the window rail to the side, I let air from the garden waft into the room.

If I closed my eyes, just a bit, I could imagine she was back here and I was back in her arms, me and my brother. I could pretend we were fourteen.

The garden flourished even as everything seemed to be at the verge of falling to the ground, sullying every goddamn thing.

It had the sweet fragrance of cinnamon, rose and pine wood intertwined, woven together like a masterpiece weaved by a seamstress.

I walked into the garden, staring at the trees and flowers that my brother and I had cultivated together, out of fondness for our mother. To Make it more like home and comfortable.

Glancing at the flowers as they bloomed like they weren’t part of this hazard. I smiled, recalling how this motivated me to have a flower maze back at the pack. A garden.

It was always my mother’s dream. A flower maze with a bench to stare at the sunlight when everything had gone to shit and was bizarre. She always said, there’s hope as long as you can see the moon and the sun, feel the wind and smell the scent of a good sweet petal.

I made the garden my priority after my father's death. Of course it was a coincidence that he happened to die just after he’d beaten the hell out of the woman that birthed me.

Hell I’d gone rogue mad, my anger had slipped away and I’d swore that minute that he’d die by my own hands.

And so it was that when we went to war, he made the mundane error of tagging me along.

My hatred had never burnt so fiercely in my heart, I saw my true nature slip right through my eyes as I watched life fade in and out of his shitty self.

That wasn’t how I’d imagined killing him. It was so much of an easy peasy thing to watch light dwindle from his eyes.

Before then I’d savoured all the ways I’d cut him bit by bit, piece by piece till I was coated in nothing but his blood. I’d bathe in it.

I would watch as a guttural scream tore from his lips, as he thrashed and begged for his life. I’d gut him and make him beg my mother for mercy as he slowly lost the spark in his fucking eyes.

I fantasized goring him, whipping him, cutting him to bleed out that he’d curse the devil for giving him such a child as I, he’d curse the day he met my mother, the day he fucked her, the day he crossed path with her that in anothe life he steer away.

That was how I’d imagined killing him, not the easy death I’d given him. Too fucking merciful.

And what made it worse was the fucking fact that I could not publicly bath in his blood, drink it because I’d pegged it as an accident.

Killing him was one thing, but having the entirety of council come for my head for committing treason wasn’t as thrilling as killing him and raising a freaking champagne to his blood.

And so that led to the accident tale. Only my brother, Zeeb, had seen me.

However, he wasn’t daft to see how much the old wag scarred our mother. And even though he was the soft one with the heart of gold I could give no shit about, he hated father as much as I did.

So the tale of how a brave king and alpha was murdered in the war against his enemies swarmed the pack and everyone believed it.

Zeeb never said anything about the murder, but he and I both knew that it only took evil to get rid of another evil. Only greater evil could stop evil and since Zeeb was too much of a pussy to do anything, I had to step up just like I’d always been doing, just like I was destined to do.

And it brought me back to the present as I stalked back into the cabin.

It was time that I stood up once more, rid my pack of the one werewolf that could bemire everything I’d spent years building; Zeeb.

It was time that he went. I needed to take care of him before he became a bigger pain in the ass.

If the fact that I shouldn’t have been king as I’d connected treason wasn’t reason enough, the fact that he, Zeeb stayed quiet like a fucking master in the dark, watching and overseeing everything told me just how fast I should rid him of this pack before he became a pain in my fucking ass.

I wasn’t blind, I’d seen the way council members stared at him, like a perfect king fetched out of a goddamn fairytale.

And as long as I lived, he wouldn’t live up to the reputation of being the stupid prince that would send all my plans south.

Never! I would not allow it!


Strutting over to my guest, the fucking leader of the Rewa group, a dark smirk overtook my demeanor.

He saw me and shrieked in utter fear, terror rippled from him in increasing waves and I almost, almost guffawed at his reaction to my presence.

Squatting down, I yanked him by the collar, bring him close to my face.

Fear ripped through him, so strong that I could literally smell it.

Fucking coward!

“Please..please.. please don’t.. don’t kill me,” he begged like some pussy, weak like freaking chicken.

To think that he was the leader of the notorious rogue group, Rewa.

Shame.

I grazed his skin so that it drew blood and he began vibrating like one shot with an electric circuit.

Wrapping my palm around the scuffle of his mane, I throttled down, exacting force, so tight that I felt the bone in his throat and felt his freaking windpipe.

His eyes bulged out and he sputtered to form coherent words to no avail.

“I…I’ll….spe….ak.” He choked.

“Well spit it out!” I spat in his face.

He shook from terror and swallowed down on his saliva. “It.. it was Anisha…”

By the mention of that name my ear piqued with sheer curiosity and interest.

“Yes?” I urged impatiently.

“She came to us, she recruited our soldiers to help her out,” he revealed and I cackled coming to my feet.

Wow, I didn’t expect that from the bitch!

I dropped back to my knees and took his face in mine, caressing it and cackling, “I have a little job for you my friend.”

His eyes widened and he almost scooted back in fear but I yanked him close.

“What…..what is it!” He stuttered.

“You, my friend , are going to go back. You are going to act as my eye within. Spy on them and report back to me.”

“What!” He flinched and I shot him a glare.

“Yes.. yes sir.” He glanced down even as he viberated from sheer horror.

I patted him roughly by the cheek, “that’s a good boy.” I stood up, “and you better have good good information for me.”

I smacked his head and rose to my feet, my expression darkening.