Wolf Pack - 12. Ceos

The wagon rumbled into Ceos, a sombre mood present in its passengers. They were missing two of their own.

Danuva had delayed the journey for two days, insisting they scour the entirety of his property to find Elias. To no avail. Finally, Quarian voiced the thought that the neko had simply run off. He had been a slave, and he had been bought by Danuva. It was entirely possible he had fled what he saw as yet another owner.

Danuva had nearly bitten off Quarian’s head when he suggested it. They had been nothing if not kind to the neko, and he had told Elias he was a free man.

The more Danuva thought about it, the more he realized Quarian had a point. Elias was a free man now. If he didn’t want to stay with them, then he was free to leave. But it hurt to realize that Elias hadn’t even wanted to say goodbye to the man.

Beside the human, Quarian trembled as they unhooked the cart. Danuva recognised the signs; the full moon was nearly upon them. Reaching into his pocket, he fingered the vial Masia had given him. The two werewolves would be in their own rooms, the humans separated from them by a wall. Danuva had the task of giving a drop of tincture to the wolves before the moon hit them.

His own stomach churned wildly, and Danuva decided to have dinner sent to the room. He had no desire to eat with the others. Even after two and a half weeks, Elias’ absence tore at him. He couldn’t help but feel something had gone horribly wrong.

Taking the key as soon as Paelius paid for the room, Danuva handed a few coppers to the innkeeper, requesting a meal. He made his way to the room and closed the door quietly, laying in the bed to wait for his supper.

“He had feelings for the neko, beyond simple friendship,” Masia said, biting through a sausage.

“I don’t think he did. Danuva is quick to make friends, but he doesn’t fall in love in two days,” Quarian denied. “Either way, I do not like seeing him so… depressed.”

Paelius ignored his companions’ conversation, his mind miles away. He could feel his wolf inside him, growing ever more agitated by the minute. This was only his fourth month as a werewolf, and though he had grown somewhat used to the feeling of an alien being within him, he dreaded the forceful change that occurred with each passing full moon.

If the potion Masia had shown them prevented them from shifting, he would be able to return to Mydara, no longer a prisoner of this curse. He would still attack Te Hara pei Arudan, because it would help his father, but after, he would return from exile and take his place as the crown prince once more.

His body shuddered and Quarian grunted beside him. Meeting the werewolf’s gaze, he recieved a nod.

“Head upstairs five minutes after us, just to be on the safe side,” he told Masia before he and Quarian fled from the room.

Pounding on Danuva’s door, Quarian called for his brother. The human opened the door and bade the two to stick out their tongues. Letting a drop of the green tincture fall on their tongues, he quickly closed the door again, leaving the werewolves to enter their own room.

Paelius opened the door to their chamber, gagging at the bitter taste of the potion. He waited for Quarian to enter before closing the door and setting a deadbolt in place.

Quarian immediately claimed the bed, sitting cross-legged on the straw mattress. Paelius sat against the door and stared at the man.

“I don’t feel any different,” Quarian said after a minute of silence.

“Neither do I. I can feel the moon’s pull still,” Paelius sighed.

“It’s lessened though… Almost muted,” Quarian said contemplatively.

Paelius drew a deep breath.

“You’re right. I can fight-”

The scent of lavender flooded Paelius’ nose, caisong him to pause.

“Y- You smell like Danuva…” he said slowly, standing.

“It’s nothing I’ve noticed. But now that you mention scents, that’s some really good smells coming from you. Almost like a pastry,” Quarian muttered.

Paelius’ nose drew him forward, his wolf agitated. Stopping, he took a fortifying breath, pushing the wolf back.

A rough hand touched his shoulder, and Paelius gasped in suprise. He hadn’t seen Quarian move. A pair of lips drew the gasp from his mouth, and the lavender flooded his senses, ripping all thought from him.

He shoved Quarian back, following the man onto the bed. Yanking his clothes off, he lay on top of Danuva’s brother, thrusting with reckless abandon. For his part, Quarian eagerly rose to meet each thrust.

Quarians pants fell from his hips, and the wolf pulled the elven prince up onto his lap. Paelius stiffened, and Quarian whispered, “It’s okay. I’m only rough when you want me to be.”

Quarian poked at Paelius’ ass, waiting for the elf to relax before he let Paelius lower himself. The elf gasped as he was penetrated, groaning in a mixture of pain and excitement. As he slid further onto Quarian’s rod, Paelius sighed. This was highly inappropriate for a prince, but damn it felt good.

Masia opened the bedroom door, finding Danuva sitting against the far wall inside. He was holding his stomach, wincing in pain.

“Are… Are you okay?” Masia asked cautiously.

“I don’t know…” Danuva admitted. “I gave them the potion.”

“Let’s hope that it works,” the woman said, sitting on the bed.

Danuva whimpered, breathing rapidly and Masia swaug around the bed, facing him.

“What’s going on?”

“I…”

Danuva gulped, trembling.

“I can smell you…” he breathed.

His eyes widened and Danuva began tearing at his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Masia gasped.

“The potion…”

Masia looked around, spotting the vial on the desk in the corner of the room. She hurried toward the tincture and froze as she felt Danuva standing right behind her.

“It’s the moon talking… It’s just the moon…” the man whispered.

Masia turned, the vial in her hand. Danuva’s eyes travelled from her hands to her eyes and back, and he licked his lips.

“We don’t need this you know,” she said quietly.

Leaning toward the wolf, she gently pressed her lips against his. Danuva moaned, pushing into Masia.

“Do you really want this?” he asked urgently.

Masia yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Her breath caught in her throat as the man’s hands trailed over her body. Their lips crashed together again, and Masia allowed herself to be pushed onto the bed.

Danuva pulled her pants off, crawling over the woman. His eyes shone with lust, his rod lightly trailing up Masia’s body as he moved. Masia moaned as Danuva thrust into her, fast and urgent. He released quickly, sealing her fate, and Masia thanked him with a kiss.

Danuva tensed as a spasm hit him, and cried out in pain. Retreating from the woman, he frantically shed his clothes as white hair sprouted from his arms.

Masia watched the werewolf fall to the floor, wincing sympathetically. She had never seen anyone actually go through the change and she could only imagine the pain Danuva was in.

Curling into a ball, Danuva whimpered as his bones popped, changing position. His hand snaked out and grabbed Masia’s ankle.

“Kill me…” he begged, before screaming again as his face melted.

The cries became whimpers became whines. Masia watched in horrified fascination as the transformation finished, leaving Danuva as a snow white wolf.

Sandolin hurried into the inn, cursing. He had meant to arrive the day before, but another encounter with bandits had left him behind schedule, and he hadn’t reached Ceos until an hour after the city gates were closed.

An elf was wiping tables with a cloth as he entered. The werewof approached her immediately.

“I’m looking for an elf, two humans, and a neko,” he said. “Have you seen them?”

“The only elf here besides me is Lord Paelius,” the elf said nervously.

“What room is he in?”

“Twelve. His friends are in thirteen.”

Sandor hurried to the stairs, taking them three at a time. Walking down the hall, he stopped before room twelve and knocked on the door.

“You may enter,” Paelius called sleepily.

Sandor opened the door and stepped inside.

“My Prince, I bring new from-”

The elf faltered as he saw the hands of a human on his prince. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword and he growled.

“Sandolin, enough. I will not have you threatening my companions,” Paelius snapped.

“Rather feisty, isn’t he?” the human smirked.

“Report,” Paelius sighed.

“My Prince, are you sure it’s wise for your bed mate,” Sandolin spat, “to hear our discussion?”

“Quarian is coming with us. He has more experience with lycanthropy than any of us, save for perhaps Danuva. Report.”

“King Arethal will permit us entry into the Elven kingdom, provided after your business with Te Hara pei Arudan, you return to Mydara and conclude your foolish exile. Those are his words, not mine sir.”

Paelius nodded.

“Sandolin, your sword please.”

“My… my Prince?”

“Your sword. I require it,” Paelius said again.

Perplexed, the elf unsheathed his sword and held it out in his hands for Paelius to take.

The Prince of the Elves took the sword.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

Sandor gasped, his eyes wide.

“No… Sir please…”

Paelius scowled at his squire and the elf fell to his knees, tears flowing.

“Sandolin of the house Edara, you have served your Prince faithfully for the past three years. In light of your loyal service, I, Crown Prince Paelius Serande, fourth of my name, declare you a kinght of the Elven people. You will take the land of Te Hara pei Arudan, upon our capture of it, to hold between yourself and your descendants from now until the end of time. In the presence of the witness Quarian, I bid you rise now, Sir Sandolin.”

The new knight rose unsteadily, sobbing. He wasn’t Paelius’ squire anymore. There was a wall between them, one of decorum and honour. He would not share the elf’s bed ever again.