Onew never slept. It was a technicality, because really consciousness was guided by a sense of awareness. And although he was never truly awake–that fell to Jinki– Onew was aware of everything.

Onew, in a sense, was older than Jinki, wiser, more in tuned with who he was. He remembered his birth, the scent of the woman who gave birth to him, the smell of the damp cave he was born in. He remembered the fields and the forest around it, the taste of raw meat and the warmth of the weirwood firepit. He could, if he wanted, lead Jinki back to where he came from, show him his true people. See how the people who were the core of his existence influenced his life. Make the decision for him, forcing him to examine another facet. Test their influence over each other and everyone around them.

Jinki’s influence was evident. He was a leader, the leader, however it was Onew’s influence that made Jinki as strong as he was. Jinki may attribute that to other humans, Xiah for instance, but that was because it was a very predictable emotion fueled thing that humans did. Look outward instead of in. Onew influence was also more physical. Onew knew their body better than Jinki. He could feel the vibrations under his feet when someone was approaching, he could calculate what direction a weapon was coming from just by how it sounded cutting through the air. His eyes were keen, he knew he could see farther than any of other wolf, and could smell the very essence of any shifter that came near him.

Yet, one thing Jinki did better than Onew was emotion. The logistics of something ethereal, untouchable. Onew didn’t process emotion like Jinki did. That was known. No wolf did. The wolf inside of a shifter didn’t have the patience. Anger meant anger. Sadness meant you were sad. It took too long to break emotion down in the smaller parts to understand the why.

That’s why, after keen observation, Onew could say, confidently, that Jinki loved Minho. He didn’t know it yet or maybe he did and his pride didn’t allow him to say it but it was true. He loved him. Jinki was a traditionalist. Love came because he believed in it, because that’s what mated shifters did, because he cared for his mate.
Jinki loved Minho.

However…

Onew didn’t…love Minho in the same traditionalist sense that Jinki loved Minho. Onew felt he owned him, yes. Felt as if he would do anything to protect him, without question. Anything to make him happy? Of course. He needed Minho, wanted him. But love, he couldn’t process the goopy romance like Jinki did.

Onew loved, in a more feral sense, Caleo, Minho’s wolf.

Minho smelled like Minho–unique, rare, one of a ing kind. He loved the way Minho smelled. It was the very thing that grabbed his attention to begin with. Caleo? Gods. He smelled like everything Onew needed to survive. He’d only smelled Caleo once, over a shared meal. Onew could tell right then and there that Minho was suppressing Caleo but something–and it was the very reason why he knew they were fated to be together–allowed Caleo to skim the surface of Minho’s conscious, become aware, just for a scant few seconds, and the moment Onew smelled it, he shook with elation.  Caleo’s raw spices and earthen scent assaulted him, almost violently and he’d never been happier. He would never forget that scent for as long as he lived. He lived to smell it again.

And that day had come.

So, no matter how many olfas Jinki’s sibling threw up, or how many slip-shod thrown together herbal suppressants Kibum stuffed down Minho’s throat, there was nothing strong enough to mask the undertones Caleo’s scent. Not from him.

It was there, stronger than Onew had ever smelled it in his life and he made a decision. It had only been a two weeks, a blink in the life of a wolf, since Minho’s life was threatened. If Onew had been in control, Jungmo would have been torn limb from limb in front of everyone in Prae, so they would know not to ever in their pathetic lives threatened what belong to him. But Onew wasn’t in control, Jinki was, and Jinki had chosen to be diplomatic. Complete bull. Nothing mattered more than Minho’s life, and in turn Caleo’s. Nothing. And Onew wasn’t going to sit around while Jinki being a conciliatory got Minho threatened again or worse.

Jinki had influence here and although Onew enjoyed that, it was nothing to throw it all away.

Jinki would forgive him. He would forgive him for protecting what was his.





Minho paced the room, terrified, more terrified than he could ever remember being. Right as he was coming to terms that maybe he actually deserved this, to be at Jinki’s side, to be a leader of Prae, did the possibility that he could lose it all hit him. They would kill him. And he felt it, the cold steel across his neck, the fire at his ankles. He could see all of his dreams broken across a pyre of lies, brittle like his flame soaked bones.

But still that wasn’t the scariest part. His legacy was being built, to be written down in the annuals in the Dongbang Library, next to Hang Gen and Heechul, Yunho and Boa. His legacy built by the strength of his father, the courage of his sister, the sincerity of his mother. His legacy stretched across Kibum’s lips with every lie he’d ever uttered for Minho’s sake. It was pulled along by Jonghyun’s affection for Kibum, allowing him to accept Kibum’s lies with a love worn smile. Jinki…his mate, could be ruined because of him.

If he died a liar, their honor went with him. That thought scared him so terribly he shook.

He slid into bed and pulled the warm covers up to his shoulders then over his head, hoping it could block out all his fears.

He could hear Kibum on the other side of his door. His voice was hushed so it sounded like a wash of mumbled words, but it wasn’t like Minho cared. Kibum assured him that he and the Taemin could handle it. They’d erected an olfa around the Magnus Suite and Taemin had used his magic to seal into the walls. For now, it would work in keeping Jinki from detecting the foreign scent of an Omega no matter how close Minho got to him. And Kibum promised that as soon as the sun was up, they would journey to Wheph to see if it was possible for his father to create a stronger batch of medicine. But for now? This was all he was left with: the green vapor of the olfa and the aftertaste of Kibum’s jerry-made suppressant.

Would it fix the antidote swimming through his system? Kibum had no idea. Other than leeching, there was no telling how long the foreign substance would linger in his blood, no telling when his scent would ade the suppressant, no telling how long until the medication was no longer strong enough.

Minho screamed into his pillow.

As his screaming subsided, the room grew quiet, but it was an eerie sort of silence, as if everything had been muted. A strange feeling hummed in his chest and Minho didn’t know what it meant. However, he didn’t have the energy for trying to figure out another mystery tonight. Kibum’s voice faded as he and the Taemin moved from the Magnus Suite and suddenly Minho had the urge for fresh air. That was however, completely out of the question, but he could at least get out of this room before he went absolutely insane.

He pushed himself out of bed and wiggled into a pair of slippers before picking up his silk robe, slung across the back of his settee, and slipping it on.  The robe was another gift from Jinki. It wasn’t the black and gold of Prae, but a deep red and gold, the colors of Durkhai. Durkhian tradition saw seven gifts to your intended mate. So far Jinki had given him three; roses, the room deep within the Dongbang Library, and the robe. He wondered what his other four gifts would be. He wondered if Jinki would one day come to regret giving them to him.

He tried to shake the negative thoughts from his head as he slowly made his way to the door, the smell of rosemary and mint lingering in the air, the afterbirth of Kibum’s secondary olfa. It doubled down on masking Minho’s scent as the suppressant kicked in.

He wouldn’t make this trip long. He would wander the halls until he grew tired or until Kibum came back, then he would sit in his room until he came up with a solution. The Mating Moon wasn’t far away and he had until then to come up with a way to salvage this situation.

His hand wrapped around the knob and he heard a faint growl reverberate through the door but he paid it no mind. Maybe he was more exhausted than he realized. Exhaling, he turned the knob.

The door swung open and Minho paused. Now he knew he was tired but he wasn’t tired enough to imagine that Jinki standing in front of him, stance rigid, hands curled into fist at his side, face hard and his jaw clenched. He absolutely knew he wasn’t dreaming the golden irises.

Minho swallowed harshly. “Jinki?” he asked, quiet and unsure.

A corner of Jinki’s lips curled up and he slowly shook head from side to side.

“Not Jinki.”

Minho’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to scream for Taemin but before he could, Jinki’s hand shot out, his large calloused hand landing at the base of his neck. Minho followed the movement with wide eyes, his mouth gaping open in shock before he felt a sharp pinch.

He felt as if the entire right side of his body as frozen and soon the sensation traveled to his left. He dropped to his knees, paralyzed but Onew caught him before his could hit the ground. As he was tossed over Onew’s shoulder, he heard the wolf mutter:

“Nihil tut’jahli.”

Minho simply added that to the long list of things about his current predicament that he didn’t understand as the darkness took over and he passed out.





The first sense Minho regained was sound. The crackling of wood sounded loud, as if he wasn’t very far away from him. The next was touch, first in his fingertips, then his lips, nose, then the rest of his body. The heat from the fire registered next and he could tell that the fire was huge or he was a lot closer than he previously imagined. He was laying on something soft, not as soft as the mattress in his suite but unreasonably more comfortable. His regained smell and the sheer power of it almost bowled Minho over. His hackles went up immediately because he could smell the scent of more than one unfamiliar wolf.

He sat up wildly, grappling blindly for anything to protect himself with. He was somewhere foreign, he couldn’t see and panic welled up inside of him. He considered a lot of things, shifting into his wolf form, maybe his Lycan form, thinking maybe he would regain his sight but he knew those forms only enhanced his current state. He couldn’t see as a human, he wouldn’t be able to see in any other form. Still, he had his sense of smell. He’d been in worse predicaments before. He could escape with only his nose.
Minho moved slowly, hoping that he wouldn’t attract a wolf or something worse as he eased himself out of the bed. He found the wall opposite of the fire. It was cool stone, textured, rough and uneven.

A cave.

Using that knowledge he decided to rely on an old truck he learned as a pup. During summer seasons, most, if not all, young shifters are sent to the caves, in their village or another’s, to learn about survival. One of the most important tricks? Temperature. The further back you moved into a cave, the farther from sunlight you went, the colder it got, the walls reflecting the temperature change first. Using that knowledge, he edged along the wall, using it as a guide, waiting for his hands to run across cold stone, his clue to whether he was moving in the right direction or not.

“Warm water is pumped behind the walls,” a voice called out, gruff and slightly amused. “Seeing as you are heading deeper into the cave, I assume you’re trying to feel your way out.” A chuckle. “Smart, but useless.”

Minho bit his bottom lip and his hands dropped to his sides. The is watching me fumble and struggle around this cave like some blind newborn pup! Well, he wasn’t a pup, but he still was without his sight. He turned towards the voice, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“You think this is a joke?”

Onew snorted. “I don’t joke.”

Silence followed that and Minho realized Onew wasn’t going to offer an explanation. Stubbornly, Minho turned back towards the wall, heading in the opposite direction.

“You look stupid. Sit down before you go and yourself up.”

“No thank you, Onew. I’ll find my way out,” Minho said simply with as much civility as he could muster.

“There is no ‘out’, only an up. This is the one of the bottom levels of this cave. It’s circular and miles underground. If you can find the door, fine, but it leads to a flight of stairs…that leads to another flight of stairs and another. Good luck with that. Maybe you’ll tire yourself out in time for your sight to come back. I don’t care.”

 Minho continued to ignore him and continued feeling along the cave walls until he admitted that Onew was telling the truth and he gave up. He was angry. Angry that he couldn’t see, angry that he didn’t know where he was, angry that his mate’s unhinged demented wolf alter ego had kidnapped him and whisked him off without his permission. He highly doubted he had Jinki’s permission either.

“Take me home, Onew,” he ground out.

Onew made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like he would do anything but.  “You were in danger there. Why would I take you back? This is your home now.”

“No,” Minho said patiently. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “This is not my home. My home is in Prae. Your home is in Prae.”

There was a rustling of clothing and Minho smelled Onew before he felt the rush of air he brought with him as he crossed the room in a flash. In a flurry of movement, there was an arm behind his legs and one braced behind his back before Minho felt himself being hoisted in the air. His body jostled as Onew took long strides towards something.

“Put me down,” Minho said calmly. He’d learned in the past that nothing escalated Onew into a hemorrhage of frenzy than a good shouting match.

“You are getting on my nerves,” Onew replied acidly. Minho pulled his chin in, affronted and sputtering before he felt himself falling. He hit the mattress with a thud. Soon a thick cover of some sort was being pulled up Minho’s body. “Sleep.”

Minho pushed the hands trying to tuck him in like some kind of damn child. “I don’t want to go to sleep, you idiot. I want to go hom–“

Minho stopped himself from saying the word ‘home’ because obviously that was a word Onew associated with whereeverthehell they were. “I want to go back to Prae.”

“And I don’t care what you want. Sleep if you want to see. “

That shut Minho up. He could escape if he could see, he was sure of it. He stopped resisting, allowing Onew to roughly lift his head to shove a pillow under it.

“I’m going above to hunt. Sleep.”

Minho sighed and closed his eyes. He listened hard to see if he could figure out how Onew left, or hear in which direction the door was. He heard nothing but silence as the strength of Onew’s scent left the room. With nothing left to do, Minho his side and accepted the sleep that came.





“Food.”

Minho blinked his eyes open when he heard something heavy being dropped by the fire, the quiet rush of embers that flared at the displaced air. He gazed up at the orange glaze the fire cast on the cave ceiling with the realization that Onew was right. His sight did return with sleep. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that however. He sat up gradually, his body feeling heavier than it did before he fell asleep.

His vision was a mackle of black spots and haze and he waited patiently for his eyesight to clear. When it did, Minho gasped.

The cave was huge and categorically caves were large things so when Minho said huge he meant huge. The fire he heard and felt before came from a large firepit in the center of the cave as wide as he was tall. A large metal flue hung from the ceiling, probably leading to a chimney where the billowing clouds of black smoke escaped out of. Around the fire itself were white weirwood branches weaved into an intricate pattern surrounding it like a pale barrier. Positioned around the firepit were four fur covered stone seats. On the opposite end of the cave was a large sparkling freshwater pool, most likely feeding from some river or underground spring. It flowed through the cave structure, narrowing into a tributary and streaming through a small outlet at the base of the cave wall.  Columns of smooth stone stretched from the ceiling to the floor.
Minho looked around; finally spotting the door Onew spoke of: a wooden door hinged to the cave wall. Rudimentary compared to everything else, but a door was a door.

All in all, Minho was stunned. He wasn’t aware anything like this existed. The caves he was used to were deep dark dank holes in the side of mountains. This…this was…

“Onew…where are we?

Minho looked over to the wolf and his face fell.

“Jesu,” he cried, his face aghast, “Onew what the  are you doing?”

Onew held a bloody rib between his fingers as he gingerly nibbled the meat off of it. Next to him was a pile of bones gnawed clean. Onew finished the rib he was working on, tossed it onto the pile before he reached for another one. “What does it look like? I’m eating.”

Minho’s mouth bobbed open like a fish. “I can see that. Is there a reason you’re eating it raw?”

The look Onew offered Minho was full of incredulity. “How else do you eat it?” he said as bit into the meat of another rib. Minho’s lip hitched to one side as blood dribbled down Onew’s mouth and onto his shirt. “Oh, that’s right. You and Jinki and those other bipedal idiots “cook” your meat.” Onew snorted. “Charred bull. Honor the sacrifice; eat the food as it is presented to you. Pure.” Onew held up a rack of ribs and Minho thought he was going to throw up. “Here. This side is for you.”

“Okay, no. We cook food because it tastes better that way.”

Onew shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he muttered around a bone.

Despite his protest, Minho couldn’t help the rumbling of his stomach. That didn’t mean he was going to devour it like a barbarian. Minho picked up the rack and noticed the carcass of a deer dumped by the fire. Deer meat was rare in Prae. Matter of fact, it was almost nonexistent.  This led to a very important question that Minho should have asked instead of arguing Onew’s disgusting habit.

“We are nowhere near Prae, are we?”

Onew tossed another rib. “Nope.”

Minho put a hand on his hip. “Are you going to tell me where we are exactly then?”

Onew a finger into his mouth. “Somewhere safe.” He provided Minho with a short smile before he went back to work on his food.

Minho sneered at the non-answers. Instead of trying to get blood from a stone, he took his rack over to the fire pit. Pulling a branch from the weirwood barrier, he skewed the rib through a meaty section, plopped down on one of the stone seats and held his food over the fire.

Jinki finished his meal and walked over to the pool.  There was a grunt and a splash. Curious, Minho looked over his shoulder and saw Onew crouched over the water, rinsing his hands clean and scrubbing his face free of food and blood. Minho tilted his head as memories of the last time he saw Jinki cleaning himself filtered into his mind. Onew was clearly dressed and didn’t have the poise and class that Jinki held in everything he did, but he could also admit that no matter who was in control of the ship, Jinki was a fine specimen.

It was the middle of summer and although it was cooler in the cave, Minho remembered just how humid the air outside was. Because of that, Onew wore thin cotton pants and his black shirt was free of sleeves as if Onew had ripped them off himself. He wore no shoes, although he did see Jinki’s discarded in a corner. His hair wasn’t in the neat braid or pulled back like Jinki liked to wear it. It was wild, all over his hair, long strands of black flowing down his back and over his shoulder, most of it falling over his forehead and into his face. As Onew splashed water up his arms, the sheen the water created caught the firelight and Minho frowned because now wasn’t the time to be by the psychopath in the corner.

“You keep looking at me like that; two things are going to happen. One, I’m going to do what Jinki is afraid to do and that’s your brains out and two, your food is going to burn.”

Minho recoiled and turned towards his food, the bottom side beginning to char. He rotated his stick and turned the raw side of his food towards the fire. Onew was a barbarian, a brute, classless and crass. He had to remember that this man was not Jinki, no matter how he looked like him.

Eventually, his food was done and he pulled it from the fire, letting it cool down before he started to pick the meat from the bone.

Moments later, a body landed next to him on one of the stone seats and Minho decided to ignore him, only sparing him a glance out of passing curiosity.

Onew sat beside him, crouched over like the wolf he was and watched Minho eat. Between his teeth was a twig of mint.  “You’re an Omega,” he said passively.

Minho promptly choked on his food. He struggled to get it down his throat before he looked at Onew out of the corner of his eye. “Why are you even bringing that up right now?”

Onew shrugged. “The fire reminded me of Caleo.”

Minho frowned. “Caleo.”

“Yeah, your wolf. He told me…ten? Fifteen years ago. When you and my human were sharing a meal at those boring meetings of yours. He came to the surface, only for a few seconds, but he told me everything I ever needed to know.”

“Ah,” Minho said quietly. He already knew that Onew knew but even so he wasn’t in the mood to lay it all raw in front of his mate’s wolf.

“Why won’t you submit to Jinki? He is your Alpha. You are his mate.”

Minho tore another piece of bland, unseasoned meat off his rib and stuffed it in his mouth. He missed his meals from Prae already. He chewed slowly while he thought over his answer, swallowing roughly. “I…I’m not his equal.”

Onew tilted his head like it was the stupidest answer he’d ever heard. “Who the hell cares about that?”

This time Minho turned completely towards Onew. He examined Onew’s simplistic way of thinking. That was always the main difference between the wolf and the shifter. Humans thought with their brains; politics, social circles, rules, traditions, taxes, which was, in the eye of a wolf, complete and utter bull. Their wolves didn’t care about politics, they didn’t care this person controlled this town or that person collected this tax. They cared about their pack, their territory, the hunt and especially their mate.

“You don’t understand. Jinki cares, everyone cares. They may not know but when they do, they’ll care. Laws, we have laws that discipline for deceit. If I’m found out, I’ll be punished. Possibly executed.”

Onew sat back on his haunches, clearly bothered by that. “That’s not going to happen. That’s why you are here. No one can touch you here. I won’t let them. You’re mine. They can’t touch what’s mine.”

Minho smiled. In that moment, Onew simplistic way of thinking was kind of endearing. He could, if he wanted, stay in this unknown cave, hidden away from everything and everyone. He could. It would be so easy. Onew would take care of him, care for him.

He placed his food down and stared down at his hands. He looked at the inside of his palm. His hands were calloused but it came more from using Julien’s bow or helping the builders erect a house for a new member of his village. He knew how to fight, that was true, but he wasn’t a fighter. His hands showed that.

“That’s,” he sighed, “they are going to come looking for us, Onew. For you, for Jinki, for me. We are the leaders of Prae. Prophesized. We can’t…we can’t stay here Onew. We have to go back.”

Onew stood tall on his stone seat. “No. Nihil tut’jahli.”

“I heard you say that earlier before you, for a lack of a more sensitive word, abducted me. What does it mean?”

“It’s old wanders’ language. Nihil tut’jahli, it means no harm to pass. It’s a vow we take when we pick a mate. It’s a pact of protection. That’s why you can’t go back. Besides…Caleo doesn’t want to go back. I can tell.”

“It’s amazing you know so much about my wolf.” Minho shook his head. “I haven’t seen or felt Caleo in years. How is it that you have this connection to him that I don’t? Explain that to me.”

Onew quickly crouched back down. “Tell me why you suppress Caleo and I’ll tell you why I can sense him.”’

Minho pinched the bridge of his nose because he was having a conversation with a wolf that he hadn’t had with a human in decades. But where else could he vent like this, where he was confident it would be kept secret? If Onew’s kept his secret this far, he would keep it going forward.

“My family has always been a family of Alphas. From my great grandfather, Lem, my grandfather Reza, my father, Yunkyum, my sister, Minjung, her mate Julien. Even my mother was an Alpha, although with her kind nature you would have never known that. I…I don’t remember much about my mother. I was very young when she was killed. But...that’s,” Minho sighed. “That’s not…the point is, I’m supposed to be an Alpha. My lineage is that of an Alpha so my body should be that as well. It was the very reason my family was chosen to rule Wheph. Because we were pure. We were pure wolves and that’s what the Blue Crescents supplicated.”

“The Blue Crescents’?”  Onew tilted his head. “Jungmo. The from the feast.”

Minho smiled softly. “Yes, that guy.”

“He wants to kill you because you aren’t pure. Like your father and your mother?”

Minho’s brows rose. “That’s exactly why. So, to protect me from them, my father had a special doctor in our town create a suppressant for me. It masked my scent. It also pushed Caleo down so far in my head that I couldn’t feel him anymore.”

Onew continued to stare at Minho and Minho stared back, wondering what the wolf was thinking. The gold of his eyes glinted through the strands of his hair and Minho felt like Onew was reading him in a way that he’d never been read before. Simplistically. Silently, he stepped down from the stone seat and walked forward until he was standing in front of Minho. For the first time, Minho took the time to quantify Jinki’s scent which was always stronger when Onew was in control. Wet dirt. He smelled like wet dirt. It was a pleasant smell, calming in a weird way because what serenity did wet dirt bring? But, he inhaled it, feeling more at ease with Onew than he’d ever felt in his life.

Onew bent forward until his face hovered in front of him, his warm breath fanning over his face. He took a hand and carded it through his long hair, pushing it back from his face and behind his ear. Minho inhaled sharply.  Onew may have control, but Jinki’s face was still beautiful in all of its imperfections.

Minho felt a finger tap his forehead. “Get out of your head. You are your heart.” Onew’s hand trailed down Minho’s slowly, calloused fingers traveling past his temple, ghosting over his cheekbones and feathering down his neck until they hit his chest. He tapped his chest twice. “Caleo is your heart. When you let go of all of your reservations, self-doubt, mistrust of your own self, you will feel him again. Then you will be able to love.” The hand traveled back up Minho’s body until Onew’s warm hand cuffed around his neck. “Jinki is a good human. He is my human. He is yours. Trust him.”

“You think it’s that easy, huh?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

Minho’s hand came up to join Onew’s. “You know, when you’re not yelling that ‘you are mine submit to me bull’, you’re a pretty good guy.”

“Wolf,” Onew said gruffly. “I’m a wolf.”

Minho chuckled. “Same thing.”