“Well, this is …different,” Yoon muttered as he took in the landscape before him. They were standing before a collection of large cowhide tents, dipped dyed a bright royal blue that stood out against the deep red clay earth and vibrant green pine trees that Mott Argan was known for. The tents stretched deep in the forest dotting in and out of the forest floor. This was the Wu clan’s settlement in their forest village. To signify Wu territory within Mott Argan, each tent was marked with their symbol: a red claw mark with four slashes–one for each of their virtues.

“True but don’t let any of the Wu’s hear that. They are a little different,” Toggo muttered. “Remember…the Wu’s believe in a nature and earth and trees apparently. They are also heavy in the communal community concept.”

“Oh, right.That.”

Toggo chortled behind his hand. “Don’t sound like that. It’s interesting. No traditional family unit, less tension, working towards a greater clan.”

“You like it because you hate families,” Yoon replied tartly.

“Not true,” Toggo said with a disapproving frown as they walked deeper into the tent collective. “Families are important. As long as the ideals and philosophy of that family are upheld, families can be very important.”

“No, you just like sticking you rabid snout in other families’ business,” Yoon said with a roll of his eyes.

They walked up to a considerably larger tent backed up against a giant Stone pine with a ferocious sized red claw mark stretched across the expanse of the tent flaps. Sitting to the left and the right of the tent opening were a pair of shifters, Betas by the smell of them, idling by. One of them looked at them as they came close, a bright smile on his face.

“Hi,” he said with a twinkle of his fingers. “Welcome to Thicket Wu, the middlemost of Mott Argan. How can I help you?”

Yoon raised his brow. “And who are you?”

The boy smiled again. “I’m Mark, a Thicket Guard, son of Vizer Tuan,” he pointed to the other guard, parked open as she napped. “That’s Eunji, also a Thicket Guard, daughter of General Chorong.” He reached across and shook her gently. “Eunji, we have visitors.”

“You’re the guards,” Toggo asked, unable to keep the trace of disbelief out of his voice, as he looked from Eunji to Mark and back to Eunji.” Eunji blinked her eyes open, looking at him with a disinterested squint before pushing back the bright purple hair out of her face and wiping off on her shoulder. “Nice hair,” he drolled.

Eunji glanced up at him, a bored look on her face. “Nice…” she gave him a slow lazy once over, “headband.”

Yoon smirked. “I like her.”

Mark’s smile withered a bit. “She probably doesn’t like you back,” he whispered. ”She doesn’t like anyone. Well, she likes Kim Kibum…and she likes Yifan but they aren’t here so I wouldn’t say anything to make her angry.”

“Ah! The magic word. Is Lord Leehom available for visitors?” Toggo turned towards Yoon. “Their mating seasons is a little bit longer than ours. He might be…busy.”

Eunji rolled her eyes. “Considering that you’re pulling some kind of ruse as a diplomat, I’m guessing, it would be wise to work on that whisper of yours.”

Toggo growled. “You know you’ve got a smart mouth for a–“

Mark rushed to his feet and his hands coming up in a placating manner. “I’ll check! I’ll check right now,” he declared as he grabbed a flap of the tent. He disappeared into the royal blue tent while Yoon took a subtle step between the still sitting Eunji and Toggo who hovered over her.

Moments passed with Toggo snarling at Eunji and Eunji not really caring before Mark’s auburn hair covered head popped out of the tent flaps. “He might be available, he might notbe. But, uh, if he were available, hypothetically, he wanted me to ask …Who are you?”

“Does it matter? We aren’t from Dinfire,” Toggo said nastily.

“Yeah, they at least have manners,” Eunji tartly replied.

Yoon shot both Toggo and Eunji a look of censure before stepping forward. “Tell him it’s Toggo of the Blue Crescents and–"

“Yoon?” A voice came from behind Mark. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere! You’re still alive? And they let you out during daytime hours, you sack of a wolf?”

The tent flaps peeled back to reveal a man sitting crossed legged on a multicolored rug at the middle of the tent clad in only a pair of loose cotton harem pants. A puppy pile of other shifters lounged around him, the small group sparing neither of the visitors a shred of attention. One woman had her head on his lap; another draped himself over Leehom’s back, and the last, barely dressed, was glued to his side, firmly attached to his ear.

“. It is you,” acknowledged, his brows inching towards his hairline.

Yoon offered him a small bow. “That it is. You know exile doesn’t mean I’m dead.”

Leehom snorted. “Exiled from your village? You’re good as dead in my book. Tell me Yoon, now that you’ve actually visited me, do you like what you see? This freedom from restriction, from boundaries? You people value your rules too much. They took away your chance to be Alpha of Wheph. They took away your mate, your village. As much as you depend on your godforsaken structure, you’ve all but disappeared under the weight of it,” Leehom chided, his spiel interrupted as the man against his back leaned forward to feed him grapes from a vine which Leehom accepted with a leery smile. He chewed on the grapes while eying Yoon in contemplation. Unless…” Leehom let his words trail off.

“Unless, what?” Yoon was intrigued. Leehom was a glib-tongue bastard; on a good day Yoon detested his ability to talk you into and out of anything. The desire to do so had been curbed when his son became Alpha, but with Yifan’s accession, all decisions fell to him as Elder, so now he was especially talkative. On a bad day, Yoon wanted to rip his tongue out. Today was a good day, however, for Leehom’s loquacious rambling.

“Rumor is that you’ve managed to produce some bastard, rumor’s wording, not mine, of a son who is now the Alpha of Durkhai. Impressive. I never took you for a rule breaker.”

Yoon nodded. “That much is true. I have and he has. I owe that to this gentlemen,” Yoon said, placing a hand on Toggo’s shoulder. “This is Toggo, seated leader of The Blue Crescents.”

“Yeah, kinda figured that whole Blue Crescent thing out by his scowl… and of course the headband.” Leehom smirked as he gave studied the man in a slow sweeping gaze. “I heard that the blue in Blue Crescents was indicative of the color of your balls. Is that true?” Toggo sputtered unintelligently in response and Leehom laughed, his finger brushing across his bottom lip. “If so I have a few that wouldn’t mind helping a big brooding Alpha such as yourself with that little,” Leehom’s gaze dipped to Toggo’s crotch area, “or big problem…or I could help you. I’m a very good problem solver,” Leehom leered, eyeing Toggo with interest.

Toggo frowned. “My wolf doesn’t swing the Alpha way, but thank you,” Toggo grunted.

“Pity,” he sighed. “So Yoon. I know you didn’t travel to the far ends of Prae to talk about clan fancies. What brings you here, finally, after, what? Two centuries of knowing each?”

“I have a proposition for. We currently have set of package that we are having delivered to AlphaBeta and the AlphaPrime of Prae today.”

“You’re so accomplished, Yoon,” Leehom gushed playfully, “A son who the AlphaPrime of Prae and another who is the Alpha of Durkai. What a proud father you must be.”

Yoon ignored his statement. “Once those packages are delivered, a plan we’ve been sitting on for years, decades even, will be set into motion.”

Leehom leaned forward. “And these packages are?”

“A catalyst. It will force a number of people in Prae into certain situations that we can take advantage of. Your son for instance; former Alpha of Mott Argan, current 2nd seated Captain in Magnus’s personal Bone Pack,” Yoon paused for effect, which worked because Leehom wasn’t interrupting him with anything overly witty, before he continued. “He’s going to betray the alliance you have with Old Se’hai and he’s going to do it soon.”

Leehom snorted. “That’s absolutely absurd. Yifan knows his duty to this clan, he wouldn’t jeopardize that.”

Yoon clasped his hands behind his back. “I would believe you if I didn’t know that one of those packages would persuade Tao, your son’s intended, and heir to Old Se’hai, to agree with the dissolution of the betrothal as well.”

Leehom contemplated that statement with an odd look on his face before he raised his hand and snapped his finger four times. Mark and Eunji filed into the tent and stood at attention. “Please my lovelies to their tents. Don’t worry, loves,” he crooned as the two Thicket Guards ushered them away. “I won’t be away from you for long.” As the flaps of the tent closed Leehom stood, the aloof smirk melting away only to be replaced with an uneasy frown.

“Explain,” he said simply as he headed deeper into his tent towards a high backed rattan chair. “It took blood sweat and tears to get that alliance in place. And I did it only because I desire to those stupid tourmaline stones. I hate that old wolf and his stupid mages! They are literally the most snobbish, tactless, arrogant–“ Leehom breathed hot air out of his nose, his nostrils flaring. “So I have you two to blame for the dissolution of an alliance that took me forever to form. Thank you, Yoon. Thank you very much. You can leave. I have a disaster to avert.”

Toggo chuckled. “You don’t understand. You won’t be able to stop this. The seed has already been planted and will grow as large as your highest tree by the end of the day. My men are very good at persuasion. By the time they were done with Tao’s real lover, it would have taken the entire army of Prae to stop Tao from ending the betrothal-which was a joke to begin with. The same with you own son’s preferred mate.”

“A joke he says,” Leehom scoffed.” Humor me. Just who are these preferred lovers you two seem to know so much about.”

“For Tao? Your son’s First, Young Sehun, I’m sure you know of him.”

Leehom narrowed his eyes. “That foolish child that kept uttering "yehet” at all of our meetings? It was every ten minutes! Yehet this and yehet that. Nobody even knew what it meant! I don’t know how Yifan could stand the sound of it! “ Leehom plopped down into his seat. “You’re telling me the great son of Edison and heir of Old Se’hai is in love with him?” Leehom snorted. “Alliance or not, that’s just hilarious. I can imagine him in Old Se’haian court!”

“Whatever little quirks he has, the young wolf is smitten with him and has been for some time.”

“And my son?”

“Dinfire’s Zhang Yixing, former First of Dinfire Alpha, Jonghyun.” Yoon supplied.

Leehom leaned forward, his face red with displeasure. “You mean to tell me it’s some whelp from Dinfire? Of all places, Dinfire?” he hissed furiously. “Has he gone mad?”

“Mad or in love, the results are often the same.”

“How long has this been going on?”

Toggo crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean right under your nose? My sources say since the Solstice Reformation. If you remember, you volunteered your son as a leader of that conference. Along with his First.”

“That was…almost ten years ago,” Leehom murmured, amazed.

Yoon nodded. “Now you have a choice. Old Se’hai has already joined the fold. With that said, this is a chance for you to keep your alliance with them except with a different goal in mind.”

“Keep it?” Leehom asked, hopeful.

“Yes. Side against Dinfire and in essence against Prae.”

Leehom was silent for a moment before tipping his head back and laughing loudly, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Are you mad, man?” he shouted in between his laughter. “I’m upset and all but what you’re proposing is treason. Treason.”

“Yes but it’s also an opportunity to side with the future leader of Prae once this is all said and done,” Yoon supplied.

“For what? What good reason would I declare against Prae of all places for Jesu’s sake? I am of Prae! So are you! What,” and he laughed again,” are you planning on going to war? War. So that you can place another leader in place of the AlphaBeta? Who would be so foolish?”

Yoon glanced behind him and Toggo took a step forward.

Leehom blinked. “Oh, bloody hell,” he cried. “This is no disrespect towards you, good sir, but I know Yoon. Yoon is a warmonger and a megalomaniac. Anarchy is in his very blood. It is the reason he was banished to begin with. And I can tell you have that same hot bloodthirsty spirit as well which is a reason I would never support you as leader under these conditions. Look, I’m not going to declare against Prae to preserve a foolish alliance. I am a diplomatic man. I hate war, I hate it and as much as I hate them and their dogged military practices and their ridiculous love of fighting, I’m not going to war with Dinfire of all ing places. Old Se’hai can do what it wants and you can do what you want. I want nothing of it.”

Yoon’s hands clenched behind his back. “Leehom, you’re being unreasonable.”

“And you are being suicidal,” Leehom spat.

“You’re making a mistake. Think, just think, of what would happen to this clan if we were to win. You would be up to your neck in those tourmaline stones you are obsessed with and let’s not think of the power you’ll have. Think Leehom.”

“No, I’m thinking of what would happen to this clan if you were to lose.” Leehom stood, walked to Yoon and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I cannot aid you in this. It’s foolishness.”

“Favor fortunes the bold.”

Leehom nodded in agreement. “It does. Luckily for me and my people I’ve never been bold and I’ve never cared about fortune. I care about power and I’m not advantageous enough to hand over what little I have.” He moved past them and towards the opening of the tent. “I’ll deal with Old Se’hai. Abandon this before its too late, Yoon. You’ve disgraced yourself enough in one lifetime.”




“Well. That was…” Toggo’s sentence trailed off as they walked away from tents of Thicket Wu.

“I figured he would be a little apprehensive about it but I never thought him fool enough to not even consider it.” Yoon looked back over his shoulder. “Very well. Old Se’hai has thrice the power of Mott Argan and their alliance with the mages has already worked in our favor. Yet, I’ll give my old friend some time to think.”

“I hope you are prepared to lose a friend in this quest.”

Yoon’s face hardened. “I have friends. A was does not.”

Jungsoo was shifting through a small pile of vachelli roots when he heard the front door of his shop open and heard someone pass through the flaps in the foyer. He glanced at the clock. It was late, not late enough to deter any customers–the type of customers that visited this late had their reasons–and with the Mating Moon just days away, it wasn’t strange for someone to come to him for a number of reasons. Normally it was aphrodisiacs for Betas or performance enhancers for Alphas.

He set down the vachelli root he had clutched in his fingers and patiently waited for them to enter. When they did, it was a man, tall, his shoulders wide and his hips slim. There was a heavy riding cloak draped over his shoulders and a lopsided grin the only thing visible under his hood. His boots were thick with muck as if he’d walked some ways before getting there. That was strange to him; it hadn’t rained in days.

Jungsoo was wary. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked cautiously.

The grin under the hood stretched into a full smile. “I heard you were good with helping people.”

“Well, that’s my job.”

The man nodded before taking a slow stroll around the shop, his thin fingers gliding across vials and bottles full of herbs and roots. “Is it your job?”

Jungsoo wariness grew by the second. He didn’t recognize the scent. Although salamanders weren’t particularly known for the smelling abilities, their sense of smell was still very accurate. Still, he couldn’t get much from their scent other than this was a Beta who wasn’t from Wheph.

“Is there something I can help you with,” Jungsoo repeated, his voice firm.

When the man finished circling the room he strolled towards the counter, his hands tucked behind his back. “Not in the way you think. Unlike some of your other customers, I appreciate the way I was made, understand I was made this way for a reason and that it is dangerous to tamper with nature. Like you tend to do…”

Jungsoo narrowed his eyes, his hackles raised. “Who are you?”

The man pulled his hood back. Jungsoo didn’t recognize the face half hidden behind a thick swoop of greasy black hair but he did recognize the Blue Crescent glinting in the candle light.

Jungsoo took a step back from the counter. “I need you to leave.”

“Aww,” the blond simpered, “why would I do that when the fun is just about to start?”

Jungsoo’s eyes darted below his counter, eyeing the small dagger–black hilt with a black and silver blade–laying beside his coin deposit box. The sister to the dagger belonged to the son of a dear friend. It was sharper, deadlier, but Jungsoo’s would cut sure and fast. He tried to subtly reach for it but the man’s hands came down on the counter, his palms slapping the wood.

“Now that would be a mistake.”

Just as he said that, the door of his shop opened again and the shop filled with more figures, clothed in heavy hooded cloaks as the man before him.

“See Jungsoo, I do need your help. Not with your herbs and your spices and your unnatural talent for aiding and abiding the abominations that run free within our society. I just need you to stay nice and quiet. You do that… and I won’t kill your son,” said, his tone saccharine sweet.

Jungsoo’s eyes went wide. “What have you done with Kibum?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do with him?

The man before him whined. “You’re spoiling all the fun! Just sit tight! This will be over soon.



Jinki pulled on the reigns of his horse as they approached The Fortress. He wanted to say that he missed the place but seeing as he went to sleep in the comfort of his bed and woke up in the middle of the forest without his shoes and his hair all over his head, there wasn’t much to miss.

It had taken them only a few short hours to make the trip from the outskirts of Morocco Song back to Prae on horseback. Most of the ride was silent, the hunting party exhausted from searching for their leaders for days non-stop. Still Victoria and Tiffany managed to make it entertaining, debating in the weird way the two were bound to argue, everything from the awful rule that kept the Oracles from until the Mating Moon or Lark Nest’s affinity for water.

“They have in the water, they give birth in water, they mate in the water, they do that weird thing with their in the–“

Tiffany held up the hand not wrapped around the rein of her horse. “Vicky…please. This is why they don’t allow you to be an Ambassador. You insult everything.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “It’s not an insult; it’s a practical and very educated observation. They are just weird. Every time Amber tells me something new about their customs I look at her like she’s grown a new head.”

“Just be careful not to make your practical and very educated observations to someone other than Amber. We depend on them as allies and–"

“–And for their water. I get it,” Victoria drawled. “Speaking of odd traditions… “ She looked over her shoulder at Minho who trailed behind her. “is it true that they prepare a special drink for mating rituals in Wheph? You know” she looked around before leaning closer to Minho “…with deer wine?”

Minho jerked so hard on his horse that Jinki thought he was going to fall off.
“Who–who told you that?” he said, aghast. “That’s disgusting!”

Victoria smirked. “Yeah, it is. But is it true?”

Minho rubbed the back of his head and looked away, sheepish. “They…used to, eons ago, before my great grandfather took control. Now we prepare the drink, sans the…you know… part.”

“Heard it gets you really in the mood like, uncontrollably .”

Minho cleared his throat. “It…it does make you more lusty I guess but they really only used it for arranged matings. An aphrodisiac of sorts to create a romantic atmosphere that would otherwise be unlikely.”

Victoria leaned over, her eyes wide with stark interest. “Is that what you and Jinki are going to use?”

Victoria said it so fast and easy that she didn’t realize what she’d said until it passed her lips. She slapped a hand over , her kohl rimmed eyes wide. The horse procession drew to an immediate halt as an uneasy tension hung heavy in the air. Minho’s face was absolutely frozen but Jinki had to fight to keep the horror off his face.

“I–I,“ Victoria stuttered. She jumped from her horse and dropped to one knee before both Jinki and Minho’s horses. “My Lords, I never meant to assume or…or…”

She lowered her head. “I am beyond mortified at my words. I’m…I, uh–“

Jinki’s jaw hardened. Not a Victoria’s words but…

The truth was he didn’t know. He had absolutely no idea how their mating was going to work. He knew how he felt it. He knew the moment he turned and saw Minho’s body sprawled across the floor unconscious. He saw it when they moved Minho to his bed, covers to his neck, his body sweating and fevered, trying to fight off whatever it was that was ravaging his body. He knew it when the healer came in and he all but snatched the medication from their hands, choosing to taste it first, knowing his body would have a better chance of fighting off any poisons.

He didn’t trust anybody when it came to Minho and he knew that it was something far more powerful than imprinting or a prophecy driving it.

It was love.

What Minho felt? That was an entirely different problem. A half confession, which Jinki guessed at because he was hopeful, wasn’t enough for him to state a fact, to form a conclusion strong enough for him to stand on, to defend their union in the face of Victoria’s words.

So instead he smiled.

“Victoria, stand up,” he admonished. “You’re getting your clothes dirty.”

“They are already pretty filthy,” she muttered.

He hopped down from his horse, wrapped a hand around her arm and helped her up. He cut a sly glance at Minho, willing the unease apparent in his stance to dissipate. Minho caught the look and managed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“Look,” he said as he looked at everyone in their riding party. “I know you’ve heard rum–“ he stopped to card a hand through his hair, stopping when his fingers tangled in a kink. “I know you’ve heard about the first night the AlphaBeta and I spent together.”
“My Lord, you don’t have to do this…” Tiffany said quietly from atop her destrier.

“It’s Jinki. I’ve known most of you for decades. Decades. You are now my–” Jinki paused to look at Minho, “our closest guard; our Bone Pack. If we are to trust anybody with the truth it should be you.” Jinki said as his eyes over the small party. “It was hard at first but…just know Minho and I are committed to making this work, for Wheph and Durkhai, for the realm, for Prae …for ourselves. Trust in us. We won’t let you down as your leaders.”

Everyone gave him uneasy yet hopeful smiles.

“Okay,” he announced as he led Victoria back to her horse. “Let’s get back to Prae. I have a very prickly Prelate of Bonds who is no doubt very anxious to tear me a new one.”


Now as they pulled past the main gate of The Fortress Jinki had to find a way to make his words a reality.




The Fortress was built in such a way that you had to pass through two very massive “rings” to get to the courtyard. The first ring was the most important to their defenses and the second ring was the most important to the shifter’s, who manned the rings, daily lives. The innermost ring held the barracks for the Guard, the Fortresses own personal army. There was a also food storage hold, an armory, kitchen, library, bathhouse, grounds for personal training in the way of archery and swordsmanship, as well as a dojo for group exercises. The outermost ring contained numerous battle stations, guard posts as well as entrance to the roof battlements. It also contained a stable. And that’s where they were headed now.

Although the walk to them was a pain, for the very sensitive noses of the shifters, it went a long way in keeping the stench away. Jinki also knew that it would keep him away from Kibum’s claws for a few more minutes. Or at least hide his own scent because Kibum could [i]smell fear. Jinki rolled his eyes. He was the most important wolf in Prae…but he did have to admit that if it wasn’t for his training he would have cowered, just a little bit, under the raging fire of Kibum’s anger. It was his eyes. Scary.

As the group en masse maneuvered their horses towards the sturdy walls and hay covered floors of the stables, stable-hands appeared from their haylofts and took reign over the twenty odd horses. When a stable-hand came for Jinki’s horse, he offered up his brown mare and headed back towards his private stables.

While Minho was sick, he spent his time between tending to Minho’s sickness, training, arranging their court, inducting the former members of the Alphas of Prae into his Bone Pack and listening to Kibum go on and on about the particulars of the Mating Bond ceremony. When he wasn’t doing that, he was spending time in the stables. Durkhai had gifted him, as a tribute from his clan for his accession to AlphaPrime, with two Anglo-Arabian warmbloods, sisters, of the deepest black. The taller one Jinki took for himself and named her Eclipse. Her sister, Nightdream, was smaller but not by much and had a silver streak in her otherwise pure black mane. Somehow that made Jinki think of Minho, how there was always something different in everything he did, even if it was just one small detail. It was what made Minho…Minho.

When Eclipse saw him, she whinnied loudly before pouching up and down in her stall. Jinki laughed at this and stepped forward until she could shove her snout into his welcoming hand.

“Did you miss me, girl? I’m sorry I left without telling you,” he said quietly. The horse whickered as if she was chastising Jinki for his absence. “I promise next time I’ll be sure to take you with me. You forgive me?” She whickered in response and it warmed Jinki enough for him to lay his forehead softly against hers. Nightdream saw the act of affection and pawed the floor of her stall loudly, her jealously apparent.

“What are you doing?”

Jinki jumped as the deep rich voice echoed around the large private stable. He turned slightly, his hand still under Eclipse’s chin to find Minho peeking into the stable, curious. Jinki smiled at him before motioning to the horses with his head. “Just visiting my two favorite girls.” Jinki took a step back to wrap his hand around Minho’s wrist. “Come closer.”

With a tug, he pulled Minho up to Eclipse and Nightdream’s stall.

“I’m not the biggest clan culture study, but there aren’t a lot of horses in Wheph, are there?”
Minho shook his head as he stared at Eclipse, his head tilted as he studied her. “There were a couple but the couriers used them. Everyone else took to walking.”

Jinki nodded. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m sufficient,” Minho quietly mumbled. He reached into a bag of oat and withdrew a handful. Eclipse nickered when Minho brought his hand to . “Do these two belong to you?”

“Eclipse does,” Jinki answered as he ran his fingers through Eclipse’s thick mane. “Her sister, Nightdream…well…she’s yours.”

Minho head shot up from where he was feeding the mare. “Mine?”

“Yours. They are both crossbreds and trained as war horses. Eclipse was bred more for heavy battle, while Nightdream was for speed. Both, however, are two of the most glorious horses I’ve ever seen.”

“They are beautiful, Jinki,” Minho gushed. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He glanced at Jinki. ”Is this another one of your gifts?”

Jinki crossed his arms across his chest. “No, that’s up in my room. I was waiting for you to get better before I gave it to you. These two? They are from Durkhai. A gift for our accession. Go on, greet her. I think she has been waiting for you.”

Minho took a step to his left and bent down, his eyes coming level with Nightdream. The mare blinked at him for a few moments before she rushed forward and head-butted him. Minho cried out, his hand rushing to his head as he fell to the ground. Jinki rushed to his side and pulled him up to sitting.

“Ooh, are you okay?” Jinki asked, worried as he tried to peel Minho’s hand away from his forehead. “I forgot about her temper. She tried to bite my hand off the first time I met her.”

Minho glared up at the horse. “Nightdream my , you nefarious beast! You’re a nightmare! You’re a night–“ Minho paused, the frown melting from his face, morphing into a smile. Then there was a giggle, a quiet one, so quiet that Jinki almost didn’t hear it. Soon the giggling escalated to outright laughter as Minho wrapped a hand around his middle and pointed at the horse. “She’s a night mare…get it? A Night mare? Because she’s black as night and also a mare? Oh, god why is that so funny to me?”

Jinki looked at him, slightly bewildered as his mate continued to laugh until tears sprang to his eyes. Yes, the joke was slightly humorous but by no means was it this funny. “I think you may have hit your head too hard,” Jinki murmured. “Let’s get you to your room. Plus, you could use a shower.”

Minho laughter quieted a little, but didn’t stop. “Are you trying to say I stink?”

“Absolutely not. But you did mention something about having to wash in stagnant water over the course of three days and you’ve just landed in a hot pile of horse , but I would never, ever say that you stunk. You’re just…odiferous.”

Minho stared at him for a moment before he lifted his arms and smelled himself. He winced. “Okay. I acquiesce to whatever solution you have. Take me somewhere and hose me off, sir. Just make sure the water is warm.”

Jinki grinned. “I’ll have them put some water on the fire.” He put his hands under Minho’s arms and pulled him to his feet.

“I will have you know, however,” Minho said as he took a teetering step towards the stable entrance, “that whatever conditions I lived through, you did as well, so while you may not have a wad of cow poop smeared across your back, it would still be wise to consider a bath for yourself as well?”




Wu Yifan wouldn’t consider himself exactly patient. He was very good at it, his position as Alpha of Mott Argan had depended on it, and his new duties as a part of Jinki and Minho’s Bone Pack required it. But just because he was good at it didn’t mean he liked doing it. Or the fact that he couldn’t keep the corresponding feelings of being patient–boredom, irritation, apathy–off his face.

Right now his face was every bit of irritated.

Before him sat his intended, Huang Zitao, the oldest son of Edison and the heir apparent to Old Se’hai. Wu Yifan glanced at him as he enthroned himself on one of his seats, his long legs kicked high on the round table situated in the middle of his suite and a scroll clutched in his hands.

Yifan sighed. It wasn’t that he disliked Zitao, he liked him greatly. The younger man was full of energy, vibrancy, and laughter, despite the dead stare he was known for. He told great stories, enough to keep Yifan entertained for hours. He was also one of the most skilled fighters in all of Prae. Once Yifan saw him in a spar match that lasted exactly five seconds with Zitao’s opponent out cold and the Old Se’haian heir walking away, bo staff clutched in his hands.

In any other situation, the two of them would have been a perfect match. Except for they were in [i]this situation and it was anything else but perfect.

“What’s that in your hands?” Yifan asked, if only to break the monotonous silence.

Zitao swept his hand across his forehead, sweeping his jet black hair off of it. “A love letter.”

Yifan recoiled. “Why…do you have that? I pray that isn’t for me.”

Zitao snorted. “Not even with a dead man’s hand would I spend the time to write you a love letter, my dear.”

Yifan shuddered. “Don’t call me that.”

Zitao moved the scroll from in front of his face. “Then what should I call you? Lover, friend? Handsome dip with perfect hair? Trust me, deal with ‘dear’ as it’s the most uncomplicated thing I can think of at the moment.” Zitao lowered the scroll. “It’s for Sehun, of course. I planned on delivering it to him but he isn’t here magically. Where is he exactly?”

“Hunting,” Yifan lied with grunting ease.

“Hunting.” Tao rolled his eyes. “He knew I was coming. Which I’ll have you know is disheartening seeing as there is only a few days until the Mating Moon and I lose him forever.”

Yifan looked at him and rolled his eyes. “You say that so easily.”

“I don’t have a choice, Fanfan.” Yifan grimaced at the nickname and decided he liked dear better after all. “One of us has to be reasonable and if what Seohyun told me is true, that isn’t you, with your inability to keep your paws to yourself where Yixing is concerned. Pray tell, are you trying to get caught?”

“I understand why you are here now. You are here to ride my every nerve from here until the eternal caves. I must have done something terrible in a past life to have deserved this. Kicked a puppy or something.”

Zitao laughed. “You are so melodramatic and it’s adorable,” the Old Se’haian heir leaned forward. “I have a plan. I’m thinking…why not keep them? We mule and suffer through the mating ritual, become eternal slaves to one another in that funny way that bonds work, however, we keep what belongs to us. You keep Yixing, I keep Sehun, our fathers keep their alliance, everyone is happy.”

Yifan scratched his head and considered it for a moment. But only a small moment. Yes, keeping Yixing by his side would make him happier than he could imagine but…

“Except for the fact that one day, they will want to mate with someone, they will want that bond with someone and it wouldn’t be decent of us to keep them from exploring those options because of something as ineffectual as our emotions.”

Zitao deflated. He rolled up the scroll and flung it to the side, the thin rice paper falling to the ground. “I told him I would find a way. I told him…I told him that I would find a way. I thought about giving it up. Telling my father that I didn’t want to be his heir if being an heir meant losing Sehun. So I gathered myself up and I walked to his room, brought my hand up to knock on his door and I …couldn’t. I couldn’t do it and–“

Zitao paused and picked up the scroll. “That’s what this says. It’s some fancy, impersonal apology. For letting him down.”

“C’mon, Tao, don’t do this to yourself.” Yifan rose and walked across the room. He took a seat on the arm of the chair and staring at the wall of his suite. “Our clans have been at each other’s neck for as long as I’ve been alive. You and me? We aren’t letting Yixing and Sehun down. We’re just–”

“Doing our duties,” Zitao sighed. “I know.” He stood, looked around before gathering his stuff and heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Yifan asked.

“To walk. Want to walk with me?”

Yifan almost said yes, but he knew that Zitao and himself were looking at forever in the eye and because of that Zitao wanted to be alone.

“No.”

Zitao nodded and walked out. Seconds passed and his head popped back through the door. “Through all of your bull speech about duty and honor remember to make sure not to blame yourself either. I can clearly see Yixing isn’t here and that is weighing heavily on you. They’ll be back soon, right?”

Yifan grinned. “Yeah, they will be.” The door closed and Yifan stared down at his hands, big and useless. They would be back in time…time enough for all of their hearts to be broken.




Jinki shook his hair free of the last bits of water from his bath. He perched on the edge of his bed in a pair of cotton pants, slung low on his hips, held up only by a string of twine. He opened his hands and grinned at what was cradled between them. [i]Gift number four. Like mentioned, he’d prepared this to be a gift to give Minho once he was completely well but of course his stupid maniacal wolf had a mind of his own and had ruined his plans. All the same, now he could give it to him.

He held it up to a light. It was a dark box, a few words from his mother’s language, Toleran, carved into it. Inside was a pair of wooden rings with words he knew, somehow, the meaning whispering in the back of his head, engraved into them. Jinki wanted to give it to him now. Something about giving it to him now made sense to him.

He tucked the box under his arm, reached for his robe, shoulder his way into it and stormed for the door. With his robe fluttering in the wake of his excitement, he skid to a barefoot stop in front of Minho’s door. He opened the door without thinking.

“Minho, I wanted to wait but I couldn’t and–“

His mouth rounded as his words stopped in his chest.

Minho was submerged in a large porcelain bath in the center of his room. Steam rose up from the soapy water, the bubbles a trade from Lark’s Nest. Minho’s head was resting on a rolled up towel, his eyes closed and mouth slightly parted. He was sleep.

The whole ordeal must have been more tiring that Jinki had realized.

He moved forward to wake him up–he couldn’t spend the night in a bath. The water would grow cold and he could get sick again–but he stopped. There hadn’t been many chances for Jinki to just bask in what he was slowly beginning to consider as perfection in his mate.

Minho was a conundrum of dualities–the soft apples of his cheek against the hard line of his chiseled jaw, his tall posture against his soft words, his willingness to smile against the serious nature of their position. Even his scent in all of elusive mysterious glory confused Jinki. Everything about him confused him.

But there was one thing about Minho that didn’t confuse him, that didn’t throw Jinki askew or make his head hurt. His attraction to him; a fiery libido for him that he intended to keep under wraps until the Mating Moon, when Minho would give him permission.
Five days. Anticipation hummed under his skin. He didn’t want to wait, it was taking everything to keep his control, but he could wait.

He would wait.

Resolved, he took a step forward to wake his intended up, but his foot caught on the large lion pelt sprawled across the floor and he pitched forward towards the porcelain bath with a yelp. He caught himself, however, right before his face breached the surface of Minho’s bath water and Jinki breathed a sigh of relief, sat back on his knees and raised his head from the water.

He almost bit his tongue off when he saw Minho staring back at him.

“I know I’ve asked this question once tonight but it seems really important to ask it now. What are you doing?”

“I am..um…” Jinki mouth gaped open like a fish before he snapped it shut. He scrambled to standing, studiously avoiding looking at Minho now that he was awake. It was one thing to gaze upon your mate unabashed, but to openly stare like some creep was another thing. “I, uh, I came to give you something but I didn’t realize you were still bathing.”

“I instructed the servants to warm your bath first. They are just now bringing in mine,” Minho said as he looked up at Jinki, studying him. “What is it that you wanted to give me?”

‘Ah, that.” Jinki reached under his arm for his gift but felt nothing but air. Frowning, he bent low to frantically search the floor for the dark wood box but found nothing. He marched to the edge of the lion pelt and lifted it up, nothing. He searched behind the curio against the wall, even walking to Minho’s bed and looking under it.

“Not to sound like a parrot but…what are you doing?”

Jinki’s brow pinched. “I had it and then I didn’t.”

“Do you lose things often?”

“Apparently only important things,” he murmured. His thoughts erratically strayed to Hyorin, to his mother, to Yoon’s love and respect. “But I just had it.”

Minho’s tilted his head as if in thought. His leg stirred in the water creating a small ripple of bubbles across the surface. His hand disappeared under the water and seconds later, the dark box reappear, still wet but sitting on his palm. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Jinki pinched his lips together as he stared at the box. Then he lunged for it, hoping to snatch it out of Minho’s hand but as always Minho was quicker, pulling the box to his chest just as Jinki’s extended fingers grazed it.

“Last time you gave me a gift, you tried to take it back within minutes so you’ll excuse me if I hold onto this, hmm?” Minho said with a twinkle in his eyes. Minho sat back in his bath and slowly plied the box open, grinning at Jinki.

“Minho,” Jinki whined in his throat. “I had a whole speech prepared and everything. You’re ruining everything.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “You’re a survivor,” he said as the box opened back on its hinges. “And as with everything else you’ll survive th–“ His words tapered off with a small gasp.

“In some customs, this came first, the exchange of rings to symbolize a union. I know it’s not our tradition but…I wanted something to show for us. Wood is natural, from the earth. Nature will always be…as I hope that [i]we will always be. So…” Jinki cleared his throat.
“I wanted to make sure that you were sure that this…that I was what you wanted.”

“Jinki,” Minho whispered.

“You don’t have to answer tonight, but,” Jinki reached forward slowly and extracted Minho’s ring from the box. He looked at the ring and laughed. “I don’t even know what I’m saying right now.”

Minho’s frown was deep, dipping lower every second and Jinki prepared to bolt. Not to run away but to take a step out of his situation; manage his expectations but before he could, Minho’s hand shot out, still wet from his bath and grabbed his. “Don’t run away from me, Jinki. Don’t be afraid of my answer.”

Jinki eyes drifted from the long fingers wrapped around his wrist to Minho’s eyes, his big beautiful eyes that looked like they held all of the stars in the sky.

“Will you sit with me?”

Jinki did as he was told, taking a seat next to his intended on the floor. As he did, Minho shifted so that he could perch his head on the side of the bath and peek at Jinki. “I want to apologize.”

Jinki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We’ve been through this already, Minho. You don’t have to apologize for–“ He quieted when he felt Minho’s finger on his lips.

“Let me finish.” When Jinki nodded and he retracted his finger. “I am different. And I know you, I know you’re searching for a bunch of words in your flowery way of thinking to describe just how different I am, but I’m just different. You probably can sense that about me. Because of that I was scared and I never allowed myself to even feel. It was never you. It was me and I’m [i]so so sorry. I’m sorry that I treated you like an enemy when all you wanted to do was treat me like a prince. It was always me and in my overly convoluted way of thinking, my actions were always to protect you. Because I’m not and will never be your equal.”

Jinki frowned. “But you are.”

Minho smiled. “I’m not and I’ve realized that it’s okay. I just want to compliment you, help you…be good to you.” He drew his lip between his teeth as he reached into the box and withdrew the bigger ring. “I want to be with you, Jinki.” He slipped the ring onto Jinki’s finger. “Is that okay?”

It took concentrated effort for Jinki to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Was…was he hearing this correctly? In a surfeit of silence and confusion and awe, his eyes shifted from the ring in his hand to Minho’s finger and back.

“Minho, I–“

Minho’s laugh interrupted him. “Like you said; no answers tonight.” He unfurled the towel and stood, wrapping it around his lanky sinewy body, swiftly, not leaving Jinki enough time to get the glimpse he was hoping for. “They’ll be here with dinner soon. Answer the door for me while I get dressed. We can eat together.”

Like the devil, the moment Minho mentioned food, there was a knock at the door and Jinki glared it. “Mood killers,” he cursed.

Jinki opened the door. The servant tried to take a step in but Jinki took the tray from his hand before shooing him away. There was no way in hell he was about to let something silly like food or servants ruin this…thing. It felt like they’d finally finally gotten somewhere, like the uphill battle through mud and muck and hell Minho’s obstinate attitude about them…that they’d trudged their way through it and he could see the summit. He glanced at the tray again.

Food? Who needed food?