8 Chapter 8

Nottinghamshire, England

Alpha Alexander Jaguar Pack

Alpha Alexander, the most powerful Alpha in Europe, stood in the front courtyard of his massive pack mansion, with over five hundred werewolves under his care. He rarely governed a pack meeting, not because he was too busy, but because it was so mundane and he didn't want to talk about rules and regulations. Besides, he had his own Beta in command, Damian to do his bidding. He knew their fear of him made it impossible for them to decline any rules and laws from his pack. After all, no one dared question his authority.

He smirked as he rested his sun-kissed, bronzed hands on the garden wall's mosaic tile. He shifted his gaze from the imposing fortress beneath him to its sister, which straddled the sloping hill across the valley.

It was a fine day. The cloudless blue sky overhead mirrored the smooth surface of the faraway sea.

A gentle breeze ruffled his graying hair and dried the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. A sinister smile flitted across his tanned face as he saw a beautiful young woman with green eyes walking towards him, a new mistress to his harem, a gift from the mayor. She reminded him of Barbara, with her long, dark hair and body-to-die-for. Long ago, he and Benjamin had fought over Barbara, but the latter had chosen the bastard instead. Twenty years ago, when he stabbed Benjamin with her own dagger, Alexander remembered her lying soft and languid in his arms, her silken ebony hair flowing over his chest, pleading for mercy. Lovely reminiscence, sweet vengeance indeed. The bastard deserved to die. Benjamin took everything from him, took the love of his life.

Alexander wasn't as hateful as everyone assumed he was since his birth, but as the bullied son of an alpha, he began to accumulate those dark evil emotions, which served as a haven for him until he couldn't take those dark emotions back. It spread like fire, seized his soul. And now he relished the sensation of being a badass, the evilest Alpha. And, even though the same part of his brain processes love and hate, it was like a train that could either go forward or backward. This was why those who loved frequently became haters. If they processed it all better, there was no way they could part on good terms, to genuinely wish each other well, and he was the polar opposite of that. He desired death, he wanted blood, and he desired power.

And remembering how the love of his life died in his arms made him feel alive and powerful. Yes, he killed her, but it was by far the most wonderful feeling of satisfaction and achievement to listen to Barbara beg for her life. But no one knew for sure what happened in that forest. He was licking Barbara's blood, savoring her bittersweet taste. For one moment, it was just him and her, then a hazy dark entity pushed him so hard that he landed twenty feet away from her body, and he blacked out. When he awoke an hour later, Barbara and Benjamin's presumed dead bodies were gone, leaving only their blood and ruined clothing.

Of course, when the warrior of his pack arrived, he told them a story about him killing the alpha and luna and then pushing them off the cliff. But he knew it was the nasty vampire who took them, he could smell his dark, disgusting blood, and so Alexander spread the rumor about the last living vampire, the one who finished the couple, and that he was able to defeat Dimitrikos Nortonanus with his sheer power, and that his body turned to ashes. Amazing tales indeed. He smiled, remembering those surprised faces of awe and amazement.

Yes, it was foolish to say the least, but ever since, there have been no sightings of Dimitrakos, and so everyone, including the council of supernatural themselves, believes his stories. And now he was the hero, the savior of their kind, the one who had killed the last vampire, and everyone feared him.

Alpha Alexander smirked at the memory. Just like how Barbara had opened her dark green eyes in astonishment, and when she realized he was serious that he was going to kill her, she burst into tears. Pathetic. Repeatedly begged for her life and Benjamin. Such a waste of powerful breeding luna. If only she had chosen him as her lifemate, he wouldn't be stuck with Harrieta, his bitch of a wife, and now the worthless luna of his pack.

However, Alpha Alexander had little memory of that war. It was one of his secrets. Since he tasted Barbara's blood, he realized that there were several memories from before the war and after that he had forgotten, and no one knew about them, so he kept a diary, and from time to time he read it to recall some forgotten important dates and incidents.

Even his memory of when Barbara chose Benjamin as his lifemate was gone, almost forgotten, and thanks to his bright mind, he had written it down in his diary. Even the memory of when, before the war, the couple had saved the last vampire on earth instead of killing the abomination. Benjamin had persuaded Barbara to save the monster vampire instead, and for that betrayal of their kind, the council of supernaturals had commenced a war between his pack and the Benjamins. After the war, the survivors were taken as omegas in his pack.

And now, looking at the almost naked, beautiful, green-eyed whore approaching him, he remembered Barbara. She was a sweet, beautiful she-wolf. He thought her wolf was so dark and powerful, but like the others in his harem, this green-eyed whore was unlettered and ignorant, save in the art of pleasing him.

He frowned at his uncharitable thought and turned to rest his back and stretch his tense muscles. The death of his half-brother James, the alpha of East Suzzex, was still raw in his mind, and he was tired, having just returned the evening before from his funeral. The bastard was stupid enough to accept a duel from his beta, and now he was resting six feet underground. Such a fool! How stupid could his brother get?

And because Alpha Alexander had lived for many years and spoke three of their languages, it was he who dealt with the European councils of the supernatural. It was, of course, wearing him out as hell, but he needed to kiss the asses of those old maggot councils, and he loathed every minute of it.

However, he knew they would begin with expressions of surprise that he spoke their language without an old wolf historian interpreter. After all, it was no secret that the councils were made up of the oldest of their kind, a seven hundred-year-old witch, a five-hundred-year-old demon, and a three-hundred-year-old blind fairy, but don't be fooled, she was the nastiest of them all, not to mention those three-foot-tall, unpleasant elves who spoke an ancient language dating back to the tenth century and even earlier.

With the impending issues of rogues and demons on the loose, the meeting would surely exhaust him to death, and he dreaded the idea of kissing those ancient council's asses for days.