9 Chapter 9

Alpha Alexander Jaguar hated them as they loathed vampires, though the council of supernaturals had been the law of their people. They were powerful, influential bureaucrats who only wanted to show power and govern werewolves, witches, demons, elves, and other otherworldly beings, and because recently, werewolves were among the highest and strongest among the supernatural community, they feared that the rogues were uncontrollable, which wasn't surprising to him.

Those feral hounds wreak havoc among the humans, not to mention the unusual sighting of a werewolf somewhere in Ireland recently that put the council on edge, and then the usual honeyed complaints about the witches who dared to practice dark magic. Lady Morgana, the witch coven leader in northern England who dared enter human politics, was by far the most talked-about gossip of the decade. Such a stupid bitch! He thought to himself.

And now, as Alpha Alexander answered a phone call from one of the council leaders, his usual reply was in phrases as smooth as his own, knowing full well that rogue hunting would not be halted, not until the councils opened their minds to the adaptation of human weapons. Perhaps not even then, he amended himself as he furrowed his brows, his dark, long silver hair blown by the cold winter wind.

However, Alexander knew it was a way of life for his kind. Those feral wolves were nothing but nuisances who wanted to just hunt and kill. Then there were other issues of land grabbing and looting. Not that he would deny it, even though his pack had made sure to accumulate a massive landmass in the area by buying farms and, if the humans could not be convinced, they ended up stealing their land, though humans could be persuaded by mind control. Yet they had to employ a witch to do their bidding, and it wasn't free. It involved little wolf children being sacrificed, and it brought too much men's blood as well. His pack was raised to accept and pass on traditions; they needed the witches to use magic because they couldn't, and they would not easily embrace abandoning this one. It troubled him, for he understood the witches as well. Those bitches needed them for their blood, and so the trading had been on for ages. Yes, they needed each other.

But Alexander knew they would soon be forced to war with each other if they couldn't control their craving for werewolves' blood. The witches used their blood in their rituals, which made them achieve youthful looks.

Thinking about it, his blood boiled with fury and resentment towards the witches' community. His blood rebelled at the thought, yet he knew that their powers could not for much longer abide the werewolves' blood, not in the modern world.

"Yes, councilor." He grumbled on the phone. He had listened to the council, and directed the elder elf, as always, to the edge of panic. A wily old man, who, if Alexander's pack didn't pay the tribute they demanded, the tiny elf bastard would just smile, noting those who refused, then attack them behind them. As his half-brother James had before him, Alexander dealt more openly now with private merchants such as the elven farmers. They had this sort of magical plant that could heal any wounds in their pack immediately and could get their she-wolf pregnant even if there was no full moon, and so they relied on their magical plans every week in exchange for their protection.

Protection from the earth demon that eats elves' livers or brains and sucks their souls. Those were the types of demons that resembled 3-year-old dark silhouettes of children with red eyes, long ears, and black beautiful hair that mostly covered their faces and fed solely on elves.

Because it was not a secret that elves had their own nemesis, who haunted them daily, they resolved to find a better trade.

Nevertheless, they understood each other, and their business always ended with a banquet, music, and nightly gifts of human girls to warm their beds. The farmer elves knew that their magical plans would buy their trade safety in the werewolf territory, safety even from the privateers, for their sovereign, just as Alexander's pack needed, would take their share of the exchange.

Alpha Alexander's thoughts turned again to his half-brother James, who had been more like a father to him than his late old man. It was James who had helped his own mother, a former Luna, to convince their father to have him educated in France and Italy, to help him understand the ancient language of the councils. And it was James's death in a storm in his pack that had brought him back to maybe kill the new alpha or befriend the bastard. Either way, the asshole would pay.

However, James's wife, the Luna of his pack, Laticia, was swollen with James's child, and Alexander intended that the child would never forget that his father had been a great and powerful alpha, a man of courage and strength, so he resolved to take the former Luna as one of his mistresses and her child to be under his care.

"Alpha Alexander, "He turned to the soft voice of his pack doctor, Richard.

"Is it time?" the alpha asked, then ended the call and turned off his latest iPhone.

"Soon, Alpha. Today you have only five judgments to render on the rogues we chastised. They were waiting at the dungeon for your punishment." Dr. Richard paused for a moment, negligently smoothing his white wool sleeve. "Then we have two human guests waiting, willing to sell their land. One of the men, a wealthy businessman, wishes to pay you his respects, in the form of a lovely gift."

"Was the human subtle in his bribery, Richard?"

"Not at all, Alpha."

"You will point him out to me so that I may look upon the man who would seek to buy my protection."

"Yes, Alpha." Dr. Richard, a smile on his leathered face, started to turn. His eyes shadowed for a moment as he said, "Alpha… um-your mother wishes to speak to you, sire." Richard bowed and left the alpha to prepare for his entrance into the large formal chamber reserved for greeting visitors.