One Big Dog

Layla's heavy breathing eventually evened out, and soft snores soon resounded. She snuggled her head against Allen's thighs, slightly frowning as if to say the pillows weren't comfortable enough. Allen had a slender build, but it didn't mean he had no muscle. They were just lean.

The unhappy look on Layla's face made Allen chuckle.

He stared at his aide a while longer before lifting his arm and putting pressure on his wrist to stop the bleeding. Layla hadn't been kind, tearing his flesh apart with her fangs. This girl had sharp teeth.

Meanwhile, Myrven wiped the blood on Layla's back, then tied pieces of her tattered clothing together so it'd hold up on her shoulders and not fall off. Layla wasn't shy and wouldn't mind people seeing her naked, but they also knew there were scars she'd rather keep hidden. 

As for Nyell, who was still holding Layla's ankles, he was having an existential crisis. What the heck just happened?!

Allen smiled, thinking his destined mate was rather cute. The harsh tone from earlier was gone as he laughed, "I bet there's a string of questions ready to fly out of your mouth."

"No shit." Nyell rolled his eyes at Allen, snapping out of his reverie. "But will you answer my questions if I dare to ask?"

"No."

"Figured."

"But if you become my mate," Allen teased, "I may change my mind."

"Keep dreaming!" Nyell huffed, jumping to his feet to walk to his sister. 

He didn't need Allen to tell him everything to have an idea of what was going on. Shamans' blood held unique properties, so it was often used in ceremonies or concoctions. Nyell guessed Allen's blood was just a little more special than his peers'. 

While Nyell had his back turned, Myrven looked disapprovingly at his chief, who shrugged in response. 

You goddamn idiot! Blackmailing and courting are two different things!

Myrven didn't complain aloud, for he knew there was a hint of truth behind Allen's words. He'd undoubtedly tell everything to Nyell if he became his mate and stayed by his side. But if not, it was better to remain quiet for the young man's safety. 

There were things better left unknown. Forbidden knowledge attracted unwanted attention.

"Let's go back," Nyell said, interrupting the staring contest between Allen and his aide. "My father must be worried sick."

"Indeed," Allen agreed. "I'm getting tired too."

The night had been eventful.

.

.

The following day, Corriel gathered the five warriors who had assisted at Myrven's transformation, the White Moon tribe's delegation, and his son. He'd have liked for his daughter to join them, but she was still asleep. 

If Allen hadn't assured him over and over again that she was alright, Corriel would have been too worried to care about anything else. The Black Moon tribe's shaman, or more accurately, ex-shaman, had tweaked his daughter's soul, but it hadn't been devoured. She'd recover naturally with time. He just had to be patient. 

Still, he didn't feel at ease when she wasn't near and thus kept the door to her room open. He didn't bring his guests to the largest room of the hut, where he usually received people, and brought them to the living room instead.

"Looks like everyone has arrived," Corriel noted after his son closed the door behind him, making his way to Layla. He ignored Allen and sat beside her, a hint of worry in his eyes. Was it ok for the woman to move about already? He whispered the question into her ear, and she responded with a cheerful smile and a thumbs up. She was in top shape!

"I guess you all know why I called you over this morning," Corriel smiled.

The warriors shifted in their seats, ill at ease. They couldn't help but glance at Myrven, fear and hatred mixed in their eyes. What was this thing doing in their territory? They followed their chief's orders and didn't tell anyone, but it didn't mean they welcomed the man. They already didn't like the White Moon tribe, and now that they knew they hid such a monster, they liked them even less.

"We have a general idea, yes," Allen smiled back, his ethereal eyes sending shivers down the warrior's spines. The wolf was scary, but its master was even more unnerving.

"That is good to hear."

The Black Moon tribe's chief paused. 

"I'd like to pay my respect to the White Moon tribe's god's familiar spirit," Corriel bowed, showing his throat to Myrven as a sign of trust and submission. "It's an honor to meet you."

A shocked silence befell the place. Myrven looked at Allen with a wry smile, unsure what he could and couldn't say. The excuse they had come up with wouldn't cut it now.

"I see you're well informed," Allen chuckled, not denying Corriel's words. "And shrewd, too."

The White Moon tribe's chief glanced at the livid warriors. Those who had thought of killing the dangerous beast and gaining honors were one hell of a sight. Now, none of them should try to come after Myrven's life unless they had a death wish. Corriel hadn't explicitly said it, but his words served as a warning to his men.

"Please, Corriel, lift your head." Myrven sighed. If Allen had no plan to deny it, he also wouldn't. "I haven't met with our tribe god in hundreds of years, so calling me his familiar spirit is stretching it."

"You do realize you just told everyone you're a geezer?" Allen smirked.

"Shut it, kid." 

Myrven couldn't help but wonder why he had accepted the task of chaperoning this youngster. The 'elders' sure knew how to keep him busy. 

"Anyhow, that's all for you five," Corriel told the warriors, offering them a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The message got across to his tribesmen, who hurriedly scrambled out of the hut. Their chief knew some of them had planned to hunt Myrven tonight. But whether Corriel had told them about his identity to ensure they wouldn't go and kill themselves or by fear of offending a familiar spirit was hard to tell.

"Son? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, don't mind me," Nyell nervously licked his lips, waving his hands. "I'm just trying to get over the fact that I rode on the back of a familiar spirit." 

"If you think about it," Allen winked, a mischievous light dancing in the depth of his eyes, "Rymnev is just one big dog. Nothing to make a fuss over."

Myrven pinched his nose, shaking his head. Allen was lucky Rymnev was currently asleep inside him, or it'd have given him hell. It hated being called a dog when it was a mighty wolf, and this rascal knew it.