The House Of Wolves (BxM/Mpreg/Werewolf)

(14) Picture: Tyler {Revised}

Beau's POV

I flipped my shirt off of my muscular chest toned made possible by years of training and dropped it in the black hamper that was positioned in the corner of my room, being carful not to disturb Jasper who was tucked away safely in between my thick comforter and comfortable mattress snoring cutely, only his white hair peeking out.

I let out a breathy chuckle and grabbed a black hoodie out of my closet.

'Tyler, I need you to stand guard out side of my door. Jasper is taking a nap and I have to go ask Henry some questions,' I linked to him as politely as possible seeing as no matter what, he would be doing the task. At least this way he can feel he has a choice...

'Dude,' he wined. 'I have a life you know. And why can't you take care of him? He's your mate.'

'You have ten minutes to get to my bedroom door,' I dead panned, trying not to think of what could happen if I left him alone without protection. The picture of him bruised and bleeding flashed in my mind.

'Dictating basterd..."

I snorted. 'Just get your fucking ass here and I'll guarantee you won't have extra laps tomorrow morning.'

'I'll be there in five.'

When all else fails, the lack of physical exertion seems to work wonders.

Not four minutes later, a knock sounded at my door. I looked to Jasper to see he was still deeply asleep.

I smiled softly. He was so beautiful and I was lucky to have him.

I opened the door to see Tyler in a blue flannel shirt and beige cargo shorts panting like he just run across the whole compound which I wouldn't put past him.

"You called?"

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "No one, and I mean no one, is to enter this room whether it's Lisa, my mother or any other person. This room is to be shut until either I come back or Jasper wakes up and even then, he is not to leave. If he's hungry, call someone to make him a snack. Oh, and no touchy."

"Roger that Cappy."

{*}

Most people in the pack who hear the name Henry will cringe. Not because he inflicts pain on them, not because of his stone cold looks but for the fact his aura screams, 'cross me and I'll end you in painful, painful ways'.

As I approached his home, a crypt on the north side of the Emery territory, the rusty smell of fresh blood invaded my nose.

A sharp, eardrum bursting shriek of pure terror and pain rippled through the air, sending large black birds shooting from the protective branches of their trees.

As I approached his lair, the toe-curling scent of death and decay became stronger and stronger.

Henry's crypt was made to look like an abandoned stone house deep in the cold woods. No drive way led to it, the bush around the haunting structure over grown and a small stream was dribbling down a small rock formation surrounded by roses.

But for those who had the guts to step foot in the tall mans home, they would know how awesome it really was.

I stepped into the house and instantly the first impression an intruder would have would be its a rundown piece of shit complete with broken hardwood that could brake ankles if you step in the wrong spot, drywall that was crumbling and caved ceilings but I knew better.

I stepped up to the wall and slide my hand across it in a hurry, looking for the one loose brick that could be slid in further to release the door that would take me to the under ground living quarters and collecting a streak of dust on the palm and fingers of my right hand.

Another scream pierced the air with a sort of urgency before being cut off. With a clink, a square of bricks sunk into the wall and slide to the side to reveal a spiralling set of stairs that was lit with torches of bright, hot flame.

The sound of moment echoed up to me. I took a step down, knowing he was at the bottom from the smell of revolting death and intoxicating vanilla sugar. But another scent accompanied it. Henry's victims scent was fading but it was a word mixture of pineapple and musk.

"Henry?" I called as I rounded the corner to see red. Red everywhere. A blood red patterned ceiling matched the black and white tiled floor with grey brick columns. Dark chandeliers hung from the ceiling over the middle room that had five rooms branching off leading to what Henry called the 'blood room', the 'bathroom complete with a Trojan tube', the 'bedroom' which house a large dark oak casket, unnecessary 'kitchen' with a bar and finally the 'playroom' which I made the mistake of asking what it was used for. He simply said, Vanilla was defiantly not his type.

He then continued to tell be about his BDSM scenarios. That was the last time I was here willingly which was about two years ago.

Nothing had changed much. The only difference was large splatters of arterial blood spray that was sprinkled on the wall and floor.

I took another step into the room to see the hulking man with long arms wrapped tightly around the human in his clutches as he drank the woman's life-force with a sadistic vigour.

The first time I saw the vampire before me draining his pray, I am enough of a man to say I felt sick to the stomach.

Vampires have always disgusted werewolves of every type. With their overly sweet slash death scent and convincing beauty yet dangerous and calculating eyes, it's only fate.

Henry always complained I and my pack smelt like wet dog and a forest-like musk.

The man in front of me straightened, letting the thin, dress clad woman drop unceremoniously to the ground with a light thump.

"Good evening, Beau. What can I help you with today?"

During my first year as alpha, durning a hunt, I had discovered a decapitated Henry about to be burnt by rouges and I had spared him.

I provided him protection and a place to live in return for his three thousand years of experience. He had earned the title of elder seeing as he had saved many of my packs lives and provided us with ancient ways to protect our land.

Henry turned slowly to revel venom red eyes and pale grey, wrinkled skin along with dry, brittle, grey hair. Then something I would never be able to comprehend happened before my eyes.

His decaying hair flooded color, turning a dark blackish brown hair. A exited blush filled his cheeks and his skin turned a peach color as it tightened, reversing his age back to the time he was turned, about twenty seven. The last to change was his eyes, turning from red to purple to blue only to stop at teal.

"Let me guess," he grinned, breathing in a deep breath of air and his eyes flashed again. "You have a mate."