Dancing Under the Moonlight

Chapter 18

Sir, we have no sightings on an omega named Aesop Carl. A man in a black uniform reports, standing stiffly in front of a large oak desk.

The man behind the desk lets out a sigh, icy blue eyes barely even shining beneath the silver mask, Search again.

Sir, it has been three years-

I said search! Joseph barks, his tone laced with frustration.

The man lowers his head, unable to face the icy gaze as he bows and leaves the study silently.

Joseph sinks back into the large armchair. It has been three years. Three years since he'd last seen his precious omega. Three years since hes smelled the sweet yellow rose and cinnamon scent he loves oh, so dearly. Three years since hes started this fruitless hunt for his omega, only to be disappointed each and every passing day.

Joseph looks out at the dark sky, the moon is shining ever so brightly tonight. Was the night just like this when his little Aesop escaped from his prison? Was the silver rays of the moonlight shining down on his figure as he ran and ran farther and farther away from him?

Joseph lets out a silent sigh as he stands up from the study to retreat to his chambers. Some of the maids step out of his large bedroom, keeping their heads low as they passed his figure. They must have just finished preparing his bath. Joseph walks over to the bathroom, locking the door before shrugging off his expensive royal purple suit and taking off his black slacks.

Joseph walks over to the pristine bathtub, stepping into the warm waters. Joseph lets his body sink into the warm water, the yellow rose petals floating on the water surrounding his figure and the faint scent of the flower filling his senses. He absentmindedly takes one of the floating petals, holding the fragile yellow petal between his fingertips. 'Aesop, all these times, all these years that have passed I cant stop thinking about you.'

Joseph lets himself soak in the water, drowning in his thoughts as the warm water turns cold. He shivers as the cold seeps beneath his skin and spreads through his body. Taking the towel set on a birch table beside the bathtub, he steps out from the water and dries his body. Putting on the silk robe hanged on the door, he steps out of the bathroom.

Joseph lies on his large bed, the silk sheets cold beneath his bare skin. He reaches for a glass bottle at the bedside. He gently squeezes the ball sprayer, the sweet scent of yellow roses and cinnamon filling the room. He lets his senses drown in the sweet scent, the scent that is so similar yet so different. So sweet yet artificial. The scent doing nothing to fill in the gaping hole in his heart yet it is the least he could do to ease the pain.

He squeezes the ball sprayer once again, but no mist would escape the bottle. Joseph looks at the bottle, the golden liquid that once filled the bottle now only traces at that coat the glass. 'Ill have to go to town tomorrow.' Taking in the last traces of yellow roses and cinnamon left in the air, Joseph falls onto the plush pillows and closes his eyes. Falling into a dreamless slumber surrounded by the faint scent of yellow roses and cinnamon.

Joseph looks out the carriage windows at the busy streets. Wolves of all ages walked through the streets decorated with golden decorations scattering across the stone path, the beautiful rose bushes lining the streets and colorful flags and balloons that hang from above. Joseph averts his gaze towards the lively crowd gathering at the two large golden poles, the golden letters on the large white banner that hanged across them spelling out, Elite Market.

Leo stops the carriage by the entrance and opens the doors for the noble to step out. Joseph takes his cane, stepping onto the stone path. He adjusts his silver mask and takes in the fresh air. Its as if nothing has changed for the past three years. The same lively crowd, the same gorgeous decorations, the same boring stands, and no craftsman.