Chapter 4

Osiris POV

A pretty redhead is sitting at the front desk of the main building of Lycan City. She is bobbing her head up and down to the music that is playing in the lobby and pops the gum that is in her mouth. Standing in front of her, I watch her with interest for a moment before I knock my fists gently on the desk in front of me.

The redhead looks up and jumps back at the sight of me. She lifts her nose discreetly into the air and sniffs gently. I know she checking to see if I am a werewolf or human. Her nose wrinkles in disgust with the realization that I am a rogue, and she scoots back awkwardly in her seat.

"Can I help you?" She says, clearly uncomfortable with my presence.

"I have a nine o'clock meeting with the Lycan King," I say confidently.

The redhead turns back to her computer and flips through a couple of screens. "The King doesn't have a nine o'clock appointment."

My face falls in disappointment. I thought at least that the King would have the decency to meet with me after his failed attempt to assassinate me last night. Of course, I am not supposed to know that he is the one behind the attacks, but I am not stupid. He has been after me since I started encroaching on his business. It makes me wonder if all of these Lycans in this building know what really funds Lycan City.

"I am sorry," I say as my face falls. "I must have made a mistake on the date."

The redhead's face softens a little as she looks at me. "I am sorry, Sir," she says genuinely. "The King usually doesn't take meetings with... rogues."

My lips press together in a thin line as the redhead calls me a rogue. The word sounds dirty on her lips. I know what packies think of us. They believe that rogues are uncivilized and barbaric. At one point in werewolf history, they were. Rogues were a menace to the packs. They would come in and terrorize the packs. Steal their supplies and rape their women. The biggest dishonor that could befall a werewolf was to be banished from a pack and become a rogue.

There are still a few rogues that give the rest of us a bad name. Most of us have now gathered in our own communities. We have created our own packs even if they aren't recognized by the rest of the werewolf world. The majority of us were born rogue, and it is the only life that we have known.

I tap my fingers on the desk and gently push away, not wanting the cute redhead to see the disappointment on my face. "Thank you," I say with my head already turned.

I begin to walk out of the front door when someone behind me yells loudly. "Hey, Rogue!"

Knowing that I am the only rogue in the place, I slowly spin around where I am standing and see the King's Beta rushing toward me.

"Are you speaking to me?" I ask, pointing to myself.

"Do you smell another rogue in this place?" The Beta says with an air of annoyance.

Lifting my nose into the air, I sniff twice. "I don't suppose I do," I respond sarcastically.

"The King will see you now," the Beta says.

I glance over at the cute redhead, and she shrugs her shoulders and goes back to her work. I don't have to wonder why my meeting wasn't put on the schedule or why the Beta is personally escorting me up to the King's office. It is all because I am a rogue, and the King cannot be seen associating with my type.

I know better than to make a fuss. Instead, I follow the Beta quietly to a staircase. "We will be taking the stairs," the Beta says as he opens the door and gestures for me to walk in. "Of course, you would understand."

I let a smirk spread across my lips. "You don't want me to stink up the elevators," I laugh.

Only the Beta does not laugh along with me. "Among other things," he says as he starts to walk briskly up the stairs.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, the scent of wintergreen fills the air, and it makes me pause. King begins to howl in my mind. Begging me to follow the scent. Luckily the trail of her scent leads all the way to the top of the building, and I cannot help but wonder why she would take the stairs.

The Beta is grossly out of breath as we reach the top of the stairs. I can hear him huffing and puffing behind me as I open the doors. As I walk through the door, everyone on the floor looks up and watches my every step. The Beta stumbles through the door behind me and gestures for me to follow him.

The scent of wintergreen is all over the office. It doesn't seem like there is an inch of surface that she hasn't touched. The farther I follow the Beta into the office, the stronger her scent gets, and the more restless King becomes in my mind.

Finally, the Beta stops in front of a large wooden door that looks out of place in the modern office. He holds the door open for me, and I step inside. I am not at all prepared for what I see sitting in front of me.

Propped up on the King's desk is my mate. Only she is no longer covered in the blood of one of my men. I scan her body from head to toe, looking for imperfections, but I cannot find one. Her blonde hair is pulled back out of her face in a messy bun while a few stray tendrils have fallen out and frame her face. She is wearing a tight pencil skirt that hugs her petite frame with a white blouse.

Her startling blue eyes fly up to meet my own when I step into the room. Her mouth drops open as she stares at me. The King clears his throat awkwardly, and her eyes flutter down to the tablet that she has in her hands, and she begins to scroll through an app. But I don't miss how her eyes flutter up to look at me every couple of seconds.

My head cocks to the side as I see the gloves on her hands. It isn't cold outside, and it isn't cold in this office. Why the gloves?

The King clears his throat again, and I briefly look up at him before looking back at my mate. I am unable to take my eyes off her.  She seems completely unbothered by my presence, though.  Her eyes do not stray from the tablet in front of her.  

Her lips are pursed together, and her eyebrows are furrowed together like she is intently concentrating on the work in front of her.  

"How nice of you to come to see us," the King says with irritation in his voice.

"It is my pleasure," I say, still looking at my tiny little mate.

"You called this meeting, Osiris," the King says impatiently. "I am a very busy man."

I pull my eyes away from the siren that is sitting in front of me, and I turn my attention to the King.

"I wanted to talk to you about the warehouse you burned to the ground," I lie to the King. What I am actually here for is sitting on the desk right in front of me.