By the ti they joined the others at the celebration, Asher Nightshade now had a smile on his face. The mont the people saw him, they broke into deafening cheers.
"Alpha Nightshade!" They hailed, while
the dancers—won in skimpy outfits, or who were we kidding here, barely outfits at all—rushed toward him.
The dancers’ so-called costus were nothing more than strips of cloth. A ragged piece tied across their chests barely held their breasts in place, leaving their stomachs bare, while another small strip covered the front and back of their nether regions.
The sides were completely exposed, and
whenever they perford certain dance moves, the fabric would flip up, flashing their asses without a shred of modesty. But the won didn’t seem to care, and the pack mbers certainly weren’t complaining, in fact, they clapped and catcalled with wild enthusiasm.
Their bodies were covered in tribal paint, streaks of color running across their faces and limbs. Their braided hair swung wildly as they moved, their
hips swaying and rolling with srizing fluidity, as if they had no bones at all.
At the height of the dance, they slapped their palms over their mouths and let out trilling cries that sent chills down spines. The sound mixed with the drumbeats made their dance primal, untad, and seductive all at once.
One by one, the dancers touched Asher, running their hands all over him. It was an invitation to join them in the dance—except Asher knew this particular dance was explicit as hell and only perford for an unmated Alpha.
As a new Alpha, he was expected to be spoiled rotten tonight. And that kind of indulgence often, though not always, ended in an orgy. Which explained why, at this very mont, a dancer was bent over, shalessly grinding against him while the pack mbers roared their approval.
Behind him, Roman cleared his throat.
Asher went still, knowing exactly what that ant. If a certain purple-haired girl had been here, he’d be dead—or, at the very least, have so serious explaining to do.
That vivid reminder seed to jolt his brain into gear, and he started pushing his way out of the writhing mass of dancers.
"Sorry, sorry," Asher muttered each ti he managed to slip free of their grasping hands and gyrating hips.
Roman snickered from the sidelines, thoroughly enjoying the show.
Asher shot him a glare. Couldn’t he see he was trying here? Although he was going to swear Roman to secrecy later. Not. A. Word. of this would ever reach Violet.
Roman only smirked wider, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. This was going to be fun.
Asher was almost clear when Dominic suddenly appeared in front of him. He stumbled to a halt, the expression falling right off his face.
"Asher Nightshade!" Dominic shouted above the noise of the music and cheered, "I challenge your position as Alpha, in front of these witnesses!"
The drums stopped so abruptly it was almost comical. The dancers froze mid-movent, and then, one by one, the mbers of the West Pack fell silent until a chilling stillness blanketed the arena. The crowd was stunned. They had barely begun celebrating their new Alpha, and now he was already being challenged.
Only the pack mbers looked truly devastated. The sub-alphas and ranking officials, on the other hand, showed little surprise—they had seen this coming. They understood the politics at play here.
Alpha King Elijah, seated on his exclusive chair, didn’t so much as flinch. He leisurely swirled the wine in his glass, and took a slow sip.
So it begins.
All eyes shifted to Asher. His jaw was clenched hard, and tension rolled off him in thick waves. The pack mbers seed to hold their breath, until he exhaled and said with a calm, steady voice.
"I, Asher Nightshade, accept your challenge."
A great murmur rippled through the pack mbers, exactly as expected.
This wasn’t just any fight. Dominic was Henry’s seasoned beta, carrying a wealth of experience, while Asher, though a born Alpha, was still untested. No one could predict how this fight would end, and that anxiety mounted in every heart present.
But before the whispers could die down,
Asher’s voice thundered across the square. "Only on one condition!"
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing in them.
"And what is your condition?" he demanded.
"This will be a fight to the death."
The arena erupted with gasps.
Challenges were traditionally fought until the ruling Alpha was defeated, after which he was either integrated into the pack at a lower rank or exiled entirely.
No pack could harbor two Alphas without constant tension and the looming threat of another challenge. Unless the defeated Alpha submitted fully for the rest of his life—which was nearly impossible—the situation always remained volatile.
But a fight to the death was a brutal, ancient move that was rarely invoked, at least in the current world. It ant there would be no second chances for the loser.
"What is he doing?" one of the human dignitaries whispered, wide-eyed.
"Taking care of a lifeti of problems," Elijah answered, almost lazily. Then, with a hint of amusent, he added, "Though let’s hope he’s capable of following through with that threat. Otherwise, I might soon be down one heir. What a sha that would be."
Irene glared at Elijah seated arrogantly before her, then exchanged a troubled look with her husband, Aeron.
Asher was strong—no one could deny that—but compared to Dominic, he was like a child stepping into a lion’s den. The odds terrified them.
"Asher," Roman muttered, nudging him, "are you sure about this?"
It would have been so much easier if Asher had won the Alpha title first, then dealt with Dominic later for his treachery. But now, this was a fight to the death. Dominic would fight with every ounce of desperation he had. Who wanted to die, anyway?
Asher didn’t answer Roman. His gaze stayed locked on Dominic as he said, cold and firm, "Take it or leave it."
A chilling smile curled across Dominic’s lips. He sneered. "That proud confidence of yours will lead you straight to your death. Say hello to your father when I send you to join him in hell."
Asher’s response was, of course, cutting.
"For a man, you talk far too much like a woman. Let’s get this over with."
He turned his back on Dominic with deliberate disrespect.
Dominic’s low growl rumbled in his throat, his muscles tightening at the insult. But he forced himself to remain calm, his eyes glinting with malice.
The reign of the Nightshade bloodline was finally coming to an end, and he would be the one to see it fall.
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