1 That Demon, Sound

————- ♔ ————-One

♔Tristen (P.O.V)

A nettling sound keeps repeating, somewhere pounding against my skull.

Growling, I scoot over to the side of my bed, still on my stomach. Close enough to the bedside table, I peek my head through the covers to get a cloudy look of the howling clock.

It displays it's bright white letters, 6 am.

"Too early, you foul beast!" I growl in anger. Within a few seconds, I extend my arm out of the blankets and slap it to the floor.

Thud!

The clock hits the carpet floor face down, a shattering noise pierces my ears. I don't even have to look to know the screen has been broken.

Happiness flows through my body, with the loud sleep-eating dragon silent. A small smile itches the edge of my lips, I can go back to sleep. Pleased at my accomplishment, I pull the blanket back over my head and lay there motionless.

Today's my twenty-second birthday, and I have yet to find my mate, the one person the moon goddess has chosen for me to be matched with. I was supposed to meet her on my eighteenth birthday, but for some reason, I didn't, and she still eludes me.

Sure the fact that as the prince, I'm not permitted to leave the country might have a few things to do with it. I've searched every province here in Canada, starting from Ontario, my home. Unfortunately, I haven't found her in any of the packs here, but that doesn't mean she's not out there.

After all, I don't have the mark of a mateless wolf. I check my body every day for that heart wrenching howling wolf. It's a very blank black silhouette of a wolf sitting with its head turned upward in a howling motion.

The mark can appear if their mate completes a marking with someone else. Both the deserter and its chosen have to be marked, not just one. That is if they survive it. The rejected mate will feel it, and if they aren't strong enough, they could die.

Those are the other two ways a mark can appear. A completed rejection, the rejection vows uttered by both parties as humans. This one again can lead to death.

Then there's the option that their mate is dead. As long as they hadn't met their mate, the survivor would live and only bare a mark of the mateless. Some could be born with it, and they too survive.

The stories of werewolves vary from story to story. Some say the full moon triggers our transformation, and that's the only time we turn. Normally those same stories label us as harry humanoid beasts. Some say we find our mate magically right at 18. Other stories say we are some type of immortal and resist diseases.

The truth is, out of all of those stories, none of it is true.

One thing no one mentions is that when we lose our mate, after finding them, our power is drastically reduced.

Eventually, one of two things can happen. The first is during one of our wolf shifts, we won't be able to turn back into our human form without help. That's when our wolf takes over our human form. The second is the opposite, our wolf vanishes and we lose the ability to shift into our wolf form without help.

If it happens to a low ranking werewolf, they can fit in with the outside world. They are about the same size as a dire wolf with the mentality of a man but the instincts of a wolf. So to humans, they appear as a normal, large wolf.

For us, the higher ranks, and even more so Lycans. We will have to be killed or hidden here in Ontario. Higher ranked wolves like alphas or betas have large wolves, some can be as large as three and a half feet. Lycans, a descendant of the original werewolves with no human blood in their veins, can have even larger wolves standing up to four feet.

Traditionally, Alphas or rulers of normal werewolf packs, step down when their oldest male heirs find their mate. Female children are normally mated outside the pack, and join the male's pack.

It works the same for betas, they step down once their son finds their mate, or if the new alpha has already found his. A sign of the new generation taking over the pack.

Now if a pack has only a female heir as an alpha, if her mate is in another pack and the heir, their packs can merge as one. Otherwise, the beta of the female's pack takes over as alpha once she leaves.

If the beta heir is a female, if their mate is a lower rank than them their mate joins her pack. If she is mated higher or to a beta in another pack, they join his if he is the heir.

Normally this won't be a factor, nine times out of ten high ranking children are males.

My ear twitches as I hear soft footsteps coming down the wooden floor hallway that leads to my room. I groan as I pull a white pillow over my head.

Sometimes, I hate being a werewolf. A Lycan.

I'm the stronger of our species, my hearing, sight, and smell are enhanced higher. Sure, a normal werewolf has heightened senses, but a Lycan ordinarily doesn't have any human relatives down their bloodline. So their abilities aren't dampened.

It's hell when we first turn.

6 years ago

I wake up hearing an ear-piercing scream. The smell of every tree, the stench of fellow werewolves, every small minuscule smell assaults my nose.

The chatter of all the people in the house, every bird's song and movement outside, all the small unimportant sounds of nature and day to day life claw at my eardrums. They throb and scream the pain almost like a sharp piercing knife.

Opening my eyes, I immediately shut them again, my sight blinding white as if it was an overexposed photo. My eyes begin to have sharp pain shoot through them, I push on them with my small hands, trying to get the pain to stop.

A piercing thud rings through the air as my door is flung open, a constant scream assaults my ears. A strong rose honey scent shoots through my nose. I recognize the smell instantly, my mother.

Her small hands pull me close on her lap, her chest vibrates and I can tell she's yelling. I don't know what she's yelling, the loud noises all sound the same.

She brushed away wet liquid on my face, wiping away tears I wasn't aware I had. Slowly she begins to rock me, and the loudest scream begins to settle. My throat aches in dryness and pain, I had been screaming.

I feel myself being handed over into someone else's arms, stronger and not as dainty as my mother's arms. I'm aware it's a man as he holds me against his firm chest, his familiar smell of evergreen overwhelms my senses. I instantly know it's my father. A cloth is wrapped around my head. Over my eyes and around my ears.

I quickly become aware my father is sprinting with me in his arms when the sound of the wind from our moving speed begins thrashing at my senses.

I let out a loud scream as I felt a warm liquid begin to fall down from my ears. The smell of blood hits my nose, dulling as we move against the wind.

As we begin to slow down, my father's chest vibrates, signaling he is yelling. For what I'm not sure, and I could care less.

The pain hurts.

I finally become aware my father has sat me down, I don't know when he did it but he did.

Slowly, I notice I don't hear anything, I don't smell anything other than a slight chalky smell and an extremely strong plastic smell.

Curiously, I open my eyes to be met with a blue cloth and immediately remember I have something covering my eyes. Taking it off, I access my surroundings.

My eyesight is normal, but the room is also very dimly lit with a single light hanging from the ceiling. I'm in a square room with drywall surfaces all around me, which explains the chalky smell. A thick layer of Mass Loaded Vinyl covers the walls, ceilings, and flooring, explaining the plastic smell. There's a wide rectangle window beside the door that leads out of this room.

Outside the window is a man with his back turned away from me. He has a tall, bulky build, blond curly hair that falls to his shoulders, that has been permanently straightened so it just slightly curls around the tips. As he turns around I notice it's my father.

He must realize I've noticed him as he smiles sadly, holding up a notepad he points to it and then an area beside me. I look to my right, where he had pointed, and notice a notepad with a pen on top of it.

'Where am I?' I quickly note down on the paper and hold it up, the sound of the pen marking its ink on the notepad rings in my ears yet it's livable. Not near as bad as the sounds were earlier.

My father's mouth opens, and soon after Jakub, our Duke or second in command comes rushing beside him. Quickly, he hands over an item, and begins to write.

'You're in the soundproof room, remember what we told you last year?' He holds his notepad against the glass.

Of course, I remember what he told me.

He explained I'd shift today, and meet my wolf. However, before that, I would develop my senses. That since I was a Lycan, and the king's son, my senses would be vulnerable. So that when that day came, he would have to put me in this room so I wouldn't suffer.

'Oh, ' is all I write.

'I love you, son, ' he has Jakub hold the notepad up as he makes a heart with his hands.

I smile at his corniness, 'I love you too.'

End of flash black

I'm brought back to reality when someone knocks on my door slowly opening it.

"Prince Tristen, King Taega wants to have a meeting with you." A soft feminine voice speaks up.

I mentally wince as I hear the word Prince before my name, I hate being called that. My pack, the Royal Lycans is the strongest pack and the last remaining true Lycan bloodline. So years ago my ancestors became the rulers over werewolf society, creating a form of order.

Even if it is my proper title, I can't help but feel the title of 'Prince and King' instead of a normal packs 'Alpha' is slightly overbearing.

Seeing as the only difference is normal werewolves have decreased in power as they had slowly become mates with humans. This results in a weaker bloodline and sometimes results in human offspring.

I am a Lycan, a werewolf at its purest form. I'm stronger, I have better senses and my wolf is massive when I shift. Our rules for succeeding our parents to the throne are different as well. It isn't just taking over and our parents living happy retired lives.

It's something, I don't want to think about.

Groaning, I push all thoughts out of my head. I roll over and sit upright on my bed to meet the person addressing me. It's Nichole, Jakub's mate and my packs Duchess.

"Nichole, I've told you multiple times do not call me Prince," I grunt, irritation lacing my voice. I fall back onto my bed and motion for her to leave. "Tell father I'll be there in half an hour."

Nichole lets out a deep sigh, " It's only proper to address those higher than you with their titles, Tristen. Soon you'll be King, and you need to learn to accept that not everyone outside our pack can call you by your name, it's disrespectful."

"She has a point," Remus, my wolf says in my head.

As a werewolf, it's normal to talk to your wolf counterpart. They're sort of just there, it was a part of our curse by the Moon Goddess to never be alone in our mind. Over the centuries, we've just learned to accept it.

"You're right Nichole." Still lying in bed, I give her a thumbs up in the air.

A huff fills the room, her irritation clear. "I'll tell your father that you'll be there in a moment. So get dressed."

Rolling out of bed, I head to the bathroom and brush my teeth.

The mirror on the wall above the sinks seems to make fun of me. My silver eyes are now a sleepy dull gray. My wavy light brown hair that stops right before my shoulders, is sticking up everywhere. Without brushing it, I briskly throw it into a small bun on the crown of my head. My full beard needs a trim, but I've kept my father waiting too long, so I hurry up throwing on navy baggy jeans and a loose white muscle shirt.

Dread filling my body, I sprint off to go meet my father.