Pack

DISCLAIMER: Mine all mine all MINE!!!

SUMMARY: This story is going to be one big cliche.
Here’s why: My bestest best friend in the *entire*
world hates me. She reads fanfics. I read fanfics.
Her boyfriend reads fanfics and then laughs and says
they’re ‘stupid, and all alike.’ Grr. He’s so nice
about everything else, I just don’t know - anyway.
They had a big argument about the ‘main cliches’
of fanfics. (I was working on ‘Right Hand’ and
ignoring them. I should have listened.) Best Friend
said even the cliches could be fun to read. Boyfriend
said it was impossible. Best Friend made a bet that
someone could write a fanfic with the main cliches
and it would be fun to read. The prize is the one
who loses goes on an all day date doing whatever
the other person wants while the loser pays for
everything. Fine, whatever. Then Best Friend
told me *I* had to write it. Blink. Oooookay...
how did I get into this? Best Friend said if I can
do it, she will buy me every flavor of Breyer’s ice
cream that I like. I am a sucker for ice cream.
So I’m going to try. Here are the cliches they listed:


HIGH SCHOOL - (Pointless, in my opinion,
mainly because I hated High School. It is unkind
to geeks, and I are a geek... :) )
ELVES: Sticking an Elf somewhere no Elf would
be. (I’ll admit this one is odd, but... I have a secret
fondness for elves...shhhh!)
YAOI: Well, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble
with this one!
MPREG: Do I have to explain this one?
AND ANY OTHER CLICHE THEY OR A
REVIEWER COMES UP WITH - so long as
I think I can work it in, because this is going to
be weird enough already.

Now, after I agreed, she grinned and told me
she wanted it to be an original story. I’m
wondering why she’s my Bestest Best Friend.
Isn’t this gonna be hard enough without totally
making up characters? Does an original story
really even qualify as a fanfic??? *sigh* Ice
cream, remember the ice cream. So, here goes
and if it sucks it’s not really my fault. Well, it is
but blame my so-called Best Friend...


PACK

CHAPTER ONE:

The cafeteria of Planet Agaria Prime’s only
high school was crowded - it always was,
but the weather outside was overcast and
dreary and most of the students who usually
ate outdoors had decided it would be wise to
seek shelter. It wasn’t raining yet, but it could
at any time, and who knew if it would be regular
rain or the stinging acid rain that sometimes fell
here? There was no sense in taking chances.
So the big cafeteria was nearly twice as crowded
as usual.

It was un-segregated, but there was no need for
any division. The atmosphere on this planet
wasn’t favorable for anyone except humanoids;
two-legged, water-requiring air breathers. Any
other species would have to have special
equipment to live here, and life on this ugly little
planet wasn’t worth the trouble. There wasn’t
much turnover in the population, either -
occasional Space Drifters would stop here,
but it cost too much money for the native
population to escape their dreary lives.

Agaria Prime was, however, very convenient to
the trade routes, and had, for some unknown reason,
become an extremely popular dumping ground for
unwanted children. Any race that could survive was
represented in this cafeteria, and everyone knew
who and what everyone else was. It was the way
you stayed safe. So when two unannounced new
students came into the room, they were noticed
immediately.


*


First day at a new school was tough, Triaan knew.
He felt nothing but sympathy when he saw the two
new kids enter the cafeteria. They walked carefully,
cautious in a strange environment. He couldn’t help
but evaluate them, pure instinct. The boy was older,
and BIG, tall and muscular. His hair was golden
brown, in short curls, and black wrap-around
sunglasses hid his eyes. That was odd, since the
school was very well-lit, but he’d seen odder. Hell,
*he* was odder. The girl was small, delicately
made but moved with the grace of a fighter. Her
hair was long, thick and curly, her face looked
deceptively shy. They stayed close, but Triaan
didn’t think they were mates. Their body language
said siblings. It took him less than a second to decide
they would be excellent additions to the group, and his
eyes went to Z, the leader, a question in their green-gray
depths.

Z was glaring at the boy. Triaan wondered if Z saw
a threat where he himself saw only a chance of increased
protection from danger. Well, that was what made Z the
leader. He stayed seated, shifting his arms a little to loosen
Dahlia’s grasp. Damn girl, he wished she’d pick another
member of the group to hang off of. Z, for instance.

“No one goes near them.” Z growled the words, and
Triaan’s newborn hopes were dashed. He felt his
shoulders slump a little - Z’s sharp eyes caught the
movement. “Especially you, Triaan.” He growled,
giving Dahlia a meaningful look. She nodded, the
motion almost imperceptive, and hugged Triaan tighter,
brushing her lips along his jaw. He felt a growing
desire to shove her away and bare his teeth - but Z
wanted her where she was, and he wouldn’t go
against his leader. He wondered if Z had any idea
of the things the girl whispered in his ear sometimes?
Surely not - he’d banish her from the group without
second thought - *if* he was feeling generous.

Z rarely felt generous.

The two newcomers moved through the lunch line
and then to a nearby table, their movements in perfect
symmetry. At least, they were to Triaan’s eyes. To
others they probably just looked like they were walking.
He saw how each perfectly protected the other, leaving
no vulnerable openings to any attacker. They sat at the
far end of the table, as distant from the others sitting there
as they could get. The girl bent her head over her tray,
eating rapidly for a moment, while the black sunglasses
surveyed the room. Then the boy turned to his food,
while the girl’s head shot up and she stared around.
After another moment they switched again. Triaan
was fascinated. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from
the pair.

Z noticed. “Triaan.” His voice was a warning hiss,
his hands clenching into fists. Triaan sighed, and
obediently turned his eyes down to the table. Z
glared at Dahlia, who renewed her efforts to
distract the boy she was pressed against. Her
full lips moved along his jaw to his sensitive ear.
He couldn’t help but flinch away, and she bit her
lip, knowing she’d pushed too far, exotic dark
eyes flying to Z, who had progressed past glaring
and was scowling at her. They were too wrapped
up in their little exchange to notice they were
attracting attention.


*


“Ryu.” The small girl whispered to her brother,
pulling the sunglasses away from his lunch tray.
“Something’s going on.” He looked to where
she was looking, saw a tall boy with a shock of
white-blond hair staring daggers at a darkly
beautiful girl. He was sitting at the head of a
table full of teens, all of them wearing matching
dark grey leather jackets with an odd pattern of
spikes on them. The white haired boy seemed to
be the leader. His face was broad and heavy-
boned, his eyes too deep-set for them to tell the
color. His hands were lying on the table, fisted so
tightly the knuckles were white. The girl he was
glaring at was easily the prettiest they’d ever seen.
She had thick black hair cut in the latest style of
short layers. It sparkled as if she’d dusted glitter
into it. Her leather jacket was tailored to fit her
perfectly, showing off the curves beneath instead
of hiding them. She wore a dark red shirt with a
deep v-neck that showed off her lovely dark skin
while it left little to the imagination, her long legs
clad in tight designer jeans. She was gorgeous,
but she wasn’t the one who grabbed their attention.
Neither was the equally attractive, equally well-
dressed leader.

No, their attention was almost immediately
centered on the slender boy the dark girl was
wrapped around. He was tall, although not quite
as tall as the leader and nowhere near as tall as
Ryu. His head was down, so they couldn’t see
his face well, and he was trembling slightly. His
hair was long, thick and black, spilling over his
shoulders to reach his waist. He was very pale,
his skin almost luminous. His ears were what
really caught their eyes - they were beautifully
shaped, pointed elven ears. He lifted a delicately
boned hand to rub one gently, and the girl murmured
an apology and stroked his shoulder until he stopped
trembling. He still didn’t look up. His body language
was stiff, and they almost thought he’d like to push
her away.

“Is he...?” Kyra whispered, and Ryu nodded.

“Think so.” His deep voice was too low for anyone
else to hear.

“Are you...?”

“Damn straight.”

“Good.”

The blond leader suddenly jerked his head in their
direction, his death glare transferring to them.
Normally they would have looked away, not
eager to start trouble on their first day of school,
but not now. They’d seen something they wanted,
and both of them met his stare calmly. They couldn’t
have challenged him more if they’d held up signs. He
gave them a grudging nod, then his eyes flicked over
Kyra. She nearly snarled, but Ryu put a calming hand
on her arm. The blond had made his desired prize
clear, now he waited for the other boy to do the same.
The sunglasses turned the slightest bit to the side, to
where the pretty girl sat nearly in the dark-haired boy’s
lap. The blond gave a single short nod, and ignored
them for the rest of the lunch break.

All of them knew there would be a confrontation
after school.

All except Triaan. His attention had been elsewhere.
He’d stopped trembling, but he was still suffering the
aftershocks of having one of his ears touched by
someone he did *not* want touching them. He felt
unsettled inside, like he could throw up any second.
Dahlia was still murmuring endearments, her lips
against his neck now, and he could also feel the
weight of Z’s eyes on him. He pulled himself firmly
together, unwilling to let them know just how much
that bothered him. He had to keep a few weaknesses
a secret. They already knew enough to take blatant
advantage of his instincts. There was nothing he could
do to stop them - his leader was his leader, and Z’s
word was Law.

The blond got to his feet, and his gang got up to follow
him. Triaan was relieved to have the one moment free
of Dahlia while she got up, before she fastened herself
back onto his arm. Only the knowledge that she wasn’t
in his next class kept him from knocking her to the floor.
He *hated* her, he wondered why Z thought he was
rewarding him when he set her as Triaan’s girl. He
wondered if he could get rid of her if he told Z how
she was always urging him to fight for leadership of
the group. It would all depend on who their leader
believed, and he rarely believed the Elf. That thought
always saddened him - he had never given Z any
reason to distrust him. He couldn’t. Z was the leader,
things didn’t work that way. Not for Triaan.

He escaped into his Math class, a few of the other gang
members following. They settled into a small group in
the back, Triaan as always in the center, unapproachable.
Those were Z’s orders. He knew what he had in Triaan,
and wouldn’t put up with *any* other gang trying to
seduce him away. Unfortunately for him, *they* knew
what he had in Triaan, too, and were eager to do just
that. So far his fighting abilities had kept the boy firmly
in his ranks, and the other gangs were wary of his own
steadily growing group. He hadn’t had a challenge in a
long while. As soon as Triaan and his unacknowledged
guards were inside the classroom, Z turned on Dahlia.

“Stupid bitch. You *know* better!”

“I... I’m sorry, Z. It... I was with Treson last night,
like you told me. I wasn’t thinking - *he* likes his
ears nibbled, it was just leftover passion, you know?”

“I ought to trade you. Grommets would love to have
you.” The name of the scrawny, low-class gang made
her blanch with nausea.

“Oh, no, Z, please! I won’t do it again!”

“No, you won’t. Anyway, that new guy is going to
challenge for you. Saw him watching you in the
cafeteria. You meet up with him, huh? Do a little
‘get to know ya.’ Find me some weaknesses. I’ll
meet you last period, and I wanna report. Got me?”

“Yes, Z.” Relief was strong in her voice - she was
still trusted enough to be sent on a mission, still
important enough to fight to keep. A nagging
thought that it was more Z’s pride than possession
of her that would cause the fight was firmly thrust
aside. Z needed her, she was the best prize he gave
his boys, she kept *Triaan* happy. Thinking of the
dark-haired boy sent a surge of lust through her - Z
had warned her not to push him beyond what he
wanted to do, and she’d never yet been able to
entice him into bed. She *had* been able to cop
enough feels to know what sort of body was hidden
under the thick, loose clothes Triaan preferred, to
know that it would be a glorious experience. She
was determined that it would happen. She always
got what she wanted - it was just a matter of time.

She hurried to her next class, keeping her eyes open
for a pair of black sunglasses.


*


Ryu and Kyra both had a free period after lunch,
and they spent it sitting outside, under the protective
spreading branches of a huge oak tree. They were
able to easily spot the approach of a thin, red-haired
boy in a plain jean jacket. They let him come up and
sit down without a word.

“Hey. I’m Keith. Principle sent me to ask if you
needed anyone to show you guys around?” Both
heads shook, one pair of pretty brown eyes and a
set of dark sunglasses gazing steadily at him.

“Ok. Um, you know you challenged Z, right?”
That question was directed at the boy.

“Z?”

“Mark Zhylaw. He’s the leader of the Walking Dead.
They’re the toughest gang in school - you’d better be
careful.”

“...”

“Really. If you didn’t know you challenged him you
can apologize and get out of it.” He looked at them
sort of hopefully. They just gazed back, expressionless.
“You *do* know. Funny, you don’t look like you
have a death wish. Anyway, Dahlia *really* isn’t
worth it. She’s gorgeous, but she’s a slut and an
absolute witch. No one likes her.”

“Really?” Kyra’s voice was innocent. “That boy
with the long black hair didn’t seem to mind the
fact that she was all over him.”

“Oh, that’s Triaan. He never *seems* to mind
anything. As long as Z’s happy, he’s happy.
He’s a Harkian Elf, you know. Their social
structure is like a wolf pack. What the leader
says, goes. It’s really interesting, I’ve studied
about it. I’d like to talk to Triaan, but Z won’t
let anyone near him.”

“Why not?” Ryu’s deep, rich voice spoke for
the first time, and Keith jumped a little.

“Uh - the other gangs would really like to steal
him, you know? He’s one tough fighter, and
like I said, he’s obedient. Totally loyal. Z kinda
treats him like dirt - I don’t think Triaan’s very
happy but he won’t leave his leader. It’s got to
bother him, though, that Z does so many things
that are against his pack instincts.”

“You know a lot about those?” Kyra asked.

“Well, not too much. Harkian’s are really reclusive,
you know? There’s only been three here the whole
time the school’s been opened, and there isn’t much
information out there to look up.” He turned his
attention back to Kyra, and a sudden pink shade
appeared on his cheeks, making his freckles stand
out sharply. “Umm... you’re brother and sister, right?”

“Yeah.” She replied, and Ryu sat up a little
straighter, his body language suddenly wary.

“I... um, I thought so. So... uh... do you... uh,
have a... uh...” Ryu was staring so hard Keith
could sense his eyes behind the shades, and he
was developing a severe case of the stutters.
Kyra elbowed her brother sharply, and he
snorted and turned his attention to the other
side of the schoolyard. She smiled sweetly at
Keith.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” He turned dark
red, then, but took a deep breath.

“Would you like to... there’s a new show at the
HoloTheatre... um...”

“Sure.” She said - she’d assessed him as he’d
walked up - he could be trained to be an excellent
addition, and she knew Ryu had seen that. He’d
complain about *having* to train him, but he’d
enjoy it. Besides, he was about to get what he’d
always wanted. Why shouldn’t she have some fun?


*

Dahlia didn’t get her chance to talk to Ryu until
close to the end of the day, and she was getting
a little nervous. When they finally had a class
together, she was more than pleased that it was
Art. There was freedom to talk there. The only
downside was that Triaan had that class as well,
and there were no other members of Walking
Dead there to keep an eye on him. Oh well, he
was well trained, and the other class members
were too frightened of Z to attempt talking to
him. She maneuvered herself until she had the
easel next to the new boy, and Triaan took his
usual place by her side.

He sort of liked art. Dahlia couldn’t hang onto
him and although it was unsettling not to have
others of his pack around, he was glad to
exchange that security for the freedom from
her pawing. He was more pleased than usual
when he saw the new boy, and that they would
be sitting close to him. He was still fascinated
by him - he didn’t care if he was staring, and
Z wasn’t here to chastise him. He knew they
were sort of going against Z’s orders, since
he’d said no one was to go near them, but
Dahlia must have had secondary orders, since
she didn’t hesitate. She was higher than him in
the Walking Dead hierarchy - much to his
disgust - and was de facto leader. So he felt
no guilt at being so close to the new guy. He
studied the short, tight curls, strong handsome
face and baffling sunglasses with unabashed
curiosity.

Dahlia didn’t notice. “Hi.” She cooed at the
boy. “I’m Dahlia.”

“Reggan.” He gave her his last name calmly,
keeping his face towards her while his hidden
eyes devoured the boy sitting next to her. He
could finally see his face, slightly obscured by
strands of dark hair hanging down, and he was
beautiful. His features were definitely masculine,
but had a delicate quality. He had high
cheekbones, a perfect nose, big dark green
eyes surrounded by thick curly lashes, and
soft, full lips. He was broad shouldered but
slim, almost too thin, although the lines of his
body were muffled by the heavy clothing he
wore. He’d heard somewhere that Harkians
felt the cold more easily than most, and it
seemed to be true. It was a mild spring day,
but the boy was wearing clothes more suited
to winter. Dahlia was still going on, asking
questions that were intensely personal, obviously
too sure of herself and her attractiveness to
consider that she was being rude. He was
answering without giving her a bit of real
information, and he realized that Triaan knew
what he was doing. A small smile appeared
on his face, and soon grew into a real grin,
revealing even white teeth. The grin looked
good on him - it was the first expression Ryu
had seen that wasn’t blank or anxious. He
suddenly knew he wanted to keep that happy
look on him.

He wanted to keep *him.*

He was more eager than ever for school to
be over, for the confrontation with the boy
who, for all intents and purposes, owned the
exquisite creature sitting so close. He’d
studied enough of Harkian traditions to
know what Triaan truly expected from
the leader of his pack - it was obvious
the Elf did not consider himself an Alpha,
and that was fine with Ryu. He’d dreamed
of having a Harkian, of having a Pack of his
own, with Kyra and whoever she Chose for
her mate, which seemed to be Keith - she’d
never given another boy the time of day. He
spared an instant’s humor wondering if the
redhead had any idea what he was getting into.
No matter, he was stuck now.

Kalarians didn’t let their Chosen ones go,
and Keith had been Chosen. Ryu had
known since he was a child that he wanted
a Harkian for his, and he’d seen several
without feeling the drawing he’d expected.
He felt it in spades with Triaan - he wanted
to jump the smaller boy right here, right now,
and find out if those lips were as soft as they
looked, to explore the body hidden by the
muffling clothes. He was rapidly losing
patience with the gushing Dahlia. He’d
very much like to strangle her right now.

‘One more period, only one more. This
class and one more. Then I’ll beat the hell
out of that ‘Z’ moron and take what’s mine.
Mine, *mine*!’ He knew why Triaan wasn’t
happy with Z, although his loyalty wouldn’t
allow him to complain, and why he looked
so withdrawn around Dahlia. Z was an idiot
not to have done research about the Elf. He
could have bound Triaan to him permanently,
and no fight would ever take him away, even
if Z lost. Oh well, his stupidity was Ryu’s gain.
*He* wouldn’t make the same mistake. Triaan
was going to be his Chosen - forever.


*


“Well?” Z’s voice was angry and abrupt.
Dahlia immediately moved away from Triaan
to go into close conference with him. The Elf’s
sharp ears picked up their words, and got his
first knowledge of the challenge that was expected
after school. He felt an odd thrill of excitement
go through him - usually he worried about his
leader when he fought, but the idea of seeing
the new boy, with his large frame and catlike
grace, fight drove any worry straight out of his
head. He was a little saddened at his poor
judgement, though - to risk the little warrior
girl for a dubious prize like Dahlia didn’t show
good Pack sense. Well, perhaps he was new
at this.

“Triaan!” Z’s voice pulled him out of his brown
study. His head came up, instantly alert, eyes
questioning. The larger boy stalked over to
where his Elf stood by the stone wall the circled
the school. The large eyes stayed questioning,
nothing more, and he wondered a little. Usually
when he got this close to Triaan, an odd hopeful
quality shone in his eyes. He’d never figured that
out - or bothered to do any research - he just knew
the closer he was to the boy, the happier Triaan was.
He often took advantage of that - by punishing him
with space and absence. He had to keep the boy
under his control. He’d defeated him two years ago,
when Triaan was smaller and still oddly frail with the
traits of Elven childhood. He wasn’t sure, deep inside,
that he could beat him in a fight now, and so he kept
him under iron control. It wasn’t hard, as he learned
from experience what the Elf’s instincts were. The
single thing he’d ever read about Harkian’s told him
they liked physical contact with their group, and he’d
promptly set Dahlia to smother him in it.

Today his Elf seemed quiet, withdrawn, and he didn’t
like it - so he was doing something rare, usually kept
as a treat. He was going to touch him. “We’ll have
that little girl you were watching at lunch in our gang
soon. Will you like that?” He put out a hand and let
his fingers brush the hair back over Triaan’s shoulder,
lightly grazing his neck. Usually that would make
Triaan’s eyes fall half-shut in pleasure, make the
slender body sway ever-so-slightly in his direction,
almost purring like a cat. This time the Elf didn’t
move, and the eyes stayed open, watching him.
He nodded, almost reluctantly. Z frowned, and
dropped his hand to the broad shoulder. “If the
boy submits after the fight, we’ll take him into the
group, too.” He almost whispered those words,
he didn’t want the rest of the gang to think he was
going soft over Triaan. “You *will* like that, huh?”
Now he got the reaction he was expecting. The
green eyes lit up, and Triaan nodded, moving the
tiniest bit closer to Z. He gave him an ugly smile,
patted his shoulder, and stood back, noticing with
satisfaction the disappointment lurking deep in those
emerald green orbs.

“Why will you like that?” He asked, demanding
something few ever got - for Triaan to speak. The
Elf looked hesitant, then he heard a low, musical
voice, so low none of the other gang members heard
a thing.

“He will protect.”

“Are you saying *I* don’t?”

Triaan shook his head rapidly, eyes worried. Z
glared at him.

“What, then?”

“More... is better.” Z was still frowning, but some
of the anger went out of his eyes. Those damn pack
instincts of Triaan’s! Always wanting more protection,
more fighters, better fighters, and not caring that those
fighters might challenge Z’s leadership. That Reggan
was trouble, and despite his semi-promise, he
wouldn’t take him into the group. The little bitch
would be enough - he licked his lips at the thought
of her slender, sweetly curved body. He nodded
to Triaan, satisfied with the answers he had got, and
stalked away. Dahlia moved to take his place, and
he caught her arm.

“Leave him be for a while. Let him suffer alone.”
He wasn’t pleased that the Elf wanted something
that Z obviously did not want. He decided to
punish him with no physical contact, no clue that
he’d rewarded him instead. If either had looked
at him, they’d have seen Triaan jerking his head
down to hide the delight in his eyes. He rarely got
a moment free from the clinging ivy of Dahlia’s arms.
He hugged himself tightly with his own, not knowing
that the others in the group took that as a sign of
desolation, not the discreet happiness it really was.

They all stood in a loose half-circle, waiting for
Reggan and the girl to show up. It was almost
ten minutes before they did, and they weren’t
alone. Kyra was hanging on to Keith’s arm, her
sweet little face happy and completely unworried.
Two other teens were there, as well, people they
didn’t know. A short, stocky boy with dark brown
hair cut in shaggy layers, dressed in the rough clothes
of a space traveler. Leaning against his shoulder was
a tall girl with her hair in dozens of wiry braids. Her
face was pugnacious, features small and strong. She
was dressed no better than the other, in mismatched,
serviceable clothes oddly decorated with beads and
bits of metal. They were the real thing, it was easy to
see, real space Drifters. They were also, quite obviously,
members of Reggan’s group.

Most of the Walking Dead turned their attention back
to him, wonder in their eyes. They’d obviously
underestimated him, if he had Drifters in his gang.
He just stood there, loose and ready, letting them
appraise him while he waited for Z. He wore
well-worn black leather pants, a black tank top
with an odd metallic sheen, and battered black
boots. Triaan was the only one not staring at him
- his attention was still on the tall girl. Mainly, he
was focused on the tiny swell of her belly.

She was pregnant.

His eyes turned wistful. Z didn’t allow cubs - any
girl in their gang who got pregnant was ordered to
‘take care of it’, whether she wanted the child or
not. It was just as well. Their pack was no place
for babies, horribly unsettled, the inner hierarchy
constantly shifting. Reggan’s pack was apparently
very stable. A sudden bolt of longing shot through
him, and he had to drop his eyes. He’d never have
his own cubs - not with the leader he was stuck with.

For the first time in two years he felt truly angry at Z.
Sure, the man knew nothing of Harkians, or how a
pack should be properly maintained, but he’d never
asked, either. Never bothered to find out what Triaan
wanted. Shoved Dahlia at him every chance he got.
Triaan scowled, baring his teeth a little, the expression
completely hidden by his curtain of hair. He *hated*
that slut! Couldn’t the idiot tell? His own feelings
astonished him - since when did he think of his leader
this way? He looked up a little, and his gaze fell on
Reggan.

Oh.

That was why. He blushed, suddenly realizing what
was going on, cursing himself for his own stupidity.
The man was getting ready to fight for Dahlia! It made
a little more sense, now that he knew Reggan allowed
cubs. Children from Dahlia would be undoubtedly
beautiful. He thought of them together, Dahlia’s dark
skin pressed against Reggan’s own gorgeous bronze,
and shuddered. Beautiful, but - ugly. Because Dahlia
was so ugly inside. She’d be no sort of mother. He
hoped Reggan figured that out before he gave her a
baby. He suddenly felt like crying. He wanted to be
free to have his own cubs, to be in a stable, loving
pack, well-protected and safe. ‘I’ll never have it -
never.’ The people who wanted him weren’t strong
enough to challenge for him, and this one who was
strong enough didn’t want him. Wanted Dahlia. He
sighed, and forced his attention back to where Reggan
and Z were slowly beginning to circle one another.

The fight was beautiful. Triaan watched it with hunger
and amazement. He’d never seen someone move like
Reggan did, like there was quicksilver in his veins instead
of blood. Z never had a chance. Triaan realized that
from the start, and found himself enjoying the fact that
Reggan was toying with him, instead of outraged for his
leader’s honor. That was going to mean trouble in the
future, something inside warned him, but he ignored it.
He may very well have to leave his pack, although it
would be like cutting off his legs to be alone, but he
was tired of Z’s callous treatment of his instincts, of
never being allowed to behave like a true Harkian,
fairly beaten by an Alpha. Two years was long
enough, he was well within his rights to move on,
and he knew it. He wondered if he’d have the guts
to do so?

Z was in trouble. Triaan wasn’t sure if he knew it
yet, but the rest of the gang was beginning to realize
it. He’d landed one or two punches on Reggan,
leaving a small bruise on one cheek, but his own
face was a bloody mess and he was wheezing, one
arm tight against his ribs. Reggan dodged a poorly
thrown fist and drove his own into Z’s stomach,
darting away as the other man stumbled and went
to his knees, gasping for air.

“Yield?” Reggan’s deep voice was low, but they
all heard it.

“No!” Z surged back to his feet, throwing himself
at the bigger man. Reggan calmly stepped aside,
and Z went head over heels to land on his back on
the asphalt, the breath and the fight knocked out of
him.

“Yield?” Reggan moved to stand over him, put one
booted foot on the fallen man’s neck. Z snarled, but
relaxed when Reggan applied a little pressure. “Yield?”

“Yes!” It was a choked, sullen cry, but audible enough
for the whole gang to hear. Everyone stood back,
waiting, while Reggan moved and allowed Z to sit up.
He glared up at the man who had defeated him.

“Well, go ahead! Take one of them!” He shouted
hoarsely, gesturing toward his gang. Dahlia stood
the closest, a satisfied smirk on her face. She knew
Z’s pride would force him to challenge back for her,
after he had practiced for a while, and she felt certain
he was good enough, after training, to beat this upstart.
In the meantime, she could bask in the glory of being
the prize of a wonderful fight. The only bad thing
would be not being able to touch Triaan, but - but,
Reggan was walking past her, not even looking at
her. She gasped, and Z stared, mouth hanging open.

The victor walked straight to Triaan, stopped about
two feet away and gazed at him. The Elf stared back
for a long moment, his eyes wide and astonished.
Then the grey-green pools slid to one side, and
Reggan gave a nod of satisfaction, turning on his
heel and stalking away. Triaan stood frozen for a
moment, stunned, then shrugged out of his jacket,
letting it drop to the pavement, and walked after him.

“Triaan!” Z howled, but the dark Elf didn’t turn.
Reggan’s gang had followed him, none of them looking
at Triaan, and he trailed along after them, not moving
close enough to be in their group, but not letting them
get very far ahead of him. None of the Walking Dead
moved until they were out of sight, then they exploded
in cries of astonishment, milling around, disoriented. A
few of them helped Z to his feet, and he shoved them
angrily away, still staring at the corner his Elf had vanished
around.

‘I *will* get you back, Triaan. And you’ll be sorry
you ever walked away from me.’



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