Page 88 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
If you looked past the scenes of debauchery happening on chairs, tables, and across the floor, the ballroom was impressive with its Romanesque columns and candelabras that burned perpetually from both ends. Whatever dignity the architecture might have possessed was thoroughly undermined by what was happening in the shadows between the marble columns.
Delegates who should have been discussing territorial disputes were doing all sorts of deeds.
To our left was a leopard shifter riding a guy’s dick with undue enthusiasm. In front of us were scenes of shifters in varying stages of undress, a couple threesomes, and several groups in a pile, drunk and carefree as cocks moved from mouth to mouth.
“Well,” I said, steering Sable toward the least compromised section of seating, “I see the Southern Council has reallyelevated the standards of supernatural diplomacy since our last invitation.”
Sable’s jaw was tight enough to crack her teeth. “This is supposed to be a governing body?”
I caught sight of a group of what looked like cat shifters engaged in activities that definitely weren’t in any parliamentary procedure manual I’d ever read.
“What the hell?” Logan’s voice carried enough alpha authority to stop conversations across the room.
Logan’s disgust radiated off him and made nearby delegates pause their “negotiations” to look up nervously. An alpha wolf in full moral outrage was apparently sobering even to beings who’d clearly abandoned most concepts of propriety.
“No wonder supernatural politics are such a mess,” I added, noting how several supposedly serious territorial negotiations seemed to be happening between participants who were barely clothed. “Hard to take treaty discussions seriously when half the delegates are treating it like a swingers convention.”
Whatever the Southern Council had once been, it had clearly devolved into something that prioritized indulgence over actual governance.
To the right, one of the hired help in half-uniform was topless, rubbing her breasts in a bear shifter’s face while he lazily sat in an armchair and rubbed her ass. His frustration got the better of him, and he ripped her pants off her. That just made her squeal with delight, and he pressed two fingers inside her. He sucked her nipple, loud enough to turn heads, and she giggled, climbing on top of him. He had to be at least twice her size, but she was flexible. The bear shifter pulled his fingers out of her and adjusted her body over him, slamming her down onto his cock again and again until he roared.
He caught sight of us.
“Fuck me. Orion?” He threw the girl off him, and a growl grew in my throat at his total-asshole treatment of her. “Alpha fucking Logan of Orion?”
Logan didn’t say a word, but stared as the bear shifter started to haul himself into his clothes. He was built like a small building, with shoulders and a muscle mass that probably required their own zip code.
“Bart! You promised me I’d be next!” a woman’s voice drifted from the hall’s chaos. She approached, already nude, and started pleasuring herself. Her iridescent hair gave her away as a siren. A surprising sight in Dallas, someone must have brought her here intentionally. And it seemed her evening plans had just been derailed.
“Can’t you see it’s fucking Orion pack?” he bellowed back, wrestling with his pants, which looked custom-made for someone whose thighs could crush small vehicles. “Alpha fucking Logan ishere.” Even though he sounded panicked, his voice had enough authority that I pegged him immediately—an alpha’s son. Strong, but not Logan-strong. Not even close.
Well, I sent through the bond to Sable,this promises to be educational.
He puts on a good show but I can tell he’s about three seconds from pissing himself, she replied through our connection.What exactly is Orion’s history here?
I looked at her with an eyebrow raised.The north respected us. The south feared us. And their alphas hated us.
Bart approached Logan and gestured toward a side corridor. “We need to talk. Not here.”
He led us down several hallways until we reached a chamber. The magic humming in the walls would have been obvious to a dead man, let alone anyone with functioning supernatural senses.
The moment the door shut, Bart’s composure cracked. Logan’s presence in the confined space hit him visibly—his shoulders hunched in involuntary submission.
“Logan.” The name came out strained. “Goddess, you look exactly like your father.”
“Bart.” Logan’s tone was carefully neutral, but I could feel the alpha power coiling beneath the surface. “It’s been a long time.”
“Very long.” Bart was shifting weight like he couldn’t find comfortable footing. “Back when your father used to drag you to these things…”
“He never dragged me. It was always my destiny.”
Through the bond, I felt Sable’s interest spike.A childhood connection. This just got more interesting.
“You weren’t supposed to come back,” Bart continued, sweating despite the climate control. “The treaty specifically?—”
“What is this treaty?” Logan asked.
“The Orion Accords.” The words tumbled out faster than Bart probably intended. “After your father’s death, the Council negotiated the terms. Autonomy in exchange for non-participation.”
