Chapter 20 – Scotch

Alaric

If it were not for the fact that this was my father's request, the King himself, I never would have agreed to take part in this study.

I was transfixed by the iPad and the plethora of activities I have lined up for the day as part of my diplomatic responsibilities on top of my Alpha duties. Max pointed out the next engagement marked in the opened calendar on the tablet and pointed exactly where we were going next while our SUV driver maneuvered through the New York City traffic to get us to our next appointment.

"I thought that was the first and last time I was going to visit that laboratory or clinic, whatever you call that place?" I asked Max. "That was the only demand that he made of me. That was the deal. The king wanted me to take part in the study and give a specimen, and I did as I was told. Why am I going back now?" I asked.

"Well, his secretary received an email about something that needs to be discussed with you as part of the ongoing study, so he deliberately checked your calendar this week and added this to your...princely duties. Sorry, man. There isn't much I can do about the situation here." Max shrugged.

"All right, let's get this done and out of the way." I murmured as I leaned back in my seat, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes.

Sadly, as a member of the royal family and the monarchy of all Lycans, this is one of the responsibilities that falls on my shoulders to carry out. Although I must say that the King never asked any of his sons or daughters to do anything outrageous or ridiculous, it is imperative that each and every one of his demands be carried out in accordance with the letter of the law.

One of these diplomatic responsibilities consisted of responding to a request for me to take part in a specific research project that investigates the genetic make-up of lycans and werewolves. Given the privileged status and privacy of the people who participated in the study, it was performed in the utmost secrecy, and the procedure that was followed was extremely stringent. As one of the people who was asked by no less than the king himself, I participated in the study, and I conceded when they asked for my specimens.

As the head researcher of the research project and a werewolf herself, Dr. Dana Cortez had meticulously conducted a great deal of research on the genetic makeup and possible mutation process of our species over the modern era, and as a result, the King viewed this as important information that may benefit our kind. As a result, he requested my involvement in the study. They gathered a number of samples, including some strands of my hair, some samples of my saliva, dozens of vials of blood samples, and, of course, my sperm.

When they might just as easily report the situation to the emissaries sent by the King, I can't help but wonder what it is that they want to talk about.

After a little over a quarter of an hour, we arrived at the clinic or laboratory, and much to my astonishment, Dr. Cortez herself met us at the reception area and escorted us to the labs. I have never been to this area of the facility before, but it appears to be just as lovely as the verdant and thriving facade that is maintained at the front of the building. A gorgeous garden that sits in the middle of the structure like a courtyard and is rather overflowing with plants of all different varieties and birds takes up the entire center of the building. It was fascinating, particularly due to the fact that one can get a bird's-eye view of the entire facility by taking the elevator to the highest floor.

As soon as we entered Dr. Cortez's laboratory, we saw that there were two other men already there. Because they were both dressed in white lab coats, I can only assume that they were the lab partners or assistants to the doctor. I did observe, however, that as soon as he spotted me, one of the men with ginger hair and sideburns started sweating profusely and emitting a feeling that I am so familiar with when I am in a room full of people: undulated and pure fear.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. It is something that we Lycans naturally possess—the uncontestable strength and power in the blood that runs through our veins—that other species, even our closest kind, the werewolves, recognize as authority, which causes them to naturally want to submit and bow their heads in respect and recognition of that power. Imagine having to feel that many times over because you are placed in a room with two Lycans, and one of them is of royal blood and an Alpha at that.

The second man has a deeper skin tone, but his wild hair looks like it's made of silver, and I can tell right away that he is a half-elf just by looking at him. Because his ears weren't pointed like most elves', I figured he was a half-elf. I can also faintly smell his elf blood, which is another sign that he is indeed a half-elf.

The other two guys sat down alongside the couch after Dr. Cortez made a motion for Max and me to join her there. However, they were sitting some distance away from Max and me. I didn't see it when we were entering the facility, but now it's evident that Dr. Cortez is also scared since I saw her hands shake slightly when she was closing the door behind her.

Her tone was firm, hiding all traces of fear when she inquired, "Gentlemen, may I offer you something to drink?" She obviously didn't like to show signs of being nervous, even if she had them.

Max responded hastily, "We have other engagements after this meeting, Dr. Cortez, but if you'd like to offer that Johnnie Walker Scotch, I have no reason to decline." It's likely that he's aware of the tense atmosphere in here since he's making an effort to both defuse the situation and make things a little more humorous. "What do you think?"

"You are wise, sir. Since you are a Lycan, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how sensitive your sense of smell is. You see, other werewolves have no notion at all that I have that scotch hidden away in my office; they simply have no way of knowing since I placed a charm on it, preventing anyone at some level from smelling the scotch. Otherwise, they would have booted me from the facilities. As she pulled the bottle out of a drawer that was located underneath her table, she couldn't help but giggle. "And please keep it a secret, gentlemen." She gave a quick nod to Max first, then to the other two guys in the room, and lastly to me. She started by pouring the scotch into each of the five other ball glasses that she had taken out of the other drawer on her desk. "I would also like to kindly request that whatever it is that we have to say in this room, that we keep it to ourselves...at least for the time being."

After hearing this, I bet it is not likely that she was referring to the bottle of scotch that is stashed away in her desk drawer.