Chapter 16 Uncle Mal is very strong
Eva
I have never slept this well in my whole life. I woke up feeling rested, clear-headed, and deeply, profoundly annoyed.
The room was silent, with the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. I sat up, the blanket pooling around my waist, and glanced at my wrist. I flexed my fingers. The pain was a dull ache, a significant improvement.
I got out of bed, my bare feet silent on the stone floor. I walked to the doorway and peeked out.
He was asleep on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. He was wearing the jeans from last night, but nothing else. The firelight from the main hall cast flickering shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the old silver scars that crisscrossed his skin like a map of a long, violent life.
I blinked. He was… beautiful. Not in a traditional way. He was too raw, too rugged for that. But there was a striking, powerful beauty to him, like a mountain or a storm. I had an insane urge to trace the scars with my fingers, to discover the story behind each one. I should be running away, not admiring his abs.
I slipped out of the room, my movements slow and careful. I wanted to see the rest of this place, to understand the world he had built, without him watching me, analyzing my every move.
The main hall was vast, a cavernous space carved out of the mountain. The fight cage was still there, but it looked different in the quiet morning light, less like a place of violence and more like a stage set waiting for the actors. The tables were empty, the chairs pushed back, the floors swept clean.
I walked towards a long hallway off the main hall, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The walls were lined with photos, some in color, some in black and white. They weren't of fights or wolves. They were of people. Men, women, children, all smiling at the camera.
My brows furrowed.
"That's the pack." His voice, low and rough from sleep, came from behind me. "The ones who still have photos to take."
I turned, my heart doing a little flutter-thing I was going to have to get checked out. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. He didn't look angry, just… observant.
"They look… normal," I said, my gaze flickering back to the photos. A little girl with pigtails, gap-toothed and grinning. An old couple holding hands, their faces lined with a lifetime of laughter. A young man in a graduation cap, proudly holding a diploma.
"We are," he said. "Mostly. We have jobs. We pay taxes. We just… run under the full moon." He pushed off the wall and walked towards me, stopping in front of the photo of the little girl. "That's Jed's youngest, Lily. She thinks I'm her uncle."
I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh at the image of this six-foot-eight nightmare babysitting a gap-toothed child. "Does she know her uncle is a mythological creature?"
"She knows her Uncle Mal is very strong and can lift a car," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "That's enough for a seven-year-old."
I hummed and kept looking at the pictures. "How does this work? The whole pack thing?" I asked, my curiosity overpowering my caution. "Is it… like a gang? A cult?"
"It's a family," he said simply. "We look out for each other. We protect our own. That's all."
It sounded so… wholesome. So… not what a five-thousand-year-old cursed king should be doing. "What's the catch?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Everyone has a catch."
"The catch is me," he said, his voice dropping. "They're loyal to me. Because I've kept them safe for generations. Because I'm the First." He gestured to himself. "Every wolf on this planet is my descendant."