The violent and extremely illegal idea that had pierced Ahn-Bo’s mind the evening of the Monster Melee had only consumed more and more of his thoughts since. The devil incarnate had made it no secret that he was deliberately and cruelly punishing Jin-a and him by keeping them apart since that fateful evening when they’d made their true feelings known. Not that the old man would have known about that part of it.

They had spent the night out together, and since then, had been incredibly touchy and more obvious than usual. Of course he would have caught on. There was no part of Ahn-Bo that could be subtle at any point in time, and Jin-a lost most of his logic whenever it came to the werewolf. The only reason Yeom hadn’t just killed Ahn-Bo and been done with it (because they all knew he was more than capable of it) was because it would severely weaken his hold over Jin-a. Not that the wolf knew the full extent of it, but he had a guess based on his own feelings about the matter.


He’d spent nearly a week away from his love, then returned for a social dinner so Yeom could rub elbows (or so he thought; really it was for Tae-su-ah and Carrow, which had been a delightful discovery), was off again for another five days, home for four (three for the full moon and one for recovery—as if Yeom thought he was being kind), and then again for the longest stretch yet. Nine days. He’d just returned home yesterday, and now here he was, at this stupid ball, having to pretend as if he didn’t want to tug Seojin-a into a closet somewhere. Or murder Yeom outright.

The more Ahn-Bo saw him, the more he realized that as he and his brothers had grown into adulthood, Yeom’s own youth and strength had begun to fade. There was a good chance that if Yeom’s magic was incapacitated, Ahn-Bo could overpower him easily. It was likely why the old man didn’t get physically violent with the werewolf like he did with the others—and why he waited until he knew Ahn-Bo was away before he did any of the inflicting.

Each time he saw a bruise or a brother favoring his ribs, he was filled with fury. His self-control was dangling by a single thread—the one that said if he failed in his retaliation, it would be his brothers who paid. Especially Jin, whom Yeom had the most control over. If Ahn-Bo were present when such atrocities were happening, that thread would completely snap, consequences forgotten in his rage.

Thus far, the old predator had been meticulous in his timing. But one day he wouldn’t be, and when that happened, the werewolf would be ready.

They had been here for what felt like hours. He’d done the dancing and socializing as Yeom required, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch Jin-a doing the same. Each time a debutante flashed a pretty smile or fluttered her lashes (or her fan, because apparently that was a flirtatious thing here), Ahn-Bo’s jaw clenched. The dancing was the worst of it, particularly the ones that required so much touching. The impulse to barge in and shove the girls away from his Jin-a increased to the point that he had to step outside. Maybe if he couldn’t see it happening, it was easier to pretend that it wasn’t.

The closer his steps took him to the nearest balcony, the stronger the scent of smoke became. And not just any smoke, but the kind of smoke that belonged to scandalous parties and general debauchery. How curious. Once he crossed the threshold, he immediately recognized Blackwood. Clearly the source of the smoke, although it didn’t appear that the one he held in his hand was currently lit. It must have been his second.

Ahn-Bo was sorely tempted to see if he had any extra with him. It would take the edge off, and he wouldn’t have to be hiding out here… but Jin-a hated Blackwood. He was torn between desperation and loyalty. So he settled for the middle ground. He settled in at the opposite side of the balcony, leaning against the railing on his forearms. It made the shoulders of his coat pinch, but that was the least of his problems. Deliberately looking out over the house’s gardens rather than at the other man.