Wicked lessons by the rogue

His place in society

Blackrock city 1874

*Odette*

Sometimes I find myself thoroughly disgusted with my fellow females. Unfortunately, tonight is proving to be one of those occasions. Both the young she-wolves and the older ones are making complete spectacles of themselves, all vying for the attention of one of the most notorious rogues present at this evening's ball.

Lupo Tempest doesn't often attend high-society events, being the overseer of a gentlemen's club. However, he couldn't possibly have avoided this gathering, as it celebrates the marriage of Miss Faye Grace to the Alpha of Silverpine. Despite not being related to the family in any way, not even as a distant cousin or long-lost nephew, Tempest has been raised within their midst. He doesn't come from the high packs, and his blood certainly doesn't run clean.

Yet, the she-wolves fluttering around him, dangling their dance cards in front of his nose, seem to have forgotten these crucial facts. He won't elevate their status in pack Society, grant them titles, or secure a place for them in the House of Alphas. The only thing he's certain to achieve is turning their minds to mush. It's that smile of his… the way his lips part ever so slightly to reveal straight, white teeth, and the slight lift of one corner of his mouth that forms a mischievous dimple on his right cheek, promising wickedness.

It's his eyes too… the way they sparkle knowingly, as if he can not only decipher a she-wolf's deepest desires but also fulfill them in ways that exceed her wildest expectations.

And let's not forget his hair, dark and thick. He dares to keep it longer than what's currently fashionable, and it brushes enticingly against the collar of his blue jacket, tempting fingers to run through its slightly curling strands.

The breadth of his shoulders and the width of his chest hint at solace for any she-wolf who rests her cheek there, while his height surpasses most men in the salon, making him half a head taller. His laughter effortlessly captivates one she-wolf after another. His courteous bow, incredible solicitude, and seductive whispers in delicate ears are irresistible.

He effortlessly makes them fall in love with him, without a care for the consequences. I despise him for it. They will happily follow him into gardens, where he will kiss them into oblivion.

I once caught him doing just that with a young servant at the Alpha's estate. Behind the stables, the girl desperately climbed up his long frame, seeking all the pleasure his mouth had to offer. Though I was only eight at the time, I was disgusted by the display, knowing it was wrong and sinful. They might not have seen me, but as I ran away, I heard his low laughter, urging me to quicken my pace. I know his type, someone who cares nothing for a she-wolf’s reputation.

Tonight, he has danced with a dozen she-wolves, not that I am keeping count.

I have received my fair share of attention from Gammas, Betas, and Alphas in attention. Men who hold courtesy titles but will one day hold much more, as well as those who have already ascended to their rightful ranks. I hardly need to beg for notice like the foolish girls who flock to Tempest every time he leaves the dance floor or returns from fetching refreshments for some swooning miss.

He certainly plays the role of a gallant well, mastering it effortlessly. He makes them all forget who he truly is, where he comes from… a rogue of humble origins.

"They make such fools of themselves, fawning over Tempest," I mutter.

Beside me, Miss Melina startles. "You can't blame them. He's an enigma. I don't believe he's attended a ball since Faye's debut."

He dared to ask me to dance that night, but I ignored his invitation. Someone must maintain the moral high ground and adhere to socially acceptable standards. My father drilled that into me countless times. My lineage can be traced back to the first lycan king.

I'm not even allowed to dance with the spare sons, let alone any who came after. I am expected to make him and my ancestors proud, to uphold the noble tradition of marrying well. Disobeying his strictures would mean forfeiting my impressive dowry and any chance at happiness. I am dependent on what my trust's fortune will eventually provide: freedom.

"He's a commoner," I remind my friend.

Melina raises an eyebrow. "So am I."

I let out a quick exhalation. "Your mother is of a high pack."

"My father comes from the streets."

And yet, he's one of the wealthiest men in all of the known world. "He made something of himself."

"Couldn't the same be said of Lupo?" She says.

"Can anyone truly escape their past?" I counter.

She shakes her head. "You can't have it both ways. If you acknowledge that my father escaped his past, then you should give Lupo the same consideration."

I can, and I do. My father was an incredibly moral man. Since his passing, my brother has deviated from the straight and narrow, indulging in too many nights of gambling and drinking. But I feel obliged to honor my father's teachings. Sin is drawn to me, and if I'm not ever vigilant, it will consume me. I've never shared this ugly truth about myself with anyone. My father would have been terribly disappointed, perhaps even withheld my dowry, leaving me to fend for myself.

"My father has no complaints about Lupo's management of The full Moon club," Melina continues, mentioning the infamous gentlemen's club as if she has my full attention. "Being raised by the Alpha and Luna of Greywinds and receiving the same devotion given to their sons, I dare say he could have avoided working altogether if he wanted to. I think he deserves admiration."

I had made a mistake by bringing it up. Melina could never understand how I see Lupo Tempest for what he truly is: beneath us all and not deserving of any regard. He is no gentleman. He encourages sin and tempts she-wolves with his wicked smile.

"He always manages to bring out the worst in you," Melina muses. "I've never understood that."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't give him any thought whatsoever." I huff.

She quirks a brow. "Yet here we are discussing him."

"No, actually, I am pointing out the improper behavior of the she-wolves and how it reflects poorly on all of us." I say.

"My father has told me countless times that we are not responsible for others' behavior, only our own." She points out.

But when that behavior affects us…

I halt my thoughts, shoving them back into hiding, refusing to give them a voice.

Although I must admit, Melina is right. Tempest brings out the worst in me, always has. Sin calls to sin.

Just this morning, I was the envy of every woman in Blackrock City as Tempest escorted me down the aisle of the Church after Faye and Silverpine's ceremony.

I served as Faye's maid of honor while Tempest stood as Silverpine's best man. Yet, on the long walk from the altar to the vestry, we exchanged not a word, and he barely acknowledged me. His remarkable smile did not grace me, nor did his eyes twinkle.

I know he wished to be with anyone but me, just as I wished to be with anyone but him.

The she-wolves are dancing with the devil as he merrily leads them into temptation. It is time someone put an end to this charade, someone reminded them... and him... of his place among our ranks.