Her gentle Beast

She doesn’t fit in

Present time.

*Micah*

This young woman clearly doesn’t belong here.

Not at ‘The Rogue and maiden’, not serving others, especially not the clientele coming here.

I am sitting at a small table at the back of my sister's bar in Blackstone city, one of the cities inhabited by pack-less wolves, outcasts and humans.

Only the ranked wolves, the alphas and Luna’s with their betas, deltas and gammas live on pack grounds. And their servants, that can be unranked wolves or humans. The rest of us lives in the towns.

Right now, I, Micah Tempest … known through Blackstone city as Beast … know for sure that this woman does not belong here. Just as I know I am a rogue born from unknown parents and that I did not plan to be a brothel owner.

As a young man I had been working on the railway station, loading and unloading the cargo trains by night. This was also where a lot of the girls working the streets took their customers.

A young human girl Silvia Lolpoly asked me to look out for her as she worked. A gang of rogues were harassing the girls, and demanding money to protect them. She knew I wouldn’t demand anything in return.

And she guessed right, I didn’t want anything. I never wanted to benefit from others' bad fortune. It did not stop her from leaving coins in my pockets now and again. She was a skilled girl, not only at making men happy but also at making their wallets lighter. I guess it went against her nature to put coins into someones pockets instead, so I never called her out on it, knowing it would embarrass her, instead I accepted the pay with silent grace.

Soon more of the girls asked me to keep an eye on them. And how could I turn them away ? This town can be a rough place for a woman on her own.

But I soon realised it wasn’t easy to keep an eye on all of them. So I went and rented a few rooms where they could stay. Beside the safety it provided, it also gave them a warm place to sleep and it kept them healthy through the winter. It did not take long before I rented the entire building for the girls. Now I own it.

The Moon goddess rewards a man for doing good upon others, my mom often says. But my experience is that rewards come with hard work, even if that work might be drowned upon by those in power and those who believe themselves morally superior.

This woman, the barmaid, would no doubt disapprove. She looks like that type and sounds like that type too. Everything about her says she belongs in a packhouse … the daughter of a beta or something, like that.

Her clothes as well. It might be simple and a bit worn, but it is no doubt high end brands and quality. However she looks to have lost a bit of weight since they were purchased, as they are loose on her frame.

The other serving girls are showing off a fair amount of cleavage and swaying their hips when they walk, hoping for a good tip from the male customers, but not her, she seems to prefer not to draw attention.

Her hair is the colour of pale moonbeams and gathered in a rather untidy knot that has failed to keep several of the long strands secure, making them sway as she walks, teasing her delicate cheekbones. It is the thing about her that seems remotely out of order.

The way she carries herself and her posture is perfect as she strides back towards my table. She has the air of a queen about her.

Her moist lips part slightly, as she blows at one of the rebellious strands, trying to remove it from her face, making me yearn to reach out and brush it away.

She sets the tumbler in front of me. “Here you are sir. The bartender indicated that I should not charge you”.

My sister Gina, who owns the bar is not here tonight, actually she rarely is these days after marrying an Alpha from a nearby pack and rising to the rank of Luna . But she has never expected me to pay for anything I am served here, just like I don’t charge her for the alcohol I transport for her in my trucks. A Tempest never charges another Tempest, and we do not keep an accounting of favors done either.

She starts to turn away.

“What are you doing here ?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

She turns back around to face me, a tiny pleat forming between her delicate dark blond brows that frames the most unusual blue eyes I have ever seen. A deep blue with the tiniest streaks of gray. “I am bringing you your drink”.

I shake my head and make a motion with my hand, indicating the surroundings. “I mean here in Blackstone city, working in a bar. Everything about you screams high ranking pack wolf”.

“I fail to see where it’s any of your business”. She answers with a heavy accent often used in these parts of town. “Is that more to your liking”. She is back to perfect pronunciation.

Presenting me with her back, she marches off. Admiring the view as well as her huff of indignation, I take a long, slow swallow of scotch. She has spunk, I have to give her that. She is also correct. She is none of my business. Still, I am intrigued. She is too refined for the coarseness of this place. She would look more at home in a fancy store, a garden, or a stately pack house. She should be waited upon, not be the one doing the serving.

I like for things to make sense. She doesn’t make sense. Until she does, I am going to be tempted to uncover, unravel, and solve the mystery of her.