Another typical day of his married life had begun. The thought was uppermost in Domenico Moretti's mind as he switched the shower off and reached for his phone, which he had left on top of the stall. His training practice with young shifters had been cut short when he received a message about his wife Misty almost causing a fight among the Panthera.
Domenico speed—dialed Misty's number. Ring, ring, ring. No answer. As expected. His wife was hiding from him, without a doubt. There wasn't a day she wasn't causing trouble and, Domenico privately acknowledged to himself, he wouldn't have her any other way.
Stepping out of the cubicle, Domenico suddenly found himself face to face with a crowd of young fighters, all of them with envy on their faces as they took in their instructor's physique. Although wolves were not the largest of all shifter races, they had always been the strongest, and this was definitely made evident in Domenico Moretti's form.
The werewolf prince's six—foot—plus form was packed with muscle, honed by years of fighting and killing vampires and rogue wolves. His face could easily be called beautiful, with the sharp, classical perfection of his angled face and blazing green eyes. But it was a beauty that had an edge, for there was no mistaking the power the Moretti pack leader's heir possessed.
When none of his students spoke, Domenico asked finally, "What is it?" He walked towards the locker room, and his brow arched up when he saw them following him.
The boys came from just about every shifter pack in the land, ranging from age 12 to 18, and all of them eager to have this once—in—a—lifetime chance to train under the legendary warrior. Many of them had thought
and feared
Domenico Moretti would be a disappointment in reality. After all, he was one of the few shifters who successfully led a life among humans. The puny human race had even foolishly turned him into a celebrity, a billionaire whose face graced the covers of Times, Wall Street Journal, and GQ all in the same year. Also, there was the fact that he was quite the pretty boy. The prince didn't even wear his facial hair proudly, unlike most wolves. So how could Domenico Moretti be as powerful as everyone said he was?
The answer to that question was what the boys had traveled far and wide for. If he was indeed as invincible as the legends said he was, then they wanted to be like him.
Today, they had learned the truth, and their groaning and aching muscles were the answer. Domenico Moretti was possibly one of the toughest taskmasters they would ever encounter. He was a strict instructor, pushing all of them beyond their limits. Perfection was what he demanded, and they found themselves working hard to give it to him. How could they not when, upon asking them to do fifty push—ups, Domenico did a hundred? When they ran five laps, he had run ten, and the heir to the Moretti pack leader hadn't even broken a sweat afterwards.
After toweling his face dry, Domenico still found the boys staring at him. This was all Misty's fault, too, Domenico thought in exasperation. She had turned him into a babysitter for cubs and kittens, and all because she thought he needed to be better at P.R. in the shifter world.
Curbing his natural impulse to snarl and frighten all the kids away like a boogeyman, he asked, "What is it?"
The young shifters gulped. The tone was cold and mean, making them feel the alpha wolf was a second away from snapping all of their necks…out of boredom.
Someone from the back asked nervously, "Is it true you killed vampires with your own hands?"
"Yes."
Ooooooooh. A collective gasp of amazement emerged from the boys.
"Is it also true…you cried when your wife left you for a Faerie?"
At the question, nearly all the boys wanted to cry themselves. They were done for now. Domenico Moretti would go berserk and kill them all, also with his bare hands———
"Yes."
This time, the boys looked like they were about to die of shock, and Domenico didn't know whether he was amused or irritated. He would make Misty pay for this. Domenico knew it would have been better to lie. Unlike other Lyccans, lying was a skill of his, something he ruthlessly used to get what he wanted. But after his last lie nearly cost the breakup of his marriage, he had developed an aversion to it and found himself being more honest than he wanted – like now.
The boys were still looking at him, disbelief written all over their faces.
"You'll understand why when you grow older," Domenico said gruffly as he pulled on his pants. It was damn awkward to change in front of dozens of shifters all staring at him. Although he had a shower in his own private quarters, Domenico had joined his students in the barracks, not wanting them to think he was using his position and authority to enjoy privileges. But after this stupid Q&A, maybe it was better———
"Prince Domenico?"
Domenico was of a mind not to answer, but the quivering note in the boy's voice told him it had taken the student a lot of guts to speak out loud. Pulling his shirt over his head, he asked, "What is it? And this better be the last question, you little punks." His words, uttered in a menacing tone, had everyone laughing, albeit nervously.
"A—are you even afraid of anything?"
The question had him pausing. Something he was still afraid of? Domenico frowned as he slammed his locker door shut. The sound had the young shifters jumping, which almost made him smile. They really were still kids.
Only one answer came to mind. "Losing my wife." He bared his fangs. "It's my greatest fear, but it's also my strength because it's what keeps me fighting…even in the darkest times."
****
