As usual thank you all so much for reviewing! It makes me update faster (and reminds me to actually work on the story-cough, cough).

I had wanted to post this weeks ago, but I didn't like where it was originally heading, so I rewrote the entire thing about five times. Also, to make up for the long wait, there will be another chapter this month.

Anyway…

On to the long awaited first chapter with Mister Smexy! (A.k.a. Atem.)

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

Last Chapter:

"Tell me little one, what is you name"

In a voice, barely louder than the beating of a fairies wings, a bell like voice gave him his long desired answer.

"Yugi…"

Chapter 5 – Clawing hope

Even as that word passed from the young hounds' lips, his uncertain gaze never left the molten depths of his alpha, as if he feared that the warm and gentle touch of his hand would suddenly turn on him.

The soft brush of a clawed thumb against his pale cheek made him turn his face towards the warm cures. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him without the intent of harming him, so long, that he had almost forgotten what the southing touch of another being could feel like.

His last memories of a loving home were like ghostly shadows, distorted by the screams of his dying kin, the glitter of silver in the night, the song of metal as it swept through the air and the chilling dance of the flames that had sought to consume him next.

He was lucky to escape that night. The one who had managed to save him however was an old werewolf. He hid Yugi away in the marshes of the werewolf territory that bordered to the land of the fay. Only for him to be hunted down and killed himself, while the young werehound, hid in the brush nearby.

That day he had to witness how his grandfather was slain and skinned, his pelt being worn like the newest fashion trend, flaunted around by his murderers, while he himself was left there to fend for himself; now the last of his pack…

And yet, the soothing touch his alpha was bestowing on him, seemed to somehow elicit a feeling of warmth, a feeling of safety even, which seemed to give the disembodied memories of his past some sort of shape. It was as if he had felt this feeling, the welcoming touch of another, before. As his eyes closed to turn into the touch, he saw a faint memory play blurrily before his minds eye.

He saw an elegant wolf-shaped figure softly lick his cheek in an affectionate way, while he was still just a pup, playing between the paws of the elder werehound.

As much as it hurt him, he couldn't bring himself to remember what that particular werehound had looked like. He wanted to be able to, but the only memory he still had of the elder hound was the loving touches and the feeling of safety she had bestowed upon him. Even the southing scent that had once been hers was lost to him.

And yet, till the end, she had been his light, his home, his everything…she, had been his mother.

He knew the emotion the vampire king was making him feel, with the slightest brush of his callous finger tips. It was the feeling of home. He…was finally home.

A deep appreciative growl started to emerge from his throat, as he rubbed his face against Yamis hand. He wanted to show his alpha just how much he liked the caresses he was being given, but he never managed to vocalize it.

A violent pain ripped through his throat, as if his own claws were tearing apart the inside of his neck. A silent scream tried to free itself from his tortured vocal cords, but it failed miserably; dying a painful death in his throat, drowning in the young werehounds own blood.

The scent of blood violently pulled the vampire king from his trance like state, as he watched the pale youth before him open his mouth, only for a crimson cascade to pour from his lips.

"Yugi!" Yami screamed, as he caught the frail boy, who was being brought to his knees by the immense pain that was seemingly trying to choke him to death, with his own blood.

The gasping teen laid against Yamis chest, as he tried to breath past the pain. Joey came rushing over to his side, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He may not like, let alone trust the werehound, but he knew some of what the kings' lookalike had been through and that at least gained him some sympathy from Joey.

"Hey, kid! Open ya' mouth! I need to see what's wrong" he yelled at the boy. He knew he couldn't let him bleed like this. They were in a castle full of vampires for crying out loud! And the kid was starting to smell like a blood sucker buffet!

To immersed in pain to even hear what the other wolf had said, or even register his closeness, Yugi thrashed against Yamis hold on him. The feel of his own blood running down his throat at an alarming rate brought him into a state of panic. He was bleeding to death!

"Yugi! Yugi! You need to hold still!" Yami tried to yell, while trying to hold down the flailing youth, without hurting him.

The young werehound didn't even hear his Alpha at this point. His heart was racing, fighting to get blood through his system in its panic, but only making him bleed out quicker.

Joey saw how Yami was struggling and decided to step in. He let his claws sharpen, turning them into deadly tips. Without hesitation he dove in, targeting the young ones throat. If the kid wasn't going to listen, then he needed to make him submit by force, in his opinion. The only problem was that Yugi wasn't going to go down easy.

The second the hand closed around his already constricting neck, the werehound struck out at his assailant, his claws running along soft flesh. The skin stood no chance against the razor like blades that doubled as the young wolfs fingernails. Foreign blood spilled onto Yugis body, like the first drops of rain. But it wasn't just the blood of the older Wolf, no, it was blood he knew, he knew that scent. It was Yamis.

Broken from his panicked haze, Yugis frightened eyes turned towards the injured vampire. There upon the kings face were three deep slices, dripping blood down on him, while his alpha still held him in his arms. Despite his lungs screaming for air and the racing of his frantic heart, a cold fear gripped his very soul. He had hurt his alpha!

During all of this the young werehound didn't even notice that his own throat had been cut by Joeys claws. Yami raised a hand to his wounded cheek, before looking at the crimson fluid that remained on his hand. A single drop of blood painted a path down his pale wrist, before it perilously dived towards Yugi, hitting the center of one the wounds Joeys claws had left behind.

The vampires' eyes followed the tiny droplets path, only to see the place where it had landed return to perfect, unmarred porcelain white. His own mind didn't register his next actions, as he took his blood covered hand and smeared it across the young wolfs wound and under his touch, the injured skin stitches itself back together again. As he watched the sick display, a terrible thought crossed his mind. He knew he didn't have time to think, so he simply let four little words pass from his lips.

"Yugi, drink my blood"

Meanwhile in the Werewolf haven…

Atem was pissed. Royally pissed.

Servants went running when they even caught a whiff of him in the area. A deep growl heralded his presence and that anyone not fast enough to run away, should bow down in submission.

For the third time that week he had been challenged by some wannabe, upstart, for his position as Alpha. Needless to say the fools' blood was now painting the otherwise gray stone walls of the main packs palatial caves.

The palace itself had been clawed out from the very mountain range it was situated in. Labyrinth like halls housed the werewolf nobility, while the normal packs were scattered across the land.

It didn't really matter where they were, he ruled over them all, they bowed to him, or so he had thought. It was blaringly obvious that the idea itself was a farce.

He had grown up being told he was some kind of supreme ruler that no one would ever dare question, but he knew better now. He had been challenged so often in his short time as ruler, that it was seemingly becoming common place to question him.

In earlier times questioning the supreme alpha alone would have been unheard of, treason even! Voicing the intention alone would have warranted a death wish. You respected and honored the supreme alpha without question, but that tradition seemed to have died with his father.

Now when someone said they wanted to challenge Atem they were cheered on by bystanders and even encouraged to do so, while others gave them tips on what to do. As if anyone stood a chance against him. He was ruler, and if they didn't want to acknowledge that he was a good ruler, when he was ruling them kind and justly, then he would rule them by force.

He would be drinking blood in heaven with the devil himself, before he let anyone destroy what his family had built. His ancestors had managed to combine all the waring packs under one rule, ending the mindless bloodbaths and feuds hat threatened to end their kinds existence. He wouldn't let anyone end his families rule, but he would definitely end anyone who tried.

Another deep growl ripped from his throat, as he violently opened the carved stone double-doors to his chambers.

It was a rather rustic set, but then again, it wasn't like this a few years ago. Most of the things he had held dear were destroyed by people who were trying to get to him, or had fallen victim to his own rages. Now he preferred to have as little as possible, so people would have next to nothing they could take from him.

He desperately wanted to just fall into his fur covered bed and breathe in the calming scent of the forest, that the downy furs still somehow seemed to harbor, but he knew he couldn't. He still had the blood of his enemy dripping off of him, and his bed was one thing he refused to taint. It was the only place he still had peace anymore.

Atem walked over to his bathing chamber, only to stop in front of a full length mirror, when he saw his own reflection. He looked like a hardened warrior from the amazon who had just gotten back from war.

His wild hair was specked with small patches of blood, making it even more unruly than usual. His lightning like bangs were partially sticking to his sweat soaked skin, while droplets of blood and sweat still beaded down his bronze, sun backed skin, leaving trails of ruby liquid that almost looked like tribal paintings in their wake.

His chest was on full display, as he was only wearing a dark brown pair of skin tight leather pants and a beaded necklace for the challenge. The beads were colorfully painted in vivid shades of blues, magentas and turquoise, while they were interspaced with fangs, hanging from a thick leather band around his neck. The neckband itself was an heirloom of his family. Every fang represented one of his ancestors, while each bead was the respective color of each of their eyes.

One day, when he died, his fang would also be put on this necklace, if he managed to actually have an heir before he died that is…

But those were thoughts for another night.

He let his deep magenta eyes fall to the four deep slash marks marring his otherwise flawless skin. They were running a dangerous course, from the left side of his neck, all the way down to his heart, where he had the symbol of his pack tattooed on his skin, a flaming sun. Blood was seeping from the old wound, making the sun look as if it were melting into a crimson waterfall.

He brushed some of the blood off of his toned chest, with a look of disgust on his face. It was an old wound he had sustained when he had fought and killed his fathers murderer years ago. Yet even after so many years, the wound would still open no and again and weep his life essence, like the cursed red tears of a fallen angel. No one knew why it happened, but it was seen as a weakness. A weakness his people seemed to be tolerating less and less.

The fool from a few hours ago was testament to that.

'It wasn't enough that the idiot had to ruin the celebration of my birth, but he had to cover me in his disgusting blood as well? It's the first time I didn't have to spend the anniversary of my birth on the battlefield and they ruin it with a stupid challenge!'

He didn't want to dwell on that thought though. He would have rather been on the field than at home, even if it was a terrible thing to say, but at least there he had clarity. On the battlefield he knew who was friend and foe.

At his own home he had no such luxury.

Everyone had some kind of motive, some agenda they were following and trying to use him for, or were plotting against him. He actually craved battle, because he felt safer there, than he did in the company of the other blue blooded wolves.

Atem stripped off his shredded, dark brown leather pants, while flinching, as the fabric rubbed against an angry gash on his upper left thigh. A lucky shot on his enemies' part, but seeing it only made the alpha more furious. He was the Alpha; he was supposed to be infallible! Yet every day he was finding more flaws in himself.

Growling at his own thoughts, he let the torn leather fall to the floor and set his treasured necklace on the small wooden vanity table beside the full length mirror.

Standing there in all his glory, he could see how the claws of his newest challenger had managed to cut the inner side of his thigh, when he had tried to free himself from Atems grip during the fight. His attempt had been in vain, but it still irked the werewolf to no end.

He would need to clean the wound before it began to fester.

Atem walked the few paces to his private indoor hot spring, as if he were unharmed, refusing even in the privacy of his own bedchamber to show that the injury actually hurt him. Grabbing a small towel from the rack besides the ledge of the oval shaped spring, he slowly sank into its warm depths, feeling all the stress in his body try to unravel.

The warm, milky water helped to sooth his muscles, while washing away the evidence of yet another senseless fight. He breathed in the warm scent of the minerals in the water, as he rested his head against the rim of the pool.

Above him there was an eye carved into the stone ceiling, with elegant swirls flowing from the intricate design. (Imagine eye of Horus). It was the eye of the wolf god, who protected all werewolves that ran free in his forests, a symbol that was also tattooed upon the supreme alphas skin.

It was drawn on his left biceps, with thick bands encircling his upper arm, seemingly holding the eye in place, in a deep brown that was normally associated to henna tattoos.

The mark was supposed to protect him from harm and so far it had done its job. He just hoped the wolf god would continue to watch over him in the next battle.

He knew it had been too long since the vampires attacked and he himself had been wary of taking action, due to the constant conflict he was having to deal with within his own ranks. The silence had worn on so long that even his soldiers were becoming restless and were beginning to plot their own little raids, thinking he wouldn't find out, or care.

Atem however didn't want to risk going on the offensive just yet.

So far the vampires had never let a things be for so long. It was true that the last episode of the war had ended in a draw, but he knew better than to expect those blood suckers to just let it rest. There was a reason they hadn't started anything and he needed to find out what it was, fast.

There were only two possibilities and neither of them were good. Either they were planning something big or they were having problems and Atem was missing his chance to strike a devastating blow at his enemies and thusly his chance of ending the war and any question of his ability to be the leader of the werewolves.

He doubted they were having problems, since he knew that the little king they had on the throne was a puppet for the vampiric council and the guy had little to no ambition to change it. The council had him right where they wanted him, so the chances of them having internal disputes were next to none.

So the only other conclusion was that they were planning something and he needed to know what.

Dipping beneath the surface of the warm water, he washed the last remnants of the fight from his hair, before stepping out of the large hot spring.

The water cascaded down his well-toned body onto the cool stone floor, while the soft steam of the water seemed to play around his feet. His wet hair hung down his back, while a few strands clung to the sharp curve of his jaw and hung in front of his piercing, feral eyes. With the markings painted upon his skin and the water caressing his bronze skin, as it rippled to the floor, he looked more like an ancient water god, rising from the depths, than the wolfen ruler he truly was.

Atem absentmindedly towel dried his hair, before tying it into a messy ponytail with a strip of roughly cut leather. He tied another towel around his waist and slipped the symbol of his family back over his head.

Though the average werewolf tended to be rather loose about their clothing standards, he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of walking out of the bathing chamber without any form of clothing. He had been surprised a few too many times, by lusting females and males, in his adjacent bedchambers to not have learned his lesson.

After grabbing a pair of pants from the dresser next to his bed, Atem went to the entrance of his chambers, where he knew one of his guards would be. He could feel the strain of the day and the lull of the warm bath he had just taken getting to him, but he still had one thing he needed to do and time could be of the essence.

Opening the doors he stepped out, only long enough to give the man his orders.

"Get me my head spy, now", he ordered in a deep grow that sent the man running as if a group of vampires were coming to suck him dry.

Stepping back into his rooms, Atem didn't have to wait long for the knock on his door, signaling that the man he had summoned was there.

"Enter"

"You called for me", a dark, masculine voice asked, as a cloaked figure entered the alphas private chamber. His features were covered by the black, heavy fabric of the hooded cloak that the man wore, held together by a small circular, golden broach around his neck. The only thing visible was a small glimpse of a dagger belt that was tied around the figures chest.

"I want you to find out why the vampires haven't attacked yet and what they're up to, they have to be planning something and I want to know what. I expect you to have those answers within the week"

"It will be done, alpha", the mysterious figure answered with a bow.

The man before him was one of the few people Atem knew he could trust. He trusted him, but only for one reason. This man would never betray him, because Atem had the life of his lovers in the palm of his hand and he wasn't afraid to use them against the spy, and he knew it.

With a silent nod Atem sent him away, to begin following his orders. Silent as a ghost the cloaked figure turned and left to begin his life threatening mission of infiltrating the vampire court, his cloak billowing ominously around him as he moved.

As he closed the heavy stone doors behind him, a small strand of silver hair peaked out from underneath the cloaked figures hood, while Atem just stood there, knowing full that he could have just sent the man to his death…

That's it for this chapter! Hope you liked it enough to R&R.

Next time: Find out if Yugi will drink Yamis blood and find out a troubling truth.

I am currently holding a poll on what my next story should be, even though I want to finish this one first, but I want to have the next story actually done before I start posting it, so I don't make you guys wait longer than necessary. (This one has more than 20 chapters plotted out, so it will be awhile till I do a new ff).

-LGK