Claw of Exile: He Kills to Survive (Exiled Book 1)

by J. K. Jones

  He wants this to work out.

  Yet, something is nagging at him. It’s raw and insistent. How much do they know about this Master of the Moon? Why not summon him to the Silvercrest Clan? Why does he reside so deep in the mountains? Ryu frowns thinking about all of this.

  Where exactly are they going?

  By daybreak they settle down, each of them setting up their tents to get some rest.

  Micah finds him again, for scenting purposes of course.

  Ryu follows him into his tent. Not sure what to expect. Last time, things didn’t go too badly. It was only when Micah tried to rekindle something that was long lost, did Ryu react violently.

  He doesn’t want to relive the past.

  Micah should have gotten the message by now.

  Still, when he steps forward, face open and searching Ryu finds that it is very hard to resist. He allows Micah to scent him, rubbing his face against his cheek and neck, avoiding his glans at all cost.

  “Micah,” Ryu says once he’s finished, the tent smells thickly of White Sage. “How much do you know about the Master of the Moon?”

  “You haven’t heard the legends,” Micah responds, but it isn’t a question, just a statement of fact. “Not many people have.” He sits down on his makeshift bed in a lotus position. “This Yamabushi lived in mount Horai for centuries. The place used to be where many wolves would complete their pilgrimage, especially during the Edo Period. He is said to grant any wish for someone with a pure heart, someone who has cultivated a righteous pathway.” Micah smiles sadly. “He can cure any disease or infliction. They say he’s the Goddess Volena’s right hand.”

  Ryu looks at him carefully, “You don’t believe it?”

  “I do,” Micah answers quietly. “However, I will not succeed.”

  Ryu frowns. “Why not?”

  “I am not of a pure heart.”

  Ryu gasps, mind spinning from the confession. Is Micah not pure of heart? Is he not the best person for the Gods to use as their vessel? But he spent his whole life cultivating as a True Alpha. He follows the rules religiously, people love and respect him for it.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Rule 345-456,” Micah whispers. “I have broken them all.”

  Refrain from taking that which is not freely given. Refrain from sexual misconduct. Refrain from wrong speech such as lying, idle chatter, malicious gossip, or harsh speech. Refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs that lead to carelessness.

  Ryu’s mind jumps from each rule, trying desperately to recall them all. “But—”

  “I am not pure of heart. I am not the right vessel. I want—I yearn. I would give anything for—I am selfish. I am lustful and full of gluttony. I’ve failed you in the worst possible way. Rule 569: Your mate is of your flesh; you must not allow them to come to harm.”

  Ryu clamps his mouth shut.

  “I should have fought them harder,” Micah continues. “I shouldn’t have let them punish you so severely.”

  What can he say?

  If they didn’t punish him then, they would have tried later on. Hell, it probably would have been worse. Ryu clenches his jaw and looks the other way. He caused a lot of problems back then; he didn’t mean for any of it to happen.

  For years he hated Micah for not fighting hard enough, for allowing the council to make this decision. Besides all of that, how are they going to succeed? If Micah isn’t pure of heart—if he was saying he wasn’t a true Byakuren, then how were they going to get the Master of the Moon to grant their wish?

  “Then why are we doing this?” Ryu demands. “What the fucking hell was the point in getting everyone together for this crap?”

  Micah takes a deep breath.

  It takes an eternity for him to speak, however, when he does his words pierces his chest.

  “I am not of a pure heart. I cannot be the vessel—but you can.”

  Chapter 24

  Silvercrest Howlers

  Hiratsuka 15'

  Six years ago….

  Ryu steps out into the sand and dirt. It’s heavily stained with sweat and grime from the former matches. The Wolf tournament has begun. Ryu looks up, staring at the large array of nobles watching their class, along with the Alpha, Michael McCorbyn of the Silvercrest clan. He breathes deeply, using the meditation techniques Sensei Musashi taught him to calm his nerves.

  To his right, the training grounds awash with lavish streamers, the Alphas banners rise high and brightly, announcing the joyous occasion. The colors splash brightly, vivid, and vibrant in their disposition. However, Ryu feels like it is anything but that. It’s hot. Suffocating even. He hates his white robes and thin sandals. The rest of the boys look wildly uncomfortable, their clothing awkwardly worn, in an attempt to mimic a tradition long since outgrown, especially in their day and age.

  The sun is bright, shining down on them in the boxed-in training grounds. Michael sits on a raised stadium, high above the rest, his clothing deep pastel blue silk Kimono, matched with black flowing pants. He waves and smiles freely as if he isn’t the most fierce-some Alpha in the room. Ryu watches tiredly, his bored expression barely concealed.

  Sensei Musashi hangs off to the side, watching the current Alpha and Beta try to tear each other apart. It’s not pretty. Especially the way some of these Alphas fight dirty. Ryu knows how far they are willing to go to win, especially something as monumental as the Silvercrest Tournaments. The winner oftentimes would receive exceptional praise, even patronage if one of the nobles deemed they were worthy enough. The Silvercrest Howlers were generous in their gifts, showering the champion with on-going praise and recognition that would last for years and years to come.

  Amaya catches his eye, smiling brilliantly at him from her position in the stadium lifts. She looks beautiful in a stunning pale-yellow dress, her eyes twinkle with a smile line. He aches to hug her, kiss her, and have her hold him.

  He’s been here for four years and just the sight of her makes Ryu want to rush home. God—he’s missed her. However, he will not humiliate her, so he beams, waving back enthusiastically, and counting down the minutes until he can see her again. At age sixteen Ryu is tall, slender, his body filling out nicely, his hair trails down his back like a black curtain.

  For now, he is Sensei Musashi’s assistant, his right hand. Sensei Musashi even takes him to train with the younger recruits joining the Silvercrest regiment. Across the training grounds is Micah, the years have been kind to him. He practices shirtless, his muscles glistening and gleaming in the sunlight, abs are rippled as if carved from the Gods themselves. Micah’s black hair falls over his brow, the tiny ringlets cling to his flesh.

  They are still friends.

  If Ryu can even call them that. They meet sometimes, without the watchful eyes of Sensei Musashi, and just be together. Sometimes they shift, chasing each other around in wolf form, or other times they spar, with Micah getting the best of him and forcing him down onto his back, with Micah hovering above.

  That thought alone makes him blush.

  However, outside of that they never speak. Micah doesn’t glance at him or talk to him, doesn’t even acknowledge his existence. Ryu understands this. He is nothing. Nobody. A Filthy Claw. His clan killed his mother and massacred thousands of Silvercrest Howlers. He shouldn’t dare speak to Micah.

  Now that he is nearly eighteen, they will be calling for suitors, respectable Omegas from good families. He can see them all there, fluttering about like eager swans, flapping their fans wildly, speaking in hushed whispers, their face painted in a variety of colors.

  His heart lurches.

  Micah will always be his friend. His best friend. His only friend. Even if Micah doesn’t think so.

  “Ryu,” Sensei Musashi calls to him and he runs over immediately. “You’re next.”

  Ryu straightens his back, keeping his nerves in check. “You will fight Alhazred and you will lose.”

  What? He had to fight his adopted brother? Ryu pales visibly, knowing
that Alhazred is an Alpha and he would certainly not hold back against Ryu. He never has in the past. However, now with all of his training he can win—he can beat Alhazred! If he fought against Micah in training and bested him, certainly Alhazred wouldn’t be much harder. He stares at Sensei completely puzzled. Why should he lose? He’s one of Sensei Musashi’s best fighters.

  “But—”

  “If you win, it will humiliate him,” Sensei Musashi cuts him off. “He would not live down the shame. However, you must. It is expected of an Omega to lose. This is your duty.”

  “Sensei Musashi,” Ryu swallows, frustration bubbling. “You—everything you said about strength and honor—”

  “I meant it,” Sensei Musashi says, then sighs deeply. “I apologize. Alhazred’s father was a powerful man, the council would not like to see him brought so low, and to be beaten by an Omega…. or worse a Filthy Claw…. This is the way of the world. We are at war. Nobody would take kindly to you winning.”

  Ryu grits in teeth. Oh. He should have known better. Sensei Musashi knows he can win—if he didn’t think he had a chance, he wouldn’t have told Ryu to lose. So, it comes to this: to bring Alhazred up he must kneel? He must be Alhazred’s steppingstone.

  “It is in your nature to be sympathetic Ryu,” Sensei Musashi says. “You belong to the Filthy Claws. However, you have grown up with the Silvercrest Clan. Your heart will forever be torn—your soul always divided. You must lose this battle. If you lose, they will hate you and if you win, they will despise you. The war is coming. It will end in blood. You have chosen the Silvercrest Clan, but you must live under our ways and our heel. To defy Alhazred would show you are in defiance of that.”

  Ryu turns away sharply, eyes blazing with hatred. Alhazred made his life a living hell—for years made sure Ryu knew he was lower than dirt and now he finally has his chance he cannot take it. Now he is being asked to step aside? Ryu cannot and will not do so. He settles his nerves, calms his mind, knowing that he needs to focus.

  Ryu bows deeply, turning away from Sensei Musashi and going back to his corner. He will never yield, certainly not to someone like Alhazred.

  Alhazred will lose.

  Chapter 25

  Ryu stands in the throes, resolute and astute. The Silvercrest Howlers crowds quiet around him; their whispers savagely carry on the wind. An Omega—they chant and chant. As if his mere existence is an anomaly. A Filthy Claw. Ryu grips his black wooden Katana, face devoid of emotion. Alhazred crouches low, his shirt already taken off and tied around his waist to expose his powerful upper body. The muscles tense and bulge under each movement, as he withdraws the wooden Katana practice sword from his belt.

  The arena is wide enough for the two of them to fight and not hurt others.

  Ryu remains impassive, holding the wooden Katana blankly, not at all concerned with the display of aggression before him. Alhazred makes a great show, he throws his hands in the air, grinning like a mad man. As the years passed, Alhazred did not grow, he remained short and stout, standing nearly a foot smaller than Ryu.

  “Are you ready?” Alhazred challenges. “This is my territory don’t forget.”

  Ryu nearly rolls his eyes, but he gets into his formation, glancing briefly at Sensei Musashi. It’s time. He centers himself, drawing a deep breath and keeping his body loose and agile. He fades the noise, concentrating on the beating of his heart, the sound of the wind, the words of Sensei Musashi humming pleasantly in his ear.

  Focus. He turns to Micah, who watches steadily on the sidelines. He holds his gaze, gaining more and more confidence with each passing moment. Ryu turns back to Alhazred and smirks.

  “A man grows most tired standing still.”

  “You shit!” Alhazred barks, his face growing hot in fury before he rushes forward.

  Ryu dips and weaves right, expertly avoiding the wide swing. His robe, stunning and white, flows in the wind as he moves gracefully, gliding as if he could walk on air.

  The dance begins.

  They both are quick and light on their feet. The sword itself is weightless and agile, specifically meant for combat. Alhazred breathes evenly as he strikes, his blows are hostile and militaristic, aiming to maim and cause pain.

  Alhazred chops downwards and Ryu slices up, the swords clash with a resounding crack. Both men judder from the impact, before bursting apart and rushing back together.

  However, things start to transform rapidly.

  The fight takes on a warmongering tone when Alhazred violently jabs forward; Ryu sidesteps to the left in just enough time as the wooden blade passes hair's breadth away from his face.

  Ryu moves on impulse, taking advantage of the opening, and smashes his free hand into Alhazred’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of the swordsman, and stunning him for a brief moment.

  The Silvercrest Howlers watching the fight let out a collective wince for the man.

  It takes him several moments before he realizes his mistake. The fight was meant to be a short demonstration, nothing more and nothing less.

  Even though Alhazred was aggressive in his fighting style he never actually hurt him. The whole thing is wrong, so very wrong and Ryu realizes that he took things too far. They weren’t supposed to draw blood, of course, it happened, however, this tournament was usually a show of skill, not brutality. Such things were severely frowned upon.

  Alhazred laughs, rubbing his neck. “I see Ryu fights dirty. I will have to match his fighting style.”

  The words crash down upon him.

  This isn’t the Silvercrest way of doing things. He shouldn’t even be fighting at all, he should just let Alhazred win, but he knows now that he can’t back down, especially against Alhazred. Ryu realizes too late that he is angry, explosively so. All those years, Alhazred made sure he knew he was nothing. Now he would have his revenge.

  Ryu grips the sword tightly, before crouching back into formation.

  Alhazred grunts, using the environment to his advantage, backflipping off the nearest pillar and propelling towards him. Ryu controls his momentum, instead of piling into his opponent he jerks to the right and swings around Alhazred.

  With the speed of a cobra, Alhazred spins his body and sweeps his fist towards his opponent’s head. The attack is so quick that Ryu barely dodges it, and counters with a powerful punch to his stomach, pushing Alhazred a foot and a half into the air.

  Alhazred lands roughly, a groan escaping his lips as he hits the ground hard.

  Ryu pants loudly, his entire body flushes in embarrassment as the crowd goes deadly silent. Not even Michael moves a muscle, all eyes are fixated on Alhazred in the mud and Ryu standing above him.

  An Omega beating an Alpha.

  The crowd erupts in cheers, loud deafening shouts of rage and outrage, calling for a rematch and at the same time Championship. Ryu takes a shuddering breath, his eyes searching for Amaya’s in the crowd. She beams at him, clapping loudly, before racing out to hug him tightly.

  Michael stands ceremoniously, giving Ryu a slight bow before calmly walking off the stage. Alhazred moans in pain, clutching his lower body. The blow is enough to kill a common man, and for a wolf, it is still quite painful.

  Ryu steps forward, he knows he should apologize but for some reason, he cannot force the words through his mouth. There is a flurry of excitement as people swarm Alhazred, they help him to his feet, but his eyes blaze with abhorrence. It’s not the first time and it certainly won’t be the last. Ryu feels smug, turning his nose in the air in great satisfaction. He won. He finally won. It feels like honey on his tongue—sugary and sweet—blissful.

  Amaya kisses his temple, whispering sweet and loving words into his ear. Ryu grins, he fills to the brim with happiness and disbelief. He won. He finally won.

  Sensei Musashi shakes his hand. “I knew you wouldn’t listen. I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Ryu laughs—for the first time, in a long time, he finally won.

  Chapter 26

  Thereafter Ryu is known as K
uroi Kage.

  Black Shadow. The Silvercrest Howlers revere him, their eyes haunting his every footstep. It’s unnatural, they say, to have an Omega beat an Alpha. It’s unheard of. Disgusting. Alhazred does indeed fall to shame and ruin. To be beaten by an Omega and a Filthy Claw is the worst kind of disgrace. Ryu’s talents unfold like a flower, precious congruent to that of Micah. Nobody speaks of it. Of how their swordsmanship is similar, the style nearly bleeding into one. Or how when Micah pushes down, Ryu pushes up, their moves and countermoves like a frost-bitten mirror.