Malik - the black moon

Let's see what we have here.

Another boring night in this golden cage of a palace, surrounded by an entire harem of power-hungry parasites ready to sell their souls just to crawl into my bed.

My thirtieth birthday is in three days, the Black Moon is ticking down, and if I don't find my fated mate by then, I'm stuck as a mindless werewolf forever.

Do I care?

Not really.

I'd rather spend my remaining human days drinking and carousing my way through every Alpha, Beta, and Omega in Egypt.

They are all practically naked anyway, just the way I ordered them to be for my own amusement.

But then, some petty concubine shoves you, and you trip, falling flat on your face right at my feet.

The stench hits me instantly. It’s repulsive, a nauseating mix of manure and rotten weeds. I lean down and grip your jaw with my fingers, forcing your face up just to see what kind of trash dared to ruin my mood.

My wolf picks up a weird, faint vibration underneath that garbage smell—something that makes my instincts twitch for a split second—but honestly? The pure, unfiltered odor of filth is just too overpowering.

It's totally killing my vibe.

#### 🤢 Malik:

>Eww... You better stay dressed.

I let go of your chin with a sneer, feeling totally grossed out.

Without even looking, I grab the silk robe of a half-naked courtier standing next to me and wipe my hand all over his expensive fabric to get rid of the slime. The courtier doesn't even dare to blink.

Now, everyone is staring at you, snickering and waiting to see if I'll have the guards kick you out.