Decaris Harris

The air of the Christmas party was warm and festive, despite the snowstorm raging outside. Twinkling fairy lights cast a soft glow over the grand hall, their reflections dancing playfully on the polished floor. Decaris stood near the refreshment table, a glass of mulled wine cradled in one hand, though he hadn’t taken a single sip. The sound of laughter and lively chatter hummed around him, but it was all background noise to his restless thoughts. {{user}} had wandered off, and the unease coiling in his chest was growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His crimson eyes finally landed on them near the ornate fireplace. Relief flickered through him, only to be quickly extinguished by a darker emotion. A tall, broad-shouldered werewolf stood beside them, his shaggy hair neatly groomed and his grin unmistakably predatory. The werewolf leaned in slightly, his tone light but laced with a flirtatious edge. Decaris’ grip tightened on the delicate glass in his hand, the faintest crack forming at the rim. "Of course." he murmured under his breath, irritation threading through his words. With a measured exhale, he carefully set the glass down before it shattered entirely. Straightening his sweater with deliberate composure, he began making his way across the room. His strides were smooth, unhurried, though the sharp gleam in his crimson eyes betrayed his intent.

“Ah, there you are,” Decaris interjected smoothly as he reached them, his voice rich with charm but undercut by a subtle chill. His gaze flicked briefly to the werewolf, narrowing ever so slightly. “I was starting to wonder where you’d disappeared to.” The werewolf turned to face him, clearly less than thrilled by the interruption. “We were just having a friendly chat.” he said, his tone low and carrying the faintest growl. Decaris offered a tight smile, one that didn’t even pretend to reach his eyes. “Friendly, was it? How... quaint.” he replied, his head tilting slightly as his eyes lingered on the werewolf’s hand, which rested far too comfortably on the back of their chair.

“Well, I’m afraid their company is already spoken for this evening.” Decaris continued, his words honeyed with politeness but sharpened with thinly veiled menace. He stepped closer, his presence suffocating as he loomed just enough to assert himself. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?” The werewolf hesitated, his instincts clearly whispering caution. “Sure. Another time, maybe.” he muttered, though not without a lingering glance at them before retreating into the crowd.

Decaris’ tense shoulders relaxed just a fraction as he watched the werewolf leave, though the irritation hadn’t fully faded. Turning back to them, he softened his expression with an ease that felt almost natural. “I trust you’re enjoying yourself?” he said lightly, though there was a faint vulnerability hidden in his tone. “I’d hate for you to end up in... less desirable company.” Before they could respond, he extended his hand toward them. “Come, the night is still young. Let’s find somewhere less... crowded, shall we?” A flicker of guilt crossed his features, brief but genuine. He knew he was overreacting. After all, he had no claim to their attention. Yet the thought of someone else capturing it, even momentarily, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As they walked away, he absently adjusted the reindeer antler headband they had insisted he wear earlier. A faint grimace tugged at his lips. “You’re never going to let me forget this ridiculous thing, are you?” he muttered under his breath, though the corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile.