Chapter Text
"And the Moon was loving, tying between us strings, strong as spiderwebs, for our souls to meet and merge as one. For there are True Souls meant to be." - Liber Lunae
"Alpha, do you think you'll ever mate?…"
John froze for a moment, freshly out of a rut, nerves still rubbed raw and the beast in his chest has yet to slumber before a primal, ancient hunger wakes it again in three months. He was still naked, the sweat on his skin dried a while ago as his heart tried to settle back on a calmer pace.
The Omega next to him immediately noticed the shift in the air, propping her body up with both arms, chest naked and hair a mess. Her body littered with fresh bites and nasty bruises. Instead of looking like a well loved lover, she looked like a spat out chew toy.
John's heavy lidded eyes landed on her tender body. And in that moment she bit her lower lip, fear flashing in her eyes, against all rationale. The animal reality of what she was to him, clear as day. Settling low in her guts.
"Don't call me that," He snarled, and she bent her head, cowering under his heavy, overpowering scent as an Alpha, but also as Head Alpha. Her Omega urging her to preserve herself, to remember her place. Even if realistically, her only crime was a question. John will surely not hurt her, he will not punish her.
John sighed when she swallowed back a terrified whine. He reached out, putting a heavy hand on the back of her neck, lifting her head so he could look into her eyes.
"You know better than to ask me things like that, I can still feel my knot," He murmured, voice heavy, beard overgrown and chest hair matted with sweat and slick. His stormy blue eyes look non-human then, too bright, too much.
"I'm sorry," She squeaked.
"Hm," He stared at her for a while, his eyes dragging over her sensitive body, then back up to her face. "Are you falling for me, Lillian?"
Her reaction was immediate, eyes watering and lower lip wobbling, panic rising in her scent like smoke out of a fire. "No! I'm not! I swear!"
John inhaled sharply, "You know you can't be my rut partner if you're growing feelings for me, Lillian,"
"I'm not! I was just asking because you're getting older and your scent is slowly changing, I think you need a mate before—" She spat out, wide-eyed, the words tumbling out of her mouth uncontrollably.
John slapped his hand to her mouth, shushing her, she flinched at the contact. The Alpha's chest rumbled like an angry mountain, his eyes turning ice cold, she blinked, eyes shiny and wet.
"Get out, before you regret it."
She whined, sad and pitiful, begging for mercy as she quickly scrambled out of bed, as much as she could with shaky legs, throwing on her clothes while moving around the room, trying to gather her things as quickly as possible. Before the dragon changes his mind and burns her to a crisp, so she can never utter another word ever again.
"Call Kyle, he'll drop you home," John added, turning on his side, facing away.
"Yes," She nodded, opening the door and slowly closing it behind her.
Once Lillian was gone, John stared out the window, at the miles of dark blue sea. Far, far away, blanketed by thick fog. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of crashing waves instead of Lillian on the phone downstairs. Something ached in his chest, like someone carved out a chunk of his heart and sewn him shut.
He hated the reality he was living in, that his soul yearned for a True Mate he has yet to meet. He's thirty six, would that be considered in his prime? Past it?
It doesn't matter because he felt like a weathered old man, his body and mind ran through by the time he spent slaving away in the army, fighting a war fought in the secrecy of the night. Witnessing the ugliest side of humanity, putting himself in the middle of it all for, what? Justice? To quench his hunger for a higher purpose, a higher mission, to be the one to save the day? To be a hero?
John was no hero.
And nothing he has ever done was heroic.
John suddenly gets up when he feels his head start to throb. He pushes his sheets off his warm body and slowly gets off his messy bed, naked and heavy on the floorboards of his sea side house.
He makes his way to the small desk on the corner, where a lone wooden box was sitting.
He flips it open, the wood smooth and heavy on his fingers, beautifully detailed and etched with flowers, plants, stars, the sun, the moon, and wolves.
There's a book inside, leather bound and the size of his hand. He takes it out, puts it on the desk and flips it open, thumbing through the pages. John's not sure what he's looking for, but he needs answers from The Liber Lunae.
A sacred text to some, and an encyclopedia of biological and scientific information to many.
It's mostly written in simple language, not as flowery as you would think, about mates, the seasons, and a bunch of other things he already knows.
"True Souls are as rare as a Blue Butterfly, but know they are real, as real as the silver moon. And when two True Souls meet, like two sides of a leaf, they will breathe the other in like the air, like they've been born anew."
John glares at the text laid in the page.
He was never really a spiritual man, not one to believe in the literal power of the moon beyond what their science knows about it. Not like how others believed the Moon is an all-powerful entity, as their Mother and the reason for their existence.
But it doesn't mean he doesn't want a True Mate of his own. He always felt like something was missing in him, ever since he could remember, and it better be a True Mate he's destined to meet and to have.
Because he's not sure he can do anything to stop the hunger he feels deep down in his bones, no matter how much he tries to fill his time with caring for his Pack, filling his lungs with their scents, when all he wants to breathe is a scent made just for him.
Dear Moon,
Please give me a True Mate.
My Mum said True Mates are best friends forever. So we can play together, and I can give my True Mate some of my snacks and toys. But not all of them. I would give half. Because that's kind.
Thank you,
— Bee (9)
It's the same dream again.
A battlefield littered with bodies, the earth is soaked with blood and rain, and the sky is blanketed with a thick layer of fog.
There is a woman standing alone, arms at her sides, naked as the day she was born, trying to find something far in the distance.
And that's when the wind picks up, overwhelming her with the scent of blood on wet wood. Of dark brown tree bark and sparkly green leaves.
She wraps her arms around herself, slowly making her way across the field, mud sticking to her feet, making every step heavy and slow. But she eventually makes it, to a figure in the milky air, a dark shape, a soldier, standing with his head bowed.
She can see the shoulders rising and falling, and a whine spills out of her throat, trying to comfort.
The soldier looks up then, facing to the left. She can't see his obscured face, but she can see the blood drenched in his fatigue, not his, that she knows.
She tries to speak, to call out for her True Mate, but nothing comes out of her throat. She reaches for her throat, frowning, and he slowly turns his head her way, right as she's about to see his face, she wakes up.
The Omega wakes up with a gasp, her hand to her throat. The sun is seeping through the green leaves of the ash tree she's curled up inside, in the hollow trunk. She also feels tiny droplets of rain fall on her face and she makes a surprised noise, gathering her limbs to push herself out of the trunk. She jumps down, dusting off her clothes and looking around.
It was sunny still, if only just raining a little. And she looks at their village further below, where most of her pack lives, her family. The place where she was born, brought up to love and care for. One day it'll be hers to lead, if she so wished, after her mother and father step down as Head Omega and Alpha.
"Bee?"
She turns around, wiping her wet hands on the back of her Jean shorts.
It's just Oliver, he's on his bicycle, dark auburn hair stuck to his forehead, either with sweat or rain, it was hard to tell. The Alpha looked at her with a small smile, eyes carefully taking her in.
"Hi, Oliver," She greets, waving.
"Did you fall asleep inside the tree again?" He asks and she sheepishly smiles, "Uhm, yeah,"
"Huh, you better check if a spider didn't crawl inside your ear," He juts his chin out as her eyes widen, hands going to her ears, feeling around and shoving two fingers inside them just to be sure.
Oliver watches her with a grin until she's done inspecting her ears, and then she pouts, scratching the back of her neck, "Can you give me a ride?"
"I can, but you owe me," He says, lighthearted.
"Oh, shush," She turns around, getting her tote bag, checking if everything was in it, including her journal and pens.
Oliver turns his bike around, and Bee gets behind him, securing her bag on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Dear Moon,
When will you give me a True Mate?
My Dad said nobody can know when. That if it was to happen, it would, in its own time.
So, can I be lucky enough to find my own when I grow up?
Please, make it so.
Thank you,
— Bee (11)
"You need a break," Kyle says, walking side by side to John, down the corridors of their 'Pack House'. Not many people actually lived in it, just the regular staff that attended John when needed, and John himself when the Pack needed him to be easy to reach. Otherwise, he'd be in his house by the sea side, a good distance away from any other houses, private and secluded, perfect for him.
The house also hosted events, such as birthdays, mating ceremonies and anything that needed to be done indoors. It was also used for its big, industrial kitchen for pack dinners, which happened every Friday evening.
Tonight, the kitchen was busy, and not because of dinner preparations, but because of Cupcake Club.
"Alright, ladies! What's today's theme?" A loud, booming voice asked.
"Yellow!" A small voice screamed.
"And Purple!" Another one cheered.
"And what about you, gorgeous?" The loud voice asked again, this time, lower, and a fit of giggles erupted in the kitchen.
"Johnny," Kyle greeted when he pushed the door open, smiling.
Johnny was right there, in a chef hat, apron on, with a spatula in hand. Then there was two little girls dressed just like him, sitting by the island, and another tiny little girl, chubby and trying to eat her fingers, sitting on a high chair.
"What's happening, then?" John can't help but smile at the sight.
The kitchen island was filled with ingredients, and a horrendous amount of yellow and purple sprinkles and edible toppers for the cupcakes. All on theme, as expected.
"We're doing Cupcake Club with uncle Johnny!" One of the little girls said, excited.
"Look, uncle Kyle, my hair is purple!" One of them ran to Kyle, grabbing at his hands to get his attention. He smiled and bent down to be eye level with her, "Oh, it's not your hair that's purple, it's your beads."
"Yeah! I asked my mum to give me purple!" She said, excited, jumping around, her purple beads swinging all over the place.
"They're very pretty," Kyle smiled, patting her head as she tried doing pirouettes.
John made his way straight to the high chair, pulling the baby's hands out of her mouth, "Come here," He said as he picked her up. She started kicking her little legs around in excitement and squealed, trying to pull at his trimmed beard with saliva drenched fingers.
"You're alright, Price?" Johnny asked, following the man to the sink as he washed the baby's hands under the warm water. "All good," Price answered, now trying to wipe the lower half of her sticky face with his wet palm, but she was trying to eat his fingers.
"Hungry that one, eh?" John chuckled.
"She's just teething, I fed her an hour ago," Johnny smiled.
"Rose, sweetheart— Where are you?" John looked over his shoulder.
"I'm here!" Rose ran from behind the kitchen island, standing in front of John, at attention.
"Bring me a tissue for your baby sister, hm?"
"Okay!" She said and skipped to find the kitchen roll. Meanwhile, her other sister, Violet, was playing rock, paper, scissors with Kyle, and whoever wins, has to flick the other on the forehead. Of course, Kyle barely puts any strength behind his flicks, but it doesn't stop Violet from clenching her eyes shut and squealing in anticipation.
"Johnny, get her something to chew on," John hums, smacking a kiss to the baby's head.
"One celery stick for Miss Jasmine coming right up!"
Rose comes back with the tissue, handing it to John. He thanks her and wipes Jasmine's hands, and face, and even neck. "There," He smiles when he's satisfied with his handiwork, throwing the tissue in the bin. He settles himself on one of the stools, with Jasmine on his lap, who's now trying to pluck a button from his shirt. Rose sits next to the Alpha, and he smiles down at her, patting her head as she grins up at him.
Once Johnny comes back with a washed celery stick, he hands it to the baby, who snatches it from his fingers and shoves it in her mouth, gnawing at it.
"What're you two up to?" Johnny asks the two men, leaning against the kitchen island with his arms crossed.
"Nothing much," John shrugs, brushing Jasmine's curls out of her forehead.
"I was saying how he needs a holiday," Kyle pointedly looks at the Head Alpha.
"Oh, aye, agreed," Johnny nods.
"You should go on a holiday to the moon," Violet says, trying to climb the kitchen island.
"Careful," Kyle grabs her by the waist so she won't slip and knock a tooth out.
"He can't go to the moon!" Rose frowns, confused.
"Yes, he can! Pack Alpha, you're strong, okay?!" Violet says again.
"Okay," John laughs.
Dear Moon,
It was my birthday today!
I'm 12 years old now. When I blew my candles, I wished for a True Mate.
Summer asked me what I wished for, but I can't tell her or it won't happen.
— Bee (12)
It was another hot day and Bee's shirt was plastered to her back as she followed her friend, Summer, down a hill towards a pond. She carefully watched her steps while trying to take in the big green trees circling the pond. She smiled when Summer looked over her shoulder, checking up on her.
The woman realising Bee was alright, mirrored her smile as she held onto branches while making her way down.
Then they were right there, in their own little hidden spot. Only that someone was already there.
"Are you stalking us, Oliver?" Summer breathed out, putting her hands on her hips. Eyes squinted under the bright sun.
Oliver was laying on the grass, one leg crossed over the other, using the tree bark as back support. His flannel was over his face, using it to shield his face from the bright sun and as soon as he heard Summer's voice, he cracked a smile under the fabric and lifted it off his face.
Summer and Bee walked up to him, lowering themselves to sit next to him.
"I'd say you're the ones stalking me, I'm feeling pretty threatened right now," Oliver balled up his flannel shirt and pushed it between his head and the tree bark. He looked at Bee, "How are you?"
"Good, I helped with updating and synching the systems at the GP today," Bee sat criss-cross on the grass, shoving each hand under her thighs while Summer got comfortable sitting against the tree bark, nudging Oliver to move aside.
"You know how to do everything, don't ya?" Oliver smirked, reaching to tug at the hem of her shorts.
Bee nodded, "Well, I have to,"
"No, you don't, and stop flirting with her, weirdo," Summer said, no real heat behind it. "Your parents said you don't have to be Head Omega if you don't want to,"
"That's true," Oliver nodded, serious, looking at the woman for a while, then sighed, opening his arm, "Come here,"
"Can we lay down? I think bits of the bark is sticking to my hair, it's itchy," Summer said and Oliver moved, finding a comfortable spot to lay on, opening both arms for the girls. Summer and Bee tucked themselves close to the Alpha, using him as a pillow. Once they got comfortable, Oliver closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.
"This is nice," Summer murmured, tucking her nose against his tank top, his warm, freckled arm pulling her in even closer, he squeezes her shoulder and then places it on her waist.
Bee did the same, only that she stuck her hand across his chest to reach her friend, and started rubbing her wrist on her neck. Summer giggled, because it tickled, but then tilted her chin up, allowing Bee to scent her properly. Oliver hummed, smelling satisfied and happy. Once Bee was all done scenting her friend, she sat up and leaned down to smack a kiss to Summer's temple. The Omega purred, throwing a leg over Oliver's.
Oliver, the Alpha between them cracked one eye open, "What about me?"
"Shush," Bee smiled, and leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. She scented him too, rubbing her other wrist on his neck, on his cheeks, and even across his nose, making him laugh. Then she pushed his chin up, and rubbed her wrist right under it, making him intake a sharp breath, "Oh, that's good," His voice sounded thin, chest warming up.
Bee blinked down at the Alpha and the Omega on his chest, who was staring at her with big eyes. Bee looked at Oliver again, lowering her body so she could have a better look at the skin under his chin. It was covered in dark, ginger stubble. With her thumb, she started feeling around for the little bit of raised skin hidden under the hair, and when she found it, she grinned, "There it is,"
Oliver finally opened his eyes, staring at the sky, heart hammering in his chest as Summer watched.
Bee bent down and placed a gentle and loving kiss to the scar and Oliver closed his eyes tightly, a pained moan tumbling out of his mouth.
"Deep breaths, Ollie," Summer whispered, petting his chest and toned belly. "You're gonna make him pop a knot," Summer glanced at Bee.
"I'm not trying to!" Bee gasped, trying to fight off a grin.
"Oh my days, you're actually evil," Summer shook her head, trying to fight off a smirk of her own. "Everyone knows knotting outside of a rut hurts like a bitch."
"I don't want to hurt you, Oliver, swear," Bee said, cupping his cheek as he flushed from head to toe, shaking, taking in tight little breaths.
He cracked his eyes open again, they're glassy and he looks pathetically in pain, Bee coos in sympathy.
"Can you two stop jabbering about my knot?" He hisses.
"Okay, sorry—" Summer and Bee say at the same, laying back down properly on his chest again as they wait for him to gather his bearings. The two Omegas make eye contact and smile, then they close their eyes and listen to his frantic heart gradually slow down.
The story of when or how Oliver got his scar was nothing like the gentle and loving moment they just had together under the bright sun. Instead, it was a dark night, filled with rowdy teenagers, beer and a dead pig.
They were fourteen, or at least, Bee was. Summer was fifteen and Oliver was thirteen.
They were not meant to be out this late, on a school night no less, but a group of kids got together at the old well to drink and hang out. The sky was clear and the weather was lovely. Bee and Summer were hogging the AUX, playing whatever they wanted on the speakers while some drank, danced, or made out behind the trees. Oliver at the time wasn't friends with the girls, he knew them, of course, but he never purposely hung out with them.
Everything was going as well as you'd imagine until someone had the bright idea to take their parents' pick up truck (the one they sneaked out on) and challenge someone else to a race on their car. The night was a little blurry then, the party moved to the empty rural roads, where there was not a single street lamp.
Boys and girls hooted and hollered at the obnoxious sound of screeching tires on the ground. They kept up at it, gradually moving closer to Oliver's grandfather's home, where the roads were narrow and had bends and turns, apparently it was a perfect road for racing.
No one could've seen it, especially not the drivers behind the wheels as a pig appeared on the road. By the time the brakes were pressed, it was already too late. They were going too fast, and by that point, the pick up truck and car swerved and knocked onto each other, finally skidding to a stop further up the road, thankfully not hitting a tree or a fence.
No one died that night. Only the poor pig, body squished to hell on the ground as the kids ran to their friends to check on them.
Oliver was shocked, staring with his mouth open at the dead animal as a harsh light hit his face, making him hiss.
"Oliver, is that you?!" An older man ran towards him, a torch in hand, and a hunting rifle in the other.
Bee and Summer watched from the darkness, frozen in shock.
"I- I'm—" Oliver stuttered, stepping back when his grandfather reached him.
His grandfather was furious, he looked down at the dead pig on the ground then back up at Oliver, "I told you to close the fence!"
Oliver flinched, "I'm sorry, grandad—"
"Is this the thanks I get for raising you?! Look at it! Look at what you did!" The older Alpha shouted and Oliver refused to look at the dead animal, eyes wide in fear.
"Look!"
The rifle was raised and the tip made a disgusting sound when it came in contact with Oliver's chin, sending him tumbling backwards, screaming in pain with his hands cupping his chin. The boy's eyes were wide and frantic, he panted, looking at his grandfather who still glared at him.
Then Oliver's hands got warm, really warm.
He tried to pull his hands away only to see a small puddle of blood on his palm. He whimpered, eyes getting blurry. His chest burned and his jaw ached.
Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, panting deeply as the pain in his chin spread down to his chest. He was sweating and his mouth hurt so bad. He heard a footstep and his eyes flew open, finding his grandfather looking past him, then in a split second, confusion and shock replaced the anger in them.
Oliver saw his grandfather's finger twitch, he was about to raise his rifle again when a blur flew past Oliver's eyes and his grandfather was on the floor. A violent growl cracked in the air and Oliver realised a girl was on top of his grandad.
"BEE!" Summer screamed in horror, her legs finally moving and running to try and get her friend off Oliver's grandad.
By now, the children came back, having heard the commotion.
"Bee! Stop it!" Summer screamed, trying to pull her friend away from the man.
"Shit, go call her dad now," A boy said, and a girl nodded, running off.
The air stank of anger and blood. Oliver couldn't tell if it was the pig or his chin, that was now dripping down his neck and shirt.
He knew he had to move, get Bee off his grandad, but his legs wouldn't listen to him. He knew he was soaked in sweat, his legs shaking and heartbeat fast in his chest. He felt like he was going to die, and he couldn't even ask for help.
Luckily he was noticed by the rest of the teenagers, he was quickly circled, their hands trying to hold him together as he trembled like a leaf. Someone was pressing a tissue to his chin, and another was trying to calm him down by scenting him, rubbing their wrist over the back of his sweaty neck.
Bee was soon pulled off his grandad with the help of the rest of the teenagers. Summer had her arms wrapped around her friend as they fell back, narrowly missing the puddle of blood and pig.
Oliver's vision was swimming but he could still see Bee when she scrambled to get up, an older boy jumping to wrap his arms around her, lifting her off the ground, "Bee, calm down!" Bee struggled, growling and hissing like an animal, and she looked over her shoulder, trying to bite the boy on the shoulder so he could release her.
The moment Bee made eye contact with Oliver she froze.
His heart stopped in his chest. Oliver's world focused then, and he could see everything.
Her mouth and chin were drenched in blood. Her eyes were wide and dark and her knees were caked in dirt. Her light pink dress was covered in dirt and it was hanging off one shoulder, three buttons having been ripped off, probably by his grandfather trying to pry her off himself.
Oliver opened his mouth and he inhaled sharply. The smell of her sweat and fury filling his lungs like thick smoke.
His grandfather managed to get up, covered in dirt and blood, as he held his hand to his neck. His other hand found his rifle again and Oliver's body reacted. A bone chilling snarl ripped itself from his throat and he threw everyone off him, running past Bee and jumping on his grandad instead.
Bee freaked out and managed to throw the boy off her, like he wasn't twice her weight.
Everyone moved, trying to grab Oliver and wrestle the rifle out of his grandfather's grip as Oliver closed his hands around the Alpha's throat, squeezing. Bee tried pushing her way through the bodies to get to Oliver.
A gunshot cracked the sky in half.
Everyone stopped breathing.
Bee straightened up, looking around with wide eyes until her eyes landed on the smoking holes on the apple tree by the road. She slowly looked back to the mess of bodies on the ground, meeting their terrified eyes, "You're," Her voice was hoarse and cold, "no pack, Mellors,"
As soon as the words left her mouth, a wave of earth-shaking growls erupted and Mr Mellors' riffle was kicked off to the side by one of the girls. Oliver was finally pulled off his grandad, who started coughing, face blue and neck red. Squirming on the ground as the children stepped back, savagely growling, eyes wild and teeth bared like a pack of wolves.
A group of cars screeched to a stop, raising more dirt and dust in the air, parents and pack spilled out of the vehicles, running to the scene.
Bee smelled the Head Omega and Alpha in the air before she could see them.
"Bee," Her mother grabbed her arms, spinning her around, stinking of worry. She patted her daughter's face and body, looking for injuries. The Head Omega then grabbed her daughter's chin, pulling her jaw open, "What— happened?"
"It's alright, it's not mine," Bee calmly shrugged, her dress slipping off her right shoulder even more.
"Oh, my pup," Her mother said, voice trembling, and gathered her Bee in her arms, hugging her to her chest.
Meanwhile, Head Alpha had a wild look in his eyes, he was shirtless, in his PJ bottoms and slippers. He bent down and grabbed the rifle as soon as he saw it, when the metal felt hot in his palm, a ripple ran down his naked back, and if their kind was still able to turn into beasts, her father would've. Head Alpha then lifted his eyes to make eye contact with Mellors on the floor, who's now surrounded by parents, as they're pressing their hands firmly on the wound in his neck.
When the Alpha made eye contact with them, they stood up, leaving Mellors cold and alone on the ground, holding a rag to his neck.
One the other side, Oliver doubles over and vomits all over his shoes and the other parents rush to his side, trying to peel the clothes off his back in an attempt to bring his feverish temperature down.
It's starting to stink like pig carcass by now. Mixed in with blood and stomach bile.
Dread sits deep in Mellors' bone.
"You raised a loaded weapon on my pups?" Head Alpha sneers, voice deep and heavy.
"No, I— They attacked me!—" Mellors stutters, terrified.
"He hit Oliver! He made him bleed!" Bee shouts, ripping her body out of her mum's arms to stand next to her towering father.
Head Alpha glances to the side, looking down at his pup and the blood on her clothes, "Did you do that?" He tilts his chin towards Mellors.
"Yes," She says, looking back at Mellors like she's about to finish the job.
Her father puts a heavy, warm hand on her shoulder, "You protected your pack. You did good, pup. Go check on Oliver, I got this,"
"Okay," She nods, turning around and rushing to Oliver, only that she's stopped again by Summer. "What's wrong?" Bee's heart is hammering in her chest as she sees a parent lift Oliver and carry him to one of the cars.
"He presented," Summer answers.
"What?" Bee is scared.
"He's rutting," Summer explains.
Bee pulls her friend with her to go check on Oliver, and she doesn't see her father standing over Mellors with the other Alphas, like they're about to rip him to shreds. She barely registers a blood-curling scream as she climbs in the car after Oliver's settled in it with Summer.
He's delirious, but he stills recognises her, "Hey—" He flinches in pain, arms wrapped around his blanket covered waist.
"Oh, Oliver," She coos sadly, cupping his cheek and he moans openly, like her touch was the balm his overheated body needed. "This is probably the worst time to present," She whispers and he just hums, leaning towards her, "You smell so good—"
Bee sighs sadly, then looks over her shoulder at Summer, "I'll scent him quickly, keep watch,"
Summer nods, turning around, ready to snap her teeth if need be.
Bee wraps her arms around Oliver and he melts against her, grabbing her dirty dress tightly in his bloody hands, shoving his face in her neck. Oliver smells like sweat, burnt wood from earlier, vomit, blood, and most importantly he smells like himself, unfiltered Alpha in every sense of the word.
"Come with me," Oliver begs, eyes wet with tears.
"I'm not allowed," Bee coos sadly, tightening her hold on his auburn hair.
"It hurts. I'm scared, Bee," He whimpers and she takes a deep breath, bending her head to kiss his forehead. It proves to be enough distraction, because he goes lax, purring and she slips out of his hold.
When he realises she's outside of the car, standing next to Summer, he cries out, "Please, stay,"
"They'll take care of you, I'll see you when you get better, I promise," Bee says.
"Take care, Oliver," Summer says sympathetically and closes the car door.
Oliver growls, leaping to grab the door handle, to pry it open, but it won't budge.
"I'm sorry," Summer mumbles, reaching to hold Bee's hand.
Bee watches Oliver bang at the window, "Don't leave me!"
Luckily for all of them, two older Betas get in the car, backing out of the road, and driving straight to the village, where Oliver will get looked after by the doctor and put in one of the rooms in the shared 'unmated' house.
Bee and Summer watch the car until it was out of sight. Her breathing picks up and she feels tears sting at her eyes. Summer coos and wraps her friend in a tight hug, "Hey, we're okay, he's okay,"
"He's scared, Summer. And he's bleeding," Bee cries in her friend's arms. Summer doesn't say anything, instead she rocks them side to side until Bee's mother shows up and ushers them inside the car.
In the early light of dawn, Bee is back at her parent's house with her best friend. She remembers getting in the tub with Summer as they washed off the stink of fear and blood off their skin. And then they get dressed in Bee's PJs, and they huddle close under Bee's blankets, arms wrapped tight around each other as they breath in their combined scent until sleep finally pulled them under.
Price was thirty-two when he realised his marriage was never going to work out.
He's been married — not mated, they're two different things — for two years now, to a woman, an Omega named Isabelle. She's a pharmacist and he's met her when he picked up a cream for his back. She was lovely. She made him laugh and made him feel like any other Alpha. She was a great distraction from the shadow of death kissing at the nape of neck during his every waking hour. That was when he still did field work. So really, their marriage probably lasted less than two years. Which was tragic really.
John remembers the day he broke the news to the unsuspecting Omega.
He was still flight weary. His every bone and muscle ached and his eye bags were dark and deep. John was fully clothed, boots laced to the top when he crossed the threshold of his flat. His wife was waiting for him, immediately jumping off the couch to go greet him.
John couldn't even gather himself to pretend he was happy to see her. And he was so worn down that the fact didn't make him feel bad.
Price knew he was awful. And in that moment she didn't look like a woman who loved him. She looked like another battle that he was going to win.
"We need to talk, Isabelle," His voice was cold and rough.
"Are you alright, John?" She relaxed her hold around his waist, fetching her face out of his neck.
"Sit down," John nodded at the dinner table behind her.
"At least take your shoes off," She looked at him, worry etched on her face.
John ignored her words and took a seat on one of the two chairs. His knees and back ached when he lowered himself. And not even her familiar scent brought a sense of comfort to his battered soul. John took off his hat, putting it on the table and running a hand through his hair.
She joins him on the table, putting a glass of water in front of him.
John stares at the glass, then he looks up at her, "I think we should get a divorce,"
Isabelle doesn't react at first, and John waits.
When the words finally compute in her brain, she blinks, "Excuse me?"
"We should get divorced, Isabelle," John repeats, patient and emotionless.
"What— Why?!"
"I don't think this is working for me," He says.
"Do you not love me anymore?" Her eyes are starting to burn and John sighs, "I don't think we're a match anymore, I'm sorry, Isabelle,"
"What's not working for you anymore? Our marriage? We can get mated! I want to mate you," She says quickly and John's mood goes to shit even more.
"We talked about this, I'm not biting anyone, and you agreed to it before marrying me," John says, breathing slow and deep.
"I thought you would change your mind! We've been together for— for three years now! John, what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you even an Alpha?!" She cries, head in her hands.
John doesn't react, he watches her as she sobs in front of him, her cries filling the otherwise silent flat. His scent doesn't change and once the fact registers in her mind, she suddenly lifts her head to look at him, horrified, "Do you even care? I'm— THREE YEARS IN THE BIN! THREE!"
"I'm sorry, Isabelle," He apologises again, robotic and almost bored.
"Fuck off!" She snarls, getting up, tugging her wedding band off and slamming it down on the table before storming off. She fetches her coat, shoes, phone and bag and she leaves his flat, slamming the door behind her.
John stays still for a minute, letting the silence wash over him before he gets up and heads straight to the bedroom. He drags himself to the bed, fully clothed, and lowers himself on his stomach, passing out the second his head hits the mattress. And the last thought that floats in his mind as he drifts off, is what a waste her scent was saturating his sheets. It doesn't do anything to him. Doesn't make his neurons or senses sing, as if it may as well not even be there.