The Birth Of The Beta

6. BIRTHDAY BATTLES

Aoife woke up in the morning feeling unexpectedly spritely, after spending the evening assessing and criticising her choices for the training plan. She had gone over the defences and strategies she had taught each gladiator, but her mind brought her back to the moment she grabbed Pepin’s hand, repeating it constantly in a maddening loop. Although she had lied to herself, reiterating that she was testing his strength, she knew there was another reason she had held on to his fist for so long. However, she refused to be honest with herself. Ignoring the desire she already had to be close to him, to look at him, to examine his movements, and capture each and every laugh that musically chorused from his mouth. To study him not from a stance of aggression, but rather adoration. Scared and unnerved by veering so close to her emotions, she entombed them into her soul with the rest of her dangerous feelings.

Today was her birthday. She was thirty years old. Fortunately, she could let Neve venture from her subconscious today, unfortunately this was a significant birthday and there was no way of telling how she would react. Neve was killer. In the arena, she has saved her life more times than she could remember. The games were an outlet for her aggression. As a Beta, she was slightly larger than other wolves that she came across, who were mostly Omegas or Gammas. She trampled over adversaries with ruthless rage. Despite her physical strength, she was often vulnerable to bouts of melancholy, deep enough to numb her to reason. Catalysts, such as her birthday, or an event connected to family would cause her to lash out at people she loved, unable to determine friend from foe. During the run up to these celebrations, Aoife would block her and keep her trapped inside, so others would be safe.

Crossed-legged on her mattress, Aoife pictured Neve. She imagined her cream fur with silver tips, and her turquoise eyes that were cold and appraising, the sound of her voice that was gravelly from all the weeping and howling she would subject them to listen to. While she was coming forward, Aoife noticed the air smelt delightfully fresh. Two predominate scents lingered in the atmosphere: fennel and peppermint.

“That’s the scent of our mate,” a sleepy voice informed her.

Aoife was perplexed!

She had never awoken her wolf under such tranquil circumstances before. The best way to describe blocking a wolf was like imagining you had a birthmark on your back. Aoife knew Neve was there, but paid no attention to her. When she freed her usually belligerent wolf, it was like being given a mirror, and then all you can do is see this extra piece of your identity constantly in your mind. Juxtaposed to her expectations, Neve stretched her legs in front of her and shook out her fur.

“Go find mate!” She decreed, incredulous that she hadn’t moved yet.

“No! We don’t want or need a mate. If anything happens, you will tear this place apart. We are better off alone, and so is everyone else. You can’t be trusted to have nice things, Neve,” The fury that surged through their bond was chilling. Her counterpart was so livid that a thunderous growl shuddered out of her mouth, without her permission.

“We have spent so long becoming strong, we can’t risk losing all that for someone who could reject us, leave us, or die,” Aoife was exasperated by her wolf’s insistence, and saddened that the first time she had ever emerged from her exile peacefully it wasn’t for her own human, but for her mate. As always, their relationship was marred by conflict.

Deciding that no resolution would be found that morning, and hoping that the scent belonged to a visitor who had since left, Aoife headed to the atrium to dine. Less arguing with her wolf, and less worrying about her nearby mate would mean less chance of having a taxing morning, or so she thought. Waiting by her seat, with a plate of her usual breakfast already assembled for her, Pepin stood looking at Aoife as if she was a prized jewel. Little did he know that if she was any jewel it would be a cursed one, promising a lifetime of difficulties, plus one cantankerous wolf. He had always been handsome, but this morning she couldn’t avert her gaze, she had no comprehension of who was already seated, or what everyone was talking about. They were muffles and blurs against the vibrancy of Pepin. He passed her the mug of water, causing her hand to touch his, and the tingle across her skin was so powerful that she gasped. If the sparkle in a diamond had a sensation, it would feel like the marvel that his touch scattered upon her hand. Her mouth salivated as the scent of peppermint and fennel stormed against her tongue, swallowing the saliva that was now flavoured by his scent.

“MATE” She said aloud, in unison with her wolf, who whined and scratched against her consciousness, eager to shift and impress him.

“Yes, we are mates,” Pepin smiled.

He was holding her hand as she lowered herself on to the bench, still trying to accept this twist of fate. Everything she could feel and smell was a distraction from her own wants and desires. She had never wanted a mate. At least that’s what she thought, what she had repeatedly told her self all these lonely years as her hope diminished to a fragment of chance against a mountain of unlikeliness. Before she became entrenched in these ties that threatened to invade her autonomy, she had to make an explicit point to Pepin.

“I don’t want a mate,” Aoife whispered, with no conviction.

“Well I do. I’ve set my heart on you now. I’m a favourite of the Moon Goddess, I can tell because she paired me with you. Who are we to argue against the great mother? Luckily, I’m willing to wait a lifetime for you to feel the same about me, so there’s no rush. You take your time,” Pepin countered, a skilful general when it came to the formation of valid arguments.

“If you do this, and reject him, I will withdraw until you can barely feel me. I would never forgive you!” Neve threatened her. Aoife nodded, submitting for now, and saying no more on the matter.

Pepin had been thinking of how he could celebrate the mate bond when he would see her in the morning. Finally, he settled on serving her breakfast, hoping he would be seen as thoughtful as opposed to obsessive, or even worse, controlling.

“Maybe I should just prepare her drink,” he thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. In his fantasies of her reaction to truly seeing him, he had frequently imagined her running into his arms, kissing him in the atrium in front of everyone, making it clear that they belonged to each other. Awkwardly, based on her expression, he was beginning to think that arranging her plate with her favourite foods had been optimistically presumptive. He could feel her wolf was present. Therefore, she would be able to sense the mate bond, but her face implied that she was fighting it. Clovis growled in frustration at this submissive response from his human and immediately started trying to speak to her wolf, when she told them she didn’t want a mate.

After breakfast they trained as usual, and even though he couldn’t keep his eyes from her, it was obvious she was doing all she could to keep her eyes off him. His heart was nipping with the realisation that she might reject him.

“Neve says that mate is scared of losing us, so she is pushing us away. It is only Aoife though, Neve wants us to be together,” Clovis explained to Pepin, trying to ease his worry.

Evening soon arrived, and Aoife had been anticipating her shift all day. Her wolf had to shift tonight after being blocked for so long, it was dangerous not to, but she was fighting against it. Refusing to shift until her human gave Pepin a chance. Aoife’s teeth were aching and sensitive, making her want to gnaw at the meat on offer that evening. Her skin was incredibly itchy, as if she could claw at it, yet still find no relief. When she returned to her room, the moonlight cast shadows like knives on the floor, each blade seemed to prick her skin from the inside out. Each bone that broke felt like a battle won as the war continued. She tried to endure, but her cries of pain were harder to bury.

“I’ve called for mate, I won’t shift until you give him a chance, and your stubbornness is hurting us both!” Neve cried, equally as immovable on surrendering. Aoife didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, she felt betrayed that her own wolf would make her suffer in this way.

Relief washed over her when her door opened to reveal Pepin standing there. Aoife dismissed the reprieve, pinning it all on Neve’s feelings, but it was another lie that she told herself. She had never been happier to see anyone before.

“Stubborn woman!” He exclaimed, as he lifted her carefully, and took her to the sands where the moon’s blessed glow would coat her entire body.

He was concerned that it was taking so long for her to shift. Pepin said nothing, he only rocked her, and stroked her as her fur started to emerge from her skin. The last bone snapped in defeat with a battle cry, and in his arms was the fully shifted Neve. She started licking his face in excitement, and he laughed as she howled at the moon, her muzzle extended in the air. She strutted while she walked similar to a horse’s canter: proud. Her fur was a beautiful cream colour with flecks of silver at the end, and it gave the impression that she was sparkling, like when the sun hits the lake on a calm morning.

Behind Pepin a noise distracted him, both wolves turned to find Cornelius smiling at the beautiful she-wolf.

“Be careful Cornelius, she’s had a difficult shift. She might react aggressively,” Pepin advised, and was surprised when Neve gave a little growl of disagreement.

Cornelius simply smiled and sat on the step next to Pepin. “Whether she be wolf or human, she is like a daughter to me. I will never fear her in either form,” He reached out his arms, and Neve pranced into them.

She rested her head on his knee, not embarrassed to humble herself in front of the man who had saved so many wolves. He had saved her too. Delighted by this interaction with Neve, who rarely showed affection, he ran his hand along the fur down her spine, and scratched her ears. She was a beautiful wolf. It was then that Pepin realised that their bond was more than an employer and worker, teacher and pupil, even more than friends. They were each other’s chosen family, and it was a family Pepin desperately wanted to join.

“Let’s shift and play with our mate, I want to see her,” Clovis whined, longing to be near Neve in their true form.

Winnifred came out carrying a cake in the shape of a gladius. It was the masterpiece she had been working on the previous night. Sitting down next to Cornelius, she cut them both a slice and they laughed as they watched the two wolves mirror each other, attempting not to let the other one pass them. It wasn’t clear to the wolves yet, but Cornelius could see that they were the perfect pair. Eventually, they shifted back and demolished the rest of the cake. Aoife hugged Winnifred and praised her skill. She couldn’t remember ever having a better birthday.