The Last Pack

7. TINGLES

A week had passed since Fidella had seen Conri in the atrium, and the rogue had been locked in a cell ever since. The matriarch had increased Fidella’s responsibility, as that morning she was to serve the porridge to the gladiators. The wooden bowls were piled high beside her, perched precariously next to the huge cooker pot. Grabbing the ladle, she generously filled each bowl and handed it to the awaiting fighter.

Conri has switched between two dominant dispositions this week; aggressive and apathetic. He hadn’t seen Fidella since she had calmed down the fanatical wolf that Ewan was still trying to get through to. The champion joined the line for breakfast and suddenly felt peaceful for the first time since the last time, since the last time he saw her. Routinely, handing each bowl over, Fidella didn’t even look up until she drank in the delicious combination of lemon and raspberry. Glancing down the line she saw him, only four men back, and it gripped her that this would be the closest she had ever been to her mate. Her hand began to shake in both anticipation and fear. She became clumsy as she spilled the mixture onto the hands of the hungry men, and the gladiators grumbled at the she-wolf until a threatening growl from the deadly Alpha silenced them.

Conri saw her expression when she looked at him. He was hurt that she seemed frightened. Einar, judgementally reminded him that so far they hadn’t made the best impression on their mate by scowling at her one time and defending another woman the second. Hopefully, a third time encounter would right his previous wrongs. He didn’t fully understand what this connection was between them, but he knew he never wanted her to be scared of him, he only wanted to see joy in her face. Observing how she blundered with the bowls as he progressed up the line made her all the more endearing, and when he could hear the discontent of his brothers in the queue he felt compelled to send them a warning message. Finally, he was at the front of the queue and she was so preoccupied with looking at him that she poured the porridge back into the pot twice, completely missing his bowl. Conri smiled at her, and then felt how his heart missed a beat when she smiled back at him. Beauty stood before him and he and Einar were pilgrims at the personification of perfection.

Missing the bowl for the third time, Fidella felt the blood rush to her cheeks. At last, she managed to fill it, and clumsily passed it to Conri and her hands juddered so badly that the liquid sloshed up the edges. His hand overlapped hers beneath the bowl, and that’s when she felt them. Just like her mother and father had told her, and how the new mated lovers from her childhood used to sit around the campfire chasing them over each other’s arms. She felt the tingles.

Conri had been watching her blush, and the reaction only made her that much more delectable in his eyes. The line behind him was getting lengthier, but Conri had released enough of his aura to silence any grumbling. When she eventually passed him his bowl, he was aggrieved that he couldn’t watch her longer. Einar had told him to try and touch her, so he slid his hand over hers beneath the bowl. Gentle tingles danced over his hands, softly at first as if it was a breath caressing his skin, but the longer he touched her the more intense the tingle became, until they were like sensual sparks of fire without the pain. He wanted to feel this sensation pressed against his body, and lingering on his lips. He was shocked by the reaction his body had to the simple touch of her hand, so he hastily stepped back further away from her in an effort not to step over the table and fulfil his desires.

Fidella was unprepared for the weight of the bowl when Conri removed his hand. The blissful scene shattered when the bowl landed back in the pot, splattering porridge everywhere, and in her panic she swiped her hands accidently knocking over the precarious tower construction of bowls, creating a cacophony of clattering crashes. It was because of this clamour that it was even more surprising when the smack of skin upon skin cut through all the noise, and muted the chaos as the matriarch’s palm connected with Fidella’s cheek with painful precision.

“You stupid girl, can you do anything right?”

Blinking away the sting, Fidella knelt down and began to stack the bowls that had fallen. To the onlookers, it would appear as if she were sorry and being submissive. In reality, she was trying to control Isla, who was fighting for control, while providing a detailed description of how she was going to dissect the matriarch when she got free. Unexpectedly, a cold voice cut through the murderous intentions of Isla.

“You ever touch her again, and it will be the last thing you do with your offending hand!” Conri’s voice was so deep and dangerous that Fidella had to look up at him, she was shocked to see his eyes were completely black, and his wolf had taken over. The matriarch did have power over the house slaves, but Conri was the highest earning gladiator and the Dominus’ most valuable commodity, so she knew her place and stayed silent.

Fidella wasn’t scared. In fact, being in the presence of his wolf brought her some confidence and comfort. She looked over at the matriarch and smirked at the pallor of skin. With satisfaction she collected the rest of the bowls, whilst Conri took the seat nearest to her. Conri and Einar were completely entranced by their mate’s beauty. He inhaled deep breaths trying to placate his wolf.

After breakfast, Conri felt stronger than he had for weeks, even his food tasted better than usual. Stepping up to the training yard, he was thrilled to know it was a hand to hand fighting day, and that Ewan had organised a tournament. The weaker warriors and younger wolves usually fought first so that they could be stopped and trained. By the late morning it was Conri’s turn and he was paired with Jerrick. Jerrick was a competent warrior, although not as broad or tall as Conri, he was quick and precise. Unlike Conri, Jerrick’s forethought resulted in him not taking risks. Conri had been throwing left hooks and roundhouse kicks that were successfully being blocked by Jerrick. Knowing that he needed to lower his opponent’s defensive skills, he dropped his hands, allowing Jerrick to jab him just below his right eye, creating a perfect opening for Conri to strike him with his left elbow with such force that Jerrick’s body spun left before hitting the floor with his cheek first.

Thunderous cheers and applause surged from the gladiators, and even the Heatons were clapping. The acclamations pleased Conri, but even more gratifying than this was Fidella’s smile as she set the tables for lunch. Suddenly, Fidella’s forehead crumpled into a frown and, even though her lips didn’t move, he heard her voice in his head.

“Duck down!” Fidella commanded, with such power that Conri was forced to drop to his knees just before he heard the whoosh of air where his head had just been. Extending his claws, he dug deep into the legs behind him and pulled, causing his assailant to lose his balance. He clambered on to the body of his underhanded attacker, and hit him until he was unconscious. It was the wolf that was feral.

“Well done Conri, that was most impressive how you stopped him without facing him. He was so stealthy that he incapacitated two guards before he reached you,” Master Heaton praised Conri.

“Thank-you, Dominus,” Conri kneeled, placing his arm over his chest and his hand on his opposite shoulder.

“To reward you, I will send Iselda to your bed tonight,” Master Heaton declared.

Conri had to accept the reward because it was disrespectful to refuse such a gift, so once again he gave thanks for his Dominus’ benevolence. He walked towards the dining area where lunch was being served and saw Fidella’s face. Her skin was redder than usual and he could tell she was biting her lip inside her mouth, her eyes were brimming with tears that she was trying to blink away. Conri could feel a lump in his throat and knew it was hers and as he went to reach out to hold her, talk to her, comfort her, she changed direction, and looked at the floor. Her pain was so palpable that Conri thought he could feel the wet sensation on his cheeks, from the tears that fell from her eyes.