The First Wolves

14. PASSION AND PACK POLITICS

Fidella and Conri were thrilled that Otto’s family had been restored, and, by extension, their best tracker was already looking stronger, healed by the love of his family. The little absence they had endured had reminded them how much they always longed for each other, making the Alpha and Luna more tactile than they had been for a while. Dutifully, they were both dedicated to being the best leaders possible, so neither of them had complained that they hadn’t had much time alone, but the pull to consolidate their bond was too insistent for either of them to ignore recently. Ideally, they would have loved to spend hours running through the forest, and exploring in their primitive form, but they knew that only a little break would be possible. Pinning the plans and considerations they had to work through to the back of their minds, Einar and Isla enjoyed the run deeper into the woods that eventually led them to a beautiful meadow, bursting with colours and vibrancy. Shifting back, Conri sat against an oak tree, making no effort to hide his nakedness, and pulled Fidella down between his thighs, resting her bare back against his chest and enveloping her within his arms. The lake in the distance had adopted a royal blue shade reflecting the darkness of the night, the stars were splashed in the sky, and fireflies darted across the water in a frantic dance. All of nature’s artwork was resplendent. Einar was a part of nature, so it was impossible for him not to appreciate the splendour. However, nothing was more striking than the mark on Fidella’s neck. In his blasphemous opinion, the symbol of their hard-fought connection outshone the Goddess’ glory. Using his nose to lean her head further to the side, he left a gentle lingering kiss on his mark as she sighed against him.

“Conri, why do you keep leaving the carvings for the humans to follow? It seems counterintuitive for the escaped pack to leave a trail to follow,” Fidella asked the question that had been bothering her for a while.

“My aim isn’t to leave a path, they already know we have been to these places, they don’t know where we are going next. My aim is to show them we are not afraid. I want them to see our wolves like we see their flags,” Conri tried to explain.

“Maybe that is why you started it, but that’s not why you keep doing it,” Fidella shrewdly commented.

“You’re right, I am doing it now because I am angry. I saw how our usual level-headed Iselda reacted in Sabini, all the years she’s been my friend, and I don’t know a fraction of what she has suffered, and I doubt I ever will. How many more of our pack have buried their miseries and hurt? I’m angry, and I want those humans to be humiliated every time we evade them, every time they miss us, and every time we bring somebody else home. I want those carvings to taunt them,” Conri let the wall that he pushed his feelings behind to maintain control tumble down before his mate.

Soothingly, she kissed his arm and turned to look at him.

“Humiliating them won’t help us escape. Their true shame will come when our pack is somewhere they cannot reach. Thousands of former slaves toppling the power of their one-time oppressors, that’s the mortification I want to leave them with,” Fidella tried to reason with him.

Conri deliberated about telling her that he had seen the general in charge of the hunt. This was a precious moment that they had to themselves, and he didn’t want to spoil it by discussing their enemies, but their love was based on truth. He breathed in her scent that had awoken his motivation in life, reminding himself that if she hadn’t been on the balcony that day, he would still be the champion gladiator who was blinkered by glory, and blind to his true purpose. He would be a used horse waiting for an end. Material things would be fleeting all their life, so truth had to be their constant. He took a deep breath and told her what had happened.

“When I made it to the tree line, the general threw a spear at me,” Her intake of breath made his confession more difficult. “It missed me by a significant distance, but we saw each other. I laughed hysterically at him. I belittled him in front of his men, and I could tell he was angry.” Conri admitted, knowing that at the very least she would be disappointed with him.

“So, now he knows what you look like?” Fidella asked, in a monotone voice.

“When we rescued Adal, they were already putting sketches of a few of us around the market square. The humans from the pleasure house must have described us, and I think they have the ownership scrolls from the pleasure house, because they were in the square where Adal was.” Conri told her the last bit of worrying news he was hoping he could protect her from.

Fidella said nothing. This was the brief amount of time they had chiselled out for themselves. Problems, politics and pride could wait until later. She stood up and lifted her hair off her chest so that it flowed down her back. She looked like the marble statues in the temples. The Goddess had answered his prayers, and granted wishes that he wasn’t aware he had made. She was his. He was her sole worshipper, salivating at the titillating temple before him. Leaning down, she gripped Conri’s shoulders, purposefully pressing her breasts against his face, but moving away before he could flick his tongue against her hard, excited n*****s. She pressed her palms against the trunk of the tree, and gave him a smile of expectation. Conri could hardly function as he looked at her. Her pale skin, next to the dark night with the stars and fireflies dazzling around her, was making her look divine. She was entrancing. He didn’t want to tease her or be teased, he just needed to lose himself in her. Taking her hips, he pulled her closer to him, but to her surprise, he caressed the back of her thighs before hooking her left leg over his shoulder. Pulling her to his mouth, he gripped onto her toned arse cheeks, while he darted his tongue into her wet hole, using his nose to massage her clit. When he could hear her panting, he stopped his thrusting, and sucked on her swollen folds. It wasn’t that he was trying to delay her climax, but he wanted to be part of her when they shared their bliss. When her moaning was more akin to frustrated pain than pleasure, he freed her thigh. She dropped her knees down to either side of his upper legs. Straddling him, she slowly lowered herself onto his bulbous, heavy c**k. Only when she had fully taken him into her tight walls did they let out their joint sigh of satisfaction. Conri reached up, and wrapped his four fingers around the back of her neck, holding her still.

“Only look at me,” he instructed, and she did as he asked.

She lifted her hips and plunged deeper onto him, her eyes sinking into his and the world around them blurring. She was caught between pleasure and soul-absorbing tenderness. He thrust up and she met him every time, welcoming him into her body. He was deeper inside her than she thought was possible. The sound of their wet flesh slapping against each other was a testimony of the pleasure they were feeling, and the arousal they promoted in each other. Her walls were tightening, clasping at his c**k, she wanted to throw her head back and allow herself to burst over him, to scream out her orgasm. Conri’s grip on her neck got tighter, holding her in place, and wordlessly commanding that she look in his eyes. Instead of just feeling the release of pleasure, her entire myriad of emotions were swept up in her climax. The intensity was so prolific that her shaking legs and drenched lips were inconsequential compared to the love they were pumping through each other. When the world came back into focus, their bond felt stronger than ever, she felt all his troubles and triumphs and accepted them all. They could see their souls. His was green, fresh and free, and hers was blue, pure and deep.

Standing, Conri placed a soft kiss on her lips, wishing they could have more time together, but knowing it was impossible. He turned, and noticed a very old carving on the tree that they had been leaning against. It was two initials combined. Conri could make out two T shapes twisted together in an intricate design, leaning on each other.

“Look my queen, carvings are so important. These initials looked like they were made thousands of years ago, but still we can read the love they had for each other.”

He extended his claw and etched a C and F into the bark, deep enough to be seen for lifetimes after. Fidella couldn’t help but feel adored.

“What about Einar and Isla?” Fidella asked, and Conri pointed to the letters just below the two T shapes.

“It looks like they are here already.” Conri laughed at the co-incidence. "All these people are gone, but their love is always growing and remembered through lifetimes."

Fidella said nothing, but kissed her fingertips and placed them over the new and old engravings.

Reluctantly, they strolled back to the temple and their pack. Even though they could still feel the evidence of their intimacy, rather than sate them, it had only increased their desire for each other, so their walk was broken up by brief kisses and playful nibbles. Conri’s engorged c**k was still slapping against his stomach, despite his best efforts to quell it. If Fidella was his Goddess, then Conri was her self-proclaimed zealot, fully prepared to sacrifice himself at the altar of their desire.

His devotion to his mate, and her yearning for Conri, was abruptly halted by the vehement yelling in the camp. Believing that the camp had been infiltrated, they both ran through the surrounding trees, tapping into their wolf’s speed advantage, and rushed to protect their pack. Contrasting with their fears that they had been found by the soldiers, the sight before them made them both furious with the selfishness on display. The vicious argument was between Winnifred and their Beta, Ewan.

“Your disrespect is stomach turning, five lives were endangered, ruined, compromised or lost, so that you could be safe and you’re pissing it away on an unfounded, unachievable dream.” Winnifred roared at him, indifferent to Ewan’s anger or rank.

“Winnifred, I don’t know what happened, because no-one will tell me the truth! I do know that I am thirty years old, and I don’t need an almost, but not quite ‘aunt’ to tell me what to do,” Ewan erupted at her.

His outburst was out of character. Neither Conri, nor Fidella, had ever seen him react this way. His usual temperament was more considered.

“How silly of me, when your mother was sobbing handing you over to me less than an hour after giving birth to you, with only your father to help, I assumed she made me promise to protect you for your entire life, not just until you reached the wise age of thirty.” Winnifred fired back.

“You didn’t protect me though, Caius did!” Ewan said cuttingly in his anger.

“Who do you think enabled Caius to get you out? Who could have possibly been the attraction who distracted the public, and the soldiers, so that he could get you out of the town? Who was questioned multiple times about where you had been taken, but never spoke a word? Who had their temple investigated, but pretended that you never existed? Caius did protect you, but it was the women left behind that made you untraceable!” Winnifred was exasperated.

She turned her back on her Beta.

It was a sign of disrespect. The entire pack roared at her defiance, cutting off her pathway to the woods. Conri knew Winnifred better than the others, she had raised him as a pup, stopped him becoming cruel. He knew that she would rather appear rude, than let anyone see her cry.

“What is this all about?” Conri craftily diverted the crowd's attention from Winnifred to him, so she could compose herself.

Silence.

Nobody was willing to answer him, until Iselda stepped forward, handing her Alpha and Luna spare tunics.

“Ewan and I were discussing the plans for when we might rescue his father. Winnifred overheard us, and challenged Ewan’s logic of rescuing a dead wolf. The argument erupted from there.” Iselda concluded.

The silence was unnerving as the pack could feel the growing anger in the aura of their Alpha and Luna, who were normally kind and approachable.

“There have been harsh words said tonight by all, and your Alpha and I will not add to them. Never again do I wish to return to camp thinking we are being attacked, when in reality a personal argument has caused such conflict,” Fidella’s words were burning their cheeks in shame.

The disappointment in her tone was felt by all involved, and all who watched.

“As your Alpha, I will always assess the risks of a mission before making a decision. That’s a leader’s greatest guilt, but even if we go on a mission only to find our loved ones aren’t there, it doesn’t make the lives of those we do save any less valuable. Think on that.” Conri added, before encouraging them all to bed down for the night.

Winnifred retired to her area near the biggest statue, turning her face to the wall and shutting everyone out. Ewan left for the perimeter guard that he was already late for, even more perplexed now than he was before the argument. Iselda, crouched down next to Conri and Fidella’s sleeping area. She hadn’t only been watching the argument, but the pack’s reaction to Winnifred, and it had concerned her.

“They are being mean to her. Some of our members can’t forgive her for what she did at the House of Heaton. Winnifred goes to no effort to be liked either. We need to be mindful of the antipathy towards her.” The Gamma informed them, before following Ewan.

Agreeing it was a problem for tomorrow, Fidella c****d her knee over Conri’s thigh and tucked her head on his chest. Their bond was vibrating with concern rippling through it. Freeing Pepin, if he was alive, had to be attempted, but at what cost?

“My love, we will plan the mission tomorrow. Rest for now, and think about it no more.” Fidella soothed.

If only his mind could follow her orders as well as his heart did. Holding her carefully, as she drifted off to sleep, he considered the rescue at the mine. Doubtlessly, it would be heavily guarded, and there was a huge potential that he could lose more members than he saved. He knew Fidella would insist on coming, not wanting to be parted from him again so soon. What if the cost of saving his own kind from mines, was the loss of his Goddess? It was this dread that made sleep a comical aspiration for him.