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englishstrawbie · 2 years

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A Very Montana Christmas (1/ 4)

Fandom: Station 19, Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Maya Bishop & Carina DeLuca

Summary: AU. When her flight to Seattle gets diverted because of a snow storm, Carina Deluca unexpectedly finds herself in Billings, Montana. Just a few days before Christmas and with no way of getting to Seattle for a family Christmas with her brother, she ends up being thrown together with fellow passenger, Maya Bishop. Surrounded by snow and fairy lights, the two women end up rediscovering the magic of the holidays. Spoiler: there’s only one bed!

Author’s Note: This fic is very different from anything I've ever written. I love a Hallmark Christmas movie and this idea came into my head a few weeks ago. It's the same characters you know, but a different first meeting and a few tweaks to their backstories. I've had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy it too! It's full of Christmas fic tropes and hopefully puts a smile on your face.

Also @ AO3.

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23rd December

“Fanculo!” Carina curses under her breath as she navigates her way through the busy terminal.

It was a stupid idea to travel two days before Christmas. JFK airport is heaving with passengers travelling for the holidays and she has to weave her way in between the crowds towards her gate. She hears the final boarding call for her flight and quickens her pace, wishing she had opted for sneakers instead of her heeled boots. She feels sluggish, the double espresso she had enjoyed at brunch losing its effect.

Her stopover in New York had given her the chance to catch up with some friends from university who had relocated to the States after medical school. Dinner had turned into drinks, and she had finally got back to her hotel room just before four a.m., giving her just a few hours’ sleep before her eight o’clock alarm call. After hitting the snooze button too many times, she had ended up racing across the city to the upper east side to meet the owners of a small, private OBGYN practice. She has been feeling restless recently, and a move to New York might be just what she needs to get out of her funk. Plus, it would bring her closer to her little brother who is currently living on the west coast.

The meeting had been positive and she has a lot to think about – but not now. For now, she just needs to get to her plane on time.

She is approaching her gate when her cellphone starts to ring. She doesn’t slow down as she searches for it, her hand passing over various objects in her overly large tote bag. Just as she feels the vibrating item against the back of her hand, Carina collides with another body. Her victim, a blonde woman, stumbles sideways.

“Shit!” the woman says as she fumbles with the coffee cup in her hand. It almost falls to the floor and she manages to steady it, but not without losing some of its contents out of one side. It spills out over her hand and drips on to her once white sneakers.

“Scusa, I’m so sorry!” Carina cries.

The blonde woman rolls her eyes. “Maybe watch where you’re going next time,” she grumbles, moving the coffee cup to her left hand, and attempting to dry her right hand against her jeans.

Forgetting about her phone, Carina fishes out a packet of tissues from her bag.

“Here,” she says, holding them out.

The blonde woman lifts her head and Carina is immediately taken aback by the bright blue eyes that look up at her. She loses her words for a moment and has to shake herself out of her reverie.

“Please,” Carina says, waving the tissues between them.

“Thanks,” the blonde woman says, softening a little at the kind gesture. She flashes Carina a small, grateful smile as she takes a tissue from its packet and uses it to clean her hands.

“Please, let me buy you another drink,” Carina says.

The blonde woman shakes her head. “No, thank you,” she says politely. “I didn’t spill too much.”

“You have quick reflexes,” Carina comments.

The blonde woman looks at her curiously and Carina feels herself blushing as she realises that she sounds like she is flirting.

Another time and maybe she would. Except before either of them can say anything else, the gate opens and the flight attendant calls for its business class passengers.

“Ah, that’s me,” Carina says. “I really am sorry about bumping into you.”

The blonde merely nods as Carina turns and heads to the front of the line, feeling disappointed that their conversation was cut short. She shows her ticket to the attendant and makes her way down the boarding bridge to the airplane. She turns left and walks into business class, finding her seat by the window and making herself comfortable. As the plane fills up, the seat next to her remains empty and she is glad about that. At least she does not need to make conversation with a stranger for the next six-and-a-half hours.

She pops two Tylenol into her mouth and swallows them with a swig of water, hoping they will do the trick to get rid of her headache. As soon as the flight takes off, she grabs a change of clothes and her wash bag, and heads to the bathroom. Someone just beats her to it and she waits nearby, next to the curtain that normally separates business class from economy. Her eyes wander across each row until she spots the woman she had run into earlier. She has a window seat, her head tipping to one side as she stares out of the window. She is pretty, Carina noticed it the moment they met, and now, as her eyes watch the clouds that pass by, she wears an odd expression that Carina can’t read.

The bathroom becomes vacant and she doesn’t have the chance to dwell any further. She slips inside and freshens up, changing from her blouse into a comfortable sweater. When she emerges, the flight attendant has drawn the curtain and she can no longer spy on the woman that has captured her attention.

Carina goes back to her seat and hits the recline button, hoping to use the flight to catch up on the rest she didn’t get last night. She covers her face with an eye mask and finds that sleep comes quickly, her dreams reminding her of Christmases past.

Half way through the flight, her slumber is interrupted by the captain’s voice blaring through the tannoy.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is Captain Phillips speaking. We have been notified by air traffic control that we are unable to land in Seattle due to a heavy snowstorm that is blocking the runway. We are going to be diverted to Montana. I’m afraid it looks like we might be there for a few days. Please bear with us, I will provide you with more information just as soon as I have it.”

A rumble of annoyance spreads through the cabin and Carina feels her heart sink at the thought that her Christmas plans may be ruined by heavy snowfall. She is already feeling anxious about the trip. She hasn’t seen her brother, Andrew, for a while, the five-and-a-half thousand miles between them and nine-hour time difference meaning that they don’t have much time to keep in touch beyond the exchange of text messages every now and again. It is not the first year that Andrew has invited her to spend Christmas with her, but it is the first time she has accepted. She usually spends Christmas at work, letting her colleagues enjoy the holiday season with their families so that she doesn’t have to spend it with hers. Not because she doesn’t like her family, she loves them – her Nonna and Nonno, her aunts and uncles and cousins, are all wonderful and she loves being in their company. They tried hard to make Christmas a happy, family affair once her Mama and Andrew had left Italy for the US when she was just sixteen years old, and for a while it was okay – but never the same.

And then her Mama died and Carina has avoided Christmas ever since.

Andrew feels the loss too, perhaps even more than she does; the difference between them being that he has tried to pull her close during the holiday season, while she has pushed everyone away. All the joy that she once found in the festive period has disappeared and she hasn’t been able to find it, no matter how much her family and friends have tried over the years.

Despite her indifference for the holidays, Carina hates the idea that she will not make it to Seattle in time for Christmas. The last time she had seen Andrew had been five years ago, just after he had graduated from medical school. He spent his summer with her in Milan, nursing a broken heart after his break-up with his then-girlfriend, Sam, a girl that Carina had no time for and was secretly glad was out of his life. After several months of moping, he had returned home to the States to start his residency at Grey Sloan Memorial, a hospital that Carina knew as a result of her friendship with Addison Montgomery, a fellow OBGYN she had met at a conference several years before.

Since then, their busy schedules have stopped them from seeing each other – until now.

After circling the runway several times waiting for a landing spot, they finally touch down an hour later and are guided off the plane into a small arrivals terminal, with nothing but a few baggage carousels and a small refreshments kiosk that already has a queue running the length of the room. With several flights being diverted to the same airport, they have been warned that it could be a long wait for their luggage, and there are people everywhere. Every seat is occupied and there are bodies strewn across the floor as travellers try to find a comfortable place to rest. Carina finds space along the back wall and settles on the ground, pulling out her book and immersing herself in another world for a while. Another hour passes before she becomes uncomfortable and needs to stretch her legs and hydrate. Despite knowing that someone will probably steal her spot on the floor, she stands up and joins the long line at the kiosk. As she waits, she spies the mysterious blonde woman in one corner of the room, talking furiously down her phone.

When Carina gets to the front of the queue, she orders herself a double espresso and, taking a chance that her gesture will be welcomed, orders a simple flat white coffee, hoping that the woman does not ruin her coffee with sugary syrups.

Carina approaches her slowly, catching the end of her conversation.

“I still haven’t found anyone to cover Andy’s vacation days,” the woman says. “And don’t forget to complete the end of shift report for the Chief.”

She becomes aware of Carina hovering nearby and looks over her shoulder, surprise crossing her face. Her eyes drop to the two coffee cups in Carina’s hands.

“I know. Thanks Jack, I gotta go. I’ll call you when I know more.”

She ends her call and turns towards Carina. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Carina says. She holds out the extra coffee in her hand. “A peace offering, for earlier.”

The blonde woman doesn’t react and Carina thinks for a moment that she is going to turn her down, but, after a beat, she accepts the paper cup with a small smile.

“Thanks.”

Carina shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant as she holds out her free hand. “Carina Deluca,” she introduces herself.

“Maya Bishop.” Maya takes her hand and shakes it firmly. “So, this is a nightmare, huh?”

Carina rolls her eyes. “I know. Are you visiting Seattle for Christmas?”

“No, I live there,” Maya answers, not bothering to explain why she was in New York. “You?”

“New York was a stopover from Italy. My brother lives in Seattle, I’m visiting him for the holidays,” Carina says. “Or, at least, I’m supposed to be.” She takes a sip of her espresso and grimaces at its bitter taste, missing her coffee machine at home.

Maya looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you really think we’ll be here for a few days?” Carina asks.

“Probably,” Maya says. “I just spoke to my friend and he said it’s pretty bad in Seattle, they’ve had nine inches of snow just this morning and it’s not showing any signs of stopping.”

Carina lets out a heavy sigh. “Great.” She slumps back against the wall. “Have you ever been here in… actually I don’t even know where we are.”

“Billings, Montana,” Maya answers. “No, this is my first time. I’m not really one for taking vacations.”

“New York wasn’t a vacation?” Carina questions.

She sees something flash across Maya’s face, but she is hard to read. “Well, I hope wherever they’re taking us, they have heating,” Carina says, exaggerating a shiver.

If Maya notices the intentional change of subject, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Not used to the cold, huh?”

“It snows in Milan, but not like this very often,” Carina says. “Even less so in the south where I grew up.”

There is a commotion over the other side of the room where two families square off over some empty chairs, drawing their attention away from their conversation for a moment.

“Idioti,” Carina mutters.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” Maya says. Her phone pings and she pulls up the message, a small frown forming on her face as she types a reply.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just my lieutenant driving me crazy, as usual,” Maya sighs.

“Your lieutenant?” Carina questions.

“At work. I’m a fire captain at Station 19 in Seattle,” Maya explains.

Carina is impressed. “That sounds like a big job.”

“It’s hard work but I like it,” Maya says, her face breaking into the first genuine smile that Carina has seen. “What about you?”

“I’m a doctor. It’s a family occupation – my papa and my uncle are both doctors, and my little brother, Andrew, too. He’s a doctor at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, do you know it?”

Maya nods, but before she gets the chance to say anything more, a flight attendant stands on a chair across the terminal and calls for their attention.

“Thank you for your patience. I am pleased to let you know that we have secured you rooms at a number of hotels here in Billings and in nearby Bozeman, Butte and Helena. We will shortly be unloading luggage from flight 459 from John F. Kennedy to Seattle on carousel three. Once you have your cases, please head out of the door on the far left where my colleague, Annie, will let you know the name of your hotel and direct you to a bus to take you there.”

Both Carina and Maya hang back for a moment as the crowd surges towards the baggage carousel. As they wait, Maya turns to Carina.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she says.

“It was the least I could do,” Carina says. “Maybe I’ll see you around if we end up in the same place?”

She suddenly realises how forward that sounds, despite knowing each other for less than an hour. “I mean…”

Maya chuckles softly and Carina hopes she is starting to warm to her charms. “Maybe you will.”

They make their way towards the carousel and are soon separated in the crowd. Carina feels disappointed once again, but by now the tiredness is creeping in and she is desperate to get to her hotel, change into her pyjamas and sleep. It takes a while for her to get to the front of the queue and collect her suitcase. She wheels it across the terminal and speaks to Annie, who tells her to check into the Rimrock Inn in Billings.

“Bus number nine,” Annie instructs her over the din of those left behind in the terminal.

“Grazie,” Carina says, before making her way outside. She is immediately hit by how icy cold it is and she shivers for real this time, pulling her coat tighter around her body.

She reaches bus stop nine and waits in a short line. The bus driver looks fed up already as he lifts his eyes up from his clipboard.

“Hotel?” is all he says.

“Rimrock Inn,” Carina answers.

She starts to slide her suitcase towards him but he shakes his head at her. “No Rimrock on my list,” the bus driver says.

Carina frowns. “But this is where they told me to come. Bus nine, Rimrock Inn in Billings.”

“Sorry darlin’, this bus is going to Butte.” The bus driver flips through the papers pinned to the clipboard until he finds her hotel listed. “You want bus five, not nine.”

Carina lets out a low grumble of annoyance. “Great,” she murmurs. Realising that it is not the bus driver’s fault that she misheard what Annie told her, she flashes him a small smile then rushes off down the path, only to find bay five empty. She realises quickly that the bus has left without her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she cries out in frustration. She runs her hand through her hair and takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension that is building up in her shoulders.

Surrounded by chaos, and resigned to the fact that she has missed her ride to the hotel, Carina walks over to the taxi stand and jumps into the first cab she can.

“Rimrock Inn please,” she says.

At least her hotel is in the same city as the airport, Carina thinks as she slouches back against the seat and leans her head against the window. It is a quick journey into the city but it gives Carina the chance to see it in all of its festive glory – Christmas trees on every corner, bows and wreaths adorning the lamp posts, and shop windows full of decorations. Carina is pretty sure she has never seen so much Christmas in one place and she thinks she must be cold-hearted not to feel any excitement.

Her hotel is a small inn in the centre of the city, a stone building with a Nutcracker soldier standing on each side of the entrance and a sprig of mistletoe hanging over the front door. After paying the cab driver and retrieving her suitcase from the trunk, Carina heads inside where she is met with a tall Christmas tree standing proudly next to the staircase, decorated with fairy lights and baubles, the jingle of Christmas music playing softly in the background. There is a bustle of activity by the front desk and she recognises some familiar faces from the airport.

The hotel receptionist greets her cheerfully. “Hello! Welcome to the Rimrock Inn. My name is Trey. May I take your name and flight number?”

Carina offers him a small, tired smile. “Carina Deluca, flight 459.”

He finds her details quickly. “Ms Deluca, you’re in room 303. You’re lucky, it’s our last free room. It’s on the third floor, on the left. Breakfast will be served between seven o’clock and ten o’clock. I’m sure you’re tired now but if you would like to know more about Billings, then please speak to our concierge. She’ll be at the front desk from nine o’clock tomorrow. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Carina feels cheered up by the prospect of falling into bed. She thanks him and reaches for her suitcase, making her way to the elevator, heading to the third floor and following the corridor on the left to her room. As she inserts the key into the lock, she realises that the door is already unlocked. She checks her key, the wooden keychain reading 303, which matches the number on the door. This is definitely her room. Confused, she pushes the door open and steps inside. There is an open suitcase on the bed and she can hear a tap running in the bathroom.

“Hello?” Carina calls out.

“Hey, what the hell…” comes a startled voice as the room’s current occupant emerges from the en-suite. “Oh.”

Carina raises her eyebrows curiously as the blonde woman from earlier that day appears, dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants. Carina’s eyes instinctively sweep her up and down, and then she blushes at how obvious she is.

“Scusa, I’m sorry,” Carina says.

Maya arches her eyebrows. “That’s the second time you’ve said that today.”

“I know, I’m…” she almost apologises again, but stops herself. “I think there’s been a mix-up. They gave me a key to this room also.” She holds out the key chain, as if Maya might doubt why she is standing in the middle of her room. “I’ll go.”

Carina turns to leave, then remembers what Trey said. “Merda!” she curses under her breath.

“Excuse me?” Maya questions.

“I was the last person to check in. The man on reception told me that this is their last room.”

Carina’s shoulders sag in defeat. All she wanted to do was see her brother for Christmas, and it feels like the whole world is transpiring against her. Now, here she is, stranded in the middle of a strange city with no bed for the night and no friend to call on for help. She grabs the handle of her suitcase, letting out another low growl in frustration as she steps towards the door.

Her exhaustion must be apparent because Maya softens and calls after her. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

Carina pauses and looks over her shoulder. “In this room?”

Maya shrugs. “Where else are you gonna go? It’s late and all the hotels are going to be full.”

She is right, Carina knows that, but the gesture comes out of the blue. Maya’s aura is only lukewarm and now, here she is, inviting Carina to stay in her hotel room.

“You don’t have to do that,” Carina says.

Maya tips her head to one side. “You look as tired as I feel,” she says. “I’m sure in the morning they can find you somewhere else.”

Carina looks from Maya to the bed and back again.

“But there’s only one bed.”

She is pretty sure she sees Maya smirk.

“Well, you’d better not steal all the blankets,” Maya teases, an obvious attempt at trying to lighten the mood in the room.

“Are you sure?” Carina asks.

“It’s only one night, right?” Maya says.

Carina smiles gratefully. “Thank you, Maya. It’s very kind of you.”

Maya shrugs again and walks over to the bed, moving her suitcase to the floor. Carina disappears into bathroom and gets ready for bed, glad to clean the make-up from her face and slip into comfortable pyjamas.

By the time she emerges, the overhead lights are off and the room is lit by the two lamps on either side of the bed. Maya already occupies the right side by the window and she has placed two pillows down the centre of the bed to create a barrier between them. Carina chuckles to herself at the lack of subtlety.

Maya barely acknowledges her presence as she sends a message on her phone. Carina feels a little awkward as she climbs into the other side of the bed, very aware of how close their bodies are despite the wall of pillows between them.

The mattress is soft and Carina’s body sinks into it. She pulls the blankets over her body and, for a moment, all of the tension and stress falls from her body. She leans over and turns off the lamp on her side of the bed.

“Thank you for this,” she says quietly.

“Well, this isn’t how any of us expected to spend Christmas,” Maya says, her tone sympathetic. She sinks down under the covers and turns off her lamp, plunging them into darkness.

The hotel falls silent as everyone sleeps and there is not much noise coming from the street outside. Carina figures that Maya has fallen asleep quickly and is surprised when she speaks softly.

“Goodnight Carina.”

There is an odd comfort knowing that she is not alone and Carina smiles into the darkness.

“Goodnight Maya.”

#station 19 #grey's anatomy #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #a very montana christmas

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acollectionofficsandshit · 3 years

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Sneak Peek! Chapter 8: Roman Profile

As promised! The entire chapter will be out Friday, April 23rd!

“No, it’s fine. I’ll manage without you.” Dead silence meets your words, the sound of them echoing off of the richly paneled walls of the elevator making them sound indefinitely stronger than you actually felt. You were endlessly grateful for how they’d come out, how certain and stalwart they’d been, how they brokered no room for dispute, offered Daniel no room to object.

“Oh,” he replied softly, “yeah, no, of course. That’s-” Daniel teetered dangerously closely to objecting, you could feel it in the way he momentarily straightened behind you before suddenly sagging, like all the fight had gone out of him. The sudden change in demeanor was so reminiscent of his switch up earlier, when one minute he’d been clutching at you like you’d have to forcibly remove him and the next you’d think he’d never ever touch you again, that you were desperate to be free of this confined space.

You could have kissed the elevator doors when they opened, both you and Daniel practically falling over each other to get out, to breathe air the other hadn’t, to have a buffer that actually felt like it was providing any sort of reprieve. It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been one of the most horrific moments of your life, right on the tail of what was undoubtedly the most painful, that the two of you finally were on the same page.

Eyes tracked your movement across the lobby, and you wondered if they could see or even feel the tension that hung in the air between you and Daniel, which unlike the rest of the weekend, wasn’t the good kind of tension, the kind that had fed into the moment earlier, but the bad kind, the sort that seemed have a visceral weight, that was currently pulling you down with it.

“Does my hair look okay?” Daniel asked, whispering the question out of the corner of his mouth, the ridiculousness and trivial nature of which nearly had you laughing in his face. It seemed unfathomable that he’d have the nerve to ask you something like that, like you cared, especially when you were just barely still going to his stupid fucking event.

Clearly, he’d felt the eyes watching you too, and like you had, he’d run through the list of reasons why the intensity of the focus seemed so much greater than usual. It seemed pointless to suggest that perhaps, the reason why it felt more apparent than he was accustomed to was because half the weight he felt was just his guilty conscience.

Even though your heart and brain were begging you to ignore the question, or to spare him just the barest sideway glance, your feet didn’t seem to be interested in listening. Coming to a full stop, beyond caring that you were standing practically in the center of the glistening hotel lobby, you turned towards him and gave him a quick once over, before continuing forward at the same brisk pace as before.

Daniel stood frozen, like he’d been entirely unprepared for you to actually stop and truly look at him, like it had rooted him to the same spot on the marble floors where you’d glanced at him, and he remained there for a few, achingly long seconds before scuttling after you, until he was nearly jogging to catch up with you.

Waiting for him to catch up before responding, you bided you time until he was back by your side, easily falling back into step with you, perfectly matching his longer strides to yours without even thinking twice about it. That stung nearly as much as the rejection had earlier because it just felt like further evidence that the pair of you were, at the risk sounding cliche, made for one another.

It often felt like Daniel and you picked up where the other left off entirely unintentionally, just in the way that two people who understand each other fundamentally can, and that had only been confirmed in the second he’d hauled you against him and crashed his lips against yours.

You had moved against him instinctively in the hallway, like it just made sense to be like that, plastered against Daniel, mouths hungry like you were both starved for the other. But that was gone and that was a moment better left behind for now, you reminded yourself, before steeling yourself to respond to his earlier query.

“It looks fine,” you toss sideways, not sparing him so much as a second glance, not needing to look again to know it was a lie. Was it petty? Absolutely. Did you get some sort of comfort out of the fact that he’d likely go in front of the cameras looking an absolute mess? Without a doubt. It seemed like nothing in the way of making up for what he had done.

In fact, it was nothing, it was nothing at all, just like he was to you now. Like his hair and this whole stupid, painful situation, Daniel has no one left to blame but himself for what he’d brought down around him.

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piracytheorist · 3 years

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A Kiss for Good Luck (14/16)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Would you look at that. The 14th chapter, which includes some fluff and general romantic feelings (and some angst, I mean, you know me), is being uploaded on Valentine’s Day. I swear I hadn’t planned any of that XD

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.3k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 14: Emma Swan and Killian Jones, June 23rd 2016

The sun has barely come out when Killian wakes up. For a moment he wonders if he dreamed the previous night, but his doubts wash away as he turns around on the couch, still in the clothes he wore the previous night. A thin sheet is on the floor next to him. He must’ve kicked it off in his sleep.

He gets up and walks to the door to his bedroom; it's half open and he can see Emma sleeping soundly on his bed. He leans on the door frame for a moment and watches her. He was too drunk the previous night for his brain to even fully register she'd come, let alone why.

Could she know? Did she figure it out too?

The lack of a headache despite his drinking the previous night leads him to think that yes, she did, and she made sure to rid herself of the luck as soon as she met him, just as he'd predicted.

He silently picks up fresh clothes and jumps in the shower. When he comes out, Emma has woken up and is tiredly leaning on the same door frame he was leaning before.

Killian takes a brisk step towards her, intending to kiss her, but she pulls back in time.

“Sorry,” Emma says. “It doesn't mean- it's not that I don't want to...”

He looks at her. “You know. You figured it out.”

She shrugs. “Same way you did.”

“I should have showed you where the water heater is last night. You want to take a shower?”

“That would be nice.”

He leans towards her again. “Will you allow me just this, so that I can be sure you won't slip in there and hit your head?”

“Killian...”

“Please.”

“I came here to give you your luck back. It was yours to begin with.”

He sighs. “Can we have this discussion when we're both properly awake?"

She nods and he leaves a kiss on her cheek. Emma seems ready to complain, but is too jet-lagged to do so. He walks past her to his bedroom. “I'll bring you clean towels.”

Emma lets the warm water wash over her, finally feeling the exhaustion wear off a little. She's not surprised to hear the sound of something, probably a plate, breaking in the kitchen. Feeling guilty, she turns the water off and puts soap on.

She's already feeling much better. Is jet-lag all a matter of luck?

She wouldn't really know. In all her plane trips before she met Killian – officially – she was the one who was the lucky one.

She peeks briefly at Killian when she comes out. He's sitting on the couch, waiting with two cups of coffee on the table in front of him.

She puts on clean clothes and joins him, sitting next to him and preparing for a kiss.

He leans away a bit, but still smiling at her.

“You figured it out before you left,” she says. “That's why you skipped back through the queue to come kiss me.”

He lowers his head. “I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd left and knowingly taken the luck with me.”

“But you gave it to me, as if... as if it was so simple.”

“You would have done the same.” He looks at her. “Isn't that why you came here without saying anything?”

She suddenly remembers she should have cancelled her hotel reservation. It's too late now to have any chance for a refund, luck notwithstanding. “You did lie to me,” she says teasingly, staring into his eyes. “You were that pirate boy in that Halloween party.”

He sighs, smiling slightly. “I have no idea how I managed to lie so smoothly at that point.”

“Is that when you realized it? You covered it pretty well.”

“But you still knew there was something wrong.”

Of course she did. They were, somehow, an open book to each other.

“Do you remember the next time?” she asks.

“In that club in New York City.”

“I... I remember the gunshots,” she says in a low voice. She doesn't miss the slight twitch of his lips. “It was... it was you, wasn't it? And your girlfriend.”

Killian closes his eyes. He feels his head hurt, and that's certainly not from the current lack of luck.

Emma can't hold a sniffle back in time, and Killian immediately says, “It wasn't your fault.”

“It's so messed up. If I hadn't kissed you...”

“You asked me first.”

“I didn't ask you if you wanted-”

“Emma, please.” His voice is shaking, and it shuts her up. “You didn't know. And... Milah's loss, watching her being murdered... it hasn't healed completely.” He lifts his head to look at her. “It's enough to deal with by itself, I can't...”

He lowers his head again, and Emma bites at her lip, shaken by the pain written on his face. He's right. She shouldn't feel guilty over it, and even if she does, she can't burden him with it.

He takes a deep breath and looks at her again, face calmer now. “I think it would have happened anyway. You think all the times we met were a coincidence? We're from two different parts of the world, and we met three times before we even had the chance to catch each other's names. And we kissed in all of them.”

“You think it's just fate?”

“It's a cruel game she's played on us, but I can't find any logical explanation.”

“Could it be a test?”

“Of what?”

“Of who will be the first to run off with luck on their side.”

Killian thinks for a moment. “I hadn't thought of that. That sounds even more cruel, considering we'd have to steal the luck from each other. And with a kiss, no less.”

“I can't imagine what you must have been thinking after you kissed me at the airport.” She takes his hand in hers. “If there really is a test involved, I'm pretty sure you passed it.”

“Maybe it's long-term. Just yesterday a bird shat on my head.” He snorts a laugh. “A few too many of those and I would be back on a plane to Boston.”

“So... what do we do?” Emma says, but she's perfectly sure it's a question he's having as well.

“You won't settle on keeping the luck for yourself when you go back, will you?”

Her face crumbles, and he doesn't stop her when she captures his lips in hers.

“Not a chance,” she says and leans her head on his shoulder.

After a short silence, he says, “When did you figure it out?”

“Three days ago, I think.”

“And you came here that fast?” His voice raises in pitch.

“I couldn't stay still as soon as I knew. And well, I did buy a lottery ticket and, you know...”

He leans back a little to look at her. His expression is not that same smile that usually breaks her; it's sadder, with a pinch of surprise, but it has the same effect. He kisses her, but she leans back in when he tries to break off. They allow themselves a moment to kiss and not count, and then they look at each other lost.

“Who's got it now?” Killian asks.

Emma smiles. She wraps her arms around him.

“I can't leave without knowing you have it.”

“You know, I've had some time to think about it.” He wraps his own arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “And I've had a few theories.”

“Such as?”

He leans a bit back so they can see each other again. “I think the longer one stays lucky, the worse the bad luck hits later.”

“You think that is? I've had the bad luck longer, but you've had it worse. It would make sense.”

“Swan, you can't compare the two.”

“You're the one comparing.”

“I'm comparing the individual situations, not which one of us has had it worse.”

“It wasn't always good for me, you know that. But I never had to lose anyone.”

Killian's face falls a little.

“How could you do it? How could you give me your luck thinking that you could be endangering the life of someone you love?”

“Stop calling it 'my' luck,” he says softly.

“It was yours first.”

He gives her an incredulous look, but then his face turns thoughtful. “It was a last-moment decision. At first I thought it was just us meeting, I don't know why it took me so long to figure out it was with a kiss that it swapped.”

“Oh.”

“When I reached the checkpoint, I found a banknote and I realized I was still lucky, despite what I'd originally thought.”

“And you came back to kiss me.”

He nods.

She sighs. “Both so stubbornly selfless.”

He takes his arm away so that he can hold her hand. “Do you remember when I called you for New Year's?”

“How could I forget?” she says, smiling.

“When I saw how you were at first, I promised myself I'd never let you experience anything like that again. And with that in mind, I couldn't leave you unlucky.”

“But, your family...”

He shakes his head. “Is it really a surprise you found me like that last night?”

Her eyes widen. “Did something happen?”

“No, thankfully. Not to us, at least.” To her unspoken question, he answers, “The detective who helped with my case, you remember some trials I told you about?”

“What happened?”

“He was shot, he's in a coma now, and Nemo happened to be the one fostering his twelve-year-old daughter.”

“That's too many coincidences.”

“I talked to him, to Nemo, about all this.”

“You did?! Did he believe you?”

He smiles a little. “This isn't Hollywood, love. He's known me for half my life. Though I was surprised when he immediately trusted I wasn't going nuts. So we talked about it, and we can't see any reason why the detective getting shot has any connection to us. But I can't stop thinking about it.”

“Hm. Anything else?”

“Aside from occasionally getting stuck in traffic, or broken elevators, or stepping on dog shit, not much. At least I was prepared to be unlucky this time.”

“Well, now I am too.” She sits up straight, as if to prove her point. “Prepared, I mean.”

“Swan...”

“It's my time to be incredibly selfless.”

“You've been unlucky the longest. You deserve some more time to relax.”

“But you said that the bad luck hits back harder. So next time for me it will be worse than you've been having it now.”

He pauses. He didn't consider that. He hadn't actually considered there would be a next time.

“So, how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?”

She points between the two of them. “Be together. Try to keep it balanced.”

“You still want to be with me?” His face betrays his disbelief.

She wraps her arms around his neck again. “Of course I do. Why do you think I came all this way?”

“Emma... you don't- you didn't expect what you saw last night. I'm relapsing. And it's not the first time I do.”

“We can work with that.” She brushes her hand through his hair.

“You don't deserve that.”

“I don't care. You don't deserve going back to drinking, either. You were willing to leave me with good luck, forever.” She puts her palm on his cheek. “I want to know you'll be okay. And I want to help, if I can. Was that why you were pulling away?”

“Not exactly... maybe, in part. I was hoping you'd lose interest, so you'd never risk getting unlucky again. I went back to drinking in an effort to protect my family.”

“How would that help?”

“I've been a walking jinx. I hoped that I could make them disgust me so they'd stay away from me.”

“Oh, Killian...”

“I failed miserably. They love me too much for their own good.”

“I know this sounds weird, but I'd gladly be the asshole and run away with the luck on my side if you promised to never try something like that again.”

He smiles a little. “Bad fortune leading to character development?”

“So that's what it was all about!” she teases. “Fate wanted us to be deeply layered humans. How kind of her.”

They laugh half-heartedly. At least they have each other in this.

“So what do you think this is?” she says. “Fate toying with us?”

“I have a theory about that too. We have one day difference between our birthdays, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But I was born here. You in the United States. What if it's not really one day? What if it's just a few hours?” He shrugs slightly. “What if there's no actual difference at all?”

Emma thinks for a moment. “I remember seeing my birth certificate. I was born at night, around ten, eleven?”

Killian nods. “It would be three or four in the morning here then. I was born very early in the morning. I don't remember the hour exactly-”

“You wouldn't,” Emma says with a cheeky smile.

Killian laughs lightly. “I've happened to have seen my birth certificate too, you know. And it was very early too. I think my mother said she'd woken up in the middle of the night and my... father took her to the hospital.”

“So you think we were born at the exact same time? Or moment, at least?”

“It wouldn't be hard to check. I think it was all fate's doing, after that. It kept throwing things into our lives so we'd lean towards each other's path.”

“Until we finally had the chance to actually get each other's names.” She leans closer to him.

“Quite a cruel game it played on us, but maybe now we can at least achieve some normalcy.”

“Tell me about it. After everything we've been through, it's so hard to just accept the good things.”

“Aye. You get used to things going well, then you kiss a stranger and suddenly you lose everything.”

Killian doesn't mean any malice with his words, she knows, but Emma nearly feels her heart break. After she kissed him at that Halloween party, she did lose everything. But he doesn't know how much it meant to her, especially through her darkest moments, to remember the way that pirate boy looked at her. So much that fifteen years later that same look had the same effect.

Was she just a stranger that destroyed his life to him?

“Hey, hey,” Killian says. “That's not what I meant at all.”

“What?” She looks up lost, realizing her eyes are full of tears.

He smiles softly, that damn smile of his. “I told you, I truly believe it was fate that brought us together. Our luck would have swapped sides no matter what, at one point or another. Fate made our paths cross, but I am bloody well glad it was you I had to meet.”

What the fuck, she thinks, that's so sweet.

He's always so good with words. She just kisses him again, then sighs. “We'll have to get used to that too.”

“What?”

“The thought that every kiss comes with a consequence.”

He holds her tighter. “It's a cross we'll bear together.”

Together.

He looks down. “If I came to live in Boston, would you help me until I get a job and an apartment?”

“You would come with me?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I... I thought we could settle for like, visiting each other every few months or so. Otherwise, we'll have to count kisses every day, going after the other to pass on our luck...”

He brings his hand up to caress her cheek, not missing how she now called it 'their' luck. “Kissing, as physical touch, is a love language. Giving each other luck can be kind of the same.”

They lean into each other's embrace. It's amazing how easier it is now that the truth is out, despite what it might mean for their relationship.

“Are you serious about moving? You want to come live in Boston?”

“I've made enough snap decisions to know a serious one when I see it.”

Emma feels her heart soar. He's willing to move countries just to be with her, after he'd condemned himself to a lifetime of bad luck for her sake. She kisses him again and sighs. The thought of having him by her side, and not just count on right scheduling and phone screens to have him close...

A sudden idea jumps at her right as Killian's phone rings. He stands up to take it, and Emma starts wondering. Norway is very close from here. Why should it be Killian who has to move across the Atlantic?

Killian picks up his phone.

“Good morning,” Killian says.

“Killian? Are you alright?” Nemo says.

“Aye, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Nemo, I'm alright.” He looks at Emma and smiles. A bit more than alright.

“Are you available? I need you to pick up Alice from school when she's done and look after her for the evening. If you're not okay...”

Killian suppresses a sigh. “I can do that. Don't worry. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. John needs some help at the office today.”

And he doesn't trust Killian. Nothing unexpected, if he's honest – though it's surprising that Nemo trusts him with taking care of the girl. “Mind if I bring some company? Emma surprised me with a visit.”

“Emma? She's here? Does she... know?”

“Yes.”

Nemo is silent for a moment, but eventually says, “You'll tell me all about it later. She can come, of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you. Could you also cook? There's meat and peas in the fridge, they just need to be cooked in a pan.”

“I will. No problem.”

“Thank you, Killian.”

Killian hangs up and looks at Emma; she's stood up and is looking at his old framed family photo.

She smiles at him. “Your mother and brother?”

“Aye. It's the only picture I've got of them.” He looks at it, sighing deeply. “You recognized me?”

Her smile turns into a smirk. “Would you recognize me? You're lucky I don't have- Ugh.”

He catches her meaning. “Am I?” He kisses her temple. “Or maybe now?”

She looks back at the picture. She's not surprised his biological father isn't depicted anywhere, even as an addition to the original. “Your mother was very beautiful. Was red her natural hair colour?”

He smiles a little. “I like to think that's where I got the ginger beard from.”

She wraps her arm around his, then her free hand takes his. She looks at the other photo, the one of his new family, with both fathers and both siblings. And then yet another one, with him and the one who's most possibly Milah. After a moment of silence she asks, “Where are we going?”

“To my fathers' house.”

She smiles widely. “Meeting the parents already?”

Killian laughs lightly. “They'll be busy today and Nemo asked me if I can take care of the girl he's fostering.” He squeezes her hand in his. “Though I would like you to meet them too.”

#Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

Text

Funerary Wrongs || Solo

TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Bex attends her mother’s funeral. CONTENT: Parental death, Child abuse (in the form of memories), Domestic abuse, Homophobia, transphobia mentions (both these two are marked for which sections they’re in in order to be skipped if needed), Heavy Alcohol use

---

Bex did not attend her mother’s funeral.

The idea of it made her sick, to be standing among people who could actually mourn the loss of such a monster. She could not fake a sorrow she didn’t feel. There would be whispers, rumors, stories about why she didn’t attend. Some would say it was because she was looking after her father. Some would say it was because she resented her mother. And some would say it was because she orchestrated the death. None of them were entirely wrong, she supposed, but she cringed every time she heard the whispers as she signed all the appropriate documents to make her mother’s death official. They had no idea her mother was a monster.

Bex stood at her mother’s grave later that night, staring down at the headstone. Odell Ohpelia Oxendine. February 23rd, 1979- July 31st, 2021. Mother, Leader, Lover. Non ducor, duco. Bex sneered at the inscription. None of it was true. Odell loved no one, led nothing except a vindictive life, and she certainly was no mother. Still, Bex set the bouquet of roses down in front of her “mother’s” grave and wondered if it should be changed to “aunt” or “legal guardian”, and if it was possible, even, to get it changed. It was at her discretion, after all. She owned all the power of attorney now. It was the opposite to how her entire life had been up until this point.

When Bex was five, she remembered sitting in the living room with a cup of tea in front of her. Her first time with real tea in real company-- visiting ambassadors, who were looking for legal representation, after a mishap at a luxury hotel they were staying at. Bex didn’t remember what had happened, but she knew it had been bad, looking between the faces of her mother and father, and the other couple that was sitting across from her. They had a child, too, about her age. A boy with dusty hair and tan skin, who was looking at her curiously. He, too, had a cup of tea in front of him that he hadn’t touched.

“Why are you wearing a dress?” He’d asked. Bex did what she was taught and didn’t move or look over at him.

“Because I like them.”

“But aren’t you a boy?” He’d asked, and it hadn’t been cruel, like so many other times to come in her life, but curious. “My dad said boys don’t wear dresses.”

Bex shrugged, but kept looking at her cup. “I don’t know,” she answered, “I don’t think so?”

The boy was quiet. “Oh,” was all he said, and after that moment, he’d called her a girl and she’d liked it. He even let her be the wife when they played “house” later.

Her mother had noticed, and later that night, she’d sat down with Bex on her lap and refused to look at her. Her voice had been soft, though, and Bex remembered it had felt nice, her mother’s hand combing through her hair, nails gentle on her scalp.

“You can be whatever you want, darling,” she had cooed, “but if this is what you want, then you must promise me something.”

Bex had looked up at her with anticipatory eyes.

“Promise me you’ll always be good for me. This is so much to ask of a mother, but I’ll do it for you, if you can do that for me.”

Bex was a child. She hadn’t known better. She’d nodded, enthusiastically, and the next day, her mother had bought her an entirely new closet of clothes and pulled her from her current school to be put into a new one, and she had also made Bex promise to behave only like a girl. To make sure no one knew her secret, otherwise they would hate her, be mean to her, and be mean to them, as well.

Bex had nodded in agreement. She didn’t want anyone to hate her or her parents. She didn’t want to be the reason people hated her mother.

(Transphobia tw)

Bex was not ashamed of herself anymore, not really. She was proud to be trans. But, sometimes, she still paused outside the women’s bathroom and wondered if someone inside would look at her and know. Sometimes, she’d stop and hear her mother’s voice in her head, chastising her, telling her no one could love her, not like this. So she had to keep it secret, until she could be a real girl. Her mother had taught her to be shameful, and she had believed her.

But it hadn’t been true. Just like everything else her mother had told her, it wasn’t true. Bex had always been a girl, and no one ever questioned her when she went inside, dressed in her floral skirts and low cut tops and tights. Bex had always known she was a girl, and she’d fought-- the only thing she’d fought for-- for the chance to be her true self. And her parents had relented, because what else could they do? It wouldn’t do for them to have a son who misbehaved and acted out. Much better a daughter who was complacent. And Bex had been proud of herself, despite everything. But still, sometimes, she hesitated. Because fear remained. It would always remain.

(Transphobia tw END)

It was nothing compared to the first time she’d awoken from a night terror, screaming in her bed. She’d curled into a ball under her blankets and cried until the housekeeper had come inside and pulled them back and shushed her. Something had happened, Bex remembered, because the housekeeper was looking around with shock and horror on her face. And in the morning, when her mother had come to wake her, she’d found an already awake Bex trying to put a shattered lamp back together.

That was the first time she’d been punished. She’d only been six. Her mother’s anger had manifested in acrylic nails raking across her face, digging into her shirt and flinging her onto the floor in front of her bed, a cold demand on her tongue. “What did you do?”

“I-I-I don’t know! I had a nightmare and then I woke up and it was like this! I just had a n-nightmare and--”

Bex didn’t get to finish. That was the first time she had picked out an outfit to cover up the bruises. That had been the first time Bex had learned how to put on cover up to make her black eye look normal.

She’d only been six.

She’d only been a year older when it happened in public for the first time. They’d been at a store, a big store, and Bex had stopped to look at a doll she wanted. She had pretty rosy cheeks and long black hair, just like Bex, and the next thing she knew, she’d lost her mother. Bex had fallen to the floor in panic and wailed, crying out for her. Her cries had shattered an entire row of glass candles and cracked the nearest window. Someone nearby had gotten a bloody nose, and the doll she’d wanted began to crumple. It was almost half folded in on itself when her mother had rounded the corner, a crazed look in her eye, and scooped Bex up, racing out to the car with her.

Bex hadn’t had time to be happy to see her mother. Hands at her throat made her quiet, a palm sliding across her cheek. Nails digging into her jaw as her mother held her head still and made sure Bex was looking her in the eye when she said, “If you ever do that again, you won’t be leaving your room for a week. Do you understand me? Tell me you understand me!”

“I understand,” Bex had croaked. Her mother had lifted her by her arm and thrown her into the car before snapping at the driver to take them home. She’d have to finish shopping tomorrow.

Bex had hidden in the backseat, curled up small. And when they’d gotten home, she’d raced to her room and hid in her closet, stuffed in the corner behind her jackets. She’d heard her mother come in looking for her once, but she’d given up quickly and slammed her door. Locked it.

That was the first time she’d learned being small and unseen was safe.

Bexley looked at her mother’s gravestone again and noted how polished it was. They’d bugged her about specifics-- what kind of rock, what color, how big, how wide, what shape-- but Bex had deferred all of those decisions to someone else. The family attorney. She hadn’t wanted to think about it, but, now, she wished she had. She would’ve picked something tacky for her. This headstone was too nice, a smooth, white granite that looked like a pearl among the other headstones. They were all of her ancestors. The plot of land reserved for her grandmother was still empty, waiting for her body-- as was the plot of land for her father. But both of them were beyond legal sanity, one with dementia, the other with a magically jumbled memory.

Behind her mother’s grave, up the hill, Bex spotted the mausoleum that held the bodies of the first Oxendine’s in White Crest. Beckley and Finneus. Her middle name-- her name-- was taken after her, the first Oxendine in White Crest. The true matriarch. She’d started the family business and built the manor and established herself as a town resident before she’d even married. And when she had, to a traveling man with political riches and a duke from England, she’d kept her name and made him take her own. And from there, the name had been passed on through the women of the family. They were revolutionary.

Bex didn’t know why her mother had kept her middle name. She’d found her original birth certificate, signed by an Odette Rosenberg (with no name written under the father’s section), and found that her name had been something completely different. River Bexley Rosenberg. It had a ring to it, she supposed, but she wondered, now, just how many names she had had. River, Oded, Odelia, Bexley. And who was she, now? An Oxendine? A Rosenberg? Or something else, someone else?

Who was Bexley?

She didn’t know.

Her hands skated over the cool tomb of her great-great-great-and many more greats, grandmother.

“Why did you do it?” she asked the dead rock. “Why did you make the first deal?”

Of course, no one answered. There were no answers for her here. Of course there weren’t. This place only left her with questions and open wounds.

Unlike her parents, who had always been careful, after those first few times, to never leave a trace behind on her.

She’d been nine when she’d been called into the main office, and two concerned faces had greeted her.

“Please, Odelia, have a seat,” the principal had offered, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. Bex had sunk into it stiffly, hands folded nervously into her lap.

“A-am I in trouble?” she asked. She didn’t think she’d done anything to get herself in trouble, but maybe one of the kids had said something, or one of the parents had found out and told the school they were uncomfortable. It had happened before.

“Oh, no, no, sweetheart, no, we--” the younger man exchanged a worried glance with the woman standing next to him. Bex recognized her as the counselor. Her face looked soft, sad.

“No, honey, you’re not in trouble. We just have some--” she’d contemplated the word, and Bex had waited, perfectly still-- “concerns.” She moved around to Bex’s chair and kneeled to her eye height, looking at her with something Bex had never really seen before. “Some of the other kids have noted that you seem to...come to school with a lot of bruises sometimes.”

(Transphobia tw)

Bex recalled how, just a few weeks ago, a boy had tackled her to the ground, wrenching at her shirt, cackling the whole time and asking her what she was really hiding under her clothes. If she was really actually a girl. Instead, he’d seen the bruises and he’d immediately jumped up off of her and shouted, “I didn’t do that! It wasn’t me!” before the mediator had come running over and pulled her up and away and led her off into the nurse’s office.

Funny, she thought, how they were concerned about the bruises, but not the boy who had tried to tear her shirt off.

(Transphobia tw END)

“It’s nothing,” Bex had said back quickly, just like her parents had told her to say, “I’m just really clumsy. I fall a lot, especially at home. We have a lot of stairs. My mom says it’s because of my health, I don’t have good balance. It’s why I’m sick all the time.”

The two adults exchanged a look again. The woman reached out and put a hand over Bex’s, who looked down in shock and confusion. “Honey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, you can tell the truth. Do your mom or dad get mad at you a lot?”

Bex looked from the woman to the principal, and back. Was this a trick?

“N-No. She just likes things d-done a certain way. And sometimes I mess up. But it’s okay, because she loves me.”

The concern on the woman’s face grew and Bex scrambled. Had she said something wrong? “It’s okay! It’s okay! They don’t hurt me! They just need to teach me a lesson and sometimes I don’t get it so they have to make sure I understand! It’s okay!” And she’d started sobbing and she didn’t know why and the woman-- the counselor-- had pulled Bex into a tight hug but all Bex had done was cry.

The next day, social services had shown up at Bex’s house.

The day after that, Bex had been pulled from yet another school. This time, they sent her to an all girl’s Christian boarding school up North. “Maybe,” her mother had said, “you’ll learn some values, and how to appreciate all you’ve been given.”

Bex hadn’t learned anything there, except that she was supposed to be ashamed of herself, and that she might like kissing girls.

(Homophobia TW)

Bex had really had no reason to believe her mother wouldn’t approve of her liking girls. So when she’d come home, giddy and smiling, after kissing one of the girls in her class-- they had been friends for a while and her name was Jess and Bex liked her freckles and her red hair-- her surprise was palpable when the news was met with shouting. Her mother was suddenly asking what she’d done wrong, how could she have let this happen, why was she being punished this way. She asked Bex why she was doing this to her, did she want to hurt her? Was she trying to hurt her? All she’d wanted was for Bex to be good for her, why was that so hard for her to understand?

Bex hadn’t known what to say. She’d said sorry. She’d apologized over and over and over again, groveling at her mother’s feet while her mother kicked and kicked and hit and with each strike told Bex she couldn’t be that way. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it. She wasn’t going to let Bexley ruin her reputation. She was wrong, she was bad, she was wrong, she was wrong. She was wrong.

Bex hadn’t gotten out of bed for a week after that.

Her mother told the school she was sick. The housekeeper brought her regular meals and helped her to the bathroom while her bruised and broken ribs healed. It would be almost a decade before her mother hurt her this bad again.

The dumpster had been worse, Bex thought, remembering the feel of it as her head made contact with solid metal.

(Homophobia tw END)

Bex looked across the grounds to the manor, which sat atop a hill surrounded by a grove of trees. The perimeter wall, built of old brick and rod iron, looked pristine, outlining the property as if it were a cut out. It looked so wrong against the crop of trees, jagged stone against gentle forest. She wanted to burn it down.

Or, at least, have it demolished.

Unfortunately, she still had to go through everything inside. She couldn’t just have it all destroyed, as much as she wanted to. There were legal things, important things, maybe even nostalgic things that she wanted to keep. Plus, some of her clothes were still inside. The small box of trinkets she’d dug up as a kid, when she’d been out in the gardens, pretending to be an archaeologist. Fingers full of dirt, stuck under her fingernails, the most freeing feeling in the world at the time. Sometimes she didn’t even mind the aggressive baths her mother gave her after, scrubbing at her dirty skin and staring at her with a cold silence of disappointment.

Bex stood on the front stoop now, staring up at the ornate doors, doors that had stood for almost three centuries now. Placed a flat palm against the cool bronze metal of the embossed decor on the panels. Detailed designs that were supposed to show off the family’s wealth, but to Bex, they were just shapes. They’d always just been prison bars.

She pushed through the door and stepped inside and heard her footsteps echo. The house creaked and moaned around her, reminding her that it was haunted-- not by ghosts, but by memories. And there, a new one, at the foot of the staircase. The blood stain was gone, but Bex could remember exactly where it was. She could remember exactly what her mother’s dead body looked like.

Bex walked past the spot where she’d killed her mother and up the staircase. When she reached the top, she waited, but no one came. The house was empty. She went down the hall to the right.

The door to her father’s study was open and she slipped inside, heading to his desk. She opened drawer after drawer until she found what she’d been looking for-- personal records. All the records they’d kept of her, medical or schooling or otherwise, and tore them to shreds. She ripped drawer after drawer out of his desk and threw the folders around the room. Finances, receipts, client files, she decorated the room with them and screamed at them and at what was left of her father in the office. She took his cane from the wall-- the same cane that had whipped her back countless times-- and snapped it over her knee before throwing the pieces into the unlit fireplace behind his desk. She tore books from his shelves, the personal library of law resources they’d amassed over centuries, and tore pages from them, shredding them like confetti and throwing them up in the air.

They fell around her like ash.

She wrenched open the cabinet in the corner-- his liquor cabinet-- and grabbed whatever bottle hit her hand first. A fifty-year-old bottle of whiskey. She let it pour down her throat and let it burn and relished in it, before she turned and held the bottle upside down and let it pour out onto the floor and mess of papers on the floor. When it was empty, she shattered it against the fireplace wall.

She yanked out another bottle, vodka this time, and took a large swig before she stumbled from her father’s study and back down the hallway, tipping paintings that hung along the wall and smashing sconces with the angry magic that boiled beneath her skin.

Her mother did not have a study in the house, she hated it almost as much as Bex did. Well, had hated it. You couldn’t hate anything when you were dead. Instead, her mother spent her time in the lounge, watching old movies, reading old books, or going over cases and papers. Bex remembered the first time she’d seen her mother sitting on that ugly, green couch, pouring over some case that was going to net them a large pay increase for the company. She had awoken from another nightmare, this time containing the damage only to the mirror in her room and the lamp that had already been shattered once.

She stood in the doorway, which was only partially cracked, and called out to her mother in a quiet, raspy voice. Her mother hadn’t looked up from her papers, but had beckoned Bex to her with just a hand. Bex scurried inside and climbed up onto the couch next to her mother and wondered if she would be scolded again. Instead, her mother had set the files aside and pulled her into her lap, leaning back, curling the child against her chest. Bex stayed perfectly still in her mother’s arms as she stroked her hair and Bex listened to her heartbeat. It never faltered.

“I wish you were better,” her mother had sighed, languishing, “I wish you were mine.”

Bex hadn’t known what it meant at the time, but she did now.

She took another long sip of the vodka before she jabbed the letter opener she’d snagged from her father’s study into the green upholstery and ripped. Again and again and again, until couch cotton spewed from it like blood from a wound and the chair was no longer recognizable as such.

Bex continued a little further down the hallway until she reached the end, and she reached a door that she’d never walked through. In all her twenty-one years, she’d never walked through the door to her parents’ bedroom. She hesitated and wondered why, as she looked at the pale wood, pristine as ever. Took another sip and waited for the wood grain to turn into prison bars, but they never did.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It looked almost identical to her own room, save for the larger bed, and the two bedside tables on each side. Bex blinked, and in an instant, she saw the future her parents had always wanted for her, sleeping beside a man she did not love, living in a world she did not want, and living a lie that she could not tell.

Bex was sobbing by the time she made it over to the bed and crawled onto it, vodka sloshing onto the manicured comforter. She took one last sip before she sank onto the bed and curled up, cradling the bottle. They had stolen her life from her and created the holes inside of her that she did not know how to fill. They had deprived her of love and happiness and everything in between. They had created a prison for her and kept her locked up and isolated until she’d turned into an obedient, quiet machine.

They had ruined her and yet she missed them.

She missed them so much.

When Bex fell asleep that night, curled up in her parents’ bed for the first time, it was not Odell and Daniel Oxendine who she imagined wrapped around her, comforting her through her grief, because it was not them she missed.

It was the parents she never got to have that she missed. It was them who she wept for.

---

When Bexley would wake the next morning, it would be to too many missed calls and texts.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

Bex, I’m worried.

Please just let me know you’re okay?

And many more. She didn’t read them all. She sent one reply: i”m oKY. Homr soon

Sun bled into the room from the window above the bed and Bex lifted a hand to block it out as she turned to look around the room. It was no different in the daytime than it had been last night, still as stiff and wooden as the doors that stood between each room.

When she moved to sit up, her hand knocked the still partially full bottle and she glanced down at it through a haze. Blindly grabbing for it before downing the rest of it and leaving the bottle in the middle of the bed as she crawled off and stumbled towards the bathroom. Her cheeks felt crusted and stiff and her eyes were so dry. She splashed water onto her face and hoped it would soothe her, but found it only relieved the numbness on her face but not the rest of her body.

When Bexley looked up into the mirror, her mother’s face greeted her.

Bex leapt back, throwing the towel she’d been holding at the mirror as her back hit the wall. Memories began to flash in her mind, things she knew weren’t her own. She cried out, clutching at her temples, pressing so hard she could feel her knuckles turning white. “GO away!” she shouted to nothing, to no one. The mirror cracked. “Get out of my head!” The sink split, water sprayed from a busted pipe onto the floor. “You’re dead!” The shower doors began to worble, groaning as if under pressure. “You’re dead!”

The world shook around Bex, she didn’t care to contain the tendrils of lilac that leaked from her and snaked around the room, burning its essence into the tile, the wood, the glass. She could feel her soul trying to separate from her body, trying to escape the pain, the grief. “You’re dead!” she screamed again. She wanted to fly away and disappear into a plane where none of this existed. She almost let herself.

Then, a familiar voice whispered in her ear, “I’ll never die, as long as you’re alive.”

Bex slammed back to reality and turned fast enough to hear her spine pop as her fist made contact with the solid tile of the wall, snapping under the pressure, knuckles splitting. The sudden shock of it pulled her back to the moment, pulled in her magic, and she stared at her bloody knuckles as they dripped onto the immaculate, white floor. The red stood out against the pearl colored tile and Bex watched, memorized, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. It never would, but, eventually, it calmed enough for her to take in a large gulp of air and not feel so dizzy.

Slowly, as to not make anything return, she stood, braced against the wall, blood smearing up the side of it. She made her way over to the cabinet next to the sink and pried it open, cradling her bleeding hand to her chest, grabbing the first roll of gauze she could find. She picked the towel up again and wet it in the water leaking from the burst pipe before wrapping it around her hand to staunch the bleeding.

Hand still cradled to her chest, she made her way out of the bedroom and down the hall, back to the study. Feet crunched on crumpled paper and broken bottle bits as she grabbed another bottle of whatever was inside-- more vodka, premium, top shelf brand this time-- and unwrapped her hand. Poured some of the liquid over it, whimpering and flinching, but containing herself enough to clean up her knuckles as she drank from the bottle. She just needed to stay numb for now.

She moved, almost mechanically, from the study back down the hallway to the staircase, where she sat on the bottom step and stared at the spot where her mother’s bloodstain should have been. She stared until the shadows crept up the stairs and bit at her feet and she realized she’d told Mina she was going to be home soon. Soon had come and gone.

Bex looked down at the bottle in her hands, then to the floor. Once again, she lifted it, took a sip, then held it upside down over the spot where her mother’s dead body had lain. Sometimes, she could still see it there. The alcohol trickled onto the floor and splashed onto her legs.

“I think I was supposed to write a speech about you,” she muttered over the sound of trickling liquid. “You know, like how people get up during a funeral and go up front and talk about the deceased. They’re s’pposed to be nice,” she slurred, “talk about what the person did in life, how they touched everyone around them. How they’d be missed ‘n shit.” She tipped the bottle more and more as it emptied, the expensive liquid now running down the tile as if racing to escape. “I don’t think I coulda faced them, though. All those people. All those people who thought you were, like-- good. A good mother, a good lawyer, a good citizen.” She hiccuped. “But you’re not-- weren’t. Any of those things. You were-- I dunno what you were. You were the opposite of all of those. Or-- the sideways of all of those. And even though I knew that, I still loved you, you know. I think I still do. I don’t know how to stop. You were the shittiest mother a girl could ask for, and you’re not even my real mother, but I still love you.” It was quiet, then as the bottle was empty and Bex had stopped talking.

Silently, she set the bottle down on the last step and stood up. She scrunched her brows as she looked down at the spot, as if still looking at her mother’s body. “I think that’s what I learned from you, ultimately,” she decided out loud, “I don’t know how to stop loving someone. Even you.” The house groaned around her, as if it, too, were crying. “Even a monster.”

And then Bex wrapped her still bleeding hand and hailed a cab to the ferry, and went home to her loving girlfriend and loving guardian who had always been more of a mother to her than Odell.

And on her way back, she only wondered, once, if this was all worth it.

#solo #funerary wrongs #domestic abuse tw #child abuse tw #transphobia tw #homophobia tw #odell #parental death tw

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strickenwithclairvoyance · 3 years

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for my first blog post as an official blogger i will be discussing my current crochet blankets

blanket #1: started this about four or five years ago, not long sfter i started crocheting. its very very wide. wider rhan a queen sized bed. im using sea shell lookin stitch. takes Very Long. its purple and yellow ! nice colors. i hope to have it done eventuslly but lord knows when. overall like a 6 or 7/10

blanket #2: my mom is a very big fan of stephen king. i am making a blanket thats a bunch of hexagons mimiking the pattern on the floor in the hotel in the shining movie. i started it about three years ago and Stopped because i was inexpurenced and afrsid to move on to the next part. my Mom keeps bugging me about working on it but i simply fo not want to yet. 5/10

blanket #3: temperature blanket for 2021. love tbe stitch pattern !! its a moss stitch (? i think) where you do an sc then chain two then an sc and THEN on the next rows you do a sc IN THE CHAIN TWO SPACE and it looks so nice. running out if yarn. as you might have noticed i hsve yet to finish a crochet blanket so i am not good at judging how much yarn i will need. i am also very behind (around january 23rd or so) and despite liking it i Do Not Want To Work On It. 3/10 unless i am actively working on it in which i am a god and it is a 9/10

blanket #4: yellow and light blue granny square wheelbarrow spokes looking pattern for Very Appropriatly my grandmother. she used to crochet before she had to stop like seven or eight years ago and i learned to crochet after and we bonded over it. i started it a long time ago and then forgot it existed and i found the squares last week and i have been going HAM. only about a quarter done but i sm VERY excited to finish it 10/10. not entirely positive on a border and how ill stitch the squares together but we'll figure it iut

blanket #5: noneexistent. i went to micheals the other day for yarn for blanket number four and found some reallt cool looking yarn cakes and im not COMPLETELY positive what i want to do with them but i got four and i want to make another granny square blanket but a throw this time. might need more yarn though as four rolls i believe will be too small

#my post #crochet #anywyas those are my blankets. not a single one is complete lmao

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ravireyes · 3 years

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WHERE: savoy hotel WHEN: january 23rd CLOSED for @edensadik

It's not like distracting someone is a difficult task for Ravi Reyes, but he still finds his own smile faltering in a fleeting second of nervousness as he approaches them.

Eden Sadik. He doesn't have an ideal relationship with the Sadiks -- which is expected, after they've decided to close with the enemy instead of the Famine business --, but he has interacted with Carman much more than with the younger one. There's a reason Thomas was originally chosen for this, they probably would've had a much easier time; maybe distract Eden with some muscle flexing, or showing off abs, or whatever it is that Thomas does to catch people's eyes.

His steps are hurried, the clacking pattern of his boots on the floor betraying the urgency behind his movement, having just heard that he was needed for the job. His dress flutters whimsically around him as he turns a corner, and his smile brightens up to uncanny valley levels of faux excitement as his eyes fall upon Eden. "Ah, the younger Sadik!" He greets loudly. Once they're within reach, he puts his hands on theirs like they're childhood friends, pulls them closer, demands all of their attention. He's hoping the excessive eye contact will be contagious enough to keep them focused on him and not thinking about the cars currently being tracked in the garage. "I've been dying to talk to you. Hi. I'm Ravi, I know we've sorta met previously, but I've always been so busy before-- and ugh, you look absolutely stunning! How've you been? Where did you get those shoes? Tell me all, please. I have a feeling we could be best friends."

#c: eden #23 jan #in which thomas gets a gratuitous roast too #this is short but hope it's okay!!#okay the gif is not relevant to his movements but it gets the vibe across perfectly so #i had to use it

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the415xrpg · 3 years

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Adelaide Pennington is a 28 YEAR OLD, Bartender at The Tipsy Cow, who currently resides in PACIFIC HEIGHTS. Those who know her say she’s Spontaneous & Adventurous, but if she’s crossed she’s known to be Stubborn & Jealous.

[ Remember there is only one life to live, so live life to the fullest.] Everyone has a story, here’s hers:

"Congratulations on your beautiful twin daughters, Mr. and Mrs. Pennington!” Those were the very first words that were spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Pennington. As the doctors got their beautiful twin daughters all cleaned up and got their footprints and etc., After doing all of that the doctors soon placed the girls into their softest pink baby blankets with a cute pink adorable baby hat that the hospitals had put the girls in. After the doctors did all of that they headed over to Bethany and place one of the girls into her arms and the other daughter into Bentley's arms. As Bethany and Bentley looked down at their daughters, they both smiled and said: " Oh sweetheart they are so perfect." Bentley said to Bethany. Bethany looked at her husband and smiled and said: " Oh I agree with you baby." Bethany said. After a few seconds of soaking in all of their cuteness, Bentley looked at Bethany and said: " Hey sweetheart what do you think about naming the girl's Adelaide Rose and Rosalinda Elise?" He asked his wife and then looked at his daughters. " Bethany smiled and said " I love those names they are so beautiful, I say we go with them, the girls look like an Adelaide and Rosalinda," she said. Adelaide Rose Pennington is the eldest offspring out of two daughters which happens to be her twin sister and 1 son that was born and raised in an extremely independent Christian household. Adelaide and Rosalinda were delivered on November 27th,1993 in Santa Monica, California. While growing up Adelaide’s parents give both of their daughters's the best life they could, they took the girls on family vacations, they let them do anything they wanted to do, Adelaide and Rosalinda also had sleepovers when they got older. When Adelaide and Rosalinda turned 7 years old Adelaide's parents had noticed that their daughter's behavior started to change and that she was a consistently troubled kid while group up. In the middle of all of this Bethany had found out that she was pregnant with her third child which happened to be a little boy that was named Charlie James Pennington that was born on December 23rd, 2000. After about 4 months later after Charlie's birth, Adelaide tried to kill her baby brother. So after that horrific day of Adelaide trying to kill her brother, Adelaide's parents decided to take her to her pediatrician to find out what was going on with their daughter and find out why she was misbehaving all the time. After several days of drawing blood and testing Adelaide, her pediatrician couldn't find anything wrong with Adelaide to where her pediatrician said that she was just fine and was just acting like a normal child. Well, Bethany and Bentley knew that their daughter wasn't fine. So when they got home Bethany started to go online and started to do some research and she came across a pediatrician in Phoenix, Arizona. So a few days later Bethany and Bentley packed up their children and made the trip to Phoenix's children's hospital. After a few hours, the doctors had picked and poked and pinned down Adelaide as she fought the doctors. After a few days, later all of the test results came back and the doctors had called Bethany and Bentley at their hotel room and had them bring Adelaide back to the hospital. Once Bethany and Bentley were back at the hospital, the doctors as them down while Adelaide was off playing with some of the doctor's toys that he had laying around on the floor for the children to play so the parents could talk. As the doctors were explaining what was going on with Adelaide, something started to happen right in front of the doctor's eyes. When the doctor saw what was happening, the doctors pointed and said " Mr. and Mrs. Pennington, is this what's going on with your daughter?" he asked as he pointed to their daughter. Bentley looked behind and saw that Adelaide was having a seizure and once she snapped out of it she started to attack herself and once her father saw it he nodded and said " Yes, what is it and why does she do this?" he asked. After several hours later the doctors looked at Adelaide's parents and said " She has a condition called, Childhood Schizophrenia." the doctor told her parents. When Adelaide's parents found out what was wrong with their daughter they were relieved a little bit because it took about 10 months to find out what was wrong with their daughter. After finding out what was wrong with Adelaide, they took classes to help learn about the diagnosis of Childhood Schizophrenia. As Adelaide got old she was consistently and was a rebellious child until she was put on medication to encourage her to be a better child. At first, the medication didn’t help her so they had to take her back to her doctors to find a medication that would work for Adelaide. When Adelaide had turned 17 years old it got really bad to the point that Adelaide was hospitalized. 6 months later Adelaide was back home with her parents, Adelaide’s behavior has done a completed turn around, she went up to her brother and apologized to her brother for trying to kill him 4 months after he was born. After a few months of being back home, Adelaide went back to school and started to get straight A’s in school. Now that Adelaide is 19 years old she finished high school and went off to college when he was 20 years old, While in college Adelaide wanted to change her life around and move out of her parent's house for good. So Adelaide finished off her college years and after she did she moved to California when she was 24 years old. Now that Adelaide is living in California, she started to get her life back on track, she had found herself a crappy apartment at the time and got a job at a fast-food restaurant, but her life wasn't going anywhere so she wanted to find a better paying job and Adelaide did, she started working at some local coffee shops which got her a lot of money that she faced up to get herself a beautiful house in Pacific Heights, and after working at a local coffee shop for 4 years she got herself a job working as a Bartender at The Tipsy Cow. Now that Adelaide is 28 years old, she is loving her life there, she loves her job and friends. Adelaide wouldn't change it for the world

#female #adelaide

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nayutai · 5 years

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Afire Love

Word Count: 14.758

Warnings: foul language, alpha jimin, unprotected sex, spanking, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), anal play, female ejaculation, biting, jimin being a love-struck dumbass, arson, minor character death, violence, bad ass bitches getting shit done.....I think that’s it sksksksks

A/N: this is so different from anything I’ve written before so I’m really nervous about posting this. thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy this.

Tears are streaming down Jimin’s face as he and the other alphas crack their sides with laughter at Alpha Seokjin’s latest story. They’re supposed to be discussing the current political unrest in Europe amongst the humans and how they could help their ally packs over there, but somehow, they’ve ended up having story time. Something about French hookers that weren’t actually French and a bucket of fried chicken.

This is a normal occurrence for their annual meetings. There are only seven werewolf packs left in America. The result of mergers and various wars over the past few centuries. To keep the peace, the North American Werewolf Peace Council has been formed. Every year the seven sitting alphas meet up in neutral territory for a summit to hash out any grievances and discuss ways to preserve their way of life. Jimin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook, Seokjin, and Hoseok, the seven current members of the council, have formed a pretty tight knit friendship over the years since they’d become the alphas of their packs so now the annual summits were pretty much glorified benders with a sprinkling of politics for appearance purposes.

Seokjin’s story time finally comes to a close and somehow, they all end up back on the age-old subject of the nickname Taehyung had dreamed up for their merry little group. Bangtan he insisted that they call themselves. The Korean word for bulletproof. It’s quite ironic when you consider that the only proven way to kill a werewolf short of dismemberment is a silver bullet through the heart. The rest of them make sure to tease Taehyung for his peculiar nickname choice and yet it’s been the name of their iMessage group chat for ages.

Jimin opens his mouth to join in on the bangtan slander when his phone buzzes on the table. He flips it over to glance at the screen, smile dropping immediately when he sees his Beta, Jackson’s name on the screen.

“What’s going on?” Jackson, the son of the pack’s previous Beta, was literally born to serve in this role so he knows just as much about running a pack as Jimin does. Taking care of the pack for one weekend is child’s play for him. If he’s calling, then something serious is going on. Jimin’s mind is working a mile a minute as he tries to think of what could possibly be going on. He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t even notice the silence that blankets the room.

“Sariah was running patrol and found a rogue. She-” Jimin doesn’t wait for Jackson to finish his sentence. He’s heard all he needs to hear.

“I’m catching the next flight out.” He’s a whirlwind of movement as he quickly dismisses himself from the conference room of the swanky New York City hotel they’ve chosen to hold the summit in this year. Curses spout from his mouth like a waterfall as the elevator takes its sweet time delivering him to the 23rd floor where his room is.

Within three hours, Jimin is 30,000 feet in the air on his way back to Georgia. His knee bounces incessantly to the annoyance of the older woman sitting next to him but he ignores her. His wolf is feeling antsy, like something is about to happen. He’s practically vibrating with energy which is weird to say the least. This isn’t his first time dealing with rogues in the slightest. As a matter of fact, Jimin has built quite the reputation for himself for the swift and brutal hell he personally rains down on any rogue who crosses into territory with malicious intention. He digs his nails into the palm of his hands as he fights to keep his canines from lengthening at the mere thought of it.

His mind drifts back to that one summer afternoon right after he’d graduated high school. He was goofing off with his best friend Jackson and his older brother Matthew at the park when they heard the sudden sound of chaos erupting from somewhere across the pack territory. The three of them had instantly went into attack mode, on the verge of shifting. Jimin had made to go see what was going on as the snarling sounds of war had gotten louder. He was going to be the alpha of this pack one day and he needed to go help his pack. He hadn’t made it five feet towards the mayhem when he found himself being lifted from the ground and tossed into the small storage shed used to store the grounds keeping equipment along with an equally confused Jackson.

“You two stay put. Can’t have you getting yourselves killed trying to be brave.” Nearly eight years had passed since that day and he can still recall that sentence with perfect clarity. He didn’t know it at the time, but those were the last words that Matthew would ever say to him.

According to other members of the pack guard who’d been present, he went down protecting the daycare center. Three rogues had jumped him all at once and while he was able to hold them off long enough for back up to arrive, that backup didn’t get there in time to save Matthew.

Matthew hadn’t been the only casualty of the attack, but his death had sent the pack reeling. As the next wolf in line to be Beta, he’d been a major part of the pack’s operation as he slowly took on more and more duties from he and Jackson’s father. A gaping hole was left behind when he was killed. Jimin couldn’t stand the fact that he hadn’t been there to help his friend when he’d needed him the most.

As alpha, Jimin’s mother had never been particularly lenient with rogue and neither had any of the previous alphas before her. That fateful day erased any leniency she could have ever showed to rogue wolves. When Jimin became alpha, the first male to do so in twelve generations, he followed in his mother’s footsteps. There hadn’t been many rogues to make the mistake of trespassing into Jimin’s territory. Only a handful, but only one of them had lived to tell about it. A young teenager that had run away from an abusive household. As such, rogues learned to give his lands a wide berth when travelling. Coming too close meant certain death at the hands of the alpha.

* * *

The wheels of his black SUV have barely stopped turning before Jimin is hopping out of it. Jackson is standing in front of Jimin’s house waiting for him. He falls into step with the alpha as they make their way to the holding cells where rogues and criminals get dumped while awaiting punishment. Jimin’s mother, the former alpha of the pack, had commissioned the construction of the six-cell facility way before Jimin had even been born. Most of the pack member referred to it as “the dungeon” because of the dark, dank atmosphere. Getting dumped in the dungeon was a fate that most people tried to avoid which coincidentally meant that crime wasn’t really a problem amongst the pack members.

Jimin heaves open the heavy oak door of the dungeon as if it weighs nothing. The sun has long set so the only light is being provided by a couple torches affixed to the stone wall in front of the row of cells. Jimin’s wolf howls suddenly in the recesses of his mind. His nose twitching as he picks up on the faint scent of maple syrup and vanilla. He knows it’s not Jackson because he would’ve smelled it when he first got here. The frantic energy he’d felt on the plane increases tenfold as he steps further into the hallway where the smell is stronger. A melodic giggle bounces off the stone walls as he stops in front of the cell housing the pack’s latest prisoner. Jimin’s heart races at the tinkling sound while his stomach threatens to break rank and fall out of his ass. The young alpha had always been pretty smart so he can put two and two together to know that something about this rogue is different than most.

It’s the dead middle of summer in Georgia so the woman, who has yet to raise her head to acknowledge Jimin’s presence, is covered in sweat. Her hair is stringy and dirty. Her bare body covered in the same amount of filth. Jimin eyes the cuffs around her wrists and ankles that are keeping her restrained. The inside of the cuffs are laced with silver, which explains why the minor scrapes and cuts on her body haven’t healed yet. Silver, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t burn the skin while in human form but it does completely block the connection between one’s wolf which in turn makes them unable to take advantage of the rapid healing qualities that come with that connection. He audibly gasps, latching on to the metal bars of the cage in front of him, as he watches his nails lengthen into claws without provocation. It takes every ounce of mental fortitude he possesses to stop the shift so that he can remain in human form.

Jackson is giving them the rundown of everything that’s happened since the caught this rogue sneaking into his territory. Jimin’s attention is focused intently on the woman in front of him so he misses the confused look his beta is giving him. He’d actually forgotten that the other man was even behind him until he starts speaking. They both know that this is turning out greatly unlike any other time a rogue has stepped foot in these lands but only Jackson isn’t privy as to why.

Jimin is mildly irritated that the disrespectful little minx currently chained up in front of him has

yet to look him in the eye. Part of him knows that he doesn’t really need her to. From an early age, he’d been taught how to recognize the signs of a mating bond. Smelling something that reminds you of home in a place you shouldn’t be able to smell it. The sudden, intense urge to shift coupled with an accelerated heart rate. The only sign he hasn’t checked off the list is the most obvious of the bunch. Whenever werewolves make eye contact with their mates for the first time their irises glow a brilliant shade of white as if they’ve been replaced by pieces of the moon itself. Deep down, Jimin knows that the rogue in front of him is his mate. He knows this, but he still needs that last little bit of confirmation.

“Look at me.” He growls out. The three words are dripping with an alpha command. He can tell she’s resisting the urge to obey at the way her body starts shaking. She finally succumbs to the command seconds later.

Jackson whispers a curse, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding when the woman’s eyes begin to glow. Jimin can feel the warmth of his own eyes mimicking hers. A vicious roar vibrates the air in the dungeon as he turns to slam his fist into the unyielding stone wall. Jackson winces at the sickening crunch of the bones in Jimin’s hand breaking. His earlier confusion only grows as Jimin stalks out of the pack prison nursing his injured hand while his mate remains silent.

Jimin’s mind is reeling and so is his gut as he stalks through the pack village on autopilot, letting his instincts guide him wherever they see fit. He drops to his knees just outside of his house as he fights to control the beast that rages within him. The animal side of him is on the verge of revolt at the fact that he left his mate naked and chained to wall in the dungeon without staking his claim. This has to be some sort of sick joke. His mate can’t be a rogue. Bile rises in his throat at the mere thought of what that entails. Ever since Jimin was old enough to understand the concept of mates, he’d looked forward to the day that he could finally meet his. Now he wishes that this day had never come.

* * *

“For the love of everything good in this world, stop being such a pussy and go talk to her.” Seokjin is louder than normal as he yells at Jimin over Facetime. He’s so loud that Jimin hastily turns down the volume on his phone to keep the whole world from hearing the older alpha berate him like this.

“She’s a fucking rogue, Jin.” Jimin retorts. “She’s lucky I haven’t killed her yet.” Seokjin rolls his eyes skyward, calling upon the Lord for strength. He’s tempted to shift and run all the way to Brunswick, Georgia where Jimin’s territory is just to beat some sense into the younger alpha.

“This is the last thing I’m going to say about this because you’re working my nerves.” Jin starts, his voice lightly colored with the alpha tone. Jimin wants to protest Jin’s use of his alpha voice on him but he really doesn’t want to deal with more yelling from the other man.

“You are being an absolute dumbass. Yes, what happened to Matthew was terrible, but it has no bearing on the fact that you currently have your own mate locked in some smelly ass dungeon.” Jimin tries to interrupt but Jin talks right over him. “Do you even know why she’s a rogue? I’m willing to bet the answer is no.”

The retort dies on Jimin’s tongue as he takes in Jin’s words. The older man reiterates his previous assertion that Jimin needs to go talk to his mate or at least let her out of the jail cell before he ends the call. His mind is swirling in conflict.

Before he can change his mind, Jimin stands from the couch and walks out his front door. A few pack members try to strike up conversations as he heads towards the dungeon but he politely lets them know that now isn’t a good time. He fears that if his feet stop moving he’ll never go back to talk to her. The closer he gets to the stone structure, the faster his heart beats in his chest. He hates the control she has over him even though the mating process hasn’t been completed.

Jimin is surprised to see that his mate is showered, dressed, and unchained in her cell. Her raven black hair is pulled back from her face in a ponytail fully revealing her striking features. Now that the grime and wounds that had once covered her skin are gone, Jimin can really see just how beautiful she is. Her gaze is steady as she regards him through the bars of her prison. She looks totally at ease with her legs crossed in front of her. Her hands resting in her lap.

“You’re pretty short for an alpha.” Jimin snarls before he can stop himself. He knows that at five foot nine he’s a few inches shorter than the average alpha and it’s always been a sore point for him.

“Don’t test me, rogue.” He spits out through clenched teeth. His mate arches a single brow in response, laughing slightly under her breath.

“My name is Taryn Medí, not rogue,” she starts, lifting one of her hands up with her palm facing the ceiling. “and it’s you who shouldn’t test me.” Jimin’s jaw hits the concrete floor beneath his feet when her hand is suddenly engulfed in flames yet she seems wholly unaffected.

“Sanmana” He whispers out loud as if to confirm it for himself.

The Sanmana wolves are a single bloodline of wolves that can trace their ancestry back to one specific wolf and his fire mage mate. Their ancestors are the only known mating between a wolf and an elemental mage which made them practically royalty centuries ago. Despite continued mating, all descendants of that mating have been born with fire mage abilities and no one is sure why. The physical power of a werewolf combined with the fire bending powers of a mage made them a force to be reckoned with.

A little under a century ago, opinions shifted drastically after a Sanmana wolf killed her ex-boyfriend after being dumped because he’d found his mate. The slighted wolf had gone on an arson spree that devastated the European town she lived in before finally being taken down.

After all that devastation and death, Sanmana wolves were nearly hunted into extinction. Those who weren’t killed went into hiding. No one really knows exactly how many of them are left but Jimin knows there’s at least one more other than his mate. He takes a seat on the stone bench directly across from her cell to try and process everything he’s just learned.

He meets her eyes again to find her already staring at him. He thinks that he sees hope within the depths of her irises but if it was there it’s gone the second he stands up and takes a few steps towards the main door. Jimin fully intends to walk outside and never come back but something stops him. It dawns on him that Taryn has quite literally put her life in his hands by exposing her true nature to him. Jimin could out her and, for lack of a better term, toss her to the wolves without anyone guilting him about it. Silences stretches between them for what feels like eternity as he weighs his options. He takes another step towards the door, mind made up to leave, when he remembers Jin’s question.

“Why did you go rogue?” Jimin asks abruptly, breaking the silence. Taryn can sense that this is her one chance to change Jimin’s mind. It’s now or never.

“It was either go rogue or die.” She answers as she fiddles with a loose thread on the sweatpants she’s been given. “My mom was human and she got kidnapped by some wolves from an enemy pack and my dad used his abilities to get her back. They were both killed for it. I would’ve been killed too but the guard they sent to kill me couldn’t do it and told me to run so I did. I was six.”

“So, you’ve been a rogue all this time?” Jimin’s eyes nearly bug out at the thought of being alone that long. She looks somewhere around his age give or take a few years which puts her in her early to mid-twenties. That’s a hell of a long time to be alone.

Wolves are not solitary animals by nature and as shifters that same need for a pack is translated over to their human sides as well. The longer someone goes without a pack to call their own the worse their mental health gets until their certifiably insane. It’s what makes rogues so dangerous. The morals and ethics that come with being human are eroded away until they function solely on primal instincts.

“Oh God no. I’m originally from Canada about twenty miles or so from the American border so I immigrated if you will.” She explains. “I joined Alpha Curtis’ pack in North Dakota and it was fine up until a couple years when his son took over. He didn’t like the fact that I didn’t want to have sex with him so I shot him for trying to force my hand in the matter. He lived unfortunately.”

A sudden and vicious wave of anger crashes over Jimin as he thinks of some other man not only touching his mate but touching her against his will. He has half a mind to seek out the now dethroned alpha just to teach him a lesson on keeping his hands to himself. Jimin makes a mental note to call Yoongi and find out what became of the piece of shit that touched his mate when he took over their pack. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, taking a long look at the mate that fate had decided to give him.

“Do you promise not to burn the village down?” He asks.

“I resent the fact that you think I would, but yes, I promise not to burn the village down.” Taryn squeals with ill-suppressed joy when Jimin produces a set of keys from his back pocket. Being in the hell hole they call a holding cell has started to take a toll on her sanity. She hasn’t properly seen the sun since she was tossed in there.

The second she’s outside, Taryn takes a deep breath, head tilted skyward as she allows herself the time to bask in the sunlight. Jimin swears he’s never seen something more ethereal. She seems to practically glow in the light, the sun’s rays soaking into her brown skin in a way he’s never seen before.

“My house is this way.” She follows dutifully. Taryn’s eyes are everywhere as she takes in the sights and smells of her new home. It’s quaint. Just like the small towns you see in all the movies. Rows of mom and pop shops, a bakery, and a park where kids are playing under the watchful eye of their parents.

Their hands brush occasionally as she falls into step next to him. With every brush of his skin against hers, Jimin has to fight the urge to bend her over right where they stand. It’s downright unnatural the way they’re just casually not ripping each other’s clothes off as most wolves complete the mating bond as soon as they first met.

The pack members milling about openly stare at her slight frame, not bothering to hide their disgust at the rogue walking next to their beloved alpha. Jimin has to force himself not to lash out when she pulls her hair out of the ponytail, using it as a shield to hide behind. Her shoulders are slumped as she attempts to make herself as small as possible.

He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but Jimin grabs her hand in his. A barely audible gasp escapes her lips as he slots his fingers into the spaces between her own. She’s probably feeling the same rush of hormones that he is. That primal instinct to claim her nearly overwhelming him. He tightens his grip when she immediately tries to pull away. The fear and apprehension is radiating off of her as she pulls more of her hair into her face but she ceases her attempts to escape his grip.

The nosy pack members let their curiosity get the best of them as they follow Jimin and Taryn to their destination. Werewolves already have a higher heart rate than humans but for a second Jimin is worried that Taryn’s heart might actually beat out of her chest at any moment. The muscle is hammering away almost like a hummingbird behind her rib cage as the few people following them becomes a small crowd.

Jimin turns to face his people once he reaches his front porch. He clears his throat to address them and the murmuring among them ceases. He surveys them shrewdly as they wait anxiously for his announcement.

“This rogue is my mate. A formal announcement will be made at the next pack meeting in three days’ time.” Shocked exclamations ripple through the gathering of people as Jimin ushers Taryn through his front door.

“Does this mean you’re not rejecting me?” Gone is the cocky she-wolf that had challenged him with her words and feisty attitude. Once again, that same innocently hopeful expression is written all over her face. The difference between the two nearly gives him whiplash.

“Wouldn’t it be foolish to reject the only mate I have in this world?” A small smile creeps up on his face. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll see about finding you some more clothes.”

* * *

The three days leading up to the pack meeting are awkward to say the least. Taryn ventures out exactly one time and quickly finds out that the pack members aren’t too fond of her. The only people other than Jimin that seem to tolerate her is Mrs. Katrina Tran, the woman who has put herself in charge of making sure that Jimin doesn’t starve to death or accidentally burn his house down trying to cook, and her four-year old son Kevin.

Katrina takes Taryn under her wing, teaching her different recipes and just being a source of friendly conversation in general. She looks forwards to her visits every day. Playing cops and robbers with Kevin, who’s probably the happiest child she’s ever encountered, is the highlight of her afternoons.

It’s the day of the pack meeting and Taryn has been on edge all day. Chasing down the tiny culprit who’s just robbed a bank aka the candy bowl on Jimin’s coffee table is the only thing that’s been able to keep her mind off what’s going to happen in a matter of hours. Kevin giggles loudly as Taryn “apprehends” him, swinging him up into her arms. She spins around a few times as he squeals in childish delight. She can hear Katrina laughing along from where she stands in the kitchen but when a deeper, more masculine laugh joins hers, Taryn freezes. She looks to her left to see Jimin leaning back against the front door. He’s been so busy doing whatever it is that alpha’s do that they haven’t really seen that much of each other.

“More, Ryn!” Kevin demands as he twists around in her arms. Katrina, reading the room, swoops in to take her son from Taryn. She cajoles him with the promise of cookies as they disappear out of the back door.

“Uhm, hi, Jimin.” Taryn wants to smack herself for sounding so shy. That’s not her at all but something about Jimin’s energy makes her feel vulnerable. It’s like he can see through whatever façade she puts up to see the real her and it’s unnerving to say the least.

“Hi, Taryn.” Jimin’s voice is gravelly as if he’s been chewing on the tiny rocks in his driveway as he returns her greeting. The low timbre of it sends a shiver down her spine. She anxiously rubs at her arms in an attempt to rid herself of the goosebumps that have appeared on her skin.

The man in front of her slowly puts one foot in front of the other until he’s standing toe to toe with her. She can’t help but to take a deep breath in. He smells like the pine forest that surrounded her old pack after a fresh rain with a hint of citrus. It was always her favorite scent. Whenever she was stressed or feeling overwhelmed, she would shift and just sit in the forest, breathing in the smell of trees around her. It never failed to calm her nerves and smelling Jimin right now seemed to be having the same effect. She could feel her trepidation about the impending pack meeting melt away the longer he stood before her.

One look into Jimin’s eyes though and she can tell that he’s not in control right now. His irises that are normally a rich and beautiful brown have darkened to a dangerous obsidian ringed in gold. A sure sign that, for whatever reason, his wolf has taken charge. The sheer amount of power radiating off of him is close to suffocating Taryn as she fights against the urge to submit to the alpha, her alpha. Her panties are soaked through at the thought of what the man in front of her could do to her body if she let him. She’s sure that he can smell her at this point so it’s truly impressive that he hasn’t lunged at her yet.

“What’s your favorite food?” Taryn blurts out before she doesn’t something drastic like give into the sexual desires threatening to swallow her whole. Jimin arches one perfectly arched eyebrow at her strange question. “I just realized that I don’t know anything about you other than your name and that you’re the alpha.”

The darkness in his eyes slowly bleeds away and Taryn can finally start to breathe normally again. Jimin nods his head in acquiescence, thinking the question over carefully before answering. “Peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwiches. My mom always made them for me when I was a kid.”

He playfully nudges at her shoulder. Shockwaves of arousal ricochet through her being at his touch but she steels her resolve. “So, what’s your favorite food?” He asks, turning her question back on her. She doesn’t even have to think about the answer as it flies off her tongue.

“Belgian waffles.” She smiles softly at memories from her childhood. She would always demand Belgian waffles every morning to the point that her parents actually started calling her Waffle. It was an embarrassing nickname but now that her parents are gone she’d give anything to hear it again.

“Duly noted now come on we have a meeting to get to.” Jimin grabs her hand and butterflies erupt in Taryn’s gut as she lets Jimin lead her out of the door to wherever pack meetings are held around here.

* * *

“Have you mated her yet? Inquiring minds would like to know.” Jimin’s eyes rolls skyward. He almost regrets calling his younger brother Jaehyun. All he wants to know is how much longer until his baby niece arrives but instead he gets the fifth degree. He probably should’ve expected it though.

“Dear God, you’re worse than mom.” Jaehyun only laughs. Now that she no longer has alpha duties to attend to, their mother has been not so patiently waiting for her two sons to give her grandchildren to spoil.

Up until a year ago, neither Jimin nor Jaehyun had been mated but that all changed when Jaehyun had gone on a mission trip to Germany where he ended up meeting his mate Rosaline, the rising alpha of the pack who had offered to house Jaehyun’s mission group. Now they’re married and expecting their first child together. Jimin was only too happy to drop his parents off at the airport after Jaehyun had called to inform them of Rosaline’s pregnancy.

“At least I waited till she left the house to call so you could avoid all her questions. You should be thanking me.”

“Oh, wow my savior. How can I ever repay you?” Jimin asks sarcastically. His eyes linger on the picture of him with his family that he keeps on his desk. He misses his parents and brother but he’s a little glad that they’re on the other side of the Atlantic right now because they’re a lot easier to ignore when their questions start to overwhelm him.

His phone call with his brother doesn’t last much longer as they both have important obligations that they need to get back to. His eyes are drawn back to the family photo. If his mother was here right now, he knows that she’d probably be beating him on the back of the head every day for being a dumbass. Jimin had told his parents about Taryn out of a sense of obligation the day she officially joined the pack and to say he regretted it would be an understatement. His mother constantly pestered him for details about her new “daughter-in-law”. She’d been pissed off to say the least when she’d stopped talking long enough to notice the absence of a mark on Jimin’s neck.

He’d intended to keep his reasons for the lack of a mark to himself but his mother had seen right through his lies. Eventually, Jimin broke down and told her the truth. The whole truth. She was shocked to learn that not only are the Sanmana wolves not extinct but her precious new “daughter-in-law” is also a descendent of the fiery hybrid mating from long ago. She’d been wary at first but she firmly believes in the entire concept of mates and therefore doesn’t understand why Jimin has been holding back. He keeps trying to explain his position to her but no matter what Jimin says his mother still holds firm to her conviction. Taryn is the only mate he’s going to get.

“Jimin, I hear your frustrations and your feelings are valid, but baby you can’t let these what-ifs keep you from your one chance at true love.” His mother’s soothing voice plays in his head like a broken record. She’s right. He knows it and she knows that she knows it too. So why can’t his brain stop disagreeing with his heart?

* * *

If someone didn’t know that Jimin and Taryn were mates, they’d probably think that they were just roommates with lots of sexual tension that no one had acted on yet. They still sleep in separate rooms and don’t see each other a lot since they’re both so busy with their respective pack duties. Their spoken communication has dwindled down to nearly nothing but they always manage to communicate in other little ways.

The first week after Taryn joins the pack s hellacious to say the least with Jimin dealing with all of the new construction and disagreements and new pack members that occur in those seven days. It reaches the point that Taryn notices that he’s nearly stopped eating as the plates of food that Katrina leaves for him go untouched.

A quick glance at the sleek iPhone Jimin had purchased for her a couple days ago, tells her that it’s just shy of seven in the evening. If Jimin keeps to the same pattern he’s been following, then he’ll be back home at around 7:30 to shut himself up in his office to do paperwork for the rest of the night. Taryn grabs the bread and a plate and sets about to make him something that she knows he won’t be able to refuse.

It’s 7:32 when the sound of the front door slamming shut reaches Taryn’s ears as she’s tossing her towel in the dryer to warm it up before her shower. She hates cold towels. Another minute goes by and the phone in her back pocket vibrates twice with a text message. She smiles to herself when she opens the message after seeing it’s from Jimin. It’s a picture of the peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwich she’d left on his desk. The two words under the picture expressing his gratitude get tossed to the side as her eyes hone in on the emoji next to them. To anyone else, the kissing emoji isn’t much, but to Taryn it holds weight as this is the closest she’s come so far to getting a kiss from Jimin and dear God does she want to kiss him. His sinfully full lips haunt her every dream but for whatever reason Jimin hasn’t made a single move and part of her doubts that he ever will.

A few days go by and it’s become a habit for Taryn to make Jimin a sandwich and leave it in his office for him. Jimin actually starts to looks forward to going home to the stack of work he has to do. He feels guilty that she goes out of her way to make his favorite sandwich for him while all he offers in return is a thank you text with a stupid emoji.

His ears perk up at the sound of the dryer beeping down the hall. He gets up to peek out of his office door, catching sight of Taryn folding a single towel as she walks away from him towards the stairs. He’d always thought she was just obsessive about doing her laundry, but now that he really thinks about it, he’s never the sound of the washing machine. Only the dryer. He’s even more confused now. Jimin’s brow furrows when he hears the shower in her bathroom turn on. The wheels in his brain are turning at lightning speed as he tries to put two and two together. He smiles to himself as he returns to his desk to make a quick phone call.

Taryn stumbles into her bathroom the next morning with her eyes half closed and her hair going in every direction from all her tossing and turning. She stretches her arms overhead which causes her nightshirt to rise dangerously high up her bare thighs. She’s so out of it that she doesn’t notice the extra presence in her bathroom until she’s already seated on the toilet.

“I’d say this is definitely bringing us closer.” Jimin says on a laugh as Taryn’s eyes fly open with a shriek. He eyes her bare legs lustfully, taking note at the fact that the newly awakened woman in front of him makes no move to try and cover herself after realizing its him in the bathroom in her.

“What are you doing in here?” She asks as she flushes the toilet and walking towards the sink that Jimin is currently leaning against, drill in hand. Part of her hopes that his reason for being in here is romantic in nature even though the power tool he’s holding pretty much tells her it’s not. A girl can still hope though.

His eyes follow every movement of her full hips when she turns to walk back into her room. Jimin’s cock stirs to life at the thought of how good it would feel to give into his desires and finally claim her. The tips of his fingers brush her forearm as he reaches out to do just that when a single word rushes to the forefront of his mind as it often does when he’s close to caving into the mating pull.

Sanmana.

He snatches his hand back like he’s been scalded. Taryn turn to look at him with a raised, questioning eyebrow but he smoothly plays it off as if there was a piece of piece of string on her arm. They both know there wasn’t but she doesn’t press the matter which he’s thankful for.

Jimin clears his throat as he tries to reign in his impure thoughts, following her back into her bedroom. “To answer your question, I was installing a towel warmer.”

Taryn pokes her head out of her walk-in closet that she’d disappeared into with an intrigued look on her face. Jimin explains how he’s noticed that she’s been putting her towels in the dryer for exactly eight minutes every day before her shower and that he wanted to do something nice for her since she’d been making him his favorite sandwich every day. He almost misses the way her smile drops a millimeter at his explanation. He kicks himself for being such a selfish overthinker because he knows that’s what it boils down to at the end of the day but he can’t help himself.

What if someone were to find out what she is? Riots would ensue as people actively seek to see her beautiful light snuffed out. The discomfort he feels of being so near his mate but not being one with her is nothing compared to the absolute torture he’d go through if she was to be brutally ripped away from him like that after completing the bond. What if they had kids? He can’t even bear the thought of someone threatening his child because of what they are. It makes him physically sick to even ponder it. Keeping Taryn at an arm’s length is a necessary evil that he can’t seem to find a solution for. Well, a necessary evil that he’s scared to execute the solution for seeing as how the issue really lies in Jimin’s own selfish fears. He’s scared and he doesn’t know how to stop being scared. As an alpha, it invokes a healthy amount of self-hatred as he was raised to be the source of people’s fear not the frightened pup he’s been dissolving into.

Jimin opens his mouth to respond when a siren blares out, stealing his thunder. Taryn is in awe of him as she witnesses the visible change in his demeanor. In the space of a few seconds, the alpha wolf that resides within him has completely taken over. The word “rogues” is spat out like a curse as he spins on his heel, practically yanking the bedroom door off of its hinges in his haste to leave. Taryn quickly shoves her arms through the sleeves of some random sweatshirt and hops into a pair of leggings before she too is running towards the exit.

The front door of the house hadn’t been as lucky as her bedroom door. The matte black door has been ripped halfway off of its hinges and the knob is nowhere to be found. Taryn quickly forgets the door as she steps out onto the front porch to see madness unfolding all around her. The siren from before still sounds loud and clear above the swell of screams and snarls. She can’t see any rogues from the front porch but the smell of wolves that don’t belong permeates the air around her. She knows that as Luna it’s her responsibility to do something but she’s frozen. Totally overwhelmed by the sheer amount of chaos. She spots Katrina as she dashes down the sidewalk that passes directly in front of Jimin’s house. The older woman is cradling a screaming Kevin to her chest as she desperately tries to escape whatever’s behind her.

Taryn leaps into action when she realizes that that something is a large, silver wolf. Ever since joining the pack, she’s been able to recognize the wolves that belong to her new clan, even the one’s she’s never seen in wolf form before. It’s like a sixth sense that tells her who belongs and who doesn’t. The rogue female bearing down on her friend definitely doesn’t belong.

With a vicious snarl of her own, Taryn leaps off of the porch and shifts mid-air. Her shredded clothing rains down around her as she collides with the trespasser with a sickening crunch of bone beneath her paws. The other wolf is dazed, clearly not expecting to be blindsided like that. Taryn makes quick work of her by sinking her teeth so far into the other wolf’s neck that she scratches her spine. Blood drips from her lips as she sets off in the same direction Katrina had been running.

The cement is no match for Taryn’s claws as she skids to a stop in front of the small primary school. Anger bubbles up within her when she notices the three rogue wolves attempting to breach the building. Her very being is practically vibrating from the growls erupting from her chest. The outsiders share a look amongst each other before apparently deciding that they like the odds of tussling with one wolf.

Taryn readies herself for a fight when a loud burst of thunder interrupts her concentration. The sun is high in the sky with not a cloud in sight so where did that come from. She doesn’t have to wait long for her answer. As she breathes in the air around her, she notices a drastic shift in the scent. That familiar forest smell overtakes her which can only mean one thing. Jimin. Taryn bares her teeth in a wolfy smile at the fear that comes over the rogues in front of her at the sight of her mate coming to a stop by her side.

It vaguely dawns on Taryn that this is the first time she’s seen her mate like this. She’s fascinated to say the least. Jimin’s shorter than average height would lead many to believe that his wolf form is smaller than normal as well. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The midnight black wolf next to her is easily twice her size and Taryn knows that she’s above average size for a female wolf. She finds herself mesmerized by the way his muscular frame moves. It’s almost graceful which is a bit weird considering just how big he is.

A snort brings her back to the situation at hand. Jimin nods his large head towards the rogues who still seem shell-shocked at the size of the wolf before them. Taryn bobs her head once and the two of them leap forward to handle business. Taryn’s jaws are seconds from tearing out the jugular of the third and final rogue when Jimin knocks her down. Still in combat mode, Taryn quickly twists around to regain her footing and snaps at the alpha wolf before her brain can catch up to let her know how horrible that idea is. Her eyes go wide as she realizes her mistake a half second too late.

Jimin is on her faster than she can blink. Taryn isn’t scared by many things but a clearly pissed off alpha standing over her, snapping his teeth just a little too close to her neck has her on the verge of wetting herself. Mate be damned. She bares her neck to him in submission hoping that it placates him. Thankfully, Jimin accepts her surrender and backs away from her, shifting back into his human form. Taryn follows suit after she shakes some of the dirt from her body.

Unlike the humans, werewolves see nudity as a natural part of life. It not unusual for pack members to shift in front of each other and let it all hang out. However, this is the first time Taryn has ever seen Jimin like this and to say the sight of him is making her blood run hot would be an understatement. His physique is muscular with thighs that look strong enough to crack walnuts. She can tell that he spends a lot of time working out. Saliva begins to pool in her mouth when she focuses in on the piece of meat between his taut thighs. In short, he looks like he was crafted out of pure sin and desire.

Jimin is all business as he starts barking orders at Jackson and a few other high ranking members of the guard that Taryn hadn’t even noticed before now. The injured rogue is quickly dragged away and their dead friends are quickly dragged away to god only knows where. Taryn isn’t entirely sure what to do now. She’d halfway expected for Jimin to order her to do something as well. She shifts from foot to foot, arms awkwardly crossed over her bare chest.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Jimin looks her up and down. The heat in his eyes and the way he pulls his plush bottom lip between his teeth tells her that what he wants her to do is not something that should go down in front of a building full of scared children and their mothers. Taryn opens her mouth to say just that when she’s interrupted a small shout, quickly followed by pattering feet.

“Ryn!” Kevin wraps his small body around her left leg like a tiny koala. Her heart constricts at the trembles still racking his tiny frame when she lifts him into her arms. His mother is telling Jimin something but her eyes dart over to Taryn every few seconds as if to make sure her son is still where she last saw him.

“You’re okay now, buddy. Ryn won’t let anything happen to you.”

* * *

Nearly a week has passed since rogues attacked the pack with absolutely no progress at figuring out why. The one wolf that had been spared isn’t talking and it doesn’t appear that that’s going to change any time soon. Taryn offers to heat things up a little to persuade the bastard into giving up some information but Jimin shuts that down immediately. Jimin assigns Taryn a security guard because, apparently, he actually believes that she would go behind his back to talk to the hostage anyway. He’s right but that doesn’t make her feel any differently about her glorified babysitter.

Taryn and Sariah, her new guard and also the one who had caught her trespassing into pack territory, are currently sat at the kitchen table giving each other death glares as Taryn eats a bowl of cereal. The pack as a whole has finally started to warm up to Taryn ever since she fought off the rogues that had attacked but Sariah was not convinced. She hates Taryn and still thinks that she isn’t to be trusted. Sariah doesn’t care who knows her feelings about the new Luna either and makes sure that her suspicions are known to anyone who will listen. Taryn didn’t exactly blame Sariah for being wary of her. Katrina had given her the rundown not too long after she’d moved in with Jimin. Sariah and Jackson are cousins, hence the former’s position in the pack guard. The story of the rogue attack that had resulted in the death of Jackson’s older brother Matthew explained why Sariah probably couldn’t stand her. Jackson doesn’t go out of his way to taunt and provoke Taryn like Sariah does but Taryn isn’t blind. She can see the wariness in the beta’s eyes the few times she’s been in his presence

Needless to say, Sariah and Taryn are not getting along which is exactly why Jimin picked Sariah to keep his mate out of trouble. He figured that Sariah’s distrust would mean that she wouldn’t let Taryn out of her sight but also that spending so much time together would make Sariah realize that his mate wasn’t all bad. So far, he’s only been correct about the first part but it’s only been two days.

Jimin comes jogging down the stairs, freshly showered, and stops short at the entrance to the kitchen. The two she wolves don’t even acknowledge his presence as they continue to stare holes through each other. If looks could kill they’d both be corpses right now.

“Good-” Jimin’s greeting is cut short when Taryn lifts her eyes to his face. The sheer amount of anger swirling in her gaze nearly knocks Jimin on his ass.

“Don’t you fucking speak in my presence unless it’s to say that I’m free of her.” Taryn spits out. A growl vibrates the air around them but it doesn’t come from Jimin. Surprisingly, Sariah is the one vocalizing her frustrations.

“Show some respect to the alpha.” She demands of her charge despite the fact that Taryn outranks her. Sariah has the edge of the heavy oak table in a death grip, nails leaving half-moon marks in the finish as she tries to restrain herself from leaping across the table. Jimin notices a small spark in Taryn’s eyes that gives him pause. He needs to put a stop to this before it gets even more out of hand.

“Fuck you and fuck him too.” Jimin doesn’t take too kindly to the disrespect. If it was anyone else, he would make them pay for such a comment, but even his wolf can sense that Taryn is a literal firecracker on the verge of exploding if he doesn’t tread lightly. The last thing he needs is for her to lose her cool and do something they’ll both regret. He’s starting to think that his goals behind picking Sariah to guard Taryn isn’t worth this headache. He instantly tries to jump in to play peacemaker but he’s not quick enough.

Sariah launches herself at Taryn faster than Jimin can blink. Taryn, however, was ready for her, smashing her would be attacker in the face with her glass bowl of cereal. The glass shatters against Sariah’s forehead and leaves her dazed as she rolls from the table to the floor, cradling her head. Taryn stands from the table and looks Jimin square in the eye as she walks around Sariah’s writhing figure. She aggressively shoulders past him on her way to the stairs.

Jimin is conflicted on what to do. Does he stay in the kitchen to help Sariah or does he go upstairs to talk to his mate? His heart doesn’t seem to be having the same dilemma as he feels the pull to follow behind Taryn. He worries his bottom lip as he stands in the kitchen like a deer in headlights trying to figure out what to do. He takes a step backwards towards the stairs when there’s a barrage of frantic banging on the front door.

The petty situation between Sariah and Taryn is tossed to the backburner as his keen senses pick up on Jackson’s scent. It’s got a coppery edge to it that’s normally not there as if the beta is doused in blood. The new door protests when Jimin flings it open to see Jackson liberally coated in blood and visibly upset. Jimin quickly ushers him inside

Sariah is picking herself up from the linoleum when Jimin leads Jackson to the kitchen table to sit down before his trembling legs give out on him. He pours him a glass of ice water but he doesn’t touch it or even acknowledge that it’s there when Jimin sets it in front of him before taking a seat to his right. Jackson’s gaze is unfocused. Nearly all light drained from his eyes as he tells Jimin what he discovered this morning.

Jackson is unmated and totally devoted to the pack. As such, he often times forgets to stop and eat just like Jimin does so Katrina had taken it upon herself to make sure that he stayed fed as well since his own parents spent most of their time travelling these days. Every morning at 7 o’clock, Jackson would be knocking on the door of the Tran residence for breakfast or risk incurring the infamous wrath of Mrs. Katrina Tran for not taking care of himself.

This morning when he stepped up to the door, it had been ajar. David, Katrina’s husband, is a stickler for security so there’s no way that he accidentally left the door open like this. Jackson cautiously pushes the door open to see the house is still cloaked in darkness. That’s red flag number two. Breakfast is served at 7:15am sharp in the Tran residence so the small brick house should be completely lit up and humming with activity and the sound of Kevin’s toys by now.

“Katrina? David?” He calls out but there’s no answer. He takes a deep breath and that’s when he smells it. The air reeks of rogue wolf and the foul stench of death.

A knot forms in his throat as he slowly climbs the stairs near the door. He’s terrified of what could possibly await him. The entire upstairs part of the house looks like a war zone. The floor is littered with glass from broken picture frames and dirt from Katrina’s prized potted plants. Jackson can smell coppery scent of blood more strongly now and he resigns himself to the fact that his friends are most likely no longer with them. A choked sob slips out of his mouth but he fights off his emotions. He can’t afford to break down just yet.

He finds David first. The hulking man is a bloody mess outside his son’s bedroom door. The gaping hole in his chest suggests that his heart has quite literally been ripped out of him. There are deep gouge marks covering most of his skin. It’s all he can do to choke back the bile rising in his throat. Jackson has never been particularly religious but he finds himself making a cross across his body before reaching down to carefully close his friend’s unseeing eyes. He finds Katrina sprawled across her son’s racecar bed with a hole in her chest that matches her husband. Her fingers are twisted up as if she had been desperately clinging to something when she was killed.

Jackson is relieved to not see Kevin’s body next to his mother, but where is he? No space in the house goes unchecked as Jackson does his best to find the four year old. Kevin is nowhere to be found. Jackson doesn’t know whether to be relieved or sick. His friends are dead but their son could still be alive and he clings to that possibility as he runs through town to get to Jimin’s house.

Jimin curses when Jackson finishes his story, shooting out of his chair. Sariah is quietly sobbing at the loss of two dear friends and pack members. All of the commotion sends Taryn flying back downstairs demanding to know what’s going on. Jimin’s throat feels like it’s going to close up as his emotions begin to get the best of him. Taryn doesn’t think twice as she pulls Jimin into her smaller frame. She still isn’t sure what’s going on but she knows it can’t be good for him to be showing this kind of emotion. Jimin’s broad shoulders shake from the sobs racking his body. Taryn looks to her left to see Jackson in a similar position with Sariah. She reaches out to rub the beta’s back soothingly. She pats Sariah’s hand awkwardly. The other she-wolf surprises her when she latches on to Taryn’s hand, taking advantage of the gesture.

It’s a few minutes until Jimin pulls himself together enough to tell Taryn what’s happened. She desperately wishes that the ground would open up and swallow her whole in that moment. Katrina Tran was the only real friend that Taryn had in the pack and now she’s gone. She’d never met her husband David but her heart hurts for him too. Most of all, she aches for Kevin. At only four years old, he is now alone in this world and Taryn knows the pain of having your parents violently ripped from you all too well. The thought of Kevin being out there in the woods somewhere scared and alone makes Taryn physically ill as she runs to the kitchen sink losing the contents of her stomach.

Taryn is glued to Jimin’s side as he calls an emergency pack meeting to announce what has happened. There isn’t a dry eye in the room when everyone learns of the tragic loss. Katrina and David were kind souls that impacted everyone they encountered. For them to be targeted like this in what appeared to be another random rogue attack doesn’t make sense. Taryn has been perplexed by it all day. Why the Tran family? Her mind goes back to the way that rogue had been chasing down Katrina. She’d originally thought that she’d been a target of opportunity but what if she wasn’t?

Jimin is busy consoling people when Taryn makes herself scarce. She has a plan but she knows that Jimin would never approve of what she intends to do which is exactly why she has to do it now. She suppresses a groan when Sariah calls out her name behind her.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The wary guard asks, arms crossed across her chest as she approaches Taryn.

“Going to get some answers.” Taryn knows that Sariah is either going to tag along or alert Jimin. It’s not ideal given what she’s got planned but it’s better than her mate locking her in her room like a hostage to keep her from doing it.

Sariah stares through Taryn for what seems like an eternity before motion towards the door and following into step next to her. The pack guard is confused when she realizes that Taryn is headed for the dungeon at the edge of town but she says nothing.

“Listen,” Taryn starts, pausing at the entrance to the pack prison. Her eyes are trained straight ahead but she knows Sariah well enough to be able to interpret the other woman’s silence as her giving Taryn her attention. “I know you don’t like me and frankly I don’t like you that much either but just know that everything I’m about to do is to get justice for the Trans.” Taryn finally turns to look over her shoulder at her companion.

“I’m sure you know the story behind how my cousin Matthew was killed so naturally I don’t trust rogues which means I don’t trust you. However, I’m willing to look past that for the sake of getting revenge for my friends.” Sariah’s jaw is set in determination. Eyes flashing gold as she fights to retain control over her wolf. She nods once. Fists opening and closing as she follows Taryn into the dungeon.

The door slams shut behind them. Dust particles dance through the rays of light streaming through the air ventilation slats near the ceiling. The sole occupant of the stone structure looks up from where he sits in a corner of his cell. One of his eyes is swollen shut and the other doesn’t look like it’s far from it. His cuffed hands lay limply at this sides. He’s been worked over pretty good and yet he still grins wickedly at the two women before him.

“I’m ready for my sponge bath, nurse.” He cackles wildly before leaning over to spit some blood out of his mouth. Sariah wrinkles her nose in distaste when a tooth comes flying out of his mouth.

Taryn reaches into her bra for the key she’d swiped from Jimin’s key ring while he was in the shower last night. She’d never been more thankful for his forgetfulness than she had been in that moment because the key she needed had been helpfully label with the word dungeon. She swings the cell door open wide, moving to crouch down in front of her prey.

“I know you know something, fucker. This is your last chance to tell me before you lose your tongue.” Taryn snarled through gritted teeth. She could feel her body temperature rising but the fool in front of her is too arrogant to even realize the grave danger he’s in. He laughs in her face. A full-fledged belly laugh.

“I told that pup you call an alpha that holding here wouldn’t go over well.” The straggly asshole taunted. Sariah, not one to let people disrespect her leader, immediately steps forward with a growl. Taryn stops her in her tracks with a raised hand and a whispered command to stop. Surprising even herself.

“Things are about to change for us werewolves, sweet cheeks. Just you wait.” Taryn’s eyebrows raise in question. It occurs to her that the rogue’s own arrogance is about to be his own downfall. He’s so sure that the two women in front of him can’t do anything to him that he’s becoming a wealth of information.

“Is that so? I love change.” Taryn says, drawing the idiot before her deeper into her trap. Sariah finally seems to catch on to the game plan as the near constant growls that had been bubbling out of her throat dwindle down to nothing.

“Packs are about to be a thing of the past. Wolves can live amongst each other without this stupid hierarchy. Hell, we’ve been living right under your noses to the east and you fuckers haven’t even noticed.” The rogue announces proudly. It’s not until he takes notice of the evil smile that spreads across Taryn’s face that he realizes that he may have said too much.

“Thank you so much for that information.” Taryn begins. She delicately lays a hand on the rogue’s bare and battered chest directly over his now racing heart. “When you get where you’re going, make sure you tell everyone that David, Katrina, and Kevin Tran are the reason you’re there.”

The rancid smell of burning flesh permeates the air as Taryn’s forearm erupts in white-hot hellfire. Her fist slowly sinks into the rogue’s chest cavity like a warm knife in butter. Sariah, having gotten over the initial shock of what’s happening in front of her, leaps forward to pin the man’s flailing limbs to the stone floor as best as she can. His pained shrieks are like music to Taryn’s ears as she purposefully moves slowly to maximize his pain. Her fist eventually closes around his heart. The muscle shrivels in her fiery grasp as she crushes it. Tears flow freely down Taryn’s face as she thinks about everything she’s lost in her life. Her parents. Katrina. Kevin. She’s reached her limit with loss and it’s time someone pays for it.

Taryn yanks her arm from the rogue’s chest cavity with a shout belying the emotional anguish flowing through her. Her body temperature begins to regulate itself as her arm returns to normal. She backs away from the smoking carcass until her back hits stone. Sariah rises to her feet, dusting herself off. She approaches Taryn slowly like the other woman could burst into flames at any second if she moves too quickly.

“You’re Sanmana?” Sariah questions just to hear the words for herself. Taryn nods slowly with a soft yes.

Sariah had always thought that wolves like Taryn were urban legend having never personally seen one. Despite not having met a Sanmana, she knew that pissing them off is something one should steer clear of to avoid ending up as a pile of ashes. Yet, Sariah has to admit that she’s never seen Taryn use her abilities against the pack for the entire she’s been here and Sariah herself knows that she’s pushed the new Luna further than anyone.

“So, what do we do now?” The guard ponders out loud. Taryn wipes furiously at her face, trying to pull herself together.

“Now, we go to war.” She declares. She gives the slain one rogue one final look of disdain before turning on her heel to exist the dungeon.

Taryn reaches her hand out to let her hand pass through the flames of the lit torches along the wall as she makes her way towards the door. Fire had always been a source of strength and comfort for her. Not surprising given her lineage. Now, more than ever before, she seeks out that strength as she prepares herself for what she’s about to do. She’d promised Jimin when he’d first allowed her stay that there would be no village burning but that’s looking more and more like a promise she won’t be keeping.

* * *

Taryn and Sariah crouch behind a thick section of brush to survey the rogue encampment about two hundred feet in front of them. It’s a few small cabins that look like they could each house about four to five wolves comfortably. They’re all built around a clearing where there are some tents situated around a fire pit. The prisoner Taryn had killed wasn’t lying when he said that he wasn’t alone.

There are at least 15 wolves working to construct a large barn-like structure. The two she-wolves wrinkle their noses at nearly the same time as they’re assaulted by a barrage of different scents. Hardly any of the rogues smell the same. All of the wolves in an established pack smell slightly different but everyone has one underlying note in their scent that is the same from wolf to wolf. That doesn’t appear to be the case here and yet everyone seems to be friendly with each other as if they are a family. Taryn lets her eyes drift shut to enhance her focus as she desperately tries to sniff for that light citrusy smell that is indicative of her own pack.

She nearly sobs with glee when she finally picks up on the smell she was looking for. It’s fain and nearly totally overwhelmed by all of the other smells in the area, but it’s there. Kevin is here somewhere. Sariah noses at the clothes tied around Taryn’s ankle to indicate that they should shift back to human. That’s exactly what they’ve done when the smell of fresh rain and oranges washes over Taryn.

Jimin.

The alpha wolf emerges from behind a tree absolutely bristling with anger. He shifts back as well when he notices that Taryn and Sariah are both in human form. Taryn allows herself to be dragged by the wrist deeper into the forest to prevent giving their position away.

“Explain yourselves. Now.” Jimin demands when he feels they’re far enough away. Sariah and Taryn share a glance before looking back to Jimin, staying silent. “One of you better start talking right now so help me God.”

Taryn narrows her eyes in anger at Jimin’s use of the alpha command. Sariah, unable to resist, immediately tells everything she knows. Jimin’s eyes remain focused in on his mate as his trusted guard spills her guts on the forest floor. Taryn avoids eye contact and instead watches Jimin’s chest and ears grow a furious red with every new detail that he learns.

“Taryn, are you fucking stupid?” Jimin is starting shake from the strength of his anger. “You could’ve gotten you and Sariah killed.”

Taryn can’t help but roll her eyes. She’s had more than enough of Jimin treating her like some errant child he was put in charge of. “Why the fuck do you even care? We might be mates but I know damn well you don’t love me so why does it matter if I die trying to avenge the one friend I had?”

“I’m just gonna go stand over-…yeah bye.” Sariah quickly makes herself scarce so as not to intrude on what is obviously a private moment.

“Why would you say that?” Jimin’s question comes out in a strained whisper. His heart feels like it’s cracking in advance of the rejection he feels is sure to come.

“Because it’s true. You tolerate me out of some weird obligation but you don’t love me and if I was stronger I would reject you right now just so you can go be free but no. I’m stuck on the possibility that maybe one day you could-” Taryn’s angry tirade is cut short by Jimin’s lips covering hers in a kiss that’s borderline brutal.

She freezes from the shock. Jimin slowly walks her backwards until her back rests against a nearby tree. He groans deep in his throat when Taryn finally starts to respond to him. His hands are everywhere, indecisive about what part of her he wants to touch first. Tentatively her hands come up to encircle Jimin’s neck as she pulls him in even closer. Her lungs are burning from lack of oxygen but she doesn’t care. She’ll gladly die if it means this moment doesn’t have to end.

A whimper falls from her lips when Jimin pulls away from her. She becomes aware of the tears that she hadn’t even realized were falling when Jimin gently wipes her damp cheeks. His own eyes are watering but his own pride refuses to let them fall.

“I do love you, Taryn.” Jimin whispers against her forehead after planting a soft kiss against her pretty brown skin. “I was scared. I still am. There are people out there that think you shouldn’t be allowed to exist and I’m not sure I’d be able to handle it if someone tried to take you away from me. What if we have kids? Would people come after them too? I don’t know what I-”

Taryn shuts him up just as he done to her minutes earlier. This time though the kiss is slower as she caresses his pillow soft lips with her own.

“Is this really what’s been bothering you this whole time?” Taryn questions with a soft tone as Jimin shyly avoids her gaze. He nods once in affirmation to her query, hiding his face in the crook of her neck out of embarrassment. She reaches up to run her fingers through the silky strands of black hair that cover his head.

“I was so scared when I went to the dungeon to ask the rogue more questions and found him still smoking.” Jimin mumbles against her skin. She shivers every time his lips graze the sensitive skin of her neck. “I figured you might’ve tried to run away which is how I picked up your scent in the woods.”

“I’m glad you came after me but right now we need to save, Kevin.” Jimin forces himself to release his hold on Taryn but the second he does he instantly misses the warmth of her body against his. Jimin takes Taryn’s spot leaning against the tree and waits for her to return with Sariah. Together the three of them form a quick plan of attack then set off to put it into action.

* * *

Taryn’s heart is racing a mile a minute as she waits up on a hill for the party to get started. From her vantage point, she has a clear view of the rogue encampment. Her fingers sink into the soil in anticipation. It’s not much longer before she hears that familiar thunderous roar as Jimin leaps into the clearing. Chaos ensues immediately as the rogues hurriedly shift to defend themselves. Seconds later Sariah bursts onto the scene from the opposite direction. Wolves that they hadn’t seen previously emerge from the tents and cabins. Taryn watches carefully for any sign of Kevin. Just when she’s about to give up and shift to join her mate and Sariah in the fray, a slim redhead emerges from a tent with an unconscious Kevin cradled in her arms. The woman looks around before running in the opposite direction of all the fighting, right towards Taryn’s hiding place.

The fleeing she-wolf stops in her tracks when she spots Taryn. Her face is twisted up in an ugly smile that makes her look more like a demon than a woman. The vibrant curls framing her face look like the flames that Taryn is itching to invoke. She laughs mirthlessly as Taryn slowly advances on her.

“Take one more step and I’ll kill him.” It’s Taryn’s turn to freeze as she watches the woman’s nail lengthen into claws.

“I saw you that day when you assholes took my mate from me.” The bitch drags one of her claws down Kevin’s angelic face, drawing blood. Taryn’s muscles burn with the effort it takes to keep from launching herself at the woman in front of her. “I knew that I would need a bargaining chip to get him back so I took the chance that this little boy matters. Looks like I was right.”

The woman looks deranged. Something in her eyes is off and not in a good way. She looks like she’s lost all access to her sense of morality. Kevin stirs in her arms, distracting her and Taryn takes her chance.

Taryn knows that some Sanmana wolves have been known to throw fire. Her own father had been able to do it but hadn’t gotten around to teaching his daughter before being killed and despite years of trying to teach herself, Taryn’s never been able to do it. In that moment, though, she can almost hear her father in her ear, instructing her, guiding her. Kevin’s captor looks back up in time to get a face full of flames as Taryn blasts her with everything she’s got. The redhead drops Kevin with a shriek. Taryn moves quickly to get the small boy out of harm’s way before ripping the woman’s heart out of her chest and crushing it just as she’d done with her mate.

Kevin is pressed protectively to her chest as Taryn runs full speed towards the encampment. Jimin and Sariah are both fierce warriors in terms of combat so she expected them to be able to hold their own while she was saving Kevin. The two wolves have been backed up against the side of a cabin and the eight or so wolves that are left are attacking them from every available angle. Blood is flowing profusely from a deep wound on Jimin’s side and Taryn knows it’s only a matter of time before her mate and Sariah are taken down. She’s finally gotten the man picked by fate as her other half to admit his feelings for her and there’s no way in hell she’s losing him like she’s lost everyone else in her life.

Once again, Taryn sets Kevin on the ground out of harm’s way behind a large boulder. When she straightens flames lick at her skin as she feels a warm wave of heat wash over. A vicious war cry escapes her lips as she runs towards the group of wolves. The stench of burning fur and flesh blends in the with pained lupine yelps as burst of flames fly from Taryn’s finger tips. They try to escape but it’s futile as she reaches out to them with her newfound ability.

Jimin collapses as his shaky legs can no longer hold him up. One of the rogues had gotten a lucky shot in and opened up a large gash along his torso. It hurts like hell but watching the human flame that is his mate dole out her own brand of punishment makes the pain bearable. He panics when his vision starts fading but despite his best efforts his eye lids shut.

* * *

Jimin awakes with a start, wincing from the sharp sting in his side. He relaxes some when he realizes that he’s in his own bed. He has no idea how he got here but he can worry about that later. The angry gash in his side has already closed up but the jagged mark still hurts like a bitch. He sucks in a deep breath as the wound protests his movement when he heaves himself out of bed. The sound of Taryn singing to herself as she moves around downstairs makes his heart flutter in his chest.

He props himself up against the refrigerator. He can’t help but grin as he watches his mate twirl around the kitchen as she makes a sandwich. She’s in her pajamas singing along to whatever song is playing through your headphones. She’s yet to acknowledge his presence and Jimin is thankful for that. He doesn’t get to see her like this. Carefree and vulnerable.

“Hello, Jimin.” Taryn interrupts his sappy thoughts with a greeting though she’s yet to actually look at him. She pulls one of her headphones out of her ear, letting it dangle as she chops up a banana.

“How did you even know I was here?” He ponders out loud.

“I can smell you.” Taryn explains as she finishes up the sandwich she was making and slides it across the island that separates the two of them. “You’re probably starving. You’ve been knocked out for nearly 24 hours.” As if on cue, Jimin’s stomach rumbles loudly.

“Looks good, but what if I told you I wasn’t hungry for food?” Jimin reaches across the counter to lightly run a finger down the back of Taryn’s hand. He doesn’t miss the shiver that races through her at his touch.

“I’d tell you that you need to relax and let that ugly ass wound heal.” Taryn pulls her hand away from Jimin but he’s not letting her get away that easy. He makes his way around the island, backing her up into a corner until he’s got her caged in.

Taryn can’t find it in her to be embarrassed when Jimin nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. The feeling of his soft lips against her skin is unbelievable. She smooths her hands down his bare torso until she reaches the waistband of his grey sweatpants, using the elastic to pull him in closer. The action triggers a groan deep in Jimin’s throat. His hands glide down her back, pausing to squeeze the plump globe of her ass, before moving further to lift her up by the backs of her thighs. A gasp falls from Taryn’s lips at being lifted in the air.

She wraps her arms and legs around him. Jimin revels in the feel of his lips against hers as he carries her upstairs to his room. Well, their room now. He carefully lays her out across his mattress. He does his best not to crush her but Taryn yanks him down so that the length of his body is pressed against her. She wastes no time reconnecting her lips with his as Jimin’s hands greedily roam the landscape of her curvy figure. Taryn’s always been aware that she carried a few extra pounds on her frame but Jimin looks like he wants to devour her which makes her beam with joy. Jimin makes quick work of her clothes until she’s totally bare beneath him.

“Fuck I’m an idiot.” He mumbles out around the hardened nipple he’s sucked into his mouth.

“You’re my idiot so I guess I’m okay with it.” Taryn replies breathily. Her words end in a moan when the vibrations from Jimin’s subsequent laughter send shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

Her breath hitches when Jimin kisses his way further down her body. He presses soft kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. When he flattens his tongue against her, licking a broad strip up the length of her wet core, Taryn nearly forgets her own name. She grips the sheets in her fists as Jimin continues his assault by flicking his tongue over her clit. He sucks the taut bud into his mouth at the same time as he sinks two fingers inside her. Stars dance behind her eyelids when he flicks them upwards in a come hither motion, finding that special spot with expert accuracy.

She’s running head first into an orgasm when Jimin pulls away. He grabs one of the extra pillows in his bed and slides it underneath her hips. Taryn is confused but she trusts Jimin so she goes along with it. The mischievous grin on his face gives her pause but the way he proceeds to eating her out like his last meal sends her cares flying out the window. She latches on to his hair as she does her best not to suffocate him with her thighs.

“Wait, Jimin stop. I have to pee.” She whimpers out but Jimin keeps right on going as if he hasn’t heard her at all.

The pressure in her abdomen rises just as fast as her distress levels. Jimin refuses to budge from his place between her legs. If anything, he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of her with more ferocity than before. She chants his name but she’s not sure if it’s to get him to stop or for him to give her more. She’s lost in a sea of pleasure and the waves are threatening to take her under. With one final plea for mercy, she falls apart.

Black spots cloud her vision. Her back arches obscenely. Tears leak from her eyes at the force of it all. Her orgasm washes over in powerful waves that seemingly have no end. She can vaguely feel Jimin’s finger plunging in and out of her at a slower rate to prolong her climax. It seems like an eternity has gone by before she comes down from her high.

Jimin’s face is practically dripping with her release when he frees himself from the stronghold her thighs had on his head. She’s never squirted before but one look at him and she knows that’s exactly what she’s done. Taryn averts her gaze out of embarrassment, suddenly feeling shy.

“Hey look at me.” Jimin calls softly from his spot between her outstretched legs. He waits patiently for her to obey before he continues. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Don’t be embarrassed.” She nods her head in understanding but she’s not totally convinced.

A fresh gush of arousal leaks out of her when Jimin pops each of his fingers in his mouth to suck them clean. He moans as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Taryn’s tongue slides out to wet her bottom lip at the sight. It’s then she notices that Jimin is still in his sweatpants which are tented around the sizable erection that they’re struggling to contain. That’ll never do. She happens to know that he has on nothing but those sweatpants considering that she’s the one that put them on him in the first place.

Jimin is still on his knees between her legs so she sits up so that she’s eye level with his chest. His head falls back when she flicks her tongue against one of his nipples. He sighs with relief when she slowly pulls his sweatpants down past his ass, freeing him. He lifts each knee so she can help him push them down further until he’s able to kick off completely. Jimin is excited to feel his mate’s full lips sliding up and down his cock but the second she wraps her slender fingers he knows that can’t happen. He won’t last more than a minute if she sucks him off and his refraction time has always been shit.

“I need to be inside you right now. Please.” Jimin pleads. His heart nearly stops beating in his chest when Taryn pretends to ponder the idea.

Jimin’s mouth waters with delight when she rolls over on her stomach, poking her pretty, little ass up in the air like a good bitch. He’s on her in an instant. His hands reach around to palm her full breasts, rolling both of her nipples between his fingers. The moans and whimpers falling from her lips could rival a choir of angels in Jimin’s opinion.

He pushes one of her ass cheeks to the side to give himself a clear view of her glistening entrance. She begs him to stop being such an awful tease as he slides the head of his cock through her slick folds, bumping her clit on each pass. Jimin slowly pushes forward until each inch is surrounded by her tight sheath. Both of them sigh in relief at finally being joined.

“So big.” Taryn groans as she pushes her backside firmly against Jimin’s torso in an effort to get even closer to him.

Jimin pulls his hips back only to thrust back in roughly. He does that a few more times before letting loose. His hands have a death grip on her hips as he plows into her from behind. The sound of his hips smacking into her ass can probably be heard miles away. He can feel that familiar tightening in his balls so he slows his pace. He moves his hands from Taryn’s hips to her ass. Jimin is mesmerized by the way it jiggles when he gives it an experimental smack. The loud moan that reverberates around the room indicates that Taryn is most definitely on board but another thought comes to his mind.

He continues to thrust shallowly as he spreads her ass cheeks apart once more. The puckered hole of her back entrance teases him. Almost as if it’s calling his name. Taryn shivers when lets a string of saliva fall onto the tight ring of muscle. He picks up his pace again, slamming into her, but this time he massages his thumb against her other entrance. Curses fall from his lips when she tightens her inner muscles around him like a vice at the unfamiliar, yet pleasurable, sensation.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum.” She wails.

Jimin pulls out of her and flips her onto her back before plunging back inside. She’s knows what’s on the horizon as she can feel her canines start to lengthen just like his appear to be. He slides his hand down her sweaty torso to rub figure eights in her engorged clit. It’s like he’s flipped the switch on her orgasm as she starts to convulse around him. Jimin surges forward and sinks his teeth into her skin right at the junction of her neck and shoulder. He licks at the mark to collect the few drops of blood that seep from her skin. Half a dozen strokes later and Jimin meets his own end. His chest vibrates with a possessive growl at the feeling of Taryn marking his skin. His chest feels like it’s going to burst with the feelings that he has for her. Jimin is sure that she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now in this moment. Sweaty. Tired. His. He was a fool for waiting so long to take this step but he knows he’ll never be that dumb again. Taryn is his just as he is hers. Sanmana gene be damned.

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