Instinctual

Chapter 8

Earlier that day, probably at about the same time that Liz and Kobi had been trying to get Marcus to eat something and Declan had been taking an exhausted, troubled nap, Rob had padded quietly through the house.  He’d stopped at Clarissa’s door, pitching his voice so that only she would hear him, “Open up, unless you’ve suddenly changed sides and decided to go all cuddly on that Omega brat like the others.”

His careless, blunt remark had footsteps shuffling inside, and soon the door was opened.  Clarissa, looking more unkempt than she would have liked, with dark circles under her eyes, glared warily at Rob through the c***k in the door.  He grinned back.  Rolling her eyes and sighing resignedly, the older woman backed off but left the door open for him to slip inside, closing it behind him.  “Why are you here, Rob?” she asked wearily.

“To see if you’ll help me with something,” he asked with an enigmatic, toothy sort of smile.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Clarissa gestured around at the room she hadn’t left since returning home with her tail between her legs over a day ago, “I’m a bit out of favor with my nephew right now.  So asking me for any favors isn’t probably your best idea yet.”

At her slightly patronizing tone, Rob’s white teeth went from a smile to a snarl, still bared either way.  “I know what I’m doing,” he griped quietly, then focused again and calmed, “Actually, the fact that you’re in disgrace is rather helpful.”

“Watch your tongue,” Clarissa bridled.

“You’re awfully huffy for an Omega who’s liable to be replaced any minute by the poor, sad, sob story rooming at the other side of the house.”

Now Clarissa was shaking a little, her anger a cinnamon scent on the air, and her eyes snapped with temper as they latched onto Rob’s self-assured, handsome face.  “If you came in here just to tease me, young man, I’ll be happy to give you a real-life lesson in how experience triumphs over youth in a fight.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Rob retorted, and Clarissa shut her mouth as she picked up the throb of interest that wafted off his skin instead of fear. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I want that dangerous little kid out of here as much as you do, and even though you epically failed at that earlier-”  Rob paused, just so that he could let the taunt fester, and watch as Clarissa’s face twitched with the effort not to explode on him.  After a long, smirking moment, he continued blithely, “-I figured that you still wanted the same thing.”

“I’m listening,” Clarissa said slowly, after a beat of silence. She flicked her eyes to the door, but it was probably her other senses that were stretching out, trying to deduce if anyone else was near enough to hear. 

Rob already knew there wasn’t.  He was cocky, but he wasn’t an i***t.  “I just need ten minutes.  If you make a run for it, I can bet you that Declan, Kobi, and Liz will all take their high-and-mighty selves out after you – and while they’re gone, Rushton and I can have a little chat.  Apparently, wrecking his place didn’t get the point across, but I’m sure I can have him far from here before anyone gets back.”

“Your wrecking of his place was a witless idea to start with,” Clarissa snapped, shattering Rob’s self-assured grin.  “And this plan is likely to get me torn to pieces – have you thought of that? Hmm?”

Rob made a face at her, growling a bit in his throat while he crossed his arms.  “Come off it, Clarissa. You know as well as I do how soft your nephew is.  He f*****g found you trying to kill another Wolf, and all he did was send you home.  Do you seriously think he’ll hurt you now just for going out and stretching your legs a little? And he’s not going to let the other two Betas do what he won’t.”

Clarissa’s eyes were growing calculating, as she began to truly take in Rob’s plan. “So you’re just going to… what? Use the time I buy you to beat some sense into an Omega that’s already bedridden?” she said with a heavy layer of derision.

Controlling his temper was hard, but Rob managed it, muscles flexing for a moment before he replied tartly, “He’s perfectly capable of limping out of here. You didn’t hurt him that much Clarissa.” Let her stew in the sting of that.  “And all I want is to talk to him.  You see, while you were busy getting your hands dirty, I was researching.  It’s a better tactic – as evidenced by the fact that you got caught, and I didn’t.” Clarissa literally growled, and Rob paused a moment to reflect on how lovely the sound was in her throat. His eyes flashed, and he bit back the grin that wanted to creep up the side of his face.  “I found out a few things that Rushton won’t like anyone knowing. So…”  He shrugged, tipping his head back haughtily, pleased with himself, “I figure I’ll give the kid a choice: either he gets his ass out of here and keeps on running, or I tell Declan why an Omega is just running around on his own.”

Where there had been irritation and temper, there was now avid interest in Clarissa’s eyes.  She stepped a little bit closer to Rob – clearly able to smell interest on him, even if the thought made her want to roll her eyes and slap him like the cocky pup he was – and demanded in a hushed tone, “And why is that?”

“Because he’s wanted for the murder of his entire pack.”

~^~

There was no one else in the house.  Marcus couldn’t smell any other fresh scents, even with his head out from under the blanket, and his sense of smell so terribly slow to fade into the normal ranges.  Even the bitter, biting scent of the other Omega was gone, and it took all the strength Marcus had not to cry out.  As it was, he released a thin, dog-like whine of helplessness as Rob stepped close enough to grab his chin.  Marcus reflexively tried to pull loose and get away, but the command was still lodged into his bones, and the pain of fighting it was enough to make a red and black haze crowd the edges of his vision. It hurt so much that Marcus never wanted to do that again, and Rob was only a Beta. Before now (back when things were happy and normal and Marcus hadn’t had all of his ties slashed away from him), a Beta’s words wouldn’t have meant all that much to him, no matter how bossy, but clearly he’d sunk quite low since then. 

When Marcus’s eyes focused again, he could see that the Beta was thinking about how well his demand had worked, but he was fascinated rather than horrified. “Well, well, well,” he mused, his grip on Marcus’s jaw tightening until it became almost unbearable, “There really is something wrong with you, isn’t there?”

Even as the words made Marcus flinch – they echoed his own thoughts too perfectly – he closed his eyes and managed to whisper out, “Just tell me what you want.”  His words sounded pathetically weak in his ears, as insubstantial as feathers, as fragile as the wing they came from. 

Rob slammed his head back against the wall hard enough to make the smaller Wolf see stars.  “I want to tell you a little story that I heard, and see if it rings any bells to you,” Rob crowded in close to breathe the words hotly against Marcus’s ear. The Omega attempted to fight back, or at least push the Beta away, but the command lingered hot and heavy in his veins like barbed chains.  Marcus made a little noise as if a choke-collar had been pulled tight around his throat, even as Rob continued with obvious smugness, “I heard about a court case where an entire pack was slaughtered in their own house.  Do you know anything about that?”

Suddenly Marcus was shuddering; it was all he could do under the influence of Rob’s command.  He’d thought that his world was already falling apart, but apparently there had been some last bastion still standing, because he could feel it crumbling now. Rob was like a plague of locusts, sweeping through the land and devouring whatever it came across, only to move on to the next field just when it seemed he might be sated. Marcus didn’t have any fields left now that were safe, and it forced a choked sob out of his throat.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rob still, standing back a bit, and lifting his hand to pat Marcus’s head patronizingly.  The Omega bowed his head, because it was the only small thing he could do to hide the flood of frustrated, terrified tears hiding in his eyes. “So, hopefully now you can see why you need to leave.  You’re a murderer.”

“No, I’m not.” The words were too weak to even make a dent, and his pleas sounded almost uncertain even in his own ears.

Rob just kept talking, standing over him like a green-eyed gallows. “Even your own blood-relatives won’t have anything to do with you.  After I finish talking to you, I plan to call the police, and tell them that I’ve got the perp they’ve been hunting for four years.”

Marcus’s head jerked up, eyes wild and desperate.  Tears final spilled past the edges, because he couldn’t hold them back anymore.  “P-Please…” he almost couldn’t get the words out past the stifling panic crawling up his chest. He couldn’t deal with this. He just couldn’t. “Don’t.”

“It’s my civil duty to turn in a murderer,” stated Rob as calmly as a summer’s day, “but you’re in luck.”

Holding very still (of his own volition now, like a rabbit sensing the possibility of an escape past the fox), Marcus stared silently at the larger Wolf. His wounds burned and throbbed in time with his racing heartbeat, and he flinched a little as a peal of thunder rolled in the distance.  There was a storm rolling in.  Marcus imagined that he was already in its foreboding, smothering shadow. 

Rob bared his teeth, teasing giving way to simple violence in that one expression. “I’m going to give you a head-start.  This is my pack, and mostly, I just want to rid them of a threat. Your old pack trusted you, and you killed them, and now my pack is starting to trust-!”

“That’s not how it happ-!”

The slap whipped Marcus’s head to the side so hard that he tipped onto his left side, and then he heard the crackle of bending, breaking bones above the ringing in his ears.  Marcus pushed through his disorientation to scramble out from under the sheets, the warnings in his head dazedly telling him that Rob had finally gotten tired of playing with him and that the order to stay still had finally faded – just as Marcus tumbled in a haphazard heap onto the floor, injuries screaming, there was a heavy thump of lupine paws hitting the mattress. Big and furred in shades of grey, Rob bared ivory fangs even as his Werewolf claws flexed like a cat’s against the sheets. 

Marcus was already feeling lightheaded, both from the pain of his wounds and from the weakness of his body.  But no matter how unfit he was to run, he did so any way, forcing his legs under him and making them move even as the left one threatened to buckle.  His bare feet scrambled against the hardwood floor even as Rob’s rumbling growl became a hunting roar. 

To be honest, Marcus wasn’t near fast or coordinated enough in his present condition to have reached the door without Rob letting him, and he knew it.  In fact, as the Omega stumbled through the house and eventually found the door leading to outside – giving him a view of verdant forest in all directions, and overcast skies rumbling ominously overhead – Marcus knew that he Beta wasn’t even following him. As he turned around, however, feeling acutely the weakness in his leg and the tight ache in the stitched arm folded against his lean stomach, Marcus knew that he hardly needed to be chased.

His past had already caught up with him. 

Marcus almost lost his footing and hit the ground as he moved to turn away, agony lancing up from his calf almost to his hip.  Looking down, he could see a few spots of blood seeping through his borrowed sweatpants, a sign that his earlier lunge to escape hadn’t been without consequences.  Marcus bit his lip hard so as not to whimper, afraid that even that tiny sound would alert Rob to the fact that he was still standing there on the doorstep before he could get further away. 

‘This is all I have,’ Marcus realized with a clenching of his gut.  A pair of sweatpants, not even his. 

Because he couldn’t help it – the instinct was too strong, the urge an animal and feral force rising up his spine and to his throat – Marcus tipped his head back and howled, his human throat not built for the sound, but swiftly catching on as he slowly transformed into a small, dirty-white, keening wolf. The sound was lonely and afraid, and it petered off quickly before the Fen-pack Beta could come to silence it himself.  Marcus forced his paws to run even as the first fat drops of rain began to patter against his pale coat and flattened ears. 

~^~

Declan didn’t so much hear the sound as… felt it. It felt like a tuning fork that had been struck, an ephemeral sound resounding subtly through his bones and making him suddenly freeze.  He turned back into a human with a thought, fur becoming skin and clothing. To either side of him, Liz and Kobi stopped running, still in their lupine forms and now turning curious snouts his way.  Ahead of them was Clarissa, running with her tail tucked between her legs, but distantly Declan was aware that his aunt had trotted to a halt, too.  

Suddenly, Declan realized something that he’d been too furious and focused to notice earlier, as he’d chased his treacherous aunt through the trees. “Where’s Rob?” he demanded in a voice that matched the thunder coming in.  A crackle of lightning answered him. 

Not knowing where these new instincts were coming from, and suddenly not caring, Declan turned his feet back towards the house, commanding Liz and Kobi without looking back, “Fetch me Clarissa.  When I see you again at the house, I want her waiting for me.” As Kobi and Liz growled their full-hearted acceptance of those orders and began pelting away with the swift pounding of paws, Declan’s full height once again folded in on itself, until a massive beast of black stood on four legs instead.  The inky wolf was running back the way he’d come without questioning his actions for a second, that sound still echoing in his head.

He sensed fear.

He sensed loss.

He sensed sadness so strong that it was like a phantom knife skewering him right through, but it was the voice in his head that had him running faster and faster. 

Foreign yet familiar, Declan could just barely hear Marcus Rushton’s thoughts, like a radio station he wasn’t quite tuned to catch, but could hear with crackling clarity, ‘I hope this kills me… because I can’t take any more…’

The storm had begun in earnest now, the droplets like beads of silver as they rolled off Declan’s thick coat, splashing beneath his paws as he ran. As he reached the house, he began to scent Rob there; even though the Beta wasn’t projecting his thoughts, Declan knew he wasn’t imagining the sense of pride and gloating. Fury tore through Declan like a flash-fire that he didn’t even remember throwing kerosene on. But another smell – that of Marcus, flecked with the iron tang of blood and the omnipresent smell of fear that the Omega always seemed to have – reached him, staining the grass and heading away from the house and deeper into the woodlands at the city’s edge.

He turned and headed in that direction instead, even as the storm increased, washing away the scent. 

~^~

As the adrenalin faded, Declan began to think about just how odd it was that he was hearing Marcus’s voice in his head.  Even for those bound to him in his pack, Declan only heard them telepathically when they meant him to – it was just another kind of speech.  Now, though, the flickering, there-and-gone echo of Marcus’s thoughts was the only thing allowing Declan to follow the Omega.  The rain was making everything smell like mud and wet leaves.  It didn’t seem as though Marcus was telepathically picking up Declan’s thoughts in return, but instead just thinking his own thoughts like a man talking to himself in a room he thought was empty.

They were horrible, agony-damaged thoughts, and each tore into Declan like claws:  ‘Can’t…  Can’t let them find me.  Cold. So cold.  …Just my luck that it would rain.  Nothing.  I can’t go back because I have…  Nothing. I don’t know where I am… Hungry… Tired…  Hurts…  Keep moving…’  And then there were the more visceral, wordless thoughts that came to Declan’s mind more as impressions than coherent words, thoughts of just curling up in place and staying there. 

Declan knew that Marcus wanted to do that so he never had to move ever again – a suicidal impulse that had the Alpha’s wet hackles standing up in fear as much as directionless anger – but right now, he wanted Marcus to do just that so he could quickly find him. So Declan pushed with his mind as hard as he could, imagining the link he had with his other pack-mates and trying to form it out of thin air between himself and this strange, pack-less little Omega he’d gotten so tangled up with so quickly.  The whole process felt a lot like trying to understand the beating of his own heart, as he attempted to consciously do something that he usually did instinctively – and to make it even harder, the link itself wasn’t really there, or at least not in the same way it was with Kobi, Liz, Rob, and Clarissa.  When they’d formally joined his pack, a thread of steel had stretched between them, firm and unshakable.  Somehow, Declan now found himself holding the trailing end of a fraying string, unsure if he’d break it if he tugged too hard, barely feeling the vibrations from the other end.

But Declan had already decided that he wasn’t just going to abandon Marcus, so he kept trying, until he felt a little… quiver.  It wasn’t quite recognition, nor was it the solidifying of any kind of true connection, but capitulation spiraled down the one-sided telepathic link, and Declan sensed that Marcus’s internal fight between escaping and giving up had tipped towards the latter.  Declan picked up pace, his heart sore, but glad that this resignation at least made the Omega easier to find. 

With his quarry no longer running, but with his mind also growing progressively quieter, Declan pushed his body and senses to the limit, fur slicked back and wet nearly to the undercoat by now.  He nearly stumbled in relief when he began to pick up the familiar, vanilla-edged scent that was all Marcus, despite the pelting rain.

By then, the telepathic connection had kicked out completely, almost like it had never been.  It made the Alpha think of computer glitches, and things that weren’t made to happen, and were usually cleaned away and ‘fixed’ later so they wouldn’t happen again. It made Declan realize that Marcus thought about himself the same way: as a ‘glitch’ in society that needed to be deleted.  Some part of Declan hadn’t wanted to really think about it that way before, but having been listening in on Marcus’s half-coherent thoughts for a good ten minutes now, he knew it to be true.  Feeling nearly sick to his stomach and burning with the need to do something - to convince Marcus that that wasn't true - Declan didn’t even notice the lack of territorial anger when he caught sight of something white and soft amidst the dark greens and browns. 

Marcus had curled himself up in the lea of an old, worn weeping-willow. It looked as though another storm had torn the tree asunder some years previously, making it lean crookedly to one side, old scars slowly healing all along its northern face. The few branches still left provided very little protection from the storm, but Marcus had huddled there anyway, amidst long grass already bent by the rain and trailing willow branches that draped across his flank and shoulders.  He looked so small, balled up tight around himself there, like a ghost with his soaking white fur sticking up in all directions. His nose was in the mud and his eyes were closed, the only sign that he was alive being the too-fast, shallow breaths raising and lowering his ribcage, and the way he shuddered and tensed as waves of pain hit him. 

It seemed at first that he hadn’t noticed Declan standing there, a leap away, but when one blue eye opened – as clear as the sapphire sky of a midsummer day, but as forlorn as a gaze out to sea – it found the Alpha unerringly.

Slowly, Marcus changed shape, so that before long there was a slim young man lying where a wolf had been.  He didn’t try and get up; he didn’t say anything.  Declan’s heart tore as the smaller young man simply lay on his side in the mud and grass, shivering uncontrollably as the wet and cold sank into skin that was barely even covered – all he had on were the borrowed sweatpants, which clung to his legs, as sopping wet as every other inch of him.

“I don’t…” Marcus finally started to speak, voice small and catching on the second word.  He had to swallow visibly before going on with his helpless eyes fixed on the black wolf across the way, “I don’t know what to do anymore.  I…!” Either his injuries or his own sadness finally got too painful to bear, because his face twisted up in a rictus grimace, eyes closing.  Marcus pushed himself up laboriously into a sitting position, but only to huddle in on himself, arms wrapped around his chest.  Scars on his shoulders and arms showed up brightly as a distant flash of lightning illuminated him. The bandages he still wore were soggy and bloodstained in places, hinting at torn stitches where there would later be more scars.  “I don’t know what else anyone can expect me to do,” he whimpered down towards his lap, like a desperate, supplicating plea for an answer that wouldn’t end in more pain.  For an answer that would give him any direction at all. 

Declan changed back.  He did it fast enough that it hurt a bit, making him wince, but he needed his voice and he knew that he needed to be something that didn’t have teeth and claws. Marcus’s head jerked up to look at him, face wet and surprised.  Hopefully Declan’s open palms showed his harmlessness well enough.  “No one is expecting anything of you, Marcus,” he said, low and steady, easing his steps forward.  The jacket he’d been wearing when he’d left the house was still repelling water, and when he got close enough to crouch down in front of Marcus – the Omega eyeing him warily, but too exhausted to flee again – he shrugged it off. Marcus tried to avoid the article of clothing, but Declan knew a fight-or-flight, knee-jerk response when he saw one, and knelt forward a bit closer so that he could snug the thick material around the smaller young man’s torso, holding him still even as he gave him a barrier against the storm.  Marcus finally just shuddered and closed his eyes, and an unexpected burst of completion flushed through Declan’s system as he watched the Omega turn his nose and burry it in the collar, inhaling deeply. “You’re scared.”

It wasn’t a question, but Marcus answered anyway, wearily, “I don’t know how to be anything else.”  He sniffled, drawing his knees up until there was little except his feet, shins, and head not covered by Declan’s coat at least partially.

After a pause, Declan just nodded, accepting that.  For the first time, he really glanced around to get his bearings, glad that he actually recognized this area.  “You’re easier to carry as a Wolf,” he said, keeping his tone level and calm, even though he still got a ludicrous sort of look in response, “If you transform, and if you let me, I’ll take us somewhere dry. There’s an old hunter’s cabin not far from here.”

Marcus immediately began shaking his head, full of fear again now that he’d had a few minutes to rest.  “N-N-No. No.  I have to leave.  If you knew what Rob knew-” 

Startling both of them, Marcus’s attempt to gain his feet ended with his left leg buckling completely and it was only thanks to quick reflexes that Declan shot to his feet and caught him.  Rain running down both of them, and muddy bare feet touching (Declan hadn’t bothered to put on shoes before going after Clarissa), the two men just stood still for a second, Marcus’s wounded arm shaking as his fingers snagged in Declan’s white T-shirt.  Declan’s arms were wrapped around the Omega’s back, holding him up and also holding the jacket in place, although it had slipped down, baring the tops of Marcus’s lithe shoulders. His skin stood out, so pale when contrasted with the dark brown of his hair that had turned a nearly black, sable color now that it was wetted down and plastered to his head. Declan figured that his own blond hair looked quite a wreck. 

Taking a risk, Declan slowly lifted up one arm, until he could cup his hand around the back of Marcus’s neck.  He got a shiver in response, Marcus’s face pressing in the slope of muscle between neck and shoulder, and gave in to the urge to stroke upwards until his fingers were buried in thick, straight hair and pressed against a chilled scalp. “And what does Rob know?” Declan asked as gently as he knew how.

This time, Marcus didn’t try to escape. 

“Take me wherever it is you’re wanting to… and I’ll tell you,” was the resigned answer sighed against Declan’s throat.  “You’re going to hear it anyway, but I want you – I want someone – to hear it from me first. Just one time.”

“Okay,” the Alpha agreed, as easily as that, with another pet of his hand. He murmured encouragingly, but with great care not to use any command, “Just change shape for me.”

A frigid mouth, nose, and chin rubbed against Declan’s skin and made it his turn to shiver as his smaller companion nodded, and then – while still standing in the Alpha’s arms – Marcus shifted shape.  Wolves were rarely this close to one another when they changed, and Declan was shocked by the intimate feeling of bones and muscle moving, twisting, stretching, and even snapping under his hands, before he lost his grip on the fluid shape. 

Just a moment later, and he was looking down at a small white wolf – it seemed that only Omegas actually got smaller when they went Wolf – sitting at his feet, head tiredly hanging and eyes closed as if almost asleep.  The soft paws were the last things to leave the ground as Declan carefully picked him up, frowning at the new bits of red staining Marcus’s messy white fur, but the Omega didn’t try to claw or bite him, and his weight rested easily in the circle of Declan’s strong arms. 

Declan was probably too far away to telepathically signal the rest of his pack, but he did his best to send them words and feelings that he was okay. He wanted to say that Marcus was, too, but he was truthful enough with himself to admit that that was very much not true.