The Birth Of The Beta

9. TIC, TAC, TOE

Pepin was kneeling on the floor, he looked as if he was praying, but his devotion was all for Aoife. She was still sleeping on her bed where he had placed her hours ago, and occasionally she would twitch in discomfort or crease in pain. She was facing him, as if she was seeking him out even in her suffering, and he would tuck her short hair behind her ear, brush his knuckles across her forehead checking for a temperature and place cold cloths on her head. He was no physician, but he instinctively knew what she needed.

Cornelius had been to check on her each hour after she had collapsed in her mate’s arms. During the evening, Pepin had explained how he was worried about the temperature she had. Fifteen minutes later, Cornelius arrived with a bucket of ice. Ice was so luxurious that Pepin had never seen it before. The pair had deliberated about calling a doctor, but after some enquiries had been made, the only person who would attend on her was a veterinarian. They decided she would be better served being cared for by the people who loved her. After cooling her down, Pepin and Cornelius were thankful to see that her natural skin tone was returning.

“What happened when we left Pepin?” Cornelius asked him seriously, when they were satisfied that Aoife would recover soon.

“Your son’s wife-to-be invited her friend over. They were talking about the wedding and the friend suggested they have an engagement party. Little Winnie had asked me to take some apple slices to the horses, because she was busy making a honey cake that the guest had demanded to be served. On my way back to the kitchen, the friend insisted that I go over to them. I refused. She laughed, saying wolves can’t say no to humans, and you weren’t there, so I had no choice. I walked closer but stayed at least a meter away from her,” Pepin paused, feeling embarrassed about how the women’s brazen conversation had continued.

Cornelius gave the younger man some time to compose himself.

“The two women were very explicit about certain parties that they had attended in the capital. There was a suggestion that the same type of party should be organised for the engagement celebration. Your son’s wife…”

“Antonia,” Cornelius interrupted, and Pepin nodded.

“Antonia, explained how we weren’t considered slaves in this house, so a party like she described would never be sanctioned. The friend laughed hysterically. When she calmed down, she said to Antonia that ‘she needed to understand power’. She told me to remove my tunic. I told her no. She told the two wolves she brought with her to remove it for me and hold me still. She explained to Antonia that power had to be taken, and clung onto. That’s when she started to let her hands roam my body. I was struggling for ages, the wolves were punching me, but I almost managed to get free a few times. When they managed to overpower me, that was when you and Aoife returned,” Pepin concluded.

When Pepin had finished telling Cornelius what had happened, the older man rose and patted him on his shoulder.

“Her name is Livia, she is no longer welcome in our house. I have already spoken to her husband. He owns another Ludus in the city, but he treats the gladiators like vermin. He will deal with her now. It is a considerable shame for one man to have to speak to another about his wife’s conduct, even when they are unethical miscreants. I will stipulate that Magnus must speak to Antonia about her role in this. He will not tolerate crass behaviour. I know that much about my son. Hopefully, this may provide him with a reason not to marry her at all,” Cornelius sadly sighed, leaving the cell to prepare himself for the tornado of tantrums he would soon hear from his son, and with any luck, Magnus’ never to be wife.

Sporadically, Aoife had been lucid enough to hear snippets of what had been said. She was aware that Cornelius had visited frequently. She realised she must have scared him when she had been groaning with pain in the cart. She had sustained an impressive number of injuries as a gladiator, and she had never shown the pain she had endured. No amount of bravery, or toxic pride could have allowed her to abide the pain of someone trying to desecrate the mate bond. She could feel Pepin applying the ice-cold cloth to her face and neck. It was nice, but he was her true succour.

The last drop of sun was swallowed by the mouth of the moon, when Aoife opened her eyes without the drag of drowsiness pulling her back to the depths of sleep. Pepin’s smile nearly cracked the corners of his mouth, he was so pleased to see she was awake.

“How are you feeling?” Pepin asked, his hands hovering over her as if she was an expensive vase he was frightened to shatter with a clumsy touch.

“I’m OK now, I think, no more pain, are you alright?” Aoife replied.

“I’m fine, just angry you suffered. I wish I’d figured out a way to get her off me. I panicked though, she’s human and I didn’t want to be accused of attacking her,” Pepin explained, Aoife nodded in response.

Although in the House of Heaton wolves were paid and wanted to be gladiators, they weren’t ignorant and could see they were at a power disadvantage that women like Livia would be far too keen and quick to exploit.

Silence settled between them, and they held each other’s hands. Pepin ran his thumb over each of her scars or the callous skin she had from holding her weapons. Suddenly, he dived into his tunic pocket and pulled out four equal-length twigs, three white stones, and three black stones.

“Shall we play?” Pepin smiled, full of glee.

“Sure what is it?” Aoife reflected his delight. At her question he turned and looked at her.

“It’s called tic, tac, toe…” He paused after he said it, as if the name would jog her memory, but her shrug in time with her raised eyebrows, pouty bottom lip and tucked in chin revealed she had never heard of the game. Not to be perturbed, Pepin animatedly explained the rules.

Three games later, Aoife realised that if she continued to block Pepin’s stone with her own, she wouldn’t win, but neither would Pepin.

“Stop thinking like a Beta, Aoife,” Pepin pretended to complain, even though he cared very little for the outcome, he simply enjoyed her laughter and competitiveness.

“What does that mean?” She asked, puzzled by his comment.

“A Beta always looks for the best outcome to protect his alpha and pack. So, rather than risk a loss, you’re forcing a draw,” Pepin expanded on his earlier comment.

Before Aoife had time to consider this, she was interrupted by the cacophony of angry voices from upstairs. Cornelius still had an element of control in his bellow, but Magnus’ riposte was a clamour of curses.

“Your f*****g interference has cost Antonia a friendship with a powerful family. I can’t believe you told her husband like a gossiping old man. You have tarnished Antonia with the same sordid event!” Magnus yelled.

“You haven’t even married the girl yet and she’s brought shame to this house. How long before she cuckolds you?” Cornelius spat back at his disappointing son.

“Antonia’s father is the governor, she knows how to treat slaves. It is you who shame this house and the name I am forced to carry,” Venom dripped from every syllable Magnus spewed.

“You will never inherit this Ludus if you marry that woman. She is cruel and not what I’d want in a daughter-in-law,” Cornelius responded, tired by the arguing.

“I’ll marry who I like. If you had your way, old man, you’d have me marry Aoife,” Magnus sneered, while laughing at the ridiculous thought. Pepin growled in a possessive fury at the idea of it. Cornelius wasn’t pleased, and the tone he delivered his last comment was sharp enough to leave scars.

“I would never ask Aoife to suffer you. You are not worthy of her,” It was a statement of fatherly affection from Cornelius for the daughter who was his in everything but blood. To Magnus it was an insult of the highest calibre. Slamming the door, Magnus announced his angry departure. Pepin and Aoife both took a minute to think about what they had heard. They were wise enough not to discuss it yet, but Cornelius’ protective rebuttal had undoubtedly put a target on Aoife’s back.

Knocking at the door distracted them as Pepin rose to open it, half expecting to see Cornelius again. Happily, it was a surprise when he saw Winnie standing on the threshold carrying an abnormally large and heavy cake. Pepin took it off her and placed it on the bed, while Aoife beckoned her inside.

“This was the cake those horrid women asked me to make. I wish they had taken some and choked on it after what happened,” Winnifred growled, like a pup.

This was the most vicious that Aoife had ever seen Winnifred. She was flushed red with the strain of carrying the cake, and she wore her headband askew. They were reminded that she was only sixteen and still very childish in many ways. The two mates couldn’t help but laugh at her concept of justice and revenge flavoured with a pinch of irony.

“You know what would be the perfect payback, Winnie? The three of us enjoyed this beautiful cake. While those horrid women are at home getting told off,” Aoife suggested.

Subsequently, the three wolves spent the rest of the evening eating honey cake, and playing tic, tac, toe that Pepin and Aoife allowed Winnie to win every single time.