The Birth Of The Beta

19. IT’S JUST US

WARNING: This chapter contains events of a coercive nature and some nudity.

Training had become more intense with the gladiator games looming, and after the games the governor had demanded a full day of spectacle to celebrate his daughter’s wedding to Magnus. Madla was sparring with Aoife, impressed with how she used his weight to her own advantage. Although he was a fit and muscular man, he was short in comparison to the Beta wolves like Pepin and Aoife and those who would be fighting in the arena. She stood with her back to his chest, gripping his right wrist with her left hand and pulling it diagonally across her body in the direction of her left hip. Other gladiators had paused to watch the demonstration, and Aoife could see Pepin grinding his teeth as his possessive tendencies were itching to pull her away from her avid student. Stepping further into Madla’s body until her shoulder was tucked underneath his armpit, she instructed the gladiators to watch her hip and feet as she twisted, pulling him over her shoulder. He landed on his back with a THUD. He was sprawled out at her feet. She maintained the grip on his wrist with her left hand and used her right hand to push his face onto the sand until Madla bared his neck to her. The men around her clapped, Pepin was still trying to rein in a very jealous Clovis. She helped to pull Madla back onto his feet.

“I hope you were watching carefully. Go practise!” She commanded, and they all paired up excited at the prospect of flinging their opponents around.

Aoife did feel guilty for bringing Madla here at the worst possible time. She had promised him a happy new beginning, and with her fellow wolves she had delivered, but with Cornelius recovering in the villa, the house was inimical.

“Aoife…Pepin! Antonia is calling for you both, she’s waiting in the atrium,” Winnifred shouted to them.

Pepin reached out his hand to his warrior. He missed her terribly. Since Aoife had confronted Antonia and defied her instructions, Magnus and his soon-to-be wife had implemented new rules. The worst rule of all was reusing the locks on the rooms, so that each wolf had to sleep in their own room in the evening. Madla had pointed out that a room with a lock in the outside was really a cell. Pepin agreed. Magnus had informed them all that it was necessary to control the opportunity for breeding, but given that a wolf had never been born in Heaton House, and there was only one she-wolf who lived with the gladiators, the excuse seemed as genuine as the smile on Antonia’s face. These moments where he could hold her hand, feel the excitement of their touch run over their skin became even more precious, and sacred to him. He continued to wonder if it was time for them to leave, but Aoife wouldn’t consider it until Cornelius returned.

In the atrium, Antonia sat nibbling from her antipasti board, indulging in the finery of expensive meats and cheeses, she even had one of the kitchen maids next to her to extract the stones from her olives. As a final snub, all around the board were flower-shaped tomatoes. If it hadn’t been for Pepin tightly holding her hand, Aoife would have scattered them across the floor. If the Moon Goddess heard her prayers, Antonia would choke on one of those pitted olives any moment now.

“We are having a party, and you two will be the entertainment,” Antonia stated, barely looking at them.

“You want us to spar together? It won’t be very entertaining. Aoife is far better than me. You’d have a more even fight matching me with one of the other gladiators,” Pepin told her honestly.

“I’ll certainly consider that in the future, but you’re not going to fight,” Antonia corrected him, whilst belittling him in the process.

“Well I hate to inform you, but neither of us know how to juggle, so you’re out of luck,” Aoife responded defensively.

“But you do know how to f**k,” Antonia clarified.

“We will not do that, we are not slaves, as I keep telling you, you’ll have to entertain your voyeuristic companions some other way,” Aoife was getting louder with each phonic, trying to contain Neve as best as she could.

“Very well, I’ll go to my second plan, which was to pair up that kitchen maid with one of the gladiators. She’s pretty enough,” Antonia commented, unaffected by the shock in the room, even from the maid on the floor.

Pepin and Aoife stilled, looking at each other. They both slightly shook their heads, then opened their mind links.

“Is she bluffing?” Pepin asked.

“I hope so. Maybe she doesn’t know that Winnifred is only sixteen,” Aoife pointed out.

“Maybe the evil b***h doesn’t care, she’s not concerned about using anyone,” Neve growled and was formulating a plan to tear her apart. She asked Clovis if they could attack, and for once Clovis could see her logic.

“You do realise that Winnifred is only sixteen, don’t you?” Aoife asked.

“I do, but I don’t have to use her at all. That decision is yours. I thought you’d be pleased. I had planned to pair you up with Madla, but I saw how close your two are and decided to be merciful. Was I wrong? Antonia asked, in mock curiosity, the threat clearly implied.

Pepin growled at the clear ultimatum that Antonia had put before them: be entertainment, or sacrifice Winnifred in their place.

“You weren’t wrong. We will do it,” Pepin capitulated. “We will leave now, to prepare,” he abruptly stepped away, pulling Aoife with him.

Pepin pulled Aoife into her room and buried his head into her neck, where his mark was. He wished he had the power to stop time, so he could spend forever with her in his arms. His heart was beating erratically in his chest as he imagined having to endure seeing Aoife with another, it caused a pain in his heart that was worse than any blade, and he struggled to take his next breath with the pain of it. Aoife’s fingers ran from his neck to the base of his spine, comforting him until his shoulders relaxed.

“I had to agree. I couldn’t bear to have another touch you, and my conscience wouldn’t allow me to sacrifice Winnie like that, she still just a child,” Pepin tried to explain.

“I know, Mo chridhe. I feel the same,” She confessed. They lay on her bed, and held each other until the last possible moment when they would be called.

As the crickets began to play their sad song and the shades of purple dyed the evening sky, a gentle knock interrupted the lover’s sanctuary.

“It’s time, you have to go to the office,” Winnifred notified them. Pepin and Aoife both took the time to look at the young, fresh-faced she-wolf, whose cheeks were rosy from seeing them be so affectionate. She was wearing a bright yellow headband in her hair. Her youthful, unblemished skin glowed next to the fiery torch she was holding. Doubtlessly, Antonia sent her as a warning of what would happen if they didn’t comply. Conversely, Antonia’s intention of sending Winnie as a reminder of the consequences of refusal had given both of them the resolution to see it through. Aoife embraced Winnifred with sisterly affection.

“Don’t come upstairs tonight, Winnie. If they want anything, send up Caius or one of the gladiators. Promise me!” Aoife said forcefully, accidently pushing Neve’s Beta command through in her panic.

“I promise, Aoife,” she replied, as the couple turned to go upstairs.

In the office, Antonia was perched on the table, her hands crossed over her thighs. She was wearing her best toga, in honour of watching her nemesis be besmirched.

“There you are. I was worried about the little kitchen maid for a moment. You may undress,” She directed.

Antonia’s eyes were fixed on Pepin’s body, lingering over every muscle, every chiselled line, the cluster of hair over his chest. Aoife couldn’t endure it, so she stood in front of him, blocking the hateful woman’s view as his last item of clothing hit the floor.

“We will see all of him soon enough,” She laughed hysterically.

Facing Pepin, Aoife’s shaky hand reached up to the ribbon that held her fur, sleeveless jacket in place. She stared at the floor, trying to block out the eyes of her enemy in her mind. Allowing the blackness of misery to sequester her perception of reality so she wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation that was making her skin itch with heat. Suddenly, Pepin’s hand covered her own as he pulled her into his chest, pressing her breasts against him and tenderly removed her clothes. Running his fingers down her back like she had done to him only hours ago.

“I had no idea your body was ruined with so much scarring. I hope it won’t affect our guests. It looks positively grotesque,” Antonia jibed.

“The only grotesque thing in this room is you, Antonia,” Pepin answered, with such conviction that Antonia did think about her own aesthetic flaws, even though he had been referring to her inner ugliness.

She gestured for them to follow her into the atrium.

Pepin reached behind him to clasp Aoife’s hand, using his own body to shield her from the eyes of the eager audience. He noticed that Antonia was surrounded by women, and wondered if their husbands had any idea of the s****l scenes their sinister spouses had come to see. Gently holding onto Aoife’s wrist, he turned and pressed his body to her so tightly that even water wouldn’t be able to get between them. He could feel her body trembling in his arms, and a swell of nausea raised in his stomach. He knew it came from Aoife. He took her arms and strategically extended them, placing her hands around his waist so that her biceps covered the side of her soft, round breasts that were still exposed. Reaching his palms up to her face, he cupped them at her temples, blinkering her as if she were a skittish horse that he needed to reassure. Aoife took a deep breath and felt her galloping nerves begin to calm. Focussing on Pepin’s eyes, she managed to block out the other people. They blurred into washed out colours, fading into insignificance. Pepin was all she needed right now. He tenderly kissed her forehead and ran his nose alongside hers.

“It’s just us, Aoife,” Pepin whispered through the mind link, while placing loving kisses on her cheeks and jaws. She nodded in response.

Leaning into him, she softly pressed her lips against his. It was unhurried, and she wasn’t going to please anyone, but herself and Pepin. Deliberately, parting her lips with a steady slowness, Pepin growled as she made him wait. When his patience was broken, Pepin’s tongue cantered towards her mouth, devouring her flavour and the smoothness of her lips. They created their own utopia. They were alone.

Unexpectedly, the lovers were heaved from their self-made haven when the sharp bite of the evening breeze blasted into the atrium.

“Someone quickly explain what is going on here!” A furious voice called from the steps.

Pepin could see Cornelius looking down at the scene with rage and revulsion aimed at the wide-eyed guests. Since the illusion had shattered, Aoife’s nerves had peaked once more and he cupped the back of her head as she tried to hide her face against his chest. Humiliation. Shame. Anger. The bond was spilling these emotions from her to him. He tried to counteract it with love and the promise of revenge.

Cornelius removed his cloak, and walked over to Aoife, draping it over her shoulders, pleased to see Pepin pulling it around her. However, he was even more shocked when Magnus handed his cloak to Pepin, to hide his nakedness. Maybe there was something redeemable in his son after all.

“Come to my office, the rest of you will leave!” Cornelius directed to the stunned women.

Sitting at his table, Cornelius sighed. It seemed his days of rest were truly over. He had gained a little more weight, but the biggest change was the animation back in his face. Magnus stood on his left-hand side, and Cornelius wished they could always be like this.

“How did tonight’s events come to be?” Cornelius enquired, masking his anger for the time being.

“While you have been gone…”Antonia began, but was cut short by Magnus’ interruption.

“My father wasn’t asking you!” Aoife gasped at his curt admonishment of his wife to be, but was glad she had received it.

Pepin methodically narrated the events that had taken place while Cornelius had been gone. Aoife stared at the floor the entire time.

“Pepin, when you return to your rooms, pull every lock from the doors,” Cornelius commanded, and Pepin nodded.

They picked up their clothes from the floor and once Pepin had made himself decent he handed the cloak back to Magnus, but he shook his head and declined to take it. The two wolves walked from the room with their shoulders hunched and their heads down, but with a huge sense of relief coursing through them.

Meanwhile, Cornelius allowed his son to manage the aftermath of the events.

“There’s nothing you can say to make this OK. What did you hope to gain by forcing them to do that? They are animals!” Magnus berated her, “they are beneath us. It is the same as watching stray dogs mate on the street,” Magnus continued.

Any hope Cornelius had of him and his son finding common ground was shattered by these words. Magnus wasn’t angry at how Antonia had treated the staff, he was angry that she had wanted to watch it all. Cornelius watched them bicker, and realised his son could never succeed him and inherit. He would shame his family name with his beliefs. He would bring down the integrity of Ludus.