The Birth Of The Beta

8. IT’S YOUR PAIN, OUR PLEASURE

Aoife and Pepin were returning to their rooms, when she suddenly reached for his hand and gripped on to it. She wasn’t sure if it was because Magnus was back and his presence would bring a tidal wave of problems that they would all be drowning in, or if she was just too weak to fight the bond anymore. She just needed to touch him.

Pepin was delighted.

This was the first time that she had ever initiated contact. Although Aoife enjoyed how their skin brushed against each other under the dining table, it was always Pepin who ‘accidentally’ over estimated his leg space. Inside, Pepin’s stomach seemed to flip back with unexpected joy, but on the surface he was steady as he wanted to make it seem like the most natural thing on earth, as it should be for mates.

“She’s worried about something, I can almost taste it in the air around her,” Clovis informed his human.

When they arrived at Aoife’s door, she seemed reluctant to release his hand, there was a gap between their bodies joined together only by their fingertips that were clinging onto each other. Leaning her head to the side, she bit the corner of her mouth, struggling to find a compromise between her brain that was telling her to let go, her heart, and her wolf who was insisting she clasp on tighter.

“Do you have time to tell me what all that was about in the office?” Pepin suggested, trying to find an excuse to wrap around the truth that they simply wanted to spend longer in each other’s company. A truth that Aoife wasn’t ready to hear yet. Aoife nodded as she freed her inner cheek from her teeth, and invited him into her sanctuary.

When Pepin walked into Aoife’s room he was shocked by the opulence. Under his feet was a thick fur white rug, it was incredibly soft and welcoming. The ceiling and top of the walls were pained in a beautiful burnt orange colour that faded into a vibrant yellow, like a permanent sunset. As he followed the décor to the ground he could see that on the floor a circle had been drawn and divided into quarters. Inside each quarter was a scene of Aoife achieving a victory in the arena. He moved towards a dark wooden chest, worried that Aoife would feel uncomfortable if he sat on the bed with her, but in contrast to his assumptions, she was patting the space on the bed next to her.

“Your room is beautiful, it’s dripping with your successes,” Pepin complimented her.

“Thank-you. When I was younger, after each victory, Cornelius would take me to a shop in the town square and I’d buy something with my winnings. This is what accumulated over time,” She explained, proud of her achievements.

“Money spent making a home is always money well spent. You don’t go to the shops after each victory anymore?” Pepin enquired.

“No, in the past few years I didn’t feel the need to celebrate. I didn’t want to fight anymore, so I stopped buying things to remember what I had done. Cornelius has been saving my money for me ever since. If I ever leave he will give it to me and maybe then I’ll spend it on something better…a new home,” Aoife smiled shyly.

Unable to stop herself, she reached out to take his hand in hers once more. She was incredibly nervous about her next move, but with the arrival of Magnus she felt this need to pull everything that she cared about as close to her as possible. She couldn’t deny that she cared, a lot, about Pepin. He turned to face Aoife, studying the anxiety that was making her unsure and jittery. He couldn’t understand what had changed to make her feel this way. He wanted her to want him, and if it was her fear that pushed her into his arms, he would be the shield she needed until they could fight them off together.

“Are you O-“

Pepin’s mouth was in the perfect position for two things. The first was the expression of pure shock as the softest and most determined lips crashed against his own. The second was that it was open just enough for Aoife to gently suck his bottom lip. While running her tongue across the darker plumper flesh of his inner jib. After a moment, to send his prayers up to all the Gods and Goddesses, whether they be his or not, he responded fervently, holding on to her chin, ensuring he could get full access to her mouth. His lips danced across hers in a fluid, skilled sequence, turning his head from one side to the other to cover all areas of his stage. As much as his lips were dancers, his tongue was a roguish hunter playing hide and seek as it teased her own. Flicking the tip of her tongue only to then demand to be chased back into his own mouth, a tormenting, tantalising, torturous trail of tag.

When they broke apart, Pepin interlaced both their hands and rested his forehead on her collarbone, as Aoife rested her chin on the crown of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of peppermint and fennel.

“I’ve wanted you to do that since your birthday. What made you give in to the mate bond?” Pepin asked.

“Tonight I thought about what I would take if I ever had to run from here. I realised the only thing I would grab hold of was you. Times are changing and I’m worried about what will happen when they do. I want to accept you, I know I’m not what you imagined, and I’ve given a lot of my firsts away, but I’d like to be yours and I’d like you to be mine,” Aoife looked him in the eye, lifting his head from her breast bone.

“I, Aoife, Beta wolf and trainer of Heaton House, accept you, Pepin, as my mate. This vow I make to you with the Moon Goddess as my witness,” Aoife and Neve merged to dedicate themselves to Pepin and Clovis.

Pepin gripped tighter onto her shaky hands, looking her in the eyes and taking a moment’s pause to remember every detail on her face. The slight frown of worry, the persistent biting of the corner of her mouth, the soft blush of anticipation on her cheeks, the determination in her eyes. He thought he must have been a hero in another life, to deserve someone as beautiful as her in this one.

“You’re right, you’re not what I imagined. I’d never have been able to picture a person as beautiful as you, and I can’t envision someone I think is too perfect to exist, my imagination is too limited to expect a warrior queen like you,” He smiled as she let go of a breath she had been holding onto.

“I, Pepin, Beta wolf and gladiator of Heaton House, accept you, Aoife, as my mate. This vow I make to you with the Moon Goddess as my witness,” Pepin and Clovis’ merged, but surprisingly his wolf’s voice quivered as the emotion of relief threatened to burst through his control. He sealed the pledge with a deep kiss, taking all her concerns away.

That night, Pepin and Aoife slept in her room, kissing many more times. They wanted to leave their markings and mating for the next full moon, when the light of the Goddess would bless their union.

Days went by and Aoife insisted that they stayed professional in training. On market day, Cornelius took Aoife to town to buy extra training equipment that Aoife had suggested they invest in. They loved this time together. Usually on the journey home they would buy olives and walnuts to eat while they laughed and recalled stories from the past. Cornelius would joke about how in his retirement he would buy an olive grove and pass the day watching them grow. Aoife reasonably pointed out that he was too impatient to wait for them and would probably eat them before they were ready.

Half way through their journey back home, Aoife felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach so acute she looked down to see if she had been struck with a dagger or arrow. There was no reason, only pain. Unable to hide her hurt, she screamed, causing Cornelius to stop the horses.

“What’s happened? What’s hurting you?” He asked with concern, looking at the walnuts and olives, wondering if she had been poisoned.

“It’s Pepin, something is happening to him, we have to get home now!” Aoife screamed through the pain.

Cornelius flicked the reins in his hand and encouraged the team to race ahead. In the cart, the ceramic pots were knocking into each other, shattering as they hit the wooden floor, their destruction was rhythmically in tune with the pace of the horses' hooves. Cornelius didn’t care that the money he had spent on the products was now wasted on the dirty floor, nor did he care that he was potentially risking the horses by pushing the pace. The young girl that he loved as a daughter was clutching her stomach, tears rolling down her face and her pallor had a green twinge, mixed into her usual shade. She was his only concern right now. The rest could be damaged beyond repair as long as she was alright.

He pulled through the gates into the courtyard, next to a fancy carriage that he barely took note of. Aoife slipped off her seat onto the ground, gripping onto the wheel for support. Her legs were trembling as she took each step, but her face held such ferocity that all who could see her knew she couldn’t be stopped. Storming into the atrium, her mind was split into two directions: rage and relief. Pepin was standing in only his loin cloth, his body being held in place by two burly wolves, each wearing the brand of the slaver’s house they belonged to on their arms. A woman dressed in the richest coloured material with her toga cut obscenely low was pressed against Aoife’s mate, and was running her overly decorated hand over Pepin’s body. Rage. Pepin was red, either from anger, or his struggle to get free. Sweat coated his skin as evidence of his efforts. It seemed as if Aoife had made it just in time before he was unable to fight back any more. Relief.

The woman leaned close to his ear, not knowing that all wolves would hear her clearly, she was ignoring Pepin’s personal space.

“Your pain is our pleasure,” She whispered slowly, but Neve could hear her as if she had whispered in her own ear. Then she proved her point by digging her nails into his buttocks, leaving ten crescent-shaped moon patterns, as she pulled him closer, and pressed her lips upon his.

During this disgusting display of her own perceived power, Cornelius entered his home horrified by what he had seen.

“What do you think you are doing? How dare you do this in our home? Be sure that your husband will hear of this,” he yelled in outrage, as the woman stared back in shock.

Aoife was feeling frustrated by the woman’s inability to answer Cornelius’ question. Neve could no longer tolerate how close the woman was standing to her Pepin. Letting fury fill her and pushing her pain to the side, she launched herself towards the two wolves who were still holding Pepin. She twisted the arm of the one nearest to her before slamming his head onto his knee. She then kicked the second in the crotch before punching him across the cheek.

Facing Pepin, who was now free, she smiled at him, hoping he would be assured that she was only mad at the woman, and that she knew he had fought. However, as quickly as her explosion of strength had arrived, it left with equal speed. Neve retreated, and Aoife was once again in control. Pepin watched as a green hue rose up in her face, like a glass jug filled with murky water. Her legs lost all strength as she swayed towards him, allowing him to catch her before her legs completely gave way beneath her. He lifted her into his arms, leaning her face on to his collarbone, when she gave a little chocking sound before she vomited on his chest. Concern chiselled onto his face, as his eyes widened and his eyebrows rose unbidden. He carried her into her room, using a cloth and water to wash her face first before himself. He knew what had happened and he was livid that she had felt the pain of betrayal, because that selfish b***h had put her hands on him. The bond had hurt her because it detected that it was being touched by a person who wasn’t his mate. He wanted to scrub himself with grit, and promised himself he would as soon as Aoife woke up.