The Birth Of The Beta

2. SHOUTING IN THE STREET

Turning the corner, on to the penultimate street before they arrived home at Heaton House, their laughter was interrupted by the sounds of painful groans and grunts that bounced off the buildings down the narrow side alley. Cornelius pulled the reins to stop the horses as Aoife jumped from the still moving carriage, heading towards the disturbance. Slunk over, but admirably still on his feet, a young man with shoulder-length, light brown hair, similar to the shade of demerara sugar, and glowing lightly tanned skin, attempted to straighten up. In spite of his swollen eye, bloodied nose and cut lip, the over-confident man was still grinning as if he found this entire altercation amusing. Aoife was surprised that she could still smell his wolf, even though she had blocked Neve. She was also curious about why her wolf was fighting to be let free for this squabble, after showing no interest in the arena battle.

Within her appraisal, she eyed his physique. Beneath the scrapes, cuts and tattered tunic, she could appreciate he was handsome.

The leaner attacker went to punch the wolf in the face, but Aoife hooked his arm at the elbow and twisted his hand behind his back, then pushed his head against the building wall, making the plaster crumble slightly, before his body slumped on the floor. The next attacker ignored the skill she had demonstrated, and ran straight at her with his arms wide open. She almost felt sorry for him as she collided her knee into his stomach, her leg hitting his squishy belly. He was winded, but still able to try and fight back. She decided it would best to immobilise him for now, and she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled it down onto her eagerly awaiting thigh. After she heard a satisfying crunch, he flipped backwards on to the floor from the impact. The last man was slow and portly, he started to bounce on his tip-toes as if he was mimicking the moves of a good fighter he had seen before. He looked ridiculous, and clearly the injured wolf thought the same as his hearty laugh erupted from his chest. His humour was deliciously infectious.

“What on earth is happening?” Cornelius yelled.

The same stocky man faced Cornelius, relieved to find a human that he assumed would be on his side. It was only then that Aoife noticed the leader's knuckles were covered in the blood of the handsome wolf, and Aoife was bothered that it irked her more than it should have.

“This animal owes my master ten sestertii. He said that if the mutt can’t repay him we should beat him, and take anything he has got,” The debt collector smirked, thinking Cornelius was going to let him continue with his barbarity.

“It is interesting that you are referring to this wolf as an animal, when all of you have beaten him like a pack of inhumane fiends,” Cornelius paused to let what he had said register, the judgement oozing over each syllable. The expression on the rounded man’s face, when he realised that he would find no support from the older gentleman, was definitely one that him and Aoife would imitate later. It was the injured wolf that interjected, before Cornelius could continue.

“You must want to see me naked. The only thing I have on me is this worn out tunic. It is definitely not worth ten sestertii, which I maintain was given as a payment for a night guarding his villa. Now, if my nudity is the cost of you leaving me alone, I will give you all my clothes. With a word of warning, remember what has been seen cannot be unseen, and the last thing I would want for you three is to go home feeling inadequate, as it is inevitable that you would compare,” The wolf responded boldly, as if he hadn’t been subjected to an out-numbered fight that he was definitely losing. Perhaps it was his flippant attitude that brought this type of trouble to his door.

Unusually, Aoife found herself wishing that the humans would demand his rags, because she didn’t think she would want to forget what he was hiding under them. This brief indulgent thought excited, unnerved and distracted her, until Cornelius mediated once more.

“I will pay his debt. Send your master to the House of Heaton, where he will sign a receipt of his return. Surely that would be better than the lad’s clothes, and apparently it would spare all our eyes,” Cornelius turned back towards the cart.

In a rage, the aggressor made to charge at Cornelius’ back. Instantly, Aoife wrapped her hand around his corpulent jowls, squeezing his neck until he wheezed.

“If you put your hands on Cornelius Heaton, be assured that I will rip them off your wrists, and ram them so far down your throat that you’ll be able to scratch your arse from the inside,” She tightened her grip to emphasise her point, before pushing him to the ground.

She gestured for the wounded wolf to follow Cornelius, before she too withdrew from the alley, studying the aggressors, slowly stepping backwards, all the while keeping an eye on the gang of useless humans. She maintained her defensive stance until they were all in the cart once more.

The wolf was cleaning up the blood from his nose with a rag that the noble advocate, sitting in front of him, had offered. When the worst of the crimson flow was gone, he breathed in and noticed a smell that excited, as well as comforted him. Pumpkin and vanilla. He looked around the back of the cart trying to find what it was, hoping it was a type of food that he could devour. The horses carried on towards the house and Cornelius turned his attention to the male wolf.

“Do you have any family, or a place to go?” Cornelius asked.

“No,” came the abrupt response, and Aoife clicked her tongue at his rudeness.

“I will make you an offer…” Cornelius began, but was interrupted by the wolf.

“I won’t be a slave,” he declared.

“You won’t be much of anything if you interrupt him again,” Aoife warned him.

Cornelius carried on as if he hadn’t heard Aoife’s clear hostility.

“That’s good, because I don’t keep slaves,” Cornelius stated, completely unfazed by his disrespect.

Thankfully, the insolent wolf gave up on his war of words and decided to listen, keeping a constant eye on the she-wolf that he knew he had angered.

“I will pay your debt, and all I ask in return is that you work the value of it off by doing jobs in our Ludus. Once your work is equal to the debt, you will have two choices. Choice one: is that you leave and carry on out here in the world. Choice two: is if you decide to train and become a gladiator, you’ll keep the majority of all your winnings, only giving Heaton House enough to cover your living costs. If you get hurt, we will look after you and pay for any medical care. What do you say?” He asked.

“Is he speaking the truth?” The wolf asked Aoife, and she nodded in reply, still displeased with his attitude, and his disbelief of Cornelius’ words.

“I will stay to pay off my debt to you, and I will think about your offer of training. Thank-you,” The wolf answered sincerely, worried about annoying the beautiful she-wolf sitting in the front of the cart any further than he already had.

“My name is Cornelius, and this is Aoife. What is your name?”

“My name is Pepin. I’ve never known of wolves calling a master by his first name before,” Pepin mentioned in shock, but even more aghast when Aoife turned around to answer him.

“As you have just heard, we are not slaves which you tried to disguise with the word wolves, we are employees. We earn money, we can leave the house, we can buy whatever we want, and if we want to leave and never return, we can. You should pay more attention,” She berated him.

Even if Pepin had wanted to reply, he wouldn’t have been able to, because he was pinned in place by those captivating sage-green eyes, the most beautiful he had ever seen. His understanding, his words and his thoughts were all lost in the snare that was her gaze.

“MATE!” Clovis, his wolf, called out in his head.

With that one word Pepin knew he would stay in this school with that old man for as long as she was there. Hurt followed that thought immediately afterwards, because there was no recognition of the mate bond in her face. She had just resumed her forward-facing position, and left him to his turmoil.

“Clovis, did our mate just reject us?” Pepin called to him, in panic.

“No, but I can barely feel her wolf, she’s definitely old enough to have one, but it feels as if she is stuck behind ice in a fast flowing lake, every time I nearly reach her she’s swept away again,” Clovis explained, causing Pepin to panic even more.

“Cornelius, thank-you for your offer, I would really like to train at your Ludus, and become a gladiator,” Pepin told Cornelius, who raised his eyebrows at the sudden change of decision, but nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Aoife held her head in her hands, after she had confronted Pepin. Neve was fighting to be let free, presumably to attack the brash wolf, as she was just as protective over Cornelius as Aoife was. The struggle to keep her wolf trapped was pounding at her head, and she was sure she would have to sleep off the pain when she got home. When Pepin agreed to stay, Neve suddenly calmed down, it seemed she was going to be patient, and wait before she exacted her revenge. She thought she should warn Pepin to be respectful, and protect him from Neve’s violent temperament, but he seemed to be more courteous when he spoke to Cornelius this time. They were approaching the gates, and Aoife could already feel the serenity of home calming her down.