Marcella introduced the woman to me before backing out with stiff shoulders and her nose in the air. The woman was a tall, thin and gracious woman. A little wrinkly but with enough grace to be mistaken for a person of importance despite her status as Omega. One of the few people to break the barrier of wolf hierarchy.
Madam Beatrice.
I didn’t recognise her until Marcella said her name in farewell. Madam Beatrice was some sort of legend to us. She aged better than fine wine. Although she had a full head of white hair, her skin had fewer wrinkles than most eighty years old omegas. She had done really well for herself.
Never finding her true mate, she mated a Beta at thirty and if the rumours were true, the man was much like my father. Bitter, blaming the world for his misfortune and
