Veronica Smite lives a simple life of poverty and depression. She works hard only to be deprived of playing hard, and with her friend in the same boat they tend to have girl dates over tubs of ice cream.
She's begging for change while hiding from h...
She lays dead looking on the medical cot. Her breathing is slow, barely rising and falling through her induced slumber. It was missed, the healer having to remove the rest of our child so she could heal correctly. A torment for the pup, and even worse for its mother. The healer drops her head in goodbye rushing from the room to give us space. The wolf burns under my skin wishing for revenge, but there's none to offer. Jessica dead, and the suicide of the former beta. I ache to avenge, and yet what I can do? There's nothing that can help, nothing that can bring back the child we were so desperate to protect. The pack howls in mourning for the lost heir. I've lost feeling in my fingers at the realization that my child will no longer be arriving. I won't have the chance to hold them, nor is there reason to finish our nursery.
Even in sleep she looks broken. Swollen eyes, a broken look of shame covering her features. My legs push up from the chair bashing my fist into the dry wall. It crumples beneath my force, chalk rising in the air around me. So, fucking weak. No matter what I do to protect this woman I always fail. She's always taking the hits, the pain, even the reminders of how wrong we are together. There's a suitable lack of love and passion between us, especially when referencing how much shit continues to be put on our plate.
"Alpha, Tyson ordered you a meal." A human steps into the room laying a tray on the table. My fist is still settled in the wall, "I'll order a wall repair as well." She doesn't ask anything else while rushing from the room. I allow the food to run cold after dropping myself back into the chair watching my sleeping mate. The healer told me three hours, but some part of me aches for her stay asleep. Keep her from waking to the horrors of the world around us. Keep her from hating me. At least asleep she can't leave. No. Not the way to think.
"Alpha, you should eat. The trials will continue tomorrow." Tyson and Tusk walk into the room. Both stare at their Luna, then focus their gaze on me. Both just learned of this today, and now their wolves are in a state of mourning, "It wouldn't be wise to let yourself succumb to this when you have to protect your status."
"What is my status if I can't protect the one, I love?" I whisper. I've never cried in front of my men. It's a show of weakness between the male wolves, and yet here I am letting it come over me. Tears stream down my face dropping onto the gray shirt I've chosen. It's a futile sight, "What purpose do I have if I continue to lose? Continue to harm?"
Tusk steps forward, hand dropping onto my shoulder, "No blame falls upon your shoulders, Alpha. Jessica was unstable. We should've... As your Delta I should've protected the Luna more. Watched out for the deceptive gaze her friend once shared."
"No need to place blame on anyone." Tyson corrects, "What you need to do is protect her. That can't be done as a dead wolf. She needs you more than ever. A miscarriage will keep her bedridden for a week minimum, then mentally, I haven't the slightest idea. If you lose, Alpha, she'll be alone and most likely killed. We can't allow that to happen."
"Tyson. Your words are wise, but my heart is broken."
"Take your anger, my Alpha, and shred the others. Show her that you are worthy of her love. Give her security where she needs it most."
"She will hate me once she awakens." I drop my tear covered face into my hands. Tusk pats my back trying to shove all his comfort into a few painful hits against my skin. I hadn't realized how strong he'd become, "What if..."
"You will do no such thing." Tusk grunts, "A Luna Rite is reserved for dying breaths, not somber loss. Breaking your oath to your pack would be enough to encourage me to slit your throat. You are the most deserving of the crown, support for your ascension unprecedented, it'd be best to showcase that."
"I'll call the Northern King. He should be able to maintain order while the Luna and you properly mourn the loss of your child, but first you must secure the crown."
The men give me stern looks. Neither look ready to back down if I attempt to fight back, both gritting their teeth. Their loyalty is astounding. I'm ready to take a blade, the perfect time to claim the throne, and yet they focus their efforts on comfort and support. If I was anyone else, I would pull them into a hug, and yet I sit silent staring at them. I beg them to understand my internal desires, wish I could verbally express the gratitude I feel for them, but none of that is necessary, "Make the necessary preparations, and warm my meal. I'll be ready."
~
The next day; Ares Point of View
She's still sleeping. The healer has kept her in an induced coma until the trauma is healed. The baby's wolf is fighting for life but hasn't a root to take within my woman. It might take days for the wolf's spirit to die, maybe weeks. The only offer I have is securing our win and having the best care for her bedside, "Alpha. The challengers are ready."
"Let's get this over with." My shirt is absent, only a pair of basketball shorts hanging off my hips. Nudity isn't a problem for me, but my Luna despises when I flash, she-wolves of the pack. No matter how much I explain the difference between feelings for her and lowly she-wolf, she scowls and demands me to wear clothes. Comical really, at least enough to bring a smile across my face for a hair of a moment. I step into the ring, one male stepping forward, "Do you still wish to challenge me?"
With a snort, the male shifted the beast charging for me. He's faster then I would've thought possible, but no match for me. I toss my head back with a roar rolling into a shift with just enough time to take half-hit of claws scratching through my fur. My heart thrumming as it does, I rush for his legs. The wolf grunts when I wrap my teeth around his leg tossing him up and over myself, then turning back to go again. His blood pours, the dirt turning a sickly red from the gushing wound. It's nothing that would kill, but enough to hinder for a few minutes while his body scrambles to heal.
I'll have to keep my hits precise. With the lineup of formable males, I can't afford to make cheap cuts, each of them being aware of my limits. I roll away before he could land a hit, and he continues to lumber after me. With a drop I catch myself under his un-protected belly. It happened fast. Even I couldn't follow my own movements when I turn on my back pushing my claws deep into his guts. Blood spurted over my fur, his howls of pain resonating through the crowd. He's barely dead when I toss his across the pit, his body cracking from the broken bones. Tyson calls for a live check, the loss screamed through the crowd.
The next one is just as confident, then next, then the next. Each take an honorable death, my anger fueling my need to win.
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