Hormones

121K 4.4K 1.7K
                                    


The Northerner comes back, slinking in the covers, stinking of my poison. I can tell by the way his mind is swaying that he's wasted. Because whiskey has a way of making everything better.

I'm so close to the edge of the bed I feel like I could fall off if I'm not careful. He doesn't make a move towards me, he doesn't even acknowledge me. Soon, his snores lull me to sleep with their quiet rhythm.

The mattress shifts quietly when he leaves early in the morning. He keeps to himself, refusing his compulsions completely with new found fortitude. There is a strength that was never present before.

That rubs me the wrong way, digging up my spine with a force of a pickaxe, one vertebrae at a time. It climbs up me until the doubts start whispering in my head. 

He's seen you...

Doubts play over in my mind, second guessing my decisions, my choices. Groaning into the pillow with the confusion.

He's suffered just as I have. We've suffered in our own private purgatory. I'm just making his worse, unliveable.

Staying in bed just thinking of the consequences of my actions and it's giving me anxiety. What happens if he tosses me away? Who will I have? I'll be condemned to be alone forever. At least with him, I can have some sort of a future, a family. My next thought is I don't even want him, I'm better off alone. I can't love him... can I?

I make my way to breakfast and get two bagels, some cereal, and a few hard boiled eggs. My body's starting to prepare for a future.

My heat cycle is making it extremely hard to tolerate all this clothing. I'm so uncomfortable. My bra's too tight, even my jeans starting to fit tighter. The worst part is the hormones raging in my blood stream, my brain thinking the most inappropriate thoughts of my northerner without my consent.

Images of him and me together, his domination over me, has my wolf yipping out in my head, shaking her ass in glee. She wants us marked and mated. I try to dismiss her feelings with a shake of my head.

The wolf in me wants her mate, the Moon's pull on my body is preparing for a future that has my hormones violently releasing their chemical desires in my blood stream, bombarding me with its need.

If he would've marked me first, he would be able to feel all this, sense when I'm most receptive to his touch. He could use it to his advantage. That's what males do, mark us, get into our heads, little by little weasel their way in until we relinquish ourselves to them, so they don't take us by force.

It's the other way around for us. I can tell when he's at his weakest, I know when to back away from him. Leave, say or do the most hateful things to extinguish his desire for me, so he doesn't take me by force.

The two brothers enter, both sporting large black and purple bruises running along their rib cages and numerous bruises on their faces. Their lips are split open from knuckles hitting them. They both look equally beaten, neither seeming to have had the upper hand. It was a fierce battle, you can see it in the way they wince with each movement of their bodies.

I can't help it, eyeing the both of them up and down. The percussion of my heart beating stronger and stronger in my chest, thumping along in a raging rhythm. I think I even lick my lips, making both brothers uncomfortable. I can't help myself. 

My hormones are all over the place. I want to run up to the Northerner and say I'm sorry, then next, I'm hating him again. I'm a breathing contradiction.

A brother grabs some cereal from the counter and sits at the head of the table, I'm on his right. The Northerner doesn't acknowledge me, preferring to concentrate on his cereal.

Grey's TributeWhere stories live. Discover now