Changeling (Completed)

Day Three-and-a-Half

Ronson took my laptop and I had to blow him to get it back. Anyhoo, here's the rest of day three.

Day Three-and-a-Half - Twenty seven days left

I tiptoe through the mansion after I'm done ransacking the kitchen. I'm hiding, avoiding all of the wolf-people. Working with Wolfie is great, it definitely gives me an edge, but I still feel disoriented. Or, maybe that's the armful of peanut butter jars and almond cookies, along with the gallon of milk, that I'm carrying with me.

 I want to confront Ronson again. I want to see just how far I can push him.

I am on the top floor, his floor, when I hear her voice. High Heels from the dungeon. The woman who sneered at a broken, dead Ingrid, upset that she was alive.

Ah... so his girlfriend, Shana, is High Heels. Good to know.

"Are you telling me that you feel something for that waste of air, Ronson?" she hisses.

"She is a packmember, Shana. I'm responsible for her."

"So? We are having our Claiming Ceremony soon, Ronson! And you fuck some little slut!"

I hate her

I want to tell Wolfie 'duh,' but I need to be quiet. I hate quiet. It's hard enough to be quiet with the crinkly wrappers in my arms without her distracting me.

"She was a one-time mistake, Shana."

One time... a day. Oh, I'm good. I really wish I had someone to share my clever jokes with. Oh well. Maybe in the next life... get it?

I can't lie, I start dancing quietly in place (careful to not drop anything) from the sheer joy of so many jokes in such a short time when Shana's next words interrupt my fun.

"She isn't even doing her job anymore, Ronson! Get rid of her, sell her off!"

Bitch say what? See, I knew Ingrid was a slave. Called it.

"I am not getting rid of her."

"How can you do this to me, Ronnie?" she wails.

Ugh, Ronnie. Eww. Ronnie and Innie, blah. I may have to rethink my seduction plans...

"Shana, I'm not trying to hurt you, but where would she go?"

"Send her away! Fuck your bullshit reasons to keep her here!"

Ronson growls. "I'll consider it, after our Claiming."

He won't want us anymore when he Marks her

"So after our Claiming. For me?"

Ronson sighs, "after our Claiming, in just a month, Shana, I will place the omega somewhere else."

My heart drops to my stomach. 

I stare in horror at the jar of peanut butter I sto-borrowed... yeah, borrowed. It's creamy. I feel my lower lip quiver. I wanted crunchy peanut butter. Now I have to walk all the way downstairs again.

We only have a month?

What? Oh. Well, looks like I'll skate through just in time, then. I'll have to check the exact dates. Poor Wolfie, not that she'll be here, either.

"And in the meantime, will you fuck her again?"

Oh, yes, sweetheart, he will. Maybe I can keep the creamy peanut butter and mix it with crunchy. Do they have crunchy? Bad things will happen to them if they don't.

"I wouldn't touch that little whore again for anything," he snaps. Ouch. That would hurt if I couldn't hear the hint of despair in his voice. (And if I had feelings that even remotely resemble human or wolf ones.) Ronson still wants his little 'mate.' 

I hear a slap followed by a growl. "Don't disrespect your alpha."

"I know you like submissives," High Heels purrs, "but screwing her is a little low, even for you."

I hear another slap, then a squeal. OK, time to get going while they are distracted. I head back to the stairs, only to pause halfway to my usual spot.

Wolfie is howling in agony.

"Hey, what's wrong, Wolfie-girl!" I hiss as I begin to move again.

He hates us! Why doesn't he want us?

"Oh, baby... don't you know men lie like bastards? Let me worry about him, you just try to be happy, OK?" I suck at comforting, I know. Comforting is just overrated and unnecessary.

Why doesn't he want us?

"He does," I tell her firmly. "Now, concentrate. We need crunchy peanut butter."

Shana doesn't like crunchy peanut butter. I think it's kept in the back of the pantry.

Evil, despicable whore, I think to myself, and now I know exactly how to wrap him around my too-skinny, starved, fingers. Submissive indeed, very interesting, Big-Bad.

I find the crunchy peanut butter, thanks be to all that is holy and good in this world, and kick back and relax in my tree. Another cool perk of this life is the balance my body has while perched forty feet off the ground. I'll rest it a bit, then.

To the peeps:

Yeah, so Ronson was a jerk. I promise he isn't as much of a complete douchebag as he seems at first. He's still grumpy, and holy shit when the man is sleep deprived he makes me want to put my fist through his dumb skull, but he's not a complete uncontrollable ass.

Don't scare the birdies,

Innie

P.S. It's OK if you like creamy... just... don't come near me, OK?