When they returned home, Firestar could have placed bets of prey on ThunderClan’s reaction to seeing Brick following him into camp. The stares of befuddlement and mild exasperation were very predictable.
“That is very decidedly not Oracle,” Cinderpelt announced as they passed her.
Firestar gestured for Brick to follow him to the meeting stump, where Cinderpelt was sitting (much calmer than earlier, to his relief). He asked her, “How much did you tell everyone?”
“That you were to meet someone on the border, and that things aren’t right.” Cinderpelt tilted her head, peering at Brick. “I didn’t predict you bringing him in, though.”
“I’ll explain,” Firestar said, resisting a yawn as exhaustion finally caught up to him. With some hard effort, he jumped onto the stump and turned to face the gathering crowd. Crooking his tail, he beckoned Brick to do the same, which the tom did with less of his usual confidence. The looks the Clan was giving him probably didn’t help.
“It’s an absolute nightmare in the Aulmir and the Houses,” Firestar said. His voice wavered with sorrow even as he fought to keep it steady. “The loners and former Blood cats are being captured by humans, cut, and returned to the streets. There’s no leader or direction for them to follow. They’re just… laying around, waiting to die.”
“It’s a lucky thing you took in the little one when you did,” Brick added at a slight tap on his side with Firestar’s tail. “The kits the humans catch, they disappear for good. Pregnant mollies are getting cut too, with their unborn kits being removed from their bellies.”
A hiss of horror swept in a ripple through the Clan. Goldenflower pulled Squirrel closer to her, eyes wide and fearful, as if humans were looming over the pair right now.
“Yeah, it’s not great.” Brick rolled a shoulder. “But hey, at least you Clan cats get to keep your lands.”
“We’re going to figure out a way to help them,” Firestar said. His voice strengthened. “Whatever we can do, we need to do it. They fell apart because Scourge is dead at my paws. I aim to fix that as much as I can.” He nodded to Brick. “Starting with keeping Brick safe here for a while. The remaining cats are furious with him for helping us, so he’s been under attack. With his information on the Aulmir, and his experience, we can find a solution.” He looked back at his Clan. “You don’t need to participate, but I would appreciate it if you did.”
He had anticipated protests, or even just mutterings of dissent. What he got were resigned but fond faces and warriors turning to each other, nodding or murmuring sympathies to the Aulmir cats.
“Thank you,” he said, relief easing his muscles. “Brick will be able to give us further information in the next few days.”
Squirrel poked her head out from around Goldenflower’s leg, squeaking, “Is he gonna sleep in the nursery too?”
“Of course not,” Goldenflower said quickly. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Brick. “He’s a grown-up. He sleeps with the other grown-ups.”
“Oh…” Squirrel frowned with focus. “But kittens all had to stay in a room with a guard, I thought.”
The matriarch tilted her head, squinting. “Do you mean like me?”
“Well, kinda, ‘cuz, ‘cuz when my brother got taken, he had to go learn to fight for the Blood, and other cats like him lived in a garage.” Squirrel’s bushy tail wagged, slapping against Goldenflower’s belly-fur. “And they had a guard, Mi said, to make sure they didn’t run away. And cats to find them and take them, too.”
Out of the corner of Firestar’s eye, Brick stiffened, inhaled, and said quietly, “We did do that.”
The vocal reaction was not friendly. Warriors and apprentices eyed Brick with suspicion now.
“Might as well be honest,” Brick said, seemingly to himself, before lowering his tail and speaking to the crowd. “The Blood had a system to find new recruits as fodder for the army taking out the Clans. Any cat around a year old, or a little younger, that was noticed would be caught and taken to a hideout, where a few of us would train them and keep a close eye on them so they didn’t run.” He grimaced. “I was in charge of judging every recruit that came in to see if they would be worth our time to train.”
Squirrel gasped and bristled, jumping out of Goldenflower’s grasp and scowling at Brick. “Then you let them take my brother!”
“I did,” Brick agreed flatly.
Growls and glares pinned him to where he stood like a mouse under a paw.
Brick, as usual, did not seem particularly frightened. Instead, he raised his head and kept talking. “I’m not proud of it. We were doing what we had to if we wanted to stay alive.” His eyes half-shut and dimmed. “Doesn’t mean it was right. I’m willing to make up for that. If I can.”
No warmth greeted him, exactly, but the air settled a little. Firestar took a step up to the edge of the stump and lifted his tail and voice.
“Brick will contribute while he stays with us,” he said. “But he’ll need help at first. We’ll teach him how to hunt and protect his community, as any ThunderClanner does.” He carefully roamed a stern gaze over the crowd. “And he will be treated with respect as he learns our ways.”
No one argued this, even if their eyes were still narrowed.
“I’ll do what y’all ask,” Brick agreed. “Just show me the way.”
Firestar nodded approvingly. “That’s all for now, then. Let’s get back to business.”
---
Lax and dry as Brick was, he stuck to his word, and he worked. Boy, did he work.
ThunderClan’s distrust gradually eased as Brick practiced hunting with the apprentices (“You’re telling me Tawnypaw isn’t even a year old and she’s that big?”), eventually going out on patrols and bringing back prey himself. He would always wave his tail casually as he dropped his pigeon or rat on the prey-pile, but Firestar didn’t miss his eyes increasingly brightening with pride whenever someone complimented him, or took his contribution to feed the kits or elders.
“What an intriguing idea,” Firestar heard him say to Mousefur one night. “You all keep your old ones around and take care of them like they’re kits.”
Mousefur gave him an amused look. “They spent their entire lives feeding and protecting all of us, long before we were even apprentices. We owe them much more than the prey we give them.”
Brick regarded the elders as they told a story to a repeatedly-interrupting Squirrel. “Seems like this is the place to be when you’re an old coot, then.” He wisely didn’t add to that, with the warning look Mousefur shot him.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know about our elders already,” Teaselfoot said as he strolled by. “They are some of our most precious cats. Darkstripe didn’t rat them out, then?”
“Oh, he was useless.” Brick rolled his eyes. “The most important information he could have given, he didn’t seem to know. By the time he actually told us anything, I was pretty certain he was making it up so the Scourge would let him live. Didn’t work out, obviously.”
Teaselfoot blinked in surprise. “Then why did Scourge claim he knew everything with such certainty?”
Brick’s whiskers twitched dryly. “Wouldn’t you want to intimidate an enemy, if it meant not having to deal with the work of killing all of them?”
Teaselfoot and Mousefur looked at each other in troubled silence, while Brick took the opportunity to visit the prey-pile, bringing a mouse to Halftail as One-eye explained a plot point in her story to Squirrel for the third time.
Despite Brick’s efforts to integrate, Goldenflower emanated an air of intense danger any time he came within a couple body-lengths of the nursery. He attempted a single time to offer her prey. A hiss and a swipe taught him otherwise.
It was hard for him to keep too distant, though; Rainkit and Sootkit were amazed by this stranger and regularly rambled up to him to ask questions, only for Aspencloud to pull them back with a warning squint at Brick. Brick, for his part, immediately bent to the matriarchs, only offering short greetings to the twins before scooting off to do something else and avoid swishing claws.
Rainkit and Sootkit, as should have been expected, quickly figured out a get-around. Whenever Bramblepaw came by to give out prey, they would whisper something to him. Bramblepaw would then shyly approach Brick and ask whatever question the kits had, and Brick, eyes creased in amusement, would answer it. He was careful to not look directly at the twins, only raising his voice in their direction.
“So, um…” Bramblepaw said one night. He, unlike Brick, had to fight hard to be heard. “I was wondering… why did you call yourselves the Blood?”
Brick’s ears slid back and he rolled his eyes, pointedly not flicking his eyes over to the expectantly waiting kits as they sat outside the nursery. “It was Scourge’s idea. Something about ‘the blood of the covenant’ being the blood we would spill fighting for him and our places in heaven. It was the way to show our gratefulness and dedication, or… something stupid like that.” He huffed a chuff. “I thought it sounded ridiculous, but everyone said the name with such awe and worship, I didn’t say anything.”
The twins did not look like they fully understood, but they nodded to each other in silence.
“It does sound a little weird,” Bramblepaw admitted, shuffling his front paws. “What’s a covenant?”
“Like a bond, or a promise between cats. But we used it to refer to the cats that all worked for Scourge. Sort of a gang thing.”
Bramblepaw hummed thoughtfully. Glancing questioningly at the kits, who dismissed him with a wave of their paws, he nodded to Brick. “That’s, um, all I wanted to know. Thank you.”
“Come back if you’ve got more questions,” Brick said, still in that louder voice.
Goldenflower never truly relaxed around Brick in the following nights, but Aspencloud seemed to slowly understand that Brick wasn’t a threat. Not that it stopped her from obeying her mentor’s wishes and keeping the kits close to her or their mother, but her expression was friendlier every time she herded the kits back to the nursery.
Brick, for his part, kept to a corner of camp by the entrance tunnel. He was invited to sleep in the warrior’s den, but politely declined (“Too many claws to potentially slit my throat”). He wasn’t always the last to wake, but the peace of camp seemed to guide his instincts into letting him rest for as long as there wasn’t noise around him. He also ate last and was quick to obey orders, or even suggestions as if they were orders. Over time, he spoke less and less, that suave relaxed air muted to quiet acceptance.
It was… interesting, to watch this tom, of all toms, try to make himself as small as possible.
Mousefur eventually took pity on him, and with some gentle encouragement from Firestar, started inviting Brick to walk in the woods and hunt, or check the borders with a patrol.
(“It’s just that he seems most at ease around you,” Firestar explained.
Mousefur rolled her eyes, but her tone was kind. “I guess I can babysit him, but he’s going to work while he’s with me.”
“Thank you,” Firestar said, not looking over to see Brick listening in and brightening up.)
With this attitude adjustment, and regular contributions, the Clan lightened their behavior around Brick. Even Halftail and Frostfur spoke to him with friendliness. It helped that Brick asked about Clan life with genuine curiosity and always seemed impressed or contemplative when things were explained to him.
“I’ll say this,” he said to Firestar while the two reclined with their dinners. “If the town had a code like y’all do, I don’t even know if Scourge would have gained any power at all.”
“What do you mean?” Firestar asked, his mole untouched.
“I mean, he got so many cats to follow him because he promised structure.” Brick gestured with a paw like he was painting an image in his mind. “In town, it’s everyone for themselves—even siblings will fight for food. But Scourge had rules and ranks. Fairly, they were insane, but it was better than what we had before and after.” His amberish eyes fogged a little as he thought. “It wasn’t safe. Or decent, really. But it was something.”
Firestar’s ears perked, a faint inspiration tapping on his weary mind. “That’s an idea, actually.”
“What’ve you got?”
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Firestar said slowly. “I think we could work with structure for them. I don’t know exactly how, but it’s a good place to start.”
Brick slanted his head as he eyed the short tom beside him. “But will anyone take advice from a Clan cat? Especially the one that killed Scourge?”
Firestar’s heartrate spiked at the reminder and his claws, unbidden, sank into his mole. He had to take a moment to breathe out his tension, which did nothing but allow him to speak without a shaky voice.
“I… I don’t think so,” he managed. “That’s the big problem, really. Why would they listen to us if we’re the cats that sent them into chaos?”
There must have been something in his face giving his state away, because Brick eyed him warily and tightened his mouth into a thin line. Out of the corner of Firestar’s eye, a passing Lizardtail started walking faster, tail stiff, his eyes pointedly facing forward.
Inexplicably, in the storm of fear and guilt, anger poked its head through. What? What’s Lizardtail’s problem? I didn’t even say anything.
“And they likely won’t want to talk to you, either,” he did say to Brick. “Not right now, anyway. So once we have an offer, we need to find a way to introduce it to them and make it sound like a good idea.”
Brick didn’t quite relax, but he responded quietly. “Yeah, that’ll be hard.”
“But we will find a way,” Firestar promised, forcing his breath to be steady. “Maybe once the humans have left the Aulmir cats alone, and we know what we want to do, things will be more peaceful between all of us.”
Brick didn’t answer. His pupils were slits, eyes narrowed.
Unsure if it was still whatever Brick was reacting to before, Firestar let his claws curl tightly until the muscles in his paws shook, retracted them, and asked calmly, “Mind a nibble on your thoughts?”
He was sure that if Brick had had any back-fur left, it would be lifted, even with his relaxed tone. “I’ll admit that I’m half-concerned that there won’t be any cats to go back and speak to, by the time we know what to offer.”
Firestar stiffened. “…Surely the humans wouldn’t take everyone, would they?”
“You saw the start of how bad it is out there,” Brick said. “No kittens, no queens, so many cats with a cut ear. Even if a structure was introduced, who’s to say that we won’t be the last generation to live by it?”
That… Firestar hadn’t accounted for that. He stared down at his tattered mole, ears lowered.
There was a long pause before Brick spoke again, quiet and tense. “There’s a real possibility that you Clans will be the last cats standing, war or peace. I don’t know what to do about that.”
“…I don’t, either,” Firestar murmured. His tail wrapped around his side, his heartrate threatening another sprint.
Both toms were silent again. Brick started back on his prey. Firestar didn’t touch his.
Some of the cats might have run away from the Aulmir, his mind tried to offer. Maybe they’ll come back, and since they’re not altered, they can keep whatever society is formed going.
But why would they come back? another part of him argued. It’s awful there on a good day. The ones who ran, they might have fled past the horizon.
He couldn’t answer either of these trails of thought. Had he really screwed things up this badly, that he may have led the Aulmir cats to extinction?
HOURS DRIFTED BY SMOOTHLY, THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE PARTY EXUDED A RELAXED AND COMFORTING AURA... Following the farewell of their comrade, the crowd seamlessly returned to the dance floor, couples swaying to the rhythm, while others gathered around the bar, indulging in drinks and laughter. The aroma of barbecue filled the air, enticing soldiers to savor the delicious feast laid out before them. "And then I was like 'No, your dad's fat — oh wait...' That sure taught that son of a bitch not to diss me!" Bucky narrated, eliciting snorts from his friends. "Jesus, that was brutal, John." Remarked Buck, unable to stifle his laughter despite the regret.
"So, there was this time Ducky dropped- uh, I don't quite remember her name... Was it Dorothy?" Gale began, scratching his head as he recalled the absurdity. "Dolores! Oh my god- yes, Dolores." y/n confirmed, already giggling at the memory. "Yeah, so when y/n was the new kid in town, she had a bit of trouble making friends, especially in school since I was a few grades higher due to age." He explained, setting the scene. "And then, this girl, Dolores smacked away her PB&J sandwich during lunch one day. Three months later, when she got her grandmother's urn to mourn the loss, our beloved Duckling here decides to settle scores and smacked them ashes away!"
"Holy crap, you're insane!" The raven exclaimed, bursting into chortles, joined by a few more crewmen who had overheard the bizarre incident. "And the best part? Her explanation to the Headmaster and the girl's parents," Gale added, shaking his head in disbelief but still chuckling. "Hey, I think it was only fair. You smack away my food, I smack away your most cherished/prized possession." Shrugged the girl, earning even more laughter from the two. "Major Egan, Major Cleven, Major l/n..." Their jokes were cut short by a familiar brunette approaching the trio. "What's up, Rose?" Greeted the girl. "I uh, I heard you all were already on 20 missions."
"Around there..." Replied the blonde, tensing up a little. "Well, he's at 21, and she's at 23." Bucky informed, his tone serious. "Holy shit- 23? Isn't that, like, 2 missions from heading home?" Robert's eyes widened with shock. "Mhm. But I'll probably ask for more." y/n mused, her voice firm as she swirled her drink. "What? Why would you do that?" Questioned the blonde. "Because I didn't come this far to only get this far. I'm not stopping until I personally escort Hitler's deranged ass down to the very depths of hell." She deadpanned, her y/e/c eyes ablaze with a ferocity neither of the men had seen before.
"Well um, any advice, Majors?" The brunette then spoke in a pleading tone. "You know the drill, Rosie. It's war. The only measure of success is basically survival." Slurred the girl, finishing her drink. "Okay, that's enough for the night, Duck." Sighed the blonde, pushing away the bottle she was going to grab. "But uh, yeah... What she said — try to stay alive." He then advised the brunette. "For at least 11 missions." Bucky chimed in. "Yes, sir. What happens after that?" Inquired the man. "Ah, you beat the odds. Or you didn't, you know." Shrugged the raven, clearly intoxicated. "Thank you, Majors." Mumbled Rosie, walking away, somewhat disappointed.
"I'll see you on the dance floor soon, Rosenthal!" Cried the girl after him. "You two seem close..." Remarked Buck, his voice laced with envy and suspicion. "Oh yeah- yeah, he's like the Buck to my inner Bucky." Answered the girl casually, not giving it much thought. "Anything I should be worried about?" He asked bluntly. "Why would you be worried?" She asked, confused. "Because — never mind." He sighed after a long pause. "All these new faces; when we go down, they won't remember either of us. It's gonna be like we never existed, Buck, Duck." Egan murmured, shifting the conversation. "Oh, they'll remember me, alright. Being the only female pilot in a bomb group full of men has its perks, boys."
"My boys!" Colonel Harding popped out of nowhere, followed by his faithful companion, Major Bowman. "Colonel Harding." The soldiers acknowledged. "Oh, and who might this lovely lady be, Major Cleven?" He smirks, eyeing the girl with interest. "Just me, sir," y/n replied with an annoyed roll of her eyes, catching the scent of alcohol on his breath from just 3 feet away. "Ew, l/n- gross!" He recoiled, realizing his mistake, prompting soft snickers from the others. "Ouch?" She scoffed, hurt but amused. "You know, even at parties, you should really consider wearing your pilot's hat." He suggested. "You and I both know that's not happening, Colonel,"
"Very well then... Listen up, lady and gentlemen." He cleared his throat, raising his hands in a surrendering motion. "I just had a mood-killing conversation with Doc Stover, and he thinks you sissies could be getting flak-happy." He explained. "Not us, sir." Scoffed the girl on behalf of her mates who all nodded along in agreement. "I told him war is war, and the longer you go at it, the more it screws a man up. It's been that way since the first caveman, son of a bitch, picked up a club and went after the other." The brunette scoffed. "Did cavemen go for head-shrinking?" He then cocked up a brow. "No." The men answered strongly. "Not that I know of, sir."
"You're damn sure not," Harding remarked with a smirk, glancing around at the boisterous crowd. "What counts is that you soldiers show up ready and able to fight, isn't that right?" His gaze lingered on the group before him, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "What you do between battles..." He let the words hang in the air, his voice trailing off as laughter erupted throughout the bar, punctuated by clinking glasses and raucous cheers. "I like your style, sir." Grinned Bucky shamelessly, everybody toasting to his statement. "Aerial combat like this hasn't been around since the cavemen, sir." Bowman deadpanned.
"Well, of course not, Red. Every war has its novelties." The brunette retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he glanced around at his comrades. Chuckles rippled through the soldiers, adding to the lively environment of the party. Harding's gaze swept over the festive decorations with a critical eye. "Who the hell decorated this fiesta?" He questioned, his voice low and serious as he surveyed the scene before him. "Well, I put together a committee, sir." Jack replied, trying to keep a straight face despite the colonel's evident disapproval. "The damn plane looks like it's in a nosedive." Harding scoffed, his remark followed by the hearty laughter of the soldiers.
"Fire 'em. Fire the committee!" y/n teased, adding to the joviality of the moment. "I won't bother next time..." Muttered the Air Executive, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, though there was a hint of disappointment in his voice at the lack of appreciation for his efforts. "Come on, get in. Come here- I've got something to tell ya." The colonel then changed the topic, beckoning the group to huddle in. As Buck's hands gently rested on the girl's cool shoulders, he felt a rush of warmth flood through him, his heart beating a little faster at the contact. Leaning on her for support, he couldn't help but savor the sensation. In that fleeting moment, amidst the serious discussion they were drawn into, Gale found himself yearning for more, captivated by the subtle electricity that sparked between them.
"You know how we could end this whole thing tonight?" He began, his voice carrying a hint of gravity. "We fill up one of our forts with as many 500 pounders as she can hold, we bomb the hell out of Hitler's hidey-hole." His suggestion was met with raised eyebrows and uncertain glances. "I'm sure Red and Bubbles could locate that mustachioed little fucker." He scoffed. "Yes, sir!" Bubbles chimed in enthusiastically, playing along with the Colonel's wild idea, while the others exchanged amused looks. "Harding's finally lost is, hasn't he?" y/n whispered to the blonde, who simply hummed in response, still lost in his own thoughts.
"Now Now who's flak-happy?" Quipped the raven. "Who?" Asked the brunette. "You are." Bucky spoke boldly. "You are." Growled the crazy colonel. "No, you are... sir." The man insisted, slapping the drunk CO's chest lightheartedly, the tension between the two reaching an all time high, making the group members all glance at the man before looking at Harding, and then back to Bucky, their anticipation only growing higher as they switched their glances back and forth, nervously awaiting the outcome, which they were certain wasn't going to be pretty — until the brunette suddenly burst out laughing. 'Psycho...'
"Mmm, single fillies." He then noticed, winking at the ladies on the dance floor with a mischievous grin. "Come on, boys. Let's get the lead out." He commanded, striding away with his eager comrades in tow, their hungry eyes fixed on the dancing women. "Single fillies! Order's an order." Complied Pipsqueak almost instantly. "Let's go, men." Beamed another as they all marched away. "Hey, Tatty- Tatty, Tatty... You know you can't resist." Doug smiled, running after his lady, taking her arm in his courteously. "Aww, guess chivalry's not dead after all, fellas." Gushed the girl, rooting for the couple.
"You two need a break." Buck mused, taking a sip of water. "I think the colonel ought to fix you up a weekend pass." He then muttered. "Mmm- You should come." Bucky shrugged. "London... Let's do it up — Paint the town red; Ye Unholy Trinity strike again." He attempted persuading the two lovebirds. "As tempting as that sounds, I'll have to pass." Declined the girl. "The longer I stay jobless, the crazier I can feel myself getting." She sighed, figuring that now would be the perfect time to dance her worries away. "I'll catch up with you two later." She waved them off, walking away. "And you, Buck? London?" Questioned the raven. "Yeah, maybe next time..."
Not known for his dancing prowess, Gale found himself drawn to the floor, unable to resist the pull of the lively atmosphere and the sight of y/n dancing with another man. With a mix of protective instinct and personal interest, he couldn't bear to sit idly by. However, he also didn't want to lead any other women on, reserving his moves for the one who held his heart. Instead, he approached their furry companion, planting a kiss atop its head before extending his hand for a slow dance. Amidst the snickers of their comrades, the blonde swayed gracefully with Meatball, enjoying the moment as Bucky teased him about his unconventional dance partner.
"Oh wow- Once a heartbreaker, always a heartbreaker... Ain't that right, Cleven?"
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Tag List: @deathwho @beebeechaos @sc4rl3tteb1tch @abysscorpus @darkwindysoul
"PLEASE," RENESMEE IMPLORED HIM, HER eyes pleading for mercy.
In response, his lips curved into a soft smile, his demeanour transforming into one of kindness. "Of course I have no desire to harm your loved ones, precious Renesmee. Their safety is of utmost importance to me."
Aro's words were like a soothing balm, lulling me into a sense of security. But as I turned to face Maggie, her sharp intake of breath shattered the illusion. He was lying. His honeyed words were nothing but a facade, a mask to hide his true intentions. Before I could even approach, Ingram still held onto me, keeping me in place.
Aro pondered aloud, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity, "I wonder..." His words hung in the air, as if waiting for someone to catch them.
Jacob, the giant wolf, stood before him, his eyes blazing with fury. But Aro's gaze was fixed on him, not with disgust like the other Volturi, but with a sense of wonder. He was intrigued by the creature before him, and his eyes roamed over Jacob's form, taking in every detail.
Edward's voice cut through the silence like a knife, his tone harsh and unforgiving. "It doesn't work that way," he said, his words dripping with disdain.
But Aro was undeterred. He continued to appraise Jacob openly, his eyes moving slowly across the two lines of wolves behind them. Renesmee had shown him something, something that had piqued his interest.
"They don't belong to us, Aro," Edward reminded him. "They don't follow our commands that way. They're here because they want to be."
Jacob growled menacingly, warning Aro to back off. But the vampire was unfazed. "They seem quite attached to you, though," he said, his voice soft and caressing. "And your young mate and your... family. Loyal."
Edward's words were sharp and to the point. "They're committed to protecting human life, Aro. That makes them able to coexist with us but hardly with you. Unless you're rethinking your lifestyle."
Aro laughed merrily, as if the conversation was nothing more than a game. "Just an errant thought," he repeated. "You well know how that is. None of us can entirely control our subconscious desires."
"I do know how that is. And I also know the difference between that kind of thought and the kind with a purpose behind it. It could never work, Aro."
Jacob's vast head turned in Edward's direction, and a faint whine slipped from between his teeth.
"He's intrigued with the idea of... guard dogs," Edward murmured back.
Then, the whole wolf pack began to growl as if disgusted by the proposal. And then, with a sudden ferocity that shook the very ground beneath their feet, the pack erupted into a chorus of snarls and growls that echoed through the vast clearing. But amidst the chaos, a voice cut through the din like a knife. It was Sam, their leader, the large black wolf, barking out a command that silenced the pack in an instant. The quiet that followed was heavy with the weight of unspoken threats, as the beasts glared at their target with a fierce intensity that made the very air crackle with electricity.
Aro chuckled, his laughter echoing through the clearing. "I suppose that answers that question," he said, his eyes glinting mischievously. "This lot has picked its side."
Edward's eyes narrowed, his body tense with anger and Bella clung to his arm. What could Aro be thinking that would provoke such a reaction from her beloved?
Felix and Demetri crouched low, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. But Aro waved them off with a flick of his wrist, his attention focused solely on the Cullens.
"There is much to discuss," he said, his voice suddenly business-like. "So much to decide. If you and your furry protector will excuse me, my dear Cullens, I must confer with my brothers."
With that, Aro turned and beckoned his guard forward. The Cullens watched in silence as the dark cloaks closed in around him, forming a protective circle.
Edward began to back away, pulling Bella and Emmett with him. Jacob followed, his fur bristling with anger as he bared his teeth at Aro. Renesmee clung to his tail, refusing to let go.
As they retreated, the distance between them and the Volturi shrank to a mere fifty yards. Caius began to argue with Aro, his voice rising in anger.
The tension in the clearing was tangible, the air thick with anticipation. What would happen next? The fate of the Cullens hung in the balance, our future uncertain. Only time would tell what the outcome of this fateful meeting would be.
"How can you abide this infamy?" He boomed at Aro. "Why do we stand here impotently in the face of such an outrageous crime, covered by such a ridiculous deception?" He held his arms rigidly at his sides, his hands curled into claws.
"Because it's all true," Aro told him calmly. "Every word of it. See how many witnesses stand ready to give evidence that they have seen this miraculous child grow and mature in just the short time they've known her. That they have felt the warmth of the blood that pulses in her veins."
Aro's hand swept gracefully from Amun to Siobhan, encompassing us all in his gesture. Then, his hand stopped to my smile with a widened smile. "Even Gabriel and his coven," he added, his voice smooth and soothing.
Caius reacted strangely to Aro's words, his features shifting from anger to cold calculation. He glanced nervously at the Volturi witnesses, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. As I looked out at the crowd, I saw that the frenzy had dissipated, replaced by confusion and whispered conversations. I hoped that Bella's shield was holding strong, protecting us all from harm.
"It's there," Don't worry, Violet. Bella's going great." Joseph's words were like a balm to my anxious soul.
"We got this, remember?" Ingram assured me.
I had been holding my breath, waiting for any sign that Bella's training had been for naught. But as Carlisle approached Tanya, Bella's shield followed him like a loyal guard dog. I smiled at her with pride for her progress.
"The werewolves," he murmured.
My relief was short-lived as Caius's attention turned to the wolves. Panic set in as I prayed that Bella's shield extended to them as well. The last thing we needed was a pack of angry werewolves on our hands.
My mind raced with thoughts of Ayla, Ethan and the rest of the pack. I was grateful that she wasn't there to witness the chaos, but my heart ached for Seth and Leah. Despite their personal struggles, they were still fiercely loyal to their pack and were willing to put themselves in harm's way to protect them.
"Ah, brother...."
As Aro responded to Caius's observation with a pained expression, I couldn't help but wonder what other challenges lay ahead for us. But for now, I took comfort in Joseph's words and the knowledge that Bella was holding her own against the Volturi.
"Will you defend that alliance, too, Aro?" Caius demanded. "The Children of the Moon have been our bitter enemies from the dawn of time. We have hunted them to near extinction in Europe and Asia. Yet Carlisle encourages a familiar relationship with this enormous infestation—no doubt in an attempt to overthrow us. The better to protect his warped lifestyle."
I wanted to laugh that that moment — with the Volturi thinking the shapeshifters were proper werewolves — but it was Edward's throaty cough that prevented me, drawing the attention of Caius, who shot him a withering glare. Meanwhile, Aro, the oldest and wisest of the ancients, placed a slender hand over his face, as if to shield himself from the embarrassment of his fellow elder's behaviour.
"Caius, it's the middle of the day," Edward pointed out. He gestured to Jacob. "These are not Children of the Moon. They bear no relation to your enemies on the other side of the world."
"You breed mutants here," Caius spat back at him.
A dread imagery of Cauis over Ayla's dead body invaded my mind. I knew he was afraid of the werewolves yet I couldn't help myself thinking about my sister's death by their hands.
"They're don't know about your sister," Joseph reminded. "And I think it would be wise to get that out of your head now."
Ingram began to rub my arm and just avoided the bite mark on my wrist. "It's okay," he whispered to me. "And they don't know about the Lunaris Mark too."
Ingram was right. If I kept my bite mark hidden and my thoughts of Ayla out of my head, then we'll be fine. Edward's jaw clenched and unclenched, and then he answered evenly, "They aren't even werewolves. Aro can tell you all about it if you don't believe me."
"Dear Caius, I would have warned you not to press this point if you had told me your thoughts," Aro murmured. "Though the creatures think of themselves as werewolves, they are not. The more accurate name for them would be shapeshifters. The choice of a wolf form was purely chance. It could have been a bear or a hawk or a panther when the first change was made.
"These creatures truly have nothing to do with the Children of the Moon. They have merely inherited this skill from their fathers. It's genetic—they do not continue their species by infecting others the way true werewolves do."
Caius glared at Aro with irritation and something more—an accusation of betrayal, maybe.
"They know our secret," he said flatly.
Edward looked about to answer this accusation, but Aro spoke faster.
"They are creatures of our supernatural world, brother. Perhaps even more dependent upon secrecy than we are; they can hardly expose us. Carefully, Caius. Specious allegations get us nowhere."
Caius took a deep breath and nodded. They exchanged a long, significant glance.
Caius's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife. "I want to talk to the informant," he announced abruptly and turned his glare on Irina.
But Irina was lost in her own world of pain and regret. Her eyes were fixed on her sisters, who were now facing certain death. She knew that her false accusation had led them to this fate.
Caius's impatience grew as he waited for Irina to respond. Finally, he barked her name, forcing her to look up at him. She was startled and afraid, like a deer caught in the headlights.
With a snap of his fingers, Caius summoned her to stand before him. "You were mistaken in your allegations," he said coldly, his eyes piercing hers.
Tanya and Kate leaned forward, their faces etched with anxiety. They knew that their fate hung in the balance.
"I'm sorry," Irina whispered, her voice barely audible. "I should have made sure of what I was seeing. But I had no idea. . . ." Her voice trailed off as she gestured helplessly towards us.
Aro, ever the diplomat, interjected. "Dear Caius, could you expect her to have guessed in an instant something so strange and impossible? Any of us would have made the same assumption."
Caius snapped his fingers, silencing Aro's rambling. With a flick of his wrist, he commanded the attention of the meeting. "We all know you made a mistake," he barked, his voice sharp as a blade. "But I meant to speak of your motivations."
Irina waited for him to continue. "My motivations?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
Caius nodded, his eyes piercing. "Yes, for coming to spy on them in the first place."
The word "spy" hung in the air like a dark cloud, and Irina flinched. What was Caius getting at?
"You were unhappy with the Cullens, were you not?" he continued, his voice like ice.
Irina's eyes darted to Carlisle's face, searching for some kind of support. "I was," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
"Because...?" Caius prompted, his eyes boring into hers.
"Because the werewolves killed my friend," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "And the Cullens wouldn't stand aside to let me avenge him."
Aro corrected her quietly, but Caius was already on a roll. "So the Cullens sided with the shape-shifters against our kind, against the friend of a friend, even," he summarised, his voice dripping with disdain.
As I watched Irina, I couldn't help but wonder if her apology was genuine or just an act. Was this all about revenge? Did she even care about Renesmee or this trial? It seemed like she just wanted to hurt the Cullens, and for what? The wolf killed her mate when he was planning to kill Bella.
Edward made a disgusted sound under his breath, and I knew he was thinking the same thing. Caius was ticking down his list, looking for an accusation that would stick. Irina's shoulders stiffened, and I could see the fear in her eyes. She knew she was in trouble.
"That's how I saw it," Caius concluded, his voice dripping with malice. He paused for a moment, relishing in the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. Then, with a sly grin, he continued, "But perhaps you have a different perspective, Irina. Perhaps you'd like to make a formal complaint against the shape-shifters and the Cullens for supporting their actions. Now would be the time."
Irina's eyes narrowed, her body tense with anger. Caius was playing a dangerous game, and she knew it. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
"No," she said firmly. "I have no complaint against the wolves or the Cullens. You came here today to destroy an immortal child. No immortal child exists. This was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for it. But the Cullens are innocent, and you have no reason to still be here. I'm so sorry," she added, turning to us with a look of genuine remorse. "There was no crime. There's no valid reason for you to continue here."
Caius's hand shot up, and in it was a strange metal object, intricately carved and ornate. It glinted in the dim light of the field, casting eerie shadows on the snow.
For a moment, no one spoke. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the soft hiss of the torches that lined the snow.
"You dare to defy us?" he roared, his eyes blazing with fury. "You dare to question our authority?"
But Irina stood her ground, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "I do," she said, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "I question your authority. I question your methods. And I will not stand by while you destroy innocent lives."
Three Volturi soldiers suddenly sprang forward, their grey cloaks billowing around them like a shroud. Irina was swallowed up by their ominous presence, her screams muffled by the thick fabric. A deafening metallic screech rent the air, sending shivers down our spines. And then, just as suddenly, the cacophony ceased.
Caius slithered into the centre of the grey mass, his eyes gleaming with a cold, merciless light. The soldiers retreated, leaving him alone with the smouldering remains of Irina. Sparks and tongues of flame licked at the air, casting an eerie glow over the clearing.
For a moment, we were all frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the horror unfolding before us. Caius stood there, his hand still clutching the metal object that had caused the inferno. With a small click, the flames vanished, leaving behind a charred, lifeless heap.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd of witnesses, but no one dared to speak. We were all too afraid, too stunned by the suddenness of it all. Death had come with a fierce, unstoppable speed, and we were powerless to stop it.
Caius smiled coldly, his eyes glittering with triumph. "Now she has taken full responsibility for her actions," he declared, his voice ringing out like a death knell.
But Tanya and Kate were not so easily silenced. They roared with fury, their voices echoing through the clearing. "IRINA!" they cried, their grief and rage mingling together in a fierce, primal howl.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
"A hotel?” She rests between his splayed legs. They are in his room. He has taken a break from work to spend time with her during the children ‘s nap time.
“It will have to be. I am sorry love that it must be so..”
“Perfect.” She replies, resting against him, “wherever we are, it will be perfect.”
“I would love to make love to you here. But for all the bairns, I would.”
“I know darling. Really, it is alright. Ian will do fine with watching his own and Kiara. “
“He will.”
“It was nice of him to offer.”
He laughs as he runs his hands down her arms, finding her own and lacing them together. “He told me he was tired of seeing me stare at you with hungry eyes.”
“Hungry eyes, huh?” He uses their bond hands to press her up against his erection.
“Aye.” They neither one can wait until Friday, two days from then.
Sometimes things come easy to you. Like your first kiss, riding a bike, running after learning how to walk, or trust when it’s coupled with love. But there’s always an added layer to easy things. I mean that even if the thing comes easy, there may be a part of it that's hard. Like riding a marathon on your bike, or running in sand, or kissing someone even if you’re mad. And trust? Trust can be tested just with a look. It’s a fragile thing that just wishes to be whisked away at a glance, a touch.
Maya woke the next morning wrapped in Paul’s arms, her left arm slung across his stomach with her head tucked under his chin. Low light was coming through the high windows and Maya didn’t want to move. Last night was like a dream. It had felt like her and Paul had taken a huge step forward and that they were finally finding some kind of a rhythm together.
Maybe it was too soon to tell, but she was going to hold onto this feeling for as long as she could with him. She let her eyes drift down the length of his naked body not covered by the soft white sheet and marvelled at the hard, russet skin that dipped in perfect muscular outlines. His warm hand wrapped down the length of her back and his hand rested softly on her naked hip. His breath pulled deep through his lungs and the sound as his chest rose and fell was a melody to her.
The imprint in her always thrilled when she felt like this and pulled tighter at the bond that linked them together. She leaned into that feeling, letting the intensity of that bond wash through her and felt Paul instinctually tighten his grip on her. A smile broke across her face at the rush of warmth that filled her body as she focused on that feeling and the shackles that she once thought the imprint had clamped to her fell away. She knew she could easily lose herself in this euphoria that the imprint provided if she wanted too. Paul made a low humming noise of pleasure as he turned his head to one side. She wondered if he was still asleep and lifted her head to look up at him.
His eyes were still closed, that soft look of sleep pulled across his face and Maya bit her lower lip in anticipation. She brought her right hand up to run softly down the line of his jaw and the ring he had given her glittered in the soft light. He let out a soft exhale of breath and then opened his eyes halfway to look down at her. She gave him a soft smile and he murmured,
“Good morning baby,” before his eyes closed again in a yawn. Maya’s stomach clenched happily at the pet name and she lowered her lips to kiss his chest.
“Good morning,” she said softly. His hand that rested on her hip moved back and forth over her hip and to her ass as he brought his other hand to her hair.
“Sleep okay?” he said. She leaned her head into the hand that was in her hair now.
“Yeah, great.”
“You hungry?” he asked. His need to always take care of her was written plainly on his face. Maya nodded and let her index finger run across his lips. He smiled, “Okay. But first,” and in a flash he had gripped her waist and moved her beneath him, his naked body hovering warmly over hers. His lips dipped to her neck as his right knee cinched between her legs pushing them open. Maya leaned her head up to connect her lips onto his and he responded by cupping the side of her neck with one hand and placing his other between her legs.
She was already ready for him, the want clear in his touch and he smiled in their kiss before pressing into her. She moaned into his mouth as he entered her, pushing all the way in on the first thrust and holding himself in there so he could feel her grip him in response. She stirred her hips beneath him, pulling a low sound from his throat before he started to move in and out of her.
As they made love in the low morning light, Maya let herself get lost in the warm thrum of the imprint as it beckoned Paul forward hungrily.
Later that afternoon, Maya was tucked into the backseat of a town car as it whisked her through the downtown streets of Seattle. Paul had happily kissed her before she hurried out of his workshop to leave him to finish up some commissions. He’d asked her to go and buy some clothes to keep in his loft and something nice to wear tonight. He had an informal client meeting at a nice whiskey bar and asked if she would come with him. She had agreed and now as she hopped from store to store stocking her wardrobe for his workshop loft, Maya reclined into this newfound freedom.
She didn’t let herself settle there for too long though, because if she did, the imprint would pang in her a need to return to Paul, to feel him around her and in her. Or maybe that was just her—Maya was starting to lose the line between her love for Paul and the imprint.
At half past five, Maya returned, laden down with bags, and stumbled into the workshop. It was empty and Maya looked around her before realizing that the shower was on upstairs. After depositing her haul onto their bed, she crept toward the bathroom. She could see through the fogged shower door that he was washing his face under the water and taking advantage of this moment, she threw the shower door back and yelled a loud ‘WAH!’ at him.
He jumped and threw his body back against the tile with a shout so loud she thought he’d had a heart attack. Maya immediately buckled over in laughter and when he realized it was her, he gave a huff of relief and then, as delicious revenge he said,
“Really?!” before lunging for her fully clothed body and yanking her into the shower with him under the warm water. She gave a startled shriek but gladly let him pull her under the warm water with him. She was soaked and his hands roamed over her body eagerly as he brought his mouth down onto hers. She cupped either side of his face and giggled before pulling back to look at him. “That’s what you get for scaring me,” he said.
“Oh I’m soooo sorry,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. His eyes lit up in amusement and he was already pulling the cotton shirt over her head, dropping it wet and heavy on the shower floor.
Maya let him undress her, watching his face turned to that of a kid in a candy store as he unclasped her bra in the front and yanked her wet jean shorts over her hips. “Are you having fun?” she asked to his growing look of desperation. He brought his eyes back up to hers once he had gotten her naked and gave her a wicked grin.
“Oh yeah,” he said before lifting her up quickly and pushing her back against the cool tile. Maya gasped at the feeling before he greedily lowered her hips down onto him.
She was starting to understand the difference between when they were making love and when Paul just needed to connect with her, thrusting and holding her hips onto him as he leaned into their bond. It most often happened when he needed to feel in control, or if they had been apart for a while.
Whatever it was, Maya came to love that hot, needy look in his eye as he claimed her as his. She looped her arms around his neck as he bit gently down on her shoulder with a low growl. She moaned in his ear and felt him come. After holding her to the wall for a moment as he recovered, he gently set her down and leaned down to kiss her, a silent thank you.
Paul held the umbrella over Maya as they made their way down the street toward the bar. It wasn’t too far from Paul’s loft so they decided to walk even in the light drizzle. Maya was wearing a small, dark blue cocktail dress that hit just above her knees and gripped every curve of her body. The thin straps ended in an open v-shape at the back and the dress dipped low toward a cinched knot at her lower back. The front was a sharp straight line across her chest that accentuated her collarbone and made her breasts look larger than they were in the tight, high cut. Her dark black hair hung in a silky straight curtain down her back and she finished the look with a warm coppery eyeshadow, dark fluffy lashes, and a soft bronzed cheek glow.
Paul complemented her look with dark jeans and a dark blue button down that he cuffed at his elbow and finished with light brown shoes. The rain dotted his hair and by the time they’d made it to the bar, he ran a hand through it to slick it back casually. A small piece fell in front of his face and Maya brought a hand up to tuck it back while he spoke to the hostess and handed his umbrella to the coat check attendant.
“Right this way, Mr. Lahote, Miss Sunriviere,” the hostess said. When she said Maya’s name, she pronounced it with a French accent that made Maya smile and look up at Paul who gave her a goofy grin before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding her forward.
They were seated in a sunken soft area with crushed velvet armchairs and couches next to a grand fireplace that was emitting low warmth.
“Did you build that too?” Maya said under her breath to Paul as she plopped down on the couch next to him and pointed to the intricately carved wooden fireplace.
“Ah, no definitely not me.” Paul said, letting his eyes span the length of the towering fireplace in admiration. A waitress walked up to them and they ordered a couple of drinks. Paul reclined against the sofa, an arm behind Maya as he sipped his whiskey. They weren’t there long before his clients arrived, a middle-aged couple named Clark and Janelle. Maya shook both of their hands and Janelle held onto hers a little longer, a soft glimmer in her dark brown eyes as she said,
“Oh you’re Maya! It’s so nice to meet you. Paul’s mentioned you when we had him over for dinner last time he was in town,” Janelle gave Paul a gentle smile and Paul nodded toward Maya,
“The one and only,” he said. Maya looked over her shoulder at him, seemingly left out of the inside look they gave one another.
“What am I missing?” Maya said conspiratorially as she leaned toward Janelle who gave a twinkling laugh and pulled her to sit with her in the two green velvet armchairs closer to the fire.
“Nothing dear,” she waved her deep brown hand set with bright red nails in front of her face as if to wave away the question, “We’re just so happy he brought you along this time. He was looking pretty….weathered last time,” she leaned over and patted her knee, “But! He’s all aglow now. And he said you’re going to Columbia, is that right?” Janelle simply gushed causing Maya to blush in the warm light of the fire. Paul was talking with Clark and brought Maya her drink, depositing it into her hand while still carrying on with Clark. Maya drank it heartily and gave Janelle a nod.
“That’s right.” Maya said. Janelle reminded her of her mother and Maya warmed to the feeling. She and Janelle fell easily into conversation with one another as Maya told her about her plans for college, Paul, her friends, everything. She was just an easy person to talk to.
“I see he also made sure to showcase what a catch you are by literally putting a ring on it,” she gestured to the diamond and pearl band on Maya’s middle finger. Maya pulled her hand forward to look at it as if she forgot it was there for a moment and then chuckled.
“Oh gosh, yeah that was a surprise. He’s way too generous,” Maya blushed again and when she looked toward him, Paul’s eyes were on her, a warm smile on his face as he stood closer to the bar with Clark. Maya’s breath caught in her throat and she fiddled with the ring for a second before holding her hand out at Janelle’s request to look at it closer.
“A man in love can never be too generous in my experience,” Janelle said as she looked expertly at the ring, “And this man has very good taste.” She patted the top of Maya’s hand as she took it back. Paul was next to her now, Clark in tow, and handed Maya a fresh drink.
“Janelle, are you behaving yourself?” Clark teased.
“Just shopping,” she nodded to Maya’s hand and Paul laughed.
“Fair enough. I was going to tear Paul away to the reserves cellar. Would you ladies like to join us or are you okay here?” Clark looked from Janelle to Maya, but Janelle answered for them:
“Oh, please. We’re fine. If you’ve seen one old whiskey bottle, you’ve seen them all, right Maya?” she joked. Maya nodded and Paul leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her lips before saying,
“I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” she smiled sweetly up at him. When the men had disappeared behind a hidden door behind the bar, Janelle said,
“Oh to be young and in love.” Maya laughed and conceded to that fact. She was done trying to hide her immense love of Paul Lahote. And Janelle was good company.
Twenty minutes later with Paul and Clark still gone, Maya excused herself to the restroom. As she went to grab the door to the women’s room, a tall dark haired woman was exiting at the same time. Maya excused herself and they slipped past each other exchanging pleasantries.
After Maya freshened up, reapplying her warm lipstick, she walked back toward her spot in the sunken seating area. Janelle was talking with someone who had taken Maya’s seat and when she got close enough, Janelle said,
“Oh! There she is. Maya!” Janelle stood up and the woman who was in Maya’s chair stood slowly to turn and face her. It was the same woman she had passed when she went into the restroom, but she got a better look at her this time. “Maya, this Rachel. Rachel Black.”
Rachel. The same Rachel from that text message she had accidentally read the night after Paul grabbed her from the club? Maya didn’t know why but as she reached out to take Rachel’s hand, her heart hammered in her chest and her mouth turned to ash. Maya’s mouth opened in surprise as Rachel put her warm hand in hers and shook in firmly and slowly.
“Ah, so you’re Maya Sunriviere.” Rachel said. There was a glimmer of something Maya couldn’t quite place in her eye—was it jealousy? But how could Rachel be jealous of her? She was stunning. She was tall, taller than Maya, and had a strong lean frame. Her eyes were a pale auburn color that caught the light and her full mouth anchored her narrow face. She looked like the daughter of the chief, that was for sure. Her dark soft hair swept down around her shoulders elegantly and she exuded confidence. Maya tried to stand tall in her pumps, but it was hard not to feel small next to someone like Rachel. A soft smirk fell over Rachel’s face as she reclaimed Maya’s seat, causing her to sit across from her and Janelle. Maya couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the new kid to this world and she hoped Paul would come back soon. She belonged with Paul which meant she belonged in his world too, right?
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Janelle gushed. “No wonder Paul has been so distracted.” Janelle laughed and Maya realized she was flush with alcohol.
“Oh, she’s pretty distracting,” Rachel said cryptically and Maya tensed. All she could hear in her mind was the twinkling laughter on the other end of the line when she had called Paul one time during lunch. It felt like a lifetime ago. The owner of that laugh that had beckoned Paul in an all too familiar tone was here in the flesh and Maya didn’t know what to do.
Suddenly, the waitress appeared, addressing Rachel first, “Miss Black, so good to see you again. What can I get you this evening?” Rachel beamed back and ordered a Manhattan. The waitress turned to Maya then, “And for you ma’am?” Maya opened her mouth to respond and then realized she didn’t know what she had been drinking all night. Paul had ordered for her.
“Ah, I’ll have what she’s having,” Maya panicked and nodded toward Rachel who raised an eyebrow at her.
The waitress nodded and left. Maya looked back to Janelle and Rachel, but Rachel quickly turned and engaged Janelle in conversation about something Maya clearly wasn’t versed in. When they got their drinks, Janelle took the reprieve from the conversation to properly introduce Rachel:
“Rachel was just filling me in on a new shipment that came through from Australia. She’s a local art dealer in Seattle. Got all of our best pieces from her connections.” Janelle said.
“Oh, very cool,” Maya said pleasantly. She was determined to have Rachel like her—she chalked that up to her mother’s need to please everyone connected to the council. But more than that, Maya just wanted to know what she was all about. “How did you get into art dealing?”
Rachel leveled her with an intrigued stare as she swirled her drink around in her glass clasped in her long fingers. “I was recruited when I was in college. I studied art history, the professor liked my ideas and connected me with a colleague. The rest is history. Been in the business ever since.” Maya nodded, not sure what to say next. “I’d ask what you do, but Janelle said you’re fresh out of high school.” Maya winced at that. “And I doubt there’s any worthwhile jobs back on the rez other than working at Clearwater Coffee. Is there?” Rachel’s tone was light, but Maya could pick up a subtle dig a mile away.
Maya smiled sweetly, taking a long drink from the Manhattan before saying, “God, how can you drink these? I thought these were always made for pale faces and wannabe Sex in the City girls, didn’t you?” Maya set the glass down and re-crossed her legs, sitting up straighter.
“An inexperienced palette can take some time to pick up on the complexities of classic cocktail culture. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get there someday,” Rachel shot back, her tone never changing from the light lilt that it held before. Maya watched her carefully. Janelle excused herself to the bathroom and wobbled on her feet as she went. Maya wasn’t sure if she picked up on the heated exchange happening between the two women.
She definitely thought now that it must be jealousy that was plaguing Rachel. With Janelle gone, Rachel fully leaned in toward Maya.
“I’m surprised it took so long for Paul to bring you around. You’re a cute little thing.” Rachel gestured toward her with her drink. Maya didn’t say anything. She realized she wasn’t going to win any favor with Rachel and now she just wanted to see how far the jealousy would draw her out. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. It did seem like things were rocky between you two for a while.” Maya tensed again and Rachel noticed. A small smile playing on her lips.
“You seem to be adjusting well to the imprint now though. Honestly, I can’t believe Paul even imprinted in the first place. He told me he didn’t even think it was real at first.” Rachel let out a short laugh and then corrected herself, “Only because I think for so long, he was trying to convince himself that he had imprinted on me.” Maya was completely frozen. She tried to keep her eyes soft and interested, but the hard line of her lip gave her away. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Rachel carried on, taking a swig of her drink, “We dated off and on since highschool. And then when I left for college, he stayed behind to be a part of Sam’s little pack. But when he struck out on his own and started making a name for himself, I helped him by sharing my clients and he thanked me by—.”
“Rachel.” Paul's interjected in surprise. Maya hadn’t even heard him or Clark approaching, she was so tuned into Rachel’s little speech. So, they had been a thing...and from the look Rachel had been giving her, and the earnest familiarity she shared with Paul now as she stood and pulled him into a tight hug while exchanging hello’s, Maya assumed that their on-again, off-again relationship was more recently considered ‘on-again.’
“What are you doing here?” he asked genuinely, returning her hug and placing his hands on her upper arms to look at her.
Maya had to remind herself to soften her face into a smile as he glanced down at her, clearly amused with this new development in the night.
“Me?!” Rachel said, delighted. “This is my bar, if you forgot. Remember, I took you here the first time we met Sarah Willard for that show?” She said, her hand affectionately on his cheek, her eyes full of mirth.
“Oh! That’s right,” Paul said, oblivious to the onslaught Maya had just faced and not minding the hand that rest there. “For the charity show. Right, right.” Paul released Rachel and turned to Maya now. “My, this is Rachel. Chief Black’s daughter.” He said simply. Maya nodded and unclenched the fist she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“I know, we were just getting acquainted.” Maya smiled at Rachel now. Rachel turned to face her too, putting a hand on Paul’s shoulder and squeezing. Okaaaaay, Maya seethed.
“Yes, we were,” Rachel confirmed. “You’ve got quite a catch.”
“Oh thanks,” Paul dismissed as he came to sit next to Maya. “You need another drink?” He looked at the Manhattan in front of her with confusion. Rachel had turned to greet Clark and pull him into a light hug.
“No thanks. I’ve had enough to drink for one night, I think,” Maya said calmly as Paul slipped his arm back around her. He smiled and turned back to the group. Janelle had finally reemerged from the bathroom and they all fell into conversation. Maya held her own, but every chance Rachel got, she pulled the conversation into a topic that Maya couldn’t contribute to, i.e. business or art dealing or galas. Maya would purse her lips and try to find a way back into the stream of conversation, but ultimately, it would take an aggressive topic change on someone else’s part.
Rachel was trying to show Maya who was in control in Seattle. As the night drew to a close, Janelle pulled Maya into a soft hug and said “Oh, we have to have you and Paul around for dinner soon. It was so wonderful meeting you.” Clark pulled her into a similar hug and agreed.
“Absolutely, I’d love to. I’ll be around much more this summer with Paul so just let me know and we’ll make it happen.” When Maya stepped back to take Paul’s hand, she noticed he was off away from the group with Rachel. Her arms were crossed and she was laughing. Paul’s back was to Maya so she couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not, but the pulsing feeling in her stomach that settled into knots told her that Rachel wasn’t the only one who was jealous. “I’ll see you soon,” Maya said as a parting goodbye to Janelle and Clark.
She strode over to Paul and looped her arm through his, grabbing his hand. “Are you ready?” She said gently. Paul smiled down at her and nodded.
“Yeah, of course,” He looked back up at Rachel, “See you soon?”
“You know it,” Rachel said, totally blasé.
“Nice to meet you,” Maya said curtly as Paul steered her away.
“Pleasure was all mine,” Rachel shot back. Maya internally rolled her eyes. Rachel was the kind of woman who always needed the last line it seemed. They walked back to the loft in relative silence, but Paul didn’t seem to be picking up on Maya’s obvious tension right away. Either he expected it and was blowing it off or the whiskey was clouding his connection. Maya assumed it was the latter.
Back in the loft, Maya stared at Paul’s king sized bed and wondered if he had had Rachel here. She had never given much thought to the women Paul had most definitely been with before. Was that her jealousy or was that just because she had never been with anyone before him? Once again, Maya found herself feeling small compared to Paul.
Maybe that was the problem. She felt too small-town for him when her whole life she had felt like she was destined for bigger things. But Paul had done bigger things and Rachel was the kind of woman who would easily complement that lifestyle. They were worldly and Maya was—what had Rachel said? ‘Fresh out of high school.’
“You okay?” he said from his spot on the bed, taking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt.
“Yeah!” Maya said too quickly. Paul stared at her a little too long and Maya, trying to play it cool, turned away from him and slipped out of her heels and unzipped the side of her dress. Before pulling the straps off, she turned toward him again. “I had no idea Rachel was Rachel Black.”
Paul looked at her carefully, “Yeah, Chief Black’s daughter.” he confirmed for the second time that evening.
“Right, right.” she nodded, turning away. But then, she spun around too quickly and without a second thought said in a high-pitched, teasing voice, “Did you guys ever date?”
“Huh?” Paul said, clearly taken off guard. Maya narrowed her eyes trying to focus on the puzzled look he gave her.
“You and Rachel? Did you guys used to date?” she repeated.
“Uhhh,” Paul stalled and then, standing up he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off, folding them and placing them over the chair next to the bed to give himself some extra time. With his back to her he said, “A long time ago. Highschool, I think.” before striding past her to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Maya quickly undressed and donned a baggy t-shirt and some shorts.
“Why did she say something?” Paul said around a mouthful of foaming toothpaste. Maya wet her toothbrush and started to brush next to him, one arm wrapped protectively around her stomach. She shook her head,
“She just seemed very familiar...with you,” Maya gave him a worried look and he rinsed his mouth, coming up smiling.
“Oh, so you’re jealous?” He teased reaching out for her waist. Maya wiggled away and rinsed frantically before replying.
“Of her?! That tribal goddess that literally glowed in the room with no light?! Her?!” Maya said sarcastically. Paul threw his head back and laughed, following close behind her as she scurried into the bedroom and vaulted into the bed.
“You are jealous! Oh my god, that’s so cute.” He said, still laughing as he kneeled next to her and grabbed around her waist pulling her up toward him into a hug. Maya pretended to struggle against his broad frame as he kissed along her back.
“Why is that cute?! Being jealous feels awful,” Maya said.
“Tell me about it. It’s just nice that this time it happened to someone other than me. I get so tired of being jealous,” Paul said as he nibbled on her neck and moved up toward her ear. Maya giggled, turning her head.
“You get jealous of a lot of girls you date?” she asked. For a fleeting moment, she imagined Paul getting jealous of men looking at Rachel and running to defend her.
“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his hands slipping under her sleep shorts and gently cupping her. He dipped a finger into her easily and she let out a small exhale. Paul kissed her cheek and she could smell the warm scent of whiskey on his breath. There was no way she was getting the truth about Rachel out of him tonight. “Arms up,” he said and Maya obeyed. He easily pulled the loose shirt off of her. Why had she bothered getting dressed for bed? “Bend over, please,” he said low in her ear and Maya thrilled at the feeling between her legs at his request.
She bent forward and with both his hands now he removed her shorts and positioned himself behind her. He placed his legs on either side of hers. “Keep them closed,” he said softly to her as she felt him rub the head of himself up and down the length of her fold. He dipped in and out of her slowly pulling small gasps from her. He steadied her by putting both his hands on either side waist before sliding her back onto him slowly. Maya let out a whimper as he buried himself in her and held her there for a moment. He leaned forward a little and wound his right arm around her chest to pull her up so her back was arched and he could press his mouth to her neck, shoulder, and the side of her face.
“You are all I want. Forever. Do you understand?” he said gently. Maya squirmed her ass against his hips and she felt him throb inside of her. “Maya,” he chided and she smiled at her success. As much control as he wanted to have over her, Maya would always win in this area. “Tell me you understand.” he said firmly trying to control his breathing. Maya played along as his hand splayed on her stomach and his other gripped her breast, holding her in the arched position.
“I understand,” Maya said in a low breathy voice. Paul, overwhelmingly pleased now, began to thrust into her and Maya let out soft cries of pleasure with each thrust. He held onto her tightly, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he slid in and out of her. Maya felt her whole body pulse with want and she reached behind her to hold onto his hips as he eagerly pumped into her. The grunts and moans that escaped him as he moved in her sent Maya’s brain into overdrive. To be wanted, to be needed and loved by a man like Paul was more than she could ever ask for. Every touch was searing hot and every indent he pressed into her skin as he squeezed and gripped her left a lasting impression. She’d feel the weight of his hands on every inch of her body long after he would finish in her. He peppered kisses across the line of her shoulder before letting her go so that she could fully bend forward and he could place his hands on her ass as he took her from behind moving faster now.
Maya gripped the sheets in her fists as she tried to brace herself against his quick thrusts. He kept his legs tight on the outside of hers so that she couldn’t spread herself, causing the friction within her to become overwhelming all too quick and as she reached her end, tightening around him, she heard him moan her name. He was never far behind her when she came. She felt him give one final push and suddenly felt warm and full with him.
He collapsed next to her and immediately tugged her body close to his despite the heat. Maya relaxed, breathless in his arms, as he pressed a kiss to the back of her head.
“I love you,” he said between breaths.
“I love you too,” Maya replied easily, quickly, earnestly.
“Say it again,” he sighed. Maya giggled and turned in his arms so that she could look at his face.
“I love you with my whole heart, Paul Lahote,” Maya said. Paul gave her a silly grin and opened his mouth in a silent laugh.
“I thought you were going to say...your whole ass,” he laughed now and Maya groaned.
“You’re drunk, oh my god,” she said laughing. “How much whiskey did you have?”
“That basement has...so much,” he confirmed. “I love you with my whole ass too, baby.” he said his eyes drooping in exhaustion.
“Okay, time for bed.” she soothed. He hummed in consent and Maya covered him with the sheet before hurrying to the bathroom to clean up. When she came out, he was already gently snoring. Maya tried to stifle a laugh as she walked quietly over to his side of the bed where she picked up her shorts and shirt. She slipped back into her clothes and just as she was straightening the blanket over him, she saw his phone light up on the nightstand. Her eyes flickered over to it automatically and her heart squeezed in anticipation.
She glanced back to Paul and saw that his eyes were still closed, deep in whiskey-induced sleep. Maya’s eyes were glued to the phone that had gone dark now and she volleyed between what to do. Curiosity won out too quickly though and her arm shot out of its own accord to grab his phone. He still left it unlocked and Maya fully opened the message, too bold in the dark to care if he realized the message reflected as read in the morning.
She hoped it was Sam or Jeremy or Seth or Emily or anyone other than the name she was dreading. But disappointment washed over her quick. The message was from none other than Rachel Black.
Rachel: Michael let me know you’re meeting the Tidems for a consult tomorrow afternoon. Meet me for a drink at the Charlotte bar after. I need to talk to you about something in private.
Maya stared at the message for a long time and her finger itched to delete the message. Just as she was about to put the phone down another message came through from her.
R: She’s cute.
Maya scoffed in annoyance and then clamped her mouth shut as she placed the phone face down on the nightstand. So, Rachel was going to play it that way?
Maya looked down at Paul. The imprint in her panged and she walked around the bed to crawl in next to him. She curled into his side and he absently placed his arm over her. The imprint held him in place, but Maya wondered if it wasn’t there if she would be enough for him. Part of her wanted to believe that she was but when she closed her eyes, the towering beautiful figure of Rachel flashed in front of her and suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.
“I see now.” He said, dropping his fork on his plate and leaning back into his seat.
Aurora looked at him confusedly, “Beg pardon?”
“They talked to you didn’t they.” His smile bordered on a sneer.
Aurora’s composure cracked. He had figured it out. She wasn’t sure how--she had been putting in a great amount of effort to laugh at all his silly little jokes, to make sure she was connecting to him the way she had in their previous encounters. But the longer he stared at her, assessing her, the more she understood the warnings from Marisol's friends and doctor. Here was the man they had said she should stay away from.
