Unedited.
Joseph Morgan as Basile.
Weeks had passed, Olympe grew to trust Basile more than ever and pushed her wolf's plotting mind away so she could think for herself.
Maybe I should actually talk to Basile. Olympe thought to herself. Yes, I'm going to. Nodding her head, the female glided out of the forest, grabbing the blanket she slept with every night. Before she broke the tree line, she stumbled onto her human legs and wrapped the blanket around her narrow shoulders.
Taking hesitate steps, Olympe slowly looked out towards the packhouse, which she learned was actually Basile's personal house that only housed him and his two pits, Jacques and Juste.
"Peu gris?" She turned her platinum haired self to look up at Basile, his height dwarfing her. She gave gave him a sheepish chuff.
"What?" Was all she said, human words sounded foreign on her tongue since she had spent a month in wolf form.
"Quelle beauté, beaucoup de checeux ainsi." Basile's shoulder shook with silent laughter, Olympe frowned at him, the French-Canadian's eyes were alight with wonder. "Let's get you inside, you must be cold, peu gris." Basile beckoned her with his slender hand, holding open the thick, wooden door for her.
"What a gentleman," she snorted and walked in, ignoring his laughter. Her eyes widen at the sight before her.
It was all modernized. Sleek countertops that consisted of dark granite, dark cupboards above them. Stainless steel appliances, white tiles were warm beneath her small feet. She pulled out a dark, cushioned stool to sit on.
The heavy clicking of the twins echoed throughout the house, the thickly muscled pits looked up at her, their shiny silver chains both held dog tags, cropped ears twitched at the smallest sounds. Juste's dark blue coat rippled with each movement while Jacques hung back in the doorframe, his white flea bitten coat tried to blend in with the tiles.
"There heated tiles, if you were wondering." Basile moved swiftly across the floor and around the bar.
"I wasn't." She replied shortly.
"Don't be a petit malin, it's rude."
"So is speaking in a different language when the recipient doesn't understand it."
"Smart ass." He cocked a thick eyebrow, his infamous faint smile lingered on his lips. Olympe narrowed her cold eyes at him, causing him to wince at her sudden change in behavior. He was used to there being a glint of amusement, or what some could dub as joy, in her pretty eyes.
Before she could come back with a snarky reply, a shrill sound pierced the air. She glared at the cellphone that sat near the fridge. Her sensitive hearing wasn't used to cellphones and the static that comes with it, that only werewolves seemed to hear.
"Just a moment, peu gris." Basile swiped the sleek iPhone 6s up and slid the screen open, answering the call. "Alpha Basile speaking." His eyes flashed up towards hers, he held up a slender, ringed pointer finger and walked out.
Not bothering to listen in his conversation, Olympe turned towards the heavy breathing pits below her. Their dark eyes peered up at her, daring her to challenge them in human form. Glaring at the dogs, she released a deep, authoritative growl that had the dogs cowering back into a different room. Olympe came to the conclusion that she liked them better when she was in wolf form.
"Alright, peu gris, I got some news." Olympe looked up at a flustered Basile. She cocked a brow in questioning. "There's an alpha coming from the States to check my pack for his mate, every femme has to be there. While you're technically not in the pack, I suggest if you don't want to be seen, go head out in the woods tonight, that's when he should be arriving." Clapping his hands together, which caused Olympe to jump at the sudden sound, Basile smirked. "Let's get some meat on them bones, yeah?"
She watched with amusement as Basile scurried around the kitchen in a pastel and pink flowered apron, throwing spices and herbs into whatever he was cooking. It had her stomach growling, mouth watering smells wafted her nose.
"Breakfast, errrr, lunch is served, mademoiselle." He bowed dramatically, causing her to roll her eyes. She looked curiously at was to seemed to be smushed eggs? "Scrambled eggs, love." She growled at the new nickname. Basile held up his hands in surrender, he quickly sat down a glass of milk.
She hesitantly ate the eggs, she had hardly ever eaten anything other than meat, bread, and water her entire life, she wasn't sure if she liked the change either. Sucking up her pride, she devoured the eggs for the sake of her seemingly never ending hunger.
"Good, peu gris?" The female shook her head no and a look of surprise from her blunt honesty crossed Basile's face.
"I'm just hungry." Was her short reply. Having a high metabolism had caused struggles in her life, between Gael and Everest, lacking in the food department was an almost constant. Olympe knew she was underweight just by looking at the way her cheekbones stood out gauntly and her eyes were slightly sunken in, her veins visible underneath her near translucent pale skin.
"Alright, what anything thing else?" Basile leaned on his elbows which rested on the countertop. She nodded, and he quickly got back to work. By the time her hunger was stifled she had been through half a dozen pizzas, two liters of water, a banana, and three apples.
That was some good eating. Her wolf hummed with satisfaction, a faint grin made its way on her lips.
"Do," Basile paused, as if he was unsure to ask the question. "Do you want me to get someone to get the knots out of your hair?" There were knots in her hair? Hmmm, this was new knowledge to her, having not looking in a mirror in a good while. She shook her head no, if she's been this long with it like it is, what's the harm in going longer? Besides, she didn't trust anyone else but Basile.
"It's fine." Added to emphasis to her no.
"Alright, go ahead do whatever you deem necessary, I'll be around if you need me, peu gris." Olympe could help but slightly tense up at the fact that Basile was so accepting of her, not once her sorry life had someone been so trusting of her in a short period of time. It was all very dumbfounding to her.
She simply hmmmed in agreement, her magnesium eyes surveyed every move he made out of the room, Jacques following his master while Juste watched her with a curiosity and playfulness only a dog could have. Cocking an arched brow at the pure breed pit as he trotted over to her, she eyed him warily. She had heard stories of all the pits that attack, but she knew that from personal experience that you may put the fight into the dog, but you'll never take out it's instinct to survive.
She gave a low rumble when the dog neared closer than she deemed fit for him, not caring whether or not he wasn't a threat to her. People getting too close reminded her of the prison, that's when the darkness spreads again.
With a grunt of discontent, she hauled herself out of the chair and hesitantly wandered deeper into the mansion, and for once, she was unsure of what to do. Taking in the light pallet scheme of the house, which did nothing to brighten her festering mood, she could only gawk at some of the eccentric painting that decorated the beige walls.
One painting particular caught her eye, it was a pair of hazel eyes. So familiar, yet so foreign to her. The brown background of the iris' was accented with flakes of gold and orange, the middle ground a deep, off-set green, and the foreground, solemn red flecks towards the pupils. Long, think lashes framed those magnificent eyes, shiners is what Bracken would've called them. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the old bastard and his Scottish lay of English words.
Looking at the next painting, she was yet again intrigued by its layout. It was a battle scene from what appeared to be the Battle of Kaleo.
What the hell is that? Olympe thought to herself, yes she was taken at an early age, but she was not stupid. Gael had no tolerance for stupidity, and as his first successful child assassin, he had made sure she knew everything she possibly could about the Supernatural.
The work showed around a few dozens on one side, the multicolored coats deep with color, the naturalness of it help them blend in with their usual surroundings, the forest. While on the other side stood hundreds of humans, all dressed in light clothing, like they wanted to be seen. But the closer Olympe looked at the picture the more she saw. Like how the humans weren't human, their blandness of skin stood in deep alignment with their white clothing, and how their teeth fell slightly over their pale lips. This wasn't a battle between humans and wolves, which was near nonexistent, this was a painting of one of the ancient battles between vampires and werewolves, the age long feud was never ending, the hatred running deep.
Looking at the dark, lifeless eyes of the vampires, it gave her chills. The amount of death that they brought was right next to her, but not on a controlled level. Releasing a deep sigh through her nose, she continued on, not bothering to look at the rest of the portraits. The click-clack of trimmed nails on the hardwood floor let her know that the blue pit was still with her, the pesky bastard was stubborn. Holding back an annoyed snarl, the female traveled deeper into the house.
She soon found a room full of screens and computers, a surveillance room, she supposed. Curiosity got the best of her and she hesitantly walked closer to the movement on the screens. Most of them showed areas where nothing was going on, but a few showed some people. One had the footage of a grassy yard full of wolves fighting, a practice field. Another revealed near a hundred femme's buzzing around a large room, with an expression that seemed to be excitement. Furrowing her brows, she continued on to the last screen. Basile's darkish hair was distinct while he was surrounded by dark haired men, not quite blending in with the crowd. He wore a pleasant smile on his face, as if greeting them, nodding his head and soon turning around. Her heart stopped.
She knew those eyes. Blue, so heavenly blue. And those tousled dark curls that fell onto a tanned forehead, just brushing his thick brows. Plump, red lips pulled into a forced smile. The only thing different about him was the dark circles that shouldn't have been that prominent against his coloration of skin. Olympe didn't know his name, but she was sure of one thing.
The man before her eyes was her mate.