Unedited.
The first step back on American soil was like a bullet burrowing itself deep inside her sternum, the familiar aura of her homeland rushed to greet her in whiffs of despair and deceit. Although it was colder than monkey balls in Russia, it was hotter than Satan's ass in the U.S.
"My money, miss." The Russian said bluntly, causing her to stiffen. His attitude was unnecessary and uncalled for, her scarred lip pulled up in a silent snarl.
Turning towards the human male she shot him a withering glare.
"If you were wise, you would go home without a word and empty handed." She rumbled through clenched teeth. Her lips sucked tightly to her teeth, she clenched her hands into fists, narrowing her eyes.
With fire in her eyes, she watched the male scurry away, back to his plane and take off. And observed as that flying machine got further and further away until it was out of sight, and watched long after that.
Now that she was back in her homelands, there would be eyes everywhere looking for her, it was not unknown that she the heir to him, her predecessor. But unbeknownst to the majority of the wolf population, she was already Queen and had been for a long time. And now, she was coming to ascend onto her throne once more.
§
Somehow the female found herself in the thicks of southern pride. The heart of the country. Tennessee.
The strong fumes of alcohol and cigarette smoke swirled in her sensory system like whirlpool. Her back ached from sitting in her arched position for so long, but Olympe ignored it. With her body bent towards the bar, she tapped a long fingernail of her pointer finger on the polished wood.
Slow drawls of a female's liquid honey voice spun around the liquor joint, causing some to dance to the soft song. Olympe simply sat at the bar, left foot tapping lightly against the stool, her hand fiddling with her empty glass. The clacks of a cue hitting billiards was loud enough to irk the female wolf, forcing herself to focus on the bartender.
The female wolf felt lonely. So lonely, unlike ever before. She had always had that anticipation of going back to a loving mate, a person who would love her for faults. A mate with no rough past, but a worthy mate. She would never have to worry about him cheating, since it was physically impossible once one of the duo was marked, no wolf would let their human commit such an atrocity, it was disrespectful and a crime against Fate. Her train of thoughts struck a chord of grief once more.
The female wolf could not help but feel like it was her fault. If she would have been there she would have been able to protect the male, as it was her duty to do so, and likewise with him. Fate's games were becoming tiring to the female, hence her growing unhappy with life's curveballs and roadblocks. The mate bond was beautiful thing, to some. To others, it was Fate's fatal card to be dealt, some, like herself, had always wished for a solitary, stable life, the only care in the world being to protect themselves. To find a mate was life altering, for it was not always bubblegum drops and lollipops. Every one had their own lives, and for another wolf to encroach on their territory and claim what was theirs already was never taking kindly upon.
Her hand clenched tightly around the shot glass as her temper worsened. The distinct ring of the bell above the creaking door had her ears twitching slightly from the shrill sound. But what made her pause was the smell. It was the one Wolf she had been waiting on for the past hour.
Butterscotch and the pungent odor of cannabis rolled through the bar. The male had a scent that always turned head, a sickly sweet smell. A low growl rumbled through his chest, barely audible.
The male looked at the female, knowing she sensed him the minute he walked through the doorframe. With shorn, near white hair and raggedy clothing, the Omega Female looked as if she just walked through a battle field, causing a few causalities herself. And knowing her, she probably had. But what stood out to him the most was the rancid scent of grief, and he knew just what it was about.
"Hello, Tiberius." She grumbled through clenched teeth, tapping her glass on the bar.
"Nice seeing you again, Alpha." She winced at the title, she was no alpha any longer. Olympe did not have her throne back, yet.
The dominant female hummed lightly at his choice of words.
"What do you got for me now?" She warily asked.
Grey eyes watched as Tiberius ordered a Hennessy. The curly haired male seemed different, not so chipper, not as lively. She huffed softly, catching his attention, the male turned, seemingly alarmed by her newfound interest in him. Hesitantly, he sipped at his liquor, slightly uncomfortable.
"Tiberius." Olympe snapped impatiently, unsatisfied with the subordinate male's lack of distribution of intel.
Under her scrutiny the male fidgeted restlessly. The anticipation of her reaction worried him greatly, the disheartening feeling of having knowledge that could make or break her world was something that made him tense with anxiety.
"Alpha," he paused, unsure as how to tell her what she wanted to know. "Eight days ago a law was passed, declaring that females were allowed to take power. But the law never made it out to public knowledge, because two days later, the Council murdered your mate."
His brown eyes cautiously made their way over to look at the female as she sucked in a shaky breath. Not once did she look at him, staring daggers into the mirror before them. Her aura was drenched in unspoken, unannounced anger. Licking his lips nervously, Tiberius continued on to tread carefully through dangerous waters.
"In those two days between when the law was passed and the death of your. . .male, the council was in an uproar. No male wanted a female to rule them. So I suppose they pulled a Julius Caesar on his ass."
The female nearly broke her neck in hast as she gazed at the male beside her. As he flinched in shock, as his breathing quicken in pace.
"The Council, his own Council did this?" She questioned softly.
"Alpha, from what I gathered, yes. It was them. It is the only logical answer." Tiberius retorted hastily, his fingers tapping roughly against the glass.
"You are not telling me something." She paused, looking him up and down. "Now how did you know about the law if it was not announced publicly?" Her nostrils flared in irritation, she wanted the full truth.
"Um–I, uh. I may or may not have found my mate?"
"And? What is it about this mate that makes you withhold important intel?" Her gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowed, not liking his blunt disobedience.
"You'll kill him." He whispered softly, as if the sentence was the most fragile thing in the world.
"Why would I kill him? Could it possibly be the fact that your mate is on the Council?"
When she heard no answer from him, she grabbed ahold of his shoulder.
"Pay the man, we will discuss this outside." She squeezed his shoulder painfully, whispering into his ear.
Letting go of the small male, she leaned back as his trembling hand reached into his pocket and produced a few crisp Jacksons. Laying them on the polished wood, she flashed a dangerous smirk at the human bartender who had watched the hushed exchange from the other side of the joint.
Grabbing hold of the collar of his jacket, the dominant female drug the male through the liquor joint, uncaring of prying mundane eyes. She was seething with anger, he was stepping out of line by disobeying his superior. The female felt that he needed a lesson and reminder on who he answered to and dealt with.
The male practically pissing himself in fear, but he made his choice with confidence. He knew his alpha, he knew her tendencies. He knew she would do this, she was a wolf who demanded respect, and he as her subordinate should give it to her, for it had been earned long ago. And to not give her what was necessary was a slap to the face, no subordinate got away with disrespecting their dominant leader. But Tiberius did what was necessary for his mate, although he was beating himself up inside.
He was berating himself for being so careless as to think that his Alpha would not pick up on the fact that he had highly classified information.
As soon as they stepped foot through the door the sweet aroma of honeysuckles and healthy, fresh air. For a short moment, the wolves basked the refreshing smell, their sensory systems were extremely sensitive to harsh smells.
The dominant female broke away from the fresh air induced haze before the male, watching him with barely concealed contempt. Grabbing him harshly by the neck, she dragged him towards the thick woods, ignoring his shameful whimpers. Keeping long, confident strides, Olympe was ready to give the beating of her life to the compliant wolf tripping behind her.
The male could hardly suppress his fear, his wolf had its ears pinned back, neck barred, tail tucked tightly between quivering legs. Only once before had his Alpha been forceful like this, and as this time, he knew he deserved it.
In the world of wolves there was a hierarchy, one that was not fucked with. Either a wolf was dominant or subordinate, there was no in between. Every subordinate answered to at least one or two dominant wolves, usually a mated pair, but an unmated dominant wolf was a wild card for a submissive wolf. Always keeping the lower ranked wolf on their toes. Most obeyed their Alpha with out complaint, if it being a reasonable command, but for a wolf to disobey, it was more painful for the lower ranked wolf to refuse than the beating that usually followed. It was simply a display of dominance.
Once satisfied with the distance between the pair of Wolves and the secluded bar, she threw the male to the ground, a snarl distorted her scarred face into an image of vile ire. With a harsh glare, she descended upon him, landing blows without warning. A few good jabs to the face and she let up, rearing back to stand over the whimpering wolf, blood crawling down his face.
"Tiberius." She waited for his brown eyes to look at her. "Tell me, is your mate on the Council?" Olympe inquired softly.
"Alpha, please don't make me say it. You already know the answer." That was true, but she wanted to hear the words come out of his mouth. Every damn syllable. Then watch as he writhed in pain for lying to her.
"I will not ask again." Blunt, harsh words rasped from her throat.
"Yes, Alpha." The male sagged against the ground.
"Yes what?"
His face contorted into a pained expression.
"My mate is on Romulus Petris' Council." A single tear trekked down his battered and bloodied face.
"His name. Tell me his name." She snapped, kneeling beside him, wiping his face gently.
"Aaron Demtre." The name was vaguely familiar, having heard it a few times through out her life.
"Was he part of my male's murder?" Ever so gently, she cradled his face in her hands.
"No Alpha, I swear it!"
"But why should I believe you, you have lied to me before." The male gasped in her grasp, panic seizing him.
"You must, I –" she hushed him with a growl.
"I must believe you? Must I remind you of who is your superior?" She snapped.
"Forgive me, alpha."
"Very well. Suppose what you have said is true," she let go of him gently, standing up, circling the male. "But then he knew of their plans, hence you knowing of it." She turned to him. "When did you find your mate, I don't recall you saying."
"A month ago." She gave a shrill laugh full madness.
"A month ago!" The female exclaimed in false cheerfulness. "A month you have been with your mate who knew of these plans and yet you failed to inform me?" She dropped to the ground near the trembling male, a Cheshire grin spread across her face as she cradled her cheeks between her hands. "Answer me!" She snarled.
"Y-yes."
"Then give me one reason to spare you." Olympe demanded mirthfully.
The male sat in silence, terrified of her actions. Never had he seen her so far gone. The one person who could have actually saved her was gone.
"Because it'll scar you, I am the one who has stuck by your side for years, Alpha."
Under her watchful gaze, the male anxiously awaited her judgement. After a long, tensing moment of silence and watching her eyes focus in and out, she finally spoke.
"Every scar bear builds me a throne, new ones are always welcomed." A whimper caught in throat, closing his eyes, he flinched away, bracing himself for her attack.
But it did not come.
All he saw was the the pale female slowly fading into the forest, like a ghost in the night's gaze.
As Olympe turned from the male, leaving him whimpering in his own puddle of fear, she strode off. The female was ready for a battle. Anticipating the bloodshed. Thirsting for vengeance.
"Let the games begin." She chuckled softly underneath her breath.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh my lordie. Look at me, updating within a week. I think this is a new record for me.
*does a little dance*
So it's official, Lym has lost her marbles. It's safe to say she is taking no prisoners. Like, I'm glad I'm not on the council. Whew, do they have a world of hurt coming their way.
Anyways, thanks so fucking much for nearly 200k!
I can't believe this book has made it this far, I want y'all to know that I love each and every one of y'all!
Comment. Vote. Love goats.