Composed...
That word is not what is describing Odin at this moment...standing firm, solid, taking on a broader stance as those blood filled eyes scrutinize my face. There is a noticeable shuffle of flesh flexing along the bone line of his forearm before the cocoon of skin settles back to its original form.
His harsh silence penetrates into every crevice of the room...the tense sound of him collides into the middle of my sternum sinking into the deep marrow of bones.
Irregular beats of his heart palpate mine into a fury.
"I almost failed my pack, myself and you." Odin's voice holds a low tone that doesn't rise - it sinks to the floor at my feet.
Swallowing, that act hurts the back of my throat. My lips feel swelled, bruised with how I was handled by a male who was consumed by his greed of flesh.
"My resolve is faltering." Odin's words are coming out a mouth that is barely moving. His body holds a shine of sweat that has dampened his hair - the heartbeat still wages war within his rib cage.
His hands shake...
"There's nothing wrong with us touching, Odin."
"You're right, there is nothing wrong with us touching, but everything is wrong with how close I was to ruining everything. I should have been more focused and not let things build up where I was almost unable to stop myself." The level of sound slumps in the space between us so it's not hitting my ears but sinks itself hard on the floor.
Shame is the emotion pouring off Odin...internal shame...
"You have nothing to feel shame about, it's not right not being able to touch your half. It's not right that I can't touch you when I want to, how I want to." The pace of words rising within the space of my room.
"Charlie, it's what I have to do. My pack expects it, I expect, and I want you to expect it from me. I will not dishonor my pack, myself and especially you." The blink of his eyes holds longer than normal before he opens them again. They are still blood filled, but the musculature of him flexes itself with newfound resolve.
"You will hold all seven symbols, and I will not do anything to ruin that for you. You will not be ruined by my greed." The timbre of him amplifies pulling his body to rise to his completed height, shoulders back, head straight.
"The symbols aren't important to me, Odin." Eyes meeting eyes, colliding the vision of us.
"They are important to me," Odin says this with a rightful tone of conviction.
"So I bend to what's important to you? When will you bend to what's important to me?" Stifling the surging scream that wants to amplify from vocal cords that are poised and ready.
"First you need to figure out what's really important to you, Charlie." The words have no edge to them, they are spoken on a simplistic level.
Blinking slowly, saying nothing - vocal cords hold a paralysis. A need to say something to rebuke his claim, but there are no words that make it out. The vision of my eyes sets themselves on the wooden floor.
He's right...
A dense, long pause settles itself between us. I can feel the weight cling to the valley of my chest.
"Say something, Charlie." Odin takes two long strides to get to me, pulling my chin up to look at him in the eyes.
The color of blood has replaced his ancient forest greens.
"I'm not sure what to say, I'm not sure what's important anymore. I thought I knew, but now things are changing." Pulling away from his touch, taking a step back, looking around my bedroom.
"This used to be my biggest dream, to become a healer, to heal the wolves who suffer." Dried out herbs still sit where I left them, loose papers with plants barely beginning to be drawn on them. My training clothes even folded neatly sitting on my dresser, waiting for me to put them on like I never left. They are exactly how I left them.
"I could still be a healer, but then...." I don't finish the rest of the sentence, the radius of Odin is felt to consume mine.
"You have a lot to figure out," the breath of him almost fails on the last word as if he's in pain. The center of his chest holds a discomfort that I can feel in my own sternum.
"I should go take a shower," turning from him, to walk into the bathroom, closing the door with a click of the lock.
Alone within the space of the room that is bigger than our bedroom. Looking into the mirror, refusing to meet my own eyes.
Turning the taps, waiting for the warm to slip the cold away before getting inside. Letting the water stream down, washing away the scent of him.
It's a long shower, full of vigorous scrubbing, I even brush my teeth twice after getting out. Drying off the steam hides my face while I brush my wet hair, starting from below my shoulder to work my way up the length of it. Once all the knots are out, I twist it up the hair in a towel. Another towel dries me for opening the wooden door up. Odin is there with a bag in his hand. Slipping through the entrance, our bodies touch. Odin steps into my space pressing me again the wooden doorframe.
He inhales...
A pause before his mouth skims just behind my ear, the fragile skin barely able to take the sensation when his breath fans along the start of the hairline.
A shiver traces itself downward to lodge itself low enough that my tailbone vibrates as if a tuning fork has been struck.
A pulse starts...
Continuously
Incessantly
Relentlessly
"Odin," the word lingers well after it's been said.
"When there are no more limitations between us, you can start with your tongue." The blush I feel must be seen on the skin that holds the summer sun on it. A hint of his tongue is felt before he pulls himself away. His lips curl in a way that is Odin's smile. This time that curl is more of a teasing taunt that clings to his face.
He affects the softest part of my marrow.
Turning my back once he steps into the water that holds no warmth yet he reaches for my soap I just used.
Looking out the window, grey clouds seem to be menacing the beginning blue out of the sky. A vein of lightning streaks itself sideways in the distance. The first drops of rain start to slide down the windowpane.
In the distance I see Shamus, and I think it's Paley running side by side starting their morning run without me...Did it take them a while to get used to running without me?
When Odin gets out of the shower, I'm already dressed waiting for him before we go downstairs. He smells like my soap, he's shaved the side of his head, bald. The top of his head holds tiny and larger braids that have been secured with beads that hold the color of my eyes. My own hair remains loose without the color of him weaved throughout.
Odin starts to get some clothes from the bag
His skin holds the cold from the water it was just under, I can feel it coming off like a light vapor that chills me.
There is no pulling my eyes away from the sight of my half. The musculature of him flexes, shifts underneath the hardened canvas of his skin. He turns his back to me - it does nothing to stop my eye fingers from tracing the back of bare thighs. Running upwards but a shirt is suddenly pulled down so that his round bottom is hidden.
"Breakfast?" Odin asks as if this is his house and not my patent's.
"I don't want you to sit in my father's spot." Watching him dress blocking my view of his flesh.
"I'll sit where I have a right to sit. If you don't like the seating arrangements, you can always change things." Odin opens the door waiting for me to go out into the hallway before him.
"It's not right Odin, it's my father." There is no hiding the rising quality of a tone that speaks in its upward volume of harshness. Teeth start to penetrate through gums.
"Do you think your father would not sit at the head of any table he earned the right too? What about your mother, do you think she would not sit at the head of every table she earned the right too? I'm no different, and neither are you. Let's eat and put those teeth away if you don't intend to use them." Lips graze lips before he pulls away with a kiss that wasn't completed to it's fullest.
"Just try to be pleasant while we're here alright."
"I'm always pleasant. If I weren't, you would know it." He passes by me, leading the way. The wooden staircase creeks, shifting the sound outward to notify everyone that we are coming downstairs.
There is a rush of sound, spoons beating the batter, dishes being set at the table the closer we get to the main dining room...Small voices are eating and talking before quieting down when Odin and I walk into the room. Shy eyes start to look at us, with food clutched in tiny hands. They look at me as if they don't know who I am. Arms lift up to Judy, the cook. She wipes away the flour on her hands with a clean dish towel before picking both of them up.
"Don't be afraid that's your cousin, Charlie, and her mate Odin." Judy tries to put one of the pups back in his chair, but he is having none of that, clinging to her neck.
"Judy, how are you doing?" Reaching for the smallest pup but he hides his face from me. He doesn't know who I am. The other females in the kitchen halt their eyes on Odin who's looking at me.
"Good Charlie,"
"Where is everyone?" Looking around only Judy and some helpers are around and the smallest of Aunt Meela's pups.
"They were up early and decided to go to the training facility. You'll find them there. Breakfast will be ready when they come back in an hour." Judy doesn't look at me when she says this.
A pause, my mouth opens then closes. I can feel the heat against the back of my neck flushing, could they have heard us this morning?
"Is Becca here too?" Wondering why Judy isn't in the East.
"We live here now, just a few houses away."
"Why?" It comes out faster than intended.
"Becca lost her spot as Beta, a younger male holds that spot now." There is a relief to her words as she breathes them out.
"Becca lost a challenge to her position?" I can't hide the look on my face, trying to keep my eyes from popping out of my face.
"It was a few months ago, and your father asked her if she would be interested in training the juveniles instead of living in the East. She accepted the position, and we've been here ever since. I'm in charge of the kitchen and Becca gets to train them for a few hours a day. It's been an adjustment for her, but we're coping well." Judy has a wide smile on her face, and I can tell she likes this new way of living."
"How did Becca cope with losing her title?" My hand reaching to grab a muffin that still is steaming from the oven. She makes the best pistachio muffins, one of Aunt Meela's favorites as I remember.
"It was hard, but she had no choice but to accept it. I'm proud of her for being the first female Beta ever. She has shown a lot of females that you can become what you want to become. You just have to believe in yourself." Odin's hand touches my shoulder, "she was a strong female and would have made a very wise Elder of War for the Far North if she would have been ours." Odin says this evenly.
"Let's go see my family." Odin grabs a muffin for himself, and we eat them quietly along the path to the training facility.
Opening the door to the large space the smell of salty exertion assaults my nose. Bodies fighting one another, grunts of pain echo around the room. Finding Dad and Uncle Grey standing together watching the interaction between the desperate wolves trying to outfight the other.
Ryeson is sitting on the ground with his back pressed against the wall. When he see's us, his eyes fall on Odin. A small curve of his lip lifts almost in a mock before he covers it with his mouth. When he pulls his hand away his mouth is straight and stoic.
There is a tone to Odin's strides that make the radius around him grow even more prominent as all take a step away from his path forward as he makes his way to his brother. One of my shoulders is knocked hard, then the other as Shamus and Paley, I think it's Paley run past me in a stink of sweat. They laugh as I correct my balance almost tumbling over from the impact.
Shamus takes off his sweaty shirt, and I can't help but notice his growing musculature. "You've got muscles, real muscles Shamus." Touching his shoulder feeling the bulk of him.
"You've gotten fuller."Shamus's comment holds a tease to it.
"He means your ass has gotten bigger." It's Keegan who says this because he would say something like that to me. Odin's stands taller, prideful, chest out.
"We like to keep our females feed well." Boastfulness is heard in each word that spills from his prideful mouth.
"Should we for old time sake, brother?" Keegan has a devilish smile that pulls his eyes slightly closed on his face. He's got his arms out as if to stop me from running away. Paley nods his head but says nothing before they both come at me, and I'm on a shoulder being twirled around in the air.
"The whirl that makes Charlie hurl," they're laughing as I start to scream to put me down, around and around the spinning vortex doesn't let up and for a moment I might throw up the muffin I just had. But the laughter from their voices makes mine start to pull out from my lungs, and for a moment, we are back to being young again without cares.
When I'm put down, they still laugh, but my eyes can't hide the shine to them, "I missed your stupid faces." Bringing both twins into a tight hug, they hug me back and in both their ears I whisper, "be careful what you eat or drink." Pulling back I smile with all my teeth before smiling pretty with no teeth showing, blinking my eyes at the both of them with innocence.
They both pale.
I wink
"For old time sake." It's a promise, my words hold. I am going to make them remember my retributions, but this time they can take a fuller dose of thistle and live. I can't stop my smile that is silently laughing out.
"Charlie," Mom comes to me, pressing her cheek against mine, her hand smooths the back of my shirt before pulling me into a hug. Her body shakes before she pulls back clamping her mouth shut. Dad comes towards us, squeezing Mom's hand without words. She tries to say more words, but they come out thick on the verge of a cry that she wants to control the sound of.
"Mom, it's alright. I'm not leaving for a while." That seems to light the blue in her eyes up.
The room vibrates with a hostile growl that has pushed out of Shamus's chest as he lunges for Ryeson who is on the ground. Ryeson rolls from Shamus's claws that have come out.
"She will not starve with me." Shamus's voice holds an intent to do damage. It's hard, firm and deadly. He postures to Ryeson who postures himself right back.
Ryeson pulls himself up to his full height of maturity, while Shamus is shedding his juvenile structure for that of a more powerful male on the threshold of achieving his full height.
"Brother, our nephew will starve here. His house barely any food, no supplies for the winter. There is nothing in the cupboards." Ryeson's accusations hit Shamus in the chest. Ryeson holds a look of disgust that everyone can see.
"Elska will be taken care of in this pack, she won't starve and neither will Warson." His voice pushes into Ryeson who pushes his sound back into Shamus in the form of a low growl.
No other sound is heard but the males starting to round on the other. Odin steps into the middle and puts a hand on each of them. Ryeson stills but Shamus tries to shake off that hand with a shrug of his shoulder. That was the wrong thing to do with Odin. There is a delay in the sound and the way Shamus hits the ground. His body hits first followed by the sound of it. So fast was the movement that the body created a faint rush of wind.
The breath is knocked out of Shamus while Odin's full set of his War is on display for Shamus to see. He lets the image confront a head that tries to pull away from the picture of what Odin has to offer.
"She won't starve." Tight words are coughed out of Shamus. Odin gives that small smile before he offers a hand to Shamus to pull himself up.
"Shamus won't let anyone starve, Odin." Saying more to Ryeson, he just doesn't understand the way we live.
All the ridge fur is up on everyone except for the older wolves, "back to training," Uncle Grey's voice carries, but it's not yelled out.
Looking around the room, I can see females take lingering looks towards my half, they think I can't see but I can.
A ruffle of fur from the Wild within, she is unsettled. I can feel my Nature shifting itself inside me the more their eyes greedily hone into what is mine.
Odin only holds his exclusive sight for me. My eyes wander around the training facility, looking at where females who bear no mate mark look...
Odin.
A quiver to the first layering of flesh as the cocoon of skin wants to give way to the domination of fur.
The Wild's Nature is churning with a need for education; she holds a strong possessiveness to her that is hard to control down.
Odin watches as the battle within me starts to rage. More female eyes shift to him, more of the cocoon of skin opens allowing the Wild to move forward in a path of hierarchy.
These females haven't been exposed to my Nature's true Wild.
"Show them who you are." A nudge to my cheek from Odin's, a challenge of his tone as my entire body fights. Odin has just given the Wild within a boost to push through. A moment where she relishes the feeling of being on four paws.
Her sound is a terrorizing force that drops the room to their knees. She doesn't hold favorites, she only is there to dominate anything that she can. My mother has dropped to her knees. Odin is up with the same exertion that is held on my father's face. Both males grunt in complete concentration of staying upright through clenched teeth.
She starts to pace the room, circling whimpering females who have gone belly up in apologies that I think they might not understand why they are giving. She sniffs at their necks, showing her arsenal of War. Each step she takes is a deliberate menace of sound, it carries into the floor that vibrates the bodies of the weaker hierarchy.
She does not want to share the vision of Odin with anyone.
Her half is her's.
When she comes to my mother, there is a huff of hot breath that blows the loose strands of hair off my mother's neck. Hands start to run along her spine, before going to just behind her ears.
When my mom turns the cocoon of skin shifts to house the body of fur. My mother's Wild starts to circle around. There is a playful, whining happy tone to her movements that makes my Nature rejoice in the fun of a chase. Mother wolf runs, and we give chase, I can feel hot breath against my left flank, and my father's Wild is with us.
He will not be left out.
The three of us run the territory, battling in robust play for hours until the show of hierarchy surges through the Wild within. Torn ears and bloody hind legs, whimpering with snarling follow our path through the underbrush, the canopy of trees hardly protects us from the raging storm above.
Lightning streaks above, thunder pierces through the air and the three of us battle to see who is the One.
A game has turned into a battle, the two of them acting in tandem. Sharp teeth dig into soft flesh. They try to roll her, they try to throw her off balance, they don't understand the Wild has found her balance, and she is not to be rolled over without bringing a neck down with her.
A fierce wall of water rains down, as our bodies are thrown into puddles of water, soaking our underbellies in mud and grit from the forest floor. Bodies crash upwards and then back down, our sounds of War are more than what the storm can bring.
It's hard for parent wolves to submit to their pups, it goes against their Nature, but it's the growing age of Nature that makes them submit to my younger Wild.
There can only be One, and my Wild understands this about herself. My mother's wild is the first to bend, she shows her neck with a submission that has been earned by me. My father's Wild is a force to be taken into deep consideration. He puffs himself up, before hind legs quiver to propel him forward.
This is not playtime, this is Wartime.
My Wild meets him with a sound like nothing she has ever spoken before. It bends the trees violently against the assault of the wind, my father's Wild is pushed back from the quality of tone. There is a new pulse of life within her, a connection to the air, the ground, the very storm itself that she pulls energy from. It's brute force that makes my Father's neck bend to my Wild...
She is the One between the three of us. I can feel her resolve of thought to this...
When this happens a hush settles itself around our perimeter, there is no more thunder, no more rain, the branches cease to move because there is no more wind.
The Wild of my father pulls himself upright and licks at my neck before going to my mother's wolf. Both greet each other the way mates do. It's a slow limp back the training facility all three of us are injured and hold scars to our bodies.
Looking up the blue craves to be seen through the grey sky.
Opening the door, it's quick to the changing rooms, mom has a pile of clothes that I use, they are tight on me where once I floated in them.
Odin regards the three of use but says nothing.
The younger juvenile fighters have been replaced with, the more full-grown males and a few females. They are bleeding, and I am still out of breath.
Odin's brother is sitting on the ground watching the fighting, that same mocking rise to the corner of his mouth is present. He tries to hide it with his hand rubbing his mouth before it sets stoically again.
"Are you alright?" Odin's fingertip touches the base of my neck where the bleeding has stopped.
"I'm fine." My mood is soured slightly, as I watch new up and coming males fighting. Paley and Keegan are in the middle along with Shamus.
I see a few of the wolves stop fighting when blood is spilled, or an arm is bent wrong. Ryeson sits on the sidelines, and a soft laugh comes out of his chest that is barely heard. He doesn't look impressed how these wolves stop the fight because of blood. My mind going back to the female whose leg I broke every day but she still stood back up and even fought without a sound, just grim determination.
When another wolf pulls away from fighting because of blood a fury irrupts within how this must look to Odin and Ryeson. How they train without whimpers without sound. They just fight and fight and fight until you can't get up.
"Come back here," my voice trials behind the wolf that is leaving with a limp. I'm puffed up on power. He looks at me, confused.
"Why did you stop?"
"I'm hurt." He's holding his wrist.
"It's only pain, keep fighting." Odin's mouth drops from his straight hard line before he pushes his bottom lip up again.
"Who will fight me?" No one answers.
A minute maybe two go by before two full grown males step up to the mats.
"If your breath hits her skin I will pull out your lungs." Odin's eyes hone in on the two males that are stepping off the mates. "She is to fight no males while I am around. You touch her I take your hand, you breathe on her I take your lungs, you look at what's mine I will take your eyes." There is no mistaking the death of his voice, the conviction of truth he has spoken out in a challenge.
There can only be One and Odin at this moment dominates the entire facility with the language of his hierarchy.
Author's Note
I never meant for part two of this chapter but it got away from me.
Smiles without teeth, nudges your cheeks with mine in an apologetic tone.