6. Chapter 6

“Venti Chocolate Caramel Latte.”

Accepting the drink from the young boyish-looking barista whose red apron is several sizes a bit too big for his frame, Waverly takes a seat and waits patiently for Chrissy in the lounge of Ghost River’s café. The smell of freshly poured iced coffee and muffins fresh out of the oven over the counter and her own latte sitting in front of her provides a warm, cozy feel. Simply and familiar, bringing the omega back to a time before the contract. A time where the highlight of her day was made by not hearing Wynonna and Willa argue in the morning so much, the traffic light on Main Street didn’t take forever and a day to go from red to green or managing to snatch the last of the freshly made sugar cookies from the café’s bakery in the early morning before class.

Such an unexciting life that most people her age would kill to change, kill to have the one she lives now and break free from the monotonous grind

Top uncovered, the whipped cream having already dissolved into a small cloud-like island in the center of the cup. The intricate design of chocolate syrup the barista had made long gone; the drink itself was still hot enough to provide that extra kick when the heat reached the back of her throat, but colder than what it was before.

Officially her second day with Nicole and while her trepidation has died down, somewhat, she still feels the shock of it all: the alpha’s touch all over her skin, her lips, the stroke of heat between her legs. She rubs her thighs together to stave off another incident where she’s left with a ruined pair of panties. God forbid she has a repeat of this morning; half naked in bed, two fingers deep, omega mewling and scratching at the door. Her only respite from lustful lull was when the cat, whom she now knew was named Calamity Jane, entered the room and stared. Sitting at the foot of the bed, the wretched beast simply stared. A wave of embarrassment washing over her as the cat’s bright green eyes kept her from achieving release.

The miniature tiger in all its devious ways knew what Waverly meant when she called her a thief. A mangy animal for refusing to save her from this incredibly embarrassing moment by leaving her in peace. Ears twitching, yawning in affirmation.

Made worse when she’s finally dressed and ready, heading down the stairs to let Nicole know she was heading out for a while only to catch the alpha finishing up a run. Walking through the front door with a pair of low hanging sweatpants, hoodie and sports bra; skin glistening with sweat, scent decadent and strong. Omega instantly purring.

And now here she was, finger tapping against the rim of her latte, reading through Nicole’s Wikipedia page. Not exactly the most reputable source but really the best option for the limited amount of time she had before class while she waited for Chrissy.

The page is simple, short and straight to the point. Admittedly, it’s a little bland and empty compared to the amount of information Waverly assumed it would have had regarding her rich alpha. Of course despite this, there is a photo of the auburn-haired older woman from an event last year, here she was attending the Governor’s Ball in an expensive and immensely form fitting Armani suit. Jacket sleeves pulled tight over her biceps, the top few buttons of her dress shirt undone, her hair was long back then, reaching well past her shoulders and settling at the middle of her back without a single strand out of place. Waverly has to take a sip from her cooled latte, licking the dissolving whipped cream from her lips to placate the unconscious desire to lick them out of sheer attraction. Arousal.

She shivers and immediately pushes those thoughts away, continuing down the page.

Nicole Haught (born January 5th, 1993) is a Canadian business and technology entrepreneur, investor, and philanthropist, best known for as the current chief executive officer of Cerberus Enterprise, an international business conglomerate and is a member of the Royal House of Haught, and one of the current pretenders to the defunct French throne as Nicole IX.

It doesn’t register at first, taking several rereads of that particular line for it to fully sink in; the magnitude of the situation rising to the surface.

Yes, Nicole is exceedingly wealthy.

And yes, she is the chosen heir to the oldest dynasty in the country.

But to be the de facto heir? Tomorrow the French government can reestablish the monarchy and the alpha would instantly be crowned as the new queen—holding more of a legitimate claim than the other possible prospects to the throne. The only one who could even come close would be Louis Alphonse de Bourbon, Duke of Anjou; a pretender through the Spanish line whose relation to the monarchy is that of Louis XIV. Bloodline formed from one of the old king’s many bastard children. Louis Alphonse would be known as Louis XX, should he be crowned, but his claim to legitimacy is founded on a house of cards and his bloodline is murky and muddied.

Going through the line of succession, the auburn-haired alpha’s ancestry is far more crystal clear. Waverly quickly skims through the names, most of them sounding familiar from her middle school history classes. She remembers reading up on Mason I and Charlotte Haught, Duchess of Versailles, after watching a movie on the latter in her ninth-grade global history class; the two being the only children of Nicole VIII and her second wife.

Taking a moment to breathe and process, Chrissy arrives, practically running through the glass doors towards her.

“Hey you,” the beta greets with a kiss to the cheek. “So, tell me, tell me, how’d last night go? You can totally thank me.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and groans, of course Chrissy would want a full rundown of her first day with Nicole. Because this is what best friends do, they compare notes and have an in-depth discussion about the one person they’ve both had sex with. The giddiness in the taller woman’s voice indicating that there was no way in hell she was going to drop this short of an asteroid ominously barreling its way towards earth and even then, she’d still find a way to bring it up.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Uh huh, sure there isn’t.” She then cups her hand into a circle, jerking it back and forth near her mouth; the crude gesture worsened with each movement in time with her tongue poking against the inside of her cheek. “Big right?”

“Chrissy!” Waverly all but shrieks, face turning several shades redder as her best friend laughs.

“What?” The omega groans and takes a sip from her latte. “Don’t tell me you were a pillow princess the whole time.”

Waverly sighs and shakes her head. It’s only when she’s this close to pulling out her notebook from her bag and thumping Chrissy on the head with it, that the beta finally understands.

“Well… at least there’s something else to look forward to.” Chrissy Nedley everyone. “Oh wait, I think my coffee’s done! Be right back.”

While Chrissy left to grab her mocha iced coffee from the counter and proceed to literally empty out the metal tray that had what was left of the lemon sugar cookies from earlier, even opening up one of the small packages and placing a cookie in her mouth before there’s even a chance to swipe her credit card, Waverly continues down the Nicole’s page.

Alumni from the University of Toronto, graduated with high grades and on the Dean’s List with a master’s degree in business and marketing. As well as a bachelor’s in law, with a quote from the alpha from an interview several years ago: “I took law because it interested me, honestly, if I was never made CEO of I would’ve became a police officer instead.” Beneath that several sections, each one titled after an important facet in the alpha’s character. The brunette skips past the ones detailing her personal life and even her marriage to Shae, it felt too weird to read something so personal despite it being on a public website for anyone to see.

A section called entitled Ancestry, catches her attention instead.

As expected the entire section is just one giant family tree with Nicole (and her siblings Charlize, Alexei and Evan) connected to their parents Viktor and Isabelle, from there the royal bloodline is passed through Viktor, all the way until the 1700s—ending or starting, given the limited amount of space on the page, with Nicole VIII, the last Haught to bear the name until the rich alpha Waverly knew. There’s a link leading to a full page of all the descendants from the House of Haught dating as far back as historically possible, and as much as the history nerd in Waverly would love to get lost in a sea of Wikipedia pages, digesting each and every ounce of information they hold, she bypasses it and taps her thumb against the link for the queen her alpha was named after.

The page loads and…

“Oh,” Waverly says once the page finishes loading, she blinks several times before putting her next thought together.

She’s no fool. She knows that when it comes to individuals and their ancestors, there’s bound to be some resemblance between the two. Same hair color, same eyes, whatever it may be. But the similarities between Nicole and the queen dressed in regal attire on the web page are near identical. The only difference between the two lied in what the brunette knew of the queen’s personality and what she knew so far of Nicole’s.

Nicole VIII, also known as Nicole the God-Given, Nicole the Great (Nicole le Grand) or more commonly, Nicole the Sun Queen (Reine Soleil), was a monarch of the House of Haught who reigned as Queen of France from 1715 until her death in 1752.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Nicole,” Waverly says upon Chrissy’s return to the lounge table.

“In my defense, we both know you would have never agreed to it if I did—which we still need talk about your first night, don’t think I forgot.” Of course she wouldn’t.

“Still, I mean come on Chris, forget the whole rich alpha CEO stuff and the part about being a purebred, but royalty? Like the kind we read in textbooks and what period films are about, that’s a massive thing to have omitted.”

“I can think of something else that’s massive—”

“Not now Nedley!”

“Uh oh, you sound like Wynonna.”

“Chrissy…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” The beta smiles before taking a bite out of another sugar cookie.

“Thank you,” Waverly sighs, momentarily grateful, but she doesn’t hold her breath. Moving on, she shows Chrissy the page, “Look, practically the same face.”

“Hmm, never realized it before. Then again, that is her ancestor, Waves.”

“It’s so freaky though, like doppelgängers. Twins.” The brunette says, continuing down the wiki entry.

In the final years leading to the end of the age of feudalism, Viktor V’s France was a leader in the growing centralization of power. Which soon gave way to a transitional period between 1710 and 1715 where he resigned from the throne due to sickness, starting Nicole VIII’s reign at the age of fifteen.

An avid athlete, the queen excelled at sports, especially jousting, hunting, and tennis. As well as being a patron saint of the arts, Nicole VIII was an accomplished musician, author and poet; her best-known writings is an anthology poems under the title Ma Rose au Clair de Lune (My Rose in the Moonlight). She has been described as “one of the most charismatic rulers to sit on French throne.”

Nicole VIII, despite heralding a flourishing artistically movement that sought the rise of many influential creators, is best known for her liaisons. Particularly her efforts to have her first marriage, to the Princess of Wales, annulled. Her disagreement with the Catholic Church of France led the queen to establish an absolute monarchy that the country would endure until the French Revolution.

“Often, she is characterized during this time period as a lustful, egotistical queen who’s own personal reformation, as recorded in the accounts of many, at the hands of her second wife.” Waverly recites, and a lightbulb comes to light over Chrissy’s head.

“Didn’t Evan Rachel Wood play her in that show on Showtime?” The beta asks. “Or was it on the BBC?”

The shorter brunette confirms it as the show from the BBC. “We used to watch it together after Orphan Black.”

“God, I miss that show,” the beta moans. For the days of yesteryear when they were just teenagers huddled together on the couch beneath a warm blanket and pints of ice cream. A Saturday night ritual that has since become the stuff of memories once they started college.

But things have obviously changed since then. Older, wiser, far cry from the wide-eyed teenagers they once were. Still, much to Waverly’s never-ending joy, some habits were hard to kick. Walking into Mr. Harris’ Sociology class, the pair still took their seats in the middle of the classroom: not too far upfront to be right in front of the smartboard and chalkboard, thus being the first to be subjected to the man’s need for student participation nor are they too far towards the back where it’s easy to lose track and fall to the wayside. Much like the underachievers who prefer to skate by and are then scrutinized constantly under the man penetrating and ever vigilant gaze.

No, Waverly and Chrissy sit in their perfect spot where the beta will sometimes doddle random objects and bubble lettered words in the margin of her notebook, drawing spirals and 3D shapes. Sometimes Waverly will do the same, but her drawings are more detailed, at least they are in thought. Crude, bare boned drawings of Eastern Asian temples, medieval European castles and the occasional landmark—the Sydney Opera House, the Roman Colosseum, Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower—all the places she’d love to visit one day.

Mr. Harris’ Sociology class continues as usual, the beta droning on and on about pre-civilized humans and boring everyone into a near comatose-like sleep, finishing off with homework and a reading that needed to be done by next week.

“You heading to Davidson’s to talk about your thesis for English?” Chrissy asks gathering her books.

“I might, but there’s still time to pull it all together and I’d rather not make two trips.”

“So, what’s next?” A sly smile forms on the beta’s face. “Head back to Remus and take Nicole out for a spin?”

“Hilarious.”

“I wouldn’t blame you, I’ve got a class in forty-five minutes and you’d be doing us both a huge service by getting lucky. Again.”

“Chris, I love you, but you’re too much of a horn dog. Worse than Wynonna.”

“Ouch, that hurts. And I want is for you to have fun, granted you will be lying under someone but it’s the thought that counts.”

“Huh,” Waverly pauses for a moment, a long-held thought rising to the surface. “Chrissy, I have to ask you a question. An honest one.”

“Shoot.”

“Shae’s on a week-long business trip, for that same duration Nicole’s in a rut, why didn’t she just call off the trip and stay with her wife?”

“I had the same question myself, even went as far as to ask Jeremy about it. But all he told me was that Shae couldn’t postpone her trips and Nicole didn’t want to go through her rut alone.” For some reason the explanation didn’t sit well with Waverly, as though there was more that Chrissy wasn’t telling her. But with the beta having been in the shorter brunette’s position, however long ago it was, it didn’t make any sense for her not to tell Waverly the truth.

Chrissy doesn’t know it herself.

“Don’t you think it’s weird though? Like they’re both rich, they come from highly influential families, and are clearly trusting of each other to even have this arrangement; question is why?” Waverly asks. “Why write up a contract? Wouldn’t just sleeping with a rut specialist be enough? It’s a medical thing and I’m sure their insurance could cover it.”

“Maybe they tried it and it didn’t work?” Chrissy shrugs her shoulders. “Like therapy, it’s hard to find someone you really click with.”

Waverly nods. “Yeah, but if that didn’t work she could’ve hired, I don’t know, an escort? A hooker? Really, Nicole could’ve just had one-night stands the whole week, a lot more affordable than willing to pay off someone’s entire school tuition.”

“Don’t forget gifts! I’ve still got my summer dress at home.”

“Chrissy, that’s not—wait, the one you wore to the Canada Day barbecue?”

The beta nods her head proudly, “Yep! Nicole bought it for me when I had to accompany her to a private party at some country club. I think I met a senator there.”

“A senator?”

“Old guy, really nice, wanted me to be his sugar baby.”

Waverly blinks. “And?”

“Nothing happened, Nicole stayed close by and eventually the senator got over the whole thing and the conversation moved to something else. TV Shows, I think.”

“Anyways, don’t you think it’s weird though, two people, who are happily married, setting up these contracts?”

“A little, but to be honest Waverly, if I spent so much time thinking of the technical stuff and the morality of it all, I’d still be struggling to pay my tuition, but I’m not and neither is my dad.”

“So, you aren’t curious? At all?”

“I was, but really Waves I’m over it.” Chrissy shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, “Being with Nicole was an experience, a good one, and it will be for you too. I just don’t want you to think too much and ruin it for yourself.”

They head out towards the parking lot near the main building, crossing over the quad and narrowly escaping the laser sight of one of the Honors Society club leaders, known for using an assortment of underhanded tactics meant for playing on one’s guilt, ultimately forcing them into signing their name down as a new member because doing so would somehow ease their inability to help starving children in Africa or the poor animals swept away in the Indian Ocean because of the recent oil spill. Honestly, as much as Waverly did her best helping in anyway she could, their tactics were unbecoming. Chrissy mentioning that the club leaders were more suited to politics than saving the world.

Besides that almost mishap, the long walk to the parking lot is eventless. Sure, there’s a group of people playing ultimate frisbee and two of the players collided into each other, there’s a guy beneath an oak tree with an acoustic guitar and beanie performing for a small group overly interested girls, and from where they stand, Waverly can see one of the philosophy professors holding a class in the middle of the grassy field. Just another day at Ghost River.

That is until Chrissy points to where a group of rowdy guys, mostly betas, are seen roughhousing. They vary in size, shape and breed, but two things are unmistakable among them the rowdy brood: one, they all wore letterman jackets, with the university’s red and black colors, each jacket belonging to a sport; and two, they were being led by Champ Hardy. He isn’t the biggest of the group, definitely not the smartest, but he is the loudest and rowdiest of them all. A walking cliché with his cropped hair and fade, skinny jeans, and his never-ending reign at the top of everyone’s social media dashboards. Waverly figures that’s why the group of young men and even his own circle of friends accepted him as their unofficial leader, Champ Hardy likes to be the center of attention and with everyone filling out the stereotypical college drunken party animals, they were all quick to follow his lead.

To be completely honest with herself, now that she had the hindsight to look back on her relationship with him, Waverly can see why people, and herself, chose to be around him. Superficial reasons; that timeless, adolescent need to be popular and accepted. The beta fit into that mold perfectly, carrying himself as if he stood at the top of the world. Head held high and proud. He’s an obnoxious fuck, as Wynonna pointed out many times before, and to her absolute chagrin, she was going to pay witness to it again.

“Oh shit, idiot at twelve o’ clock,” Chrissy murmurs quietly as said idiot detaches from his friends and makes a beeline towards them.

“Hey Waverly, Chrissy,” the beta male greets them with a pearly white smile.

Waverly: “Hi Champ.”

Chrissy: “Hey.”

“You guys coming to Glacier this week? A bunch of us are going to celebrate the basketball team’s recent win over Edmonton.” He sounds proud, as if he was the one who scored the winning shot, and with what Waverly remembered of his collegiate athletic career—he had none save for his brief stint as a wide receiver on the football team before an injury put him out for good. Most of all he sounded hopeful.

“Sounds fun, but I’m pulling the late shift this week at the bookstore.” Chrissy says quickly before looking to Waverly. They both do.

“Oh uh, sorry but I can’t,” the omega responds quickly. “I-I’ve got plans.” She hopes she sounds convincing enough that Champ would just drop the conversation and leave, but the frown on his face says otherwise. He shoves his hands into his jeans’ pockets and shrugs his shoulders.

“You seeing anybody?” Champ asks, the beta tries to give off this air of whatever, I don’t care but it falls flat with how his gaze flits between Waverly and the ground beneath them.

“Definitely, big strong alpha,” Chrissy adds with a cheeky smile. Chiming in before the shorter brunette can say anything herself.

Looking to her best friend likes she’s grown another head, quickly having to nod and agree to save face. “Yep!” Now that this was the chosen narrative they were going with, she had to stick with it. “Very strong.”

“That’s good,” crossing his arms, he isn’t convinced. “Have I seen him around here or in Purgatory?”

“She is a successful college graduate from the—” Chrissy and Waverly share a look before the omega pipes up “—University of Toronto—” there’s a smug look on her best friend’s face, like the cat that ate the canary, thinking she’s so clever. “Exactly.”

But it all sounds so fake. Talking about this imaginary person she’s dating and the guilt she feels with Chrissy, with good intentions, using Nicole’s likeness to put a face and story to this woman she’s suddenly in a relationship with. It sounds so fake and Champ knows, he’s an idiot to most things but deceptively perceptive with others. The entire conversation is awkward, and Waverly wants the earth to open up and swallow her whole, to be as far and away from this as possible.

Champ lets out an uneasy chuckle. “Sure, next thing you’re going to tell me is that this girlfriend of yours is rich too?”

“Champ…” She begins, and he makes a face, somewhere between feigning genuine innocence and unabashed smugness.

“Look, I’m happy for you, alright?” He doesn’t mean it though, holding on to some misguided idea that they would get back together, that there was still a spark between them. Champ reaches out for her—and that’s when she hears it.

The quiet roar of an engine.

Much like a panther, a Lamborghini rolls onto the scene before them. An Aventador S Roadster, matte black with dark tinted windows. Effectively shocked into a stunned silence, multiple eyes pulled toward the luxury car that is miles above all the others in the parking lot. Their disbelief is deepened when the doors open, rising upwards instead of outwards, a glimpse of red hair ducking beneath them.

“Waverly.” It’s Nicole.

Holy fuck.

Resembling a supermodel fresh off the runway, dressed in a pair of tight fitting blue jeans, a black leather jacket molded to her frame, slender but toned; business casual attire with the silk dress shirt and black tie seen beneath the jacket’s open chest. Auburn hair stylistically messy and equally perfect. Honey-golden eyes hidden behind a pair black sunglasses, aviators, their confusion immortalized in the reflective lenses.

Waverly blinks, “Nicole?”

“Hey baby.” The alpha grins and the brunette waits, unable to breathe. Nicole doesn’t stop moving—stepping onto the sidewalk and walking into the omega’s presence leaving Waverly to angle her body, not out of hesitation, but with intent. Telegraphing the older woman’s next move. She expected a hug, a warm and friendly embrace; instead she feels a hand on either side of her face keeping her still before Nicole moves in to kiss her.

Soft, slow, and oh so sweet, lips vibrating with this burning need to know and feel more. Blood rushing through her ears.

She’s falling. Eyes heavy, they close and the touch of Nicole’s thumb beneath her eye, each stroke, each movement of her lips broadcasting a tranquil confidence, almost docile, but ultimately firm and possessive. Waverly can taste the sweetness on them, on the quiet slip of her tongue.

They part slowly. “I missed you,” Nicole whispers and Waverly can’t help but smile. Me too.

Chrissy’s jaw is on the floor, eyes bulging from her head like a fish out of water and if Nicole’s presence didn’t warrant the amount of confusion and disbelief, Waverly would have snapped a picture. Said alpha in question, greets the flabbergasted beta with a charming smile before turning her attention to Champ, who stares wide-eyed.

“Who the hell are you?”