9. Chapter 9

She awakens to the quiet rush of cold air settling where the mesmerizing warmth of a pair strong arms disappears. Waverly stirs, brows knitting together at the center when she fails to register the presence of the alpha beside her. With a yawn, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes, she wipes them away and take notice of the empty bed. The space beside her is not only empty, but the sheets give no indication that Nicole had stayed while she slept or not. The omega sighs.

Getting up, Waverly puts on one of the robes neatly folded on the massage table in front of the bed. Each one made of the finest silk, more likely than not, hand-stitched by a master craftsman working delicately on the gentle fabric. The tag on the inside of the collar reveals the name of some expensive brand she’s never heard before, and after this week, will probably never see again.

With one last look to the playroom, it’s dim lighting coloring the dark wine walls and meticulously displayed and organized instruments and shelves, a knowing shiver runs down her spine. The remnants of earlier still remains, the ghost of Nicole’s touch on her bare skin is fleeting. Waverly eyes the bed in particular; she’ll be back soon, splayed open and bound. A devious thought crossing her at the image of being gagged as well until she realizes that while her second day with the alpha had yet to finish, the week will inevitably end, and she will have to leave soon.

Waverly opens the playroom’s dark black doors and with a tentative tap against the hard surface with the pads of her fingers, she slips out.

The mansion is quiet and the echoes of her footsteps down its cavernous hall forces the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. She thinks about calling out for Nicole, but the moment passes and decides against it. Not wanting to disturb the older woman from whatever it was that she was doing, probably busy going over some stuff for work or having a meeting over the phone; doing so would be rude and Waverly didn’t want her to think she was a needy brat who was in constant need of attention. She had already pulled her away from work and whatever plans she had set out for them with the whole Champ debacle, what more could she possibly want?

Despite Nicole’s best intentions, she is still too tightly wound up, although, unlike before. It is only when Waverly stops by the wall with various framed photos that she takes a breath and calms down. The beautiful images of women immortalized in different positions, bodies either bare, wrapped in silk, or cleverly shrouded in select portions of shadows and light from an out-of-frame source, a true work of magic had she ever seen one.

There is a voice… Steady and straining to not give anything away, there is a slight edge to it that immediately reminds Waverly of earlier. It’s Nicole’s. For the second time today, she hears the alpha in a different state than the usual calm and collected demeanor she has come to be synonymous with. Unlike the situation with Champ, where the alpha was annoyed for dealing with an insufferable gnat, this time, Waverly can feel the quiet rage rumbling beneath the surface. Within seconds, she hears another voice.

A sickeningly sweet tenor leaning more towards baritone if given the chance, joins the fray. Whether it is mocking or stern, Waverly can’t tell for sure without some context to go off of. Stepping closer, she soon finds it. The hallway ends and leaves Waverly to unfortunately hide out in the open of the mansion’s grand entry, seeking cover in the corner of the living room’s marbled archway.

Waverly is grateful that the living room is unrepentantly large and with the way the furniture is arranged, she isn’t in their direct line of sight. Despite having the perfect vantage point to see them both. With their conversation hanging heavily in the air between them, Waverly couldn’t even begin to imagine how long Nicole had spent being forced to entertain this stranger in her home with such anger.

Beneath the splash of cologne, and even just the slightest bit of aftershave, the man’s scent is rich, smelling of smoke and dark chocolate; the smell of refurbished metal and centuries of power and wealth radiating from his skin. Even from his seated position the man is considerably tall, his shoulders are broad and thick, the muscle tone beneath his black blazer and blue button down give way to the idea that he was an athlete in his youth. But the most striking feature, is his pair of bright gold eyes; revealing the man’s identity as Nicole’s father, Victor Haught.

Waverly is dumbfounded and swiftly moves backwards, completely hiding her body behind the wall. Guilt washing over her immediately.

Nicole’s with her father, having a private meeting that is clearly not meant for her ears. Especially with the younger alpha struggling to keep it together. Their conversation is clearly a heated affair, and part of Waverly feels sick for even daring to eavesdrop on them. But the amount of anger she feels radiating from Nicole, keeps her rooted to the floor. Staying in her hiding spot and waiting to see how everything would turn out. She just doesn’t know if there’s anything she can do, should everything turn south.

“The IPO is set to be revealed in a few months, here on the Toronto Stock Exchange and then afterwards in New York.” Victor starts, “Once that happens, the entire company and you especially, being the CEO, will be at the forefront of everything.”

“Since I turned eighteen, I have done everything humanly possible to elevate the company from where Alexei left it. If you have such an issue with how I run things now, take over or put him back on.”

Victor narrows his eyes, “I removed your brother because his personal life kept bleeding into his work.”

Nicole snorts. “He fell in love with a high school history teacher. Instead of the rich daughter of that senator from Nova Scotia; the one you picked out for him.”

“He was blinded and instead of running the company as intended as CEO—board members were well aware of the problems his messy love life brought into the company. We had investors pull out of projects because they didn’t want to be associated with him.”

Victor doesn’t stop there. “To make matters worse Alexei broke the girl’s heart and her father, out of spite, pulled out of our land development deal.”

“You had him propose to Senator Deacon’s daughter, the only way he got out of it and married Jolene was when her twin sister Cora told him that she was pregnant. And even then, you blacklisted Alexei from the family and lambasted them at every opportunity until Jolene gave you four grandkids.”

Shocked, and more than a little confused, Waverly moves just a tiny bit forward, craning her neck around the corner in order to hear a little better. To hear more. All she had ever known about Cerberus Enterprise, from the brief times the company made news—headlines detailing the many charities and successful projects attached to their name—it had always been good. A star-studded resume of good will acts aiding their philanthropist image and profitable business endeavors; Waverly remembers seeing them in one of Canada’s Fortune 500 lists a few years back. Still there now.

She never knew of the problems that befell the company, and she’s sure no one else has either. Always secretive, private; the company had always been shrouded in mystery, known but out of reach. And here she was, listening to the grievances of a man about his son and the company he was born to work for and then pass on to his children. Waverly knows she shouldn’t be here, this is a matter between family, she has no place being behind this corner and eavesdropping.

The guilt worms its way in again, burrowing deep into the space between her ribs when she hears Victor speak again. “Nevertheless, we have a more pressing matter that needs to be addressed… These, arrangements of yours, need to stop, Cole.”

Nicole sighs frustratedly, the first sound she makes that isn’t a carefully strained word. “Everything is fine.”

But Victor thinks otherwise, a scowl forming on his face. “If it were, you’d be taking the medicine the doctor prescribed for you and wouldn’t have to resort to these things.”

“I am not taking them.”

“Christ, you are stubborn, the medication is to help you—”

“Like it helped grandpa? Because the meds certainly helped him!” Nicole barks roughly, “Old man became dependent on them like he was some sort of addict; he couldn’t live with them and he definitely couldn’t live without them!” But she isn’t finished, the edge to her voice only sharpens, serrated. “Becoming a shallow husk of a man, or an animal that needs to be restrained and sedated—constantly going back and forth until he finally gave up and just died.”

“Bite your tongue!” He snarls viciously, and Waverly has to hold on to the entrance frame. “Your grandfather was a wonderful man and an even better alpha! He did his absolute best for you children, to be a good example for all of you.”

“And where did that lead him in the end? All this talk about tradition and worth; I loved Grandpa Silas, even with his bigotry and asinine beliefs of alpha superiority, but he died a drugged up old man dependent on the meds he needed to keep from going feral.”

Victor’s eyes widen and flash red, fingers shaking against the armrests of the loveseat. He chuckles in disbelief, before it dissolves into a patronizing and condescending tone that chills Waverly’s blood. “You think doing these little contracts are going to help you, hmm? Give you that extra push you need to stay in control?”

“I’d understand if you were spending your rut with a specialist, a sex surrogate—certified medical professionals who are trained for this kind of thing. Fuck, I’d be just as fine, if not better , if you’d just buy yourself a whore to keep busy. A different one for each night if you wanted, because at least they know their worth and damage control would be much easier… No one gives a shit about a mauled hooker.”

“But to go out of your way for a regular woman and offering them these overpriced contracts, paying for college tuition and buying them gifts? In what universe is putting yourself on the line like that okay? Nondisclosure agreements don’t mean shit if you snap!” Victor continues rising from the loveseat.

Nicole does the same. The coffee table between them suddenly small and insignificant.

"There is a selection process, referrals, Jeremy is in charge of all of it and I trust his judgement."

He scoffs. "And that makes a difference?"

"These are good women who financially need the help; I've asked enough of them to sleep with me during my ruts, the least I can do is pay their tuition."

"Oh yes, because if this is ever leaked to the public, you can bet that it'll be received warmly, another charitable act for the record books. God forbid our family name and everything we worked hard for is suddenly destroyed; no, we can trust the Canadian media to not become sensationalist when it's found out that the heir to the oldest dynasty in the country is running a slave ring!"

"You are blowing this out of proportion."

"Canada shares many of the same broadcasters with the United States, you think those Americans wouldn't love a fucking scandal to sink their teeth into?"

Nicole sighs, "I have everything under control, okay Dad? You can quit pushing the initiative that I'm sick and need to be on medication so we'd have a legally warranted defense if something goes wrong."

"Bullshit. These contracts are nothing more than a poor excuse for you to hide behind; you are twenty-five-years-old, a grown ass alpha, a purebred, strong and virile enough to sire eight children out of that damned beta of yours! To be the alpha you are supposed to be.” Victor yells, teeth bared and his face ready to burst. “And yet, you’re too busy self-loathing and letting your wife run off to fuck knows where instead of staying where she belongs!”

“Shae has a career and a commitment to her practice. I will not stand in the way of that.”

“Her commitment is to you, first and foremost; if you think it isn’t, then you really need to get over yourself.”

Nicole growls and steps around the coffee table, Victor meeting her in the middle. The air between them is thick with tension, enough that a knife could be used to cut through it. Although, Waverly suspects that the introduction of a knife, something pointed and sharped, able to be used as a weapon, would only ruin them; sinking the pair towards a depth she does not want to imagine. The bottle of wine and the glasses on the coffee table make Waverly anxious.

Glass is easily broken. The shards are worse.

Jesus fucking Christ! Raised as the only omega in a household full of alphas, Waverly never had to deal with anything of this magnitude. Sure, Wynonna and Willa are constantly in a state of competition, vying for top spot. But she never had to fear the image of one of them hitting the floor and never getting back up again. Idiots to the highest degree imaginable.

But Nicole and her father? Had this been in a different time, centuries before modern society made away with uncivilized rules and culture—hell, Waverly will go as far as to say decades ago —they’d be locked in a vicious brawl. Victor then takes a deep breath, quirking a brow upwards in surprise before exhaling slowly. Eyes narrowed curiously.

“What was it that your grandfather always said?” He begins, “An alpha’s place is at the head of the table…”

He motions for Nicole to join him. In turn she does, monotonously reciting: “A beta’s is at their side, waiting on hand and foot…”

“And an omega? Come on now, you know this.” He pushes, but Nicole shakes her head and refuses. His lip curls back into a snarl, before it seamlessly shifts into a smirk. “Beneath it, taking their knot.”

He takes a step forward and whispers something to Nicole, something the omega can’t hear. Nicole veers her head back and snarls angrily. “Get out.”

Victor steps away with a smile, nodding and casually shrugging his shoulders. “Alright, I’ll go—but I’ll be back soon to discuss the IPO further.”

For an older man, Victor moves surprisingly fast. Already standing at the middle of the entrance of the living room before Waverly can even think about slipping away to run back to the playroom. Or at least to find a better place to hide. Instead, she presses herself, back first, into the wall.

She expects it all to end right there. For the older alpha to leave quietly with nothing but the sound of his feet hitting the linoleum and the slam of the front door, ending with the roar of an engine fading away. But she’s proven wrong, once again. A wine glass sails through the air, Victor tilting his head slightly to the left and the glass missing him entirely. Waverly covers her mouth to keep her gasp from being heard when the glass shatters along the floor.

Victor stares at the shards of glass and laughs. He doesn’t say another word and continues on to the front door and leaves. Nicole huffing frustratedly now that she was alone.

Or at least thought she was.

Waverly’s presence hadn’t been discovered during the whole time Victor was here, even though she was sure one of them would have noticed had they paid attention. But she’s grateful that they were far too busy arguing to have caught her scent. She isn’t sure what would have happened if they did. She shakes her head and pushes herself to move, omega growling and nipping her the side of her hip to stay. To do something to soothe the alpha. Waverly bites her lip, pushing a hand forward and around the entrance frame, fingers gripping the edges. But no, she thinks against it and makes her way back to playroom.

Taking off her robe and folding it neatly, she places it back where she found it on the massage table, grabs her phone from its pockets and gets into bed. Mussing up her hair just a bit to give the look as though she had just woken up.

Burrowing beneath the comforters, she starts to research.

Waverly continues her researching well into the rest of the evening, locking her phone and pretending to be asleep when she hears sounds coming from the outside of the room. It happens a few times until eventually she’s greeted to the sight of the mansion’s resident tiger and furry little menace, Calamity Jane, strolling through without a care in the world. The little beast hopping onto the bed and meowing for attention. Waverly smiles, despite the cat stealing her bracelet and leading her on to a chase with a mocking tilt, she’s not that bad of company and understands why Nicole keeps her around. Naturally, this could just be a biased opinion because the omega has always wanted a pet of her own and yes, there’s the possibility that she could very well like Nicole too.

Which only furthers her sudden enthusiasm to search the internet for any information that could help her in understanding what Victor Haught kept referring to in their conversation. So far, she hadn’t exactly found anything worth of value and while her searching had slowed, Calamity Jane being the needy attention-seeker that she is, she does come to find a few pages online that could possibly mean something. The pieces of her ever working mind coming together.

The older alpha’s choice of specifically using the word mauled caught Waverly’s attention, deducing that whatever ailment Nicole apparently suffers from, has to be a mental illness. To the brunette’s knowledge, there isn’t a physical disease legitimately linked to angry, aggressive or violent behavior. Not to the degree Nicole’s father had mentioned so casually.

Most of the articles Waverly comes across don’t provide much information, save for linking to academic texts and papers. Yet, it’s a step in the right direction.

“CJ isn’t giving you a hard time, is she? She tends to be a bit grouchy when she doesn’t get what she wants.” Looking up Waverly finds Nicole at the entrance of the playroom, leaning back against the heavy black doors in a pair of loose pajama bottoms and a form fitting t-shirt. Arms crossed over her chest.

She shakes her head, “Nope! She’s the perfect little angel.”

If CJ could talk, she’d snort and laugh.

Nicole doesn’t move from the door and Waverly bites the inside of her cheek to keep from frowning. The first time they had done the aftercare, she stayed close. Now, it’s as though the older woman wants to purposely put space between them.

Nicole’s eyes momentarily flash red; had Waverly blinked, she would have certainly missed it.

Despite her father being gone for a while, the tension having died down in his absence, Nicole still feels off to the omega. The fading remnants of the quiet rage swirling within her veins and vibrating beneath her skin has all but dissipated much to the omega’s relief but doesn’t quell the number of questions growing in Waverly’s head.

Had Chrissy known there was something that could put herself in danger, like Nicole snapping, she would have never agreed to this. The beta’s self-preservation skills are top notch, drilled into her by her overprotective sheriff of a father. Certainly, wouldn’t have even suggested and pushed for Waverly to do such a thing either. Which only leads Waverly to one glaring problem that rings several alarm bells in her head.

Chrissy didn’t know.

And on that note, neither did any of the other women who’ve done this before them.

“Are you alright Waverly?” Nicole asks, “You seem a bit… Off.”

“I-I’m fine, totally fine.” She stops while she’s ahead, rambling makes everything so much worse.

The last thing Waverly wants to do is lie to Nicole, but she can’t risk it; she needs to know more and pressing the older woman about it would result in nothing.

According to Victor, Nicole isn’t taking her medicine which meant that if she had any serious illness—a personality disorder of all things—the symptoms would be visible. Signs of comorbidity would be shown, at least by now. Waverly is sure she would have noticed. But the problem is, something as simple as depression, or irritation, can be the symptom of a variety of disorders and she’s working on borrowed time.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good, slept like a baby.”

The alpha’s eyes narrow and Waverly shivers; fearful, that she had been found out.

But nothing comes from it, to her immense relief and budding curiosity. And then, there’s a dead silence in the air and the omega fears that they had gone backwards in their… business relationship.

Beneath the comforter, the brunette balls her hands into tight fists. Nails digging roughly into her palm, an unusual nervous habit she’s had for some time, knowing full well that biting her lips would give her up immediately. Damn it, she’s pulled between a rock and a hard place.

And it’s just not fucking fair.

“It’s nighttime and I think dinner is in order, no?” Waverly nods her head and Nicole continues. “I’ll head up and get started, why don’t you shower and hopefully by the time you’re done I’ll be finished.”

Upstairs, Waverly hops into the shower and stands beneath the water. Running her hands through her wettened hair, she doesn’t know what to feel. On one hand, she could easily forgo every single thought that has been pinballing between the walls of her brain since overhearing the Nicole and Victor’s conversation. On the other, those same thoughts are just puzzle pieces needing to be put together in order to form a bigger picture. A better picture that’s tangible enough for Waverly to hold on to.

Lathering up her arms and chest before rinsing off, there’s a sudden spark that forces Waverly to touch the side of her neck.

She sighs.

Exiting the bathroom, refreshed and clean, she takes another look at her phone and her thumb hovers over the screen. Her omega whining loudly when she decides to search for more possible answers. Between getting dressed and scouring through Google as quickly as she can, the brunette slows down when she finds a certain page hidden beneath a sea of search results.

Pocketing her phone into the back pocket of pajama bottoms, Waverly makes her way quietly down the hall to the master bedroom. Practically tiptoeing all the way there, unbeknownst to her, the drops of water from her still wet hair leaving a trail behind her. Calamity Jane following, yawning a bit too loudly for comfort.

The master bedroom is everything Waverly expected and so much more. The bed is massive, the same size as the one in the playroom, except it’s dressed in sheets of white silk. The room itself is overlaid with delicate and warm colors, matched with an earthy and wood-like tone. Walls painted in light shades of oak, rimmed perfectly with dark mahogany. She immediately recalls the curtains to be a mustard-yellow color, but as thick as they are, they are far too pastel to be desecrated with such a dingy assumption.

Towards the left, the omega finds the two-doored entrance to walk-in closet. From her position, the walls are lined with shelves for various pieces of clothing; sections dedicated to suits, dresses, shirts, all of them organized by color and probably by material. A staircase can be seen and Waverly becomes a bit dizzy at how utterly extravagant, and maybe a little excessive, everything is to her plebeian self.

On the other side of the impossibly large bedroom is another set of dual doors that must lead to another walk-in closet belonging to Shae.

Nevertheless, as much as the curious side of her ever inquisitive brain would love to pick apart everything she sees, from the detailed crown molding on the ceiling, to the exact number of inches the massive television mounted on the wall in front of the bed is, she’s reminded of her mission when Calamity Jane meows. The cat is a bit of card, but she’s a damn good partner-in-crime.

Shaking her head, the brunette sneaks her way into the bathroom and makes a beeline for one the medicine cabinet. Opening it, she carefully rummages through the things she finds until she gets her bingo! moment.

Hidden in the back of the cabinet are several pill bottles, orange with white twist tops. Each one belonging to Nicole and Waverly figures she can call her impromptu sleuthing over once she has everything she needs, but there’s another curve ball thrown her way.

Two of the prescription pill bottles list ‘lithium’ and ‘carbamazepine’—mood stabilizers. While the other three (olanzapine, quetiapine, and risperidone) are atypical antipsychotics.

All of them are full and the prescription is dated a few months back.

Waverly takes a photo of each bottle and puts everything back the way she found them. Calamity Jane makes another sound akin to a warning growl and the omega takes it as her cue.

She follows the cat out of the room, taking extra care as she goes to make sure that she didn’t leave any indication to the alpha that she had been snooping. Closing the door behind her, carefully making sure she hears it lock in place, she leans against it and takes deep breath. This day couldn’t just be a simple one, could it?

CJ meows again and the omega tilts her head at her. “You know, you’re not that bad of a companion. Even if you stole my bracelet.”

CJ only blinks.

“Come on, let’s see if Nicole’s done with dinner.” To that, CJ snorts mockingly.

And to Calamity Jane’s assessment, she is correct. Dinner is nowhere near done and there are a variety of bowls full of ingredients meticulously placed around the kitchen. Tablespoons of unsalted butter, extra-virgin olive oil, chopped parsley; two teaspoons of fresh lemon juice; salt; thinly sliced onions; four peeled potatoes sliced crosswise, half an inch thick; one-fourth cup of rendered duck, goose and pork fat; chopped garlic cloves; freshly ground black pepper and a pinch of crushed red pepper.

An organized mess is what it is and Waverly finds the alpha hunched over watching the oven, well, one of them, intently. CJ strolls in sneakily and jumps onto a counter, the striped cat then steals a piece of duck. Running away between Waverly’s legs when Nicole shoos her away.

“Oh hey,” Nicole greets, a bit surprised. “I, uh, didn’t expect you down so soon.”

“I can go back upstairs if you need me too.”

Nicole shakes her head, “It’s fine. The only thing I managed to get somewhat done is dessert.”

“Dinner and dessert,” Waverly raises a brow. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“True, but I figured I’d try my hand at cooking.”

“You say it like you’ve never cooked before,” Waverly moves closer and crouches down beside Nicole in front of the oven.

The older woman nods, “Well, I have, but Shae says I’m too meticulous with the measurements and frustrate too easily if things don’t go my way.”

Waverly smiles, imagining an overly dramatic Nicole. A thought that reminds the brunette so much of Wynonna.

“So, what exactly are you cooking Chef Haught?” She rises from her position in front of the oven and the mind numbingly delicious scent of whatever was currently being baked to perfection. She moves back to the kitchen table and Nicole follows.

“For dessert, I’ve got a lovely Gâteau Basque made with my mother’s secret recipe. Had to make a call all the way to France just to get it.”

“And what you see, strewn about the kitchen,” Nicole continues, “is what should, hopefully result in a delicious Potatoes Lyonnaise with Lemon and Chile as our meal.”

“Need some help?”

The auburn-haired woman shakes her head, “That’s quite alright. I’ve done everything already, you can just sit and relax. But… If you are so keen on helping, we could use something to drink. Wine?” Nicole takes all the ingredients for the Potatoes Lyonnaise and puts them into a large saucepan. She points to the island in the middle of the kitchen by the pantry. “There’s a wine rack at the bottom, pick one.”

Waverly nods and checks the wine rack. Bent over she checks and the various expensive bottles, looking for the best one to pair with dinner. She tries the red wines first: Cabernet Sauvignon? Maybe Grenache, or Malbec? She has no clue which one to pick.

She moves on to the lower rack to look at the whites. Chardonnay or Riesling? Sauvignon Blanc? At this point she figures who the hell cares and just settle for the bottle of Pinot Gris she finds at the bottom and returns to spot beside Nicole.

“Ah, Pinot Gris, good choice.” Nicole says, stirring all the ingredients together. The sweet smell of rendered meats sizzling against the pan and filling the kitchen.

“Thanks, I didn’t what to pick.” Waverly shrugs her shoulders, “You have a lot of wine and I don’t know which one would match better with dinner, so I grabbed whichever.”

“Well, every single bottle there would have been a perfect choice.”

Waverly leans against the marble counter next to the stove, “Is that a thing? Rich people and their wines?”

The alpha shrugs her shoulders. “I never really cared for wine, champagne, or any of that stuff. As a kid I used to go with my mother to France during the summer, her family owns a vineyard in Bordeaux, have for at least one hundred years.”

“So, I’m guessing if I had you take a wine test, you’d pass each one?”

“As long as you blindfold me,” Nicole smirks. “Gotta make it fair, after all.”

The omega rolls her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “I’d rather not feed your ego.”

Nicole laughs. “Darn.”

“I used to help my grandparents on my mother’s side all the time, picking grapes and planting seeds if the crops were destroyed. Anytime they needed help and I was there, they always had an extra pair of hands. The real issue was getting them to let me.”

“And on your father’s side?” Waverly asks curiously, until she remembers that she might be opening a can of worms after witnessing Victor’s tirade earlier. “I-I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

Nicole raises a brow.

Oh fuck, the omega thinks to herself. She didn’t mean for that slip up. The alpha holds her shocked stare for a good long minute. Before returning to their dinner, now crisp and caramelized in the saucepan.

“My father’s family…” Nicole starts, trailing off as she opens the glass cabinets above the stove and pull out two square plates. “Th-They’re a bit intense.”

Dinner’s done, and Waverly reaches for two wine glasses in the same cabinet.

“I love them, I really do, but they aren’t easy to deal with. Sometimes I think running my head through a woodchipper is better than having to speak with them. My grandfather especially.” The older woman visibly shivers. “He enjoyed life and it had to offer, but he was from an older generation and we tended to clash often.”

They take to eating dinner in the living room. The smell of Victor’s scent and his cologne still lingers in the air and Nicole lights a couple of candles around the room to stave it off; the sweet smell of cinnamon with a hint of vanilla drizzled deliciously on top.

The crisp texture of the pan-fried potatoes beneath a bed of caramelized onions, the sweetness of the smoked pieces of pork and duck previously glazed with tinge of honey, sautéed in butter with parsley and the zest of the lemon and the slight spice of the chile; absolute perfection on her tongue.

Paired with the otherworldly sweetness of the glass of Pinot Gris and the aroma of honeysuckle teasing her nose, the sticky weight of the wine bearing down on her tongue accompanied by the acidic pop to her taste buds that keeps them alive.

Topped off with the intriguing discussion budding between them, Waverly is helpless to the feeling of being detached from the ground. Off to float towards cloud nine. Again.

Waverly leans back against the couch, Nicole on the other side of it as the alpha continues talking about her grandfather.

“He’s got an old school way of thinking, his views on politics and life as whole is not one I agree with.” Nicole says taking a sip from her glass.

“And what are your views then?”

Nicole shrugs her shoulders, “Well, as liberal as Canada is compared to the United States, we still have a bit of a medieval way of looking at mating and the expectations of mates, in general. It’s only recently did we, as a society, finally get over this pack-like hierarchy. Next on the list should be the removal of the laws insisting on mates being inexplicably linked for the rest of their lives.”

The brunette almost chokes on the forkful of potatoes in her mouth, omega tilting its head in confusion. Barking in dislike when it finally catches on.

“I’m sorry,” Waverly quickly wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “But you have to be the only person that I’ve ever heard who’s against the laws on mates.”

“Yes, well, I think most people don’t really understand what it means to be mated to another person. It’s always been romanticized. Establishing a mating bond is considered to be the truest form of love.”

“It is! Finding someone who is just equal in every possible way. There’s a reason why it’s such an overdone cliché in literature since time in memoriam, really.”

Nicole shakes her head. “Love is way too complicated for it to be that simple.”

“I never said it was simple,” Waverly adds. “The laws are there for that, at least to try and make things somewhat easier.”

She continues. “According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts; condemning them to spend the rest of their lives in search of their other halves.”

“Greek mythology doesn’t take into consideration the other aspect in mates that most people overlook.” Nicole cuts in.

“Love is a part of the human experience, it’s something unexplainable and unmeasurable, mates are an extension of that,” Waverly replies, “We all want to find our mate, find that one singular person we were born for; that tangible relief to finally feel whole.”

Nicole shakes her head. “You find your mate, that’s wonderful. You feel complete, whole. Together, you’re one. But just because that is so, doesn’t mean that the both of you are meant to be. Everything is magical when you’re with your mate—you’re invincible, soaring through the clouds and you think you’ll never touch the ground—but then there’s a problem. An argument, a disagreement, whatever it may be, everything gets hot. You’re on fire, combusting into flames and your mind races so fast that it seems like it won’t stop.”

“And when you’re not with your mate, what happens then? There’s no good in the world, you can’t stand being apart. You’re drowning and no matter how much you try, you can’t seem to keep your head above water.” The alpha continues.

“That’s only if the bond is strong and mating bites are done,” Waverly counters quickly. “And a bite can only be issued if both parties are willing to give and or receive it.”

“Extreme highs and extreme lows; worse for those with unrequited bites.”

“Mating is as natural to our biology as it is for me to go into heat and you into a rut. It’s a part of our biology, we can’t help it.” Waverly regards Nicole with a thoughtful look.

“There are laws in place for registered mates, pretty much the same for married couples, but trickier and hard to define now that people are starting to realize the screwed side to it. All of the ancient civilizations, despite their differences, agreed on one thing: mates should die together. If one went first, the other was soon to follow, whether by sickness, suicide, or justifiable execution by the state.”

“That practice died out by the post-classical era, with no records of documents to be found indicating that it continued after 500 AD.”

“Mates were given more freedom to live but were still shackled to each other, even if they were married to others and had children. The modern era didn’t change anything either except acknowledge to a certain degree that it shouldn’t be the be all, end all.”

“It isn’t a prison sentence…”

“True,” Nicole understands. “But I’m not going to let my alpha’s wants and desires dictate my life.”