Rated T for violence and language. A one-shot on how I thought parts of Fair Game were going to play out.
It was the cold that woke me. Though he's done his best to avoid touching me in bed – or at all – for the past month, Charles' body had still been a comforting source of heat during most nights.
With a tired yawn I roll over to check the time. Almost midnight. I don't need to check through the mate bond to know where he is or what he's doing. Ever since our existence had been revealed to the humans, the jobs he's needed to do as Bran's executioner has more than tripled, which means a lot of lonely nights and interrupted dinners.
An irrational wave of anger rolls through me when I think about Bran and his methods on how to control the rogue wolves; the very permanent method of death. We're not allowed to make mistakes anymore, even though making mistakes is fundamentally human, we've been denied that luxury. I wonder how long I would have lasted as a new wolf under these harsh laws.
Deciding I'm not going to get sleep any time soon – not with so much on my mind – I nimbly roll out of bed and head towards the kitchen. It's not that I'm constantly hungry, but no matter the time or how much I'd eaten in the last hour, I can always eat more.
'Thank god for this metabolism,' I think while preparing a three-layer sandwich of ham, cheese, and mustard. All of which were the only available ingredients in the bare fridge; it almost reminds me of the way I used to live in my old shabby apartment before I met Charles.
The sandwich was disgusting but it was filling and gave me a little bit of energy to stay awake until Charles came home. Just for peace of mind I try to check in with him through the mate bond, but the connection has been purposely blocked. While I know he blocks it in a misguided attempt to protect me, or protect himself, I can't help the feelings of shame, sorrow, and disappointment that bury themselves strongly in my heart.
'He may not want my help, but he still wants me. He still wants me,' I repeat in my head like a mantra, desperate to remove the seeds of doubt planted there.
Suddenly I feel sick, the sandwich heavy in my stomach and my heart heavy with doubt. I had opened myself up to Charles as much as I could when we first met, which was more than I expected of myself considering my past experiences with dominant male wolves. I opened up and allowed him to support me, help me, and the moment he needs support from me he distances himself.
Well I wasn't going to allow that to happen anymore. While I wouldn't be able to forcefully open the communication channel between us, I could wear him down with patience and love until he realises his mistake and willingly opens himself up to me so that we could heal together.
Feeling determined for the first time in months I sit down on the couch and let the TV play in the background while I wait for Charles to come home. It was already half past twelve – he couldn't be too far away.
An old episode of Friends was playing and I let it distract me away from my upcoming plan, even letting myself loosen up enough to laugh along with the live audience. I used to love this show as a teenager, and now it genuinely feels like decades have passed since then.
I barely make it through two episodes before my eyelids droop with fatigue and I settle into the uncomfortable couch, drifting off into unwelcome sleep.
When I wake this time it's not from the cold but from a heavy spray of water. Someone's having a shower. Charles.
"Charles," I call out croakily, my voice thick with sleep. The first rays of sunlight are beginning to peek through the windows, signalling dawn. He had been out all night.
Slowly, I make my way down to the bathroom where I first notice the unusual amount of steam billowing from under the door. Now that I'm closer I can hear grunts and a harsh grating sound along with the very heavy stream of water.
"Charles?" I repeat, tapping softly on the door. The grunts and grating stop for a moment.
"I'll be out in a minute, Anna."
Normally with such an obvious dismissal I would go and begin making breakfast, but for one thing we were out of food, and more importantly I had a plan I'm resolved to go through with.
"Please open the door, Charles," I say quietly. If what he really needed was space and privacy then there wouldn't have been an issue – I've given him nothing but space and privacy. "I really like this door. I don't want to have to ruin it to see you."
It takes him half a minute but he eventually opens the bathroom door and pokes his head out. The stream escapes behind him in large bursts.
"Now you've seen me," he says, trying to crack a smile. His hair is damp and his face looks clean, although his normally bronze skin has a red hue as though his shower was too hot for him to handle.
I stand there expectantly. "I'd like to come in."
"There's not enough room in here for the both of us," he replies, closing the door a little further. "We have another bathroom you can use."
"That's not true," I say, crossing my arms under my breasts, "and I don't need to use the bathroom, I want to see you. I know you were out all night and I know you're not just having a shower."
His face turns dark and his mouth sets into a grim line. Turning away from me, unable to meet my eyes, he begins to shut the door.
"Well, I don't want to see you," he murmurs, "I don't want you in here."
"That's not true, either," I whisper as I catch the door before it closes, my voice betraying my hurt. If he would just open the connection back up between us he could feel how much he's hurting me by shutting me out. My heart feels like it's breaking.
"Charles," I say so softly, so brokenly, that he can't help but look at me again. Tears are rapidly building and a few escape before I can stop them.
With a sorrowful moan he opens the door fully, allowing me access to the steamy bathroom.
"Don't cry," he says, looking as though he's seconds away from pulling me into a tight hug. It's what I want; for him to just hold me and reassure me that everything's okay. That we're okay. But he doesn't, instead opting to face the sink and clean up what looks to be blood.
With a gasp I step inside. There's a pile of torn clothing near the bathtub and the shower is still on full blast, watered down blood pooling at the drain. I quickly glance back at him, taking in the red marks and abrasions all over his near naked body. His skin is peeling in some places, like it had been scratched off with a peeler.
"What happened?!" I cry out in alarm, reaching out to touch one of the wounds on his chest. He flinches away from me before I can. "Who hurt you?"
Charles scoffs and shakes his head. "No one."
It doesn't click until I see the scouring pad on the sink, the once bright yellow now tinted red. I examine his body again silently, taking in all the bruising, discolouration and tears.
"You did this to yourself," I whisper in horror. He looks away in shame.
"Now can you leave?" he asks firmly, his hands gripping the sides of the sink.
"My god, Charles. You used a scouring pad to rub your skin raw! I can't leave you like this, you can't ask that of me!" I turn the shower off, making a mental note to clean out the blood later so he doesn't have to see it again.
Taking a nearby towel I try to wrap it around his bare shoulders. Thankfully he takes it and doesn't fight me on this one.
"What happened?" I ask softly, trying to stay calm and soothing. Inside though I'm an inferno, raging at what my mate has endured in the last six hours. Whatever it was it was bad enough to make him attack his own skin.
"Another young wolf. Wrong place, wrong time."
Not knowing what to say I wrap my hands around his shoulders, rubbing the towel over him trying to provide a little warmth and comfort.
"They always beg," he whispers so quietly I almost miss it, even with wolf hearing. "I can see the remorse, I see the chance for them to do so much good in the future but I take that away from them. This one though-"
He stops speaking, running his hands over his face in distress, still hunched over the sink. "She reminded me of you: the hair, skin. Caught by a group of humans while she was mauling her rapist."
My heart is hammering so hard I feel sick. He was forced to kill a new wolf because she was caught killing her rapist. If I had been stronger – no, not stronger, but more aware – at the beginning when I first changed that might have been me if I made the decision to try to kill Justin or Leo. Not that I would've stood a chance.
"It could've been you once," he says as though he read my mind. "I wanted to kill the humans instead. I would've if they were there. She wasn't going to hurt anyone else..."
"I know," I say, but I really don't. "Let's get you out of here and into some clean clothes."
He lets me lead him into the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the queen-sized bed. Handing him a pair of jeans and plain T-shirt I wait until he's finished dressing before addressing my concerns.
"This is killing you," I say bluntly, wanting him to fully realise the damage his job is causing. "If you don't stop these jobs now you're going to end up broken. I'm going to lose you and I just can't, Charles. I can't lose you."
He's watching me closely making no motion to speak or move. I sit next to him on the bed, consciously aware of the fact our thighs are touching and he's not moving away.
"What you had to do last night was terrible, and I'm so sorry you had to do it alone. You shouldn't be forced into these kind of positions. Please, please, tell your father you can't do this anymore. He won't be disappointed in you for it."
Charles clenches a fist on his lap. "I can't. Even if I wanted to stop I couldn't. Once a Marrok asks something of you, you're compelled to do it." He sighs, frustrated. "You wouldn't understand. Not as an Omega."
I can almost physically feel the wall being put up between us again. This solid, unbreakable wall I can't seem to get passed no matter how hard I push.
"I do understand," I press on, "but you need to just communicate exactly what's happening with him. He doesn't know the extent of these missions, he's just sitting there giving the orders without any idea of what they entail, without any idea of-"
"Anna, stop!"
I shut my mouth quickly, not used to being yelled at by Charles. It stings, leaving me embarrassed and ashamed that I couldn't even communicate properly with my husband. I stand, ready to flee anywhere to lick at my proverbial wounds and rethink about how I was going to try to make him see reason.
"Wait," he says, and I turn around. His eyes are full of regret and I stand there for a few moments before realising he has nothing to say. With an internal sigh I nod and turn back around.
"I need to pick up some food for breakfast. I'll be back soon."
In less than thirty seconds I'm out of the door and reversing down the driveway. So much for my plan to support and comfort him. One harsh word and I'd bolted like a rabbit.
'It's probably my fault,' I think hopelessly because he did open up to me. He talked to me about his mission and how it made him feel and I couldn't think of anything to say to him. Maybe I just wasn't expecting him to actually say something.
It doesn't occur to me until a few minutes of aimless driving later that I realise he'd be able to smell my lie. No grocer would be open this early; it's only an hour after sunrise.
'I hope I haven't ruined things even further.'
Anger hits me the more I think about it. It wasn't my fault things were like this between Charles and me. I'm doing my best, Charles was doing his best – I fully believed that with my whole being. No, we were fine before humans learnt of our existence. Bran and his cruel, unforgiving jobs were the problem between us.
Making a sharp U-turn I head towards Bran's place in Aspen Creek. Charles and his father never bought houses too far away from each other for sheer convenience. It takes me less than ten minutes to reach the modest house. The lights were on and only one car, which I assume to be Leah's, is parked outside.
Running up to the door before I lose all confidence and nerves I pound on it heavily. Quick footsteps alert me to his presence and in a second I'm staring at the face of Bran Cornick.
"Hello, Anna. Is everything okay?" he asks in concern. I suppose I wouldn't be here in the early morning without any notice if things were fine.
"Not really," I reply hotly. As much as I respect the man I can't help but hate him in this moment.
Without so much as a pause he gestures me inside with a wave. "How serious is it? Do I need to bring in a healer?"
"It's serious, but no healer is necessary."
He leads me into his study where, surprisingly, Asil sits. Asil gives me a short nod and smile as I enter, my confidence falling with each step. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.
"I hope you don't mind Asil being here while we speak. He and I were in the middle of a discussion, but that can wait," Bran says, taking a seat at his desk opposite to Asil. His study is huge, the majority of space coming from the lack of furniture. "What's the matter, Anna?"
"It's Charles," I start shakily, unsure of how to continue. "I don't think he can keep doing the jobs you ask of him."
Both men's expression drop from open and warm to something less friendly, although Asil mostly just looks worried.
"Why do you think Charles can't do them?" Bran asks, challenging me.
"I know my husband."
"And I know my son."
We stare each other down for a few seconds, neither of us giving the other any headway. Asil glances between us nervously.
"Anna, Charles has been doing this for a long time. Longer than you've been alive. I think he can handle things."
I shake my head, refusing to give in. "You're wrong. He's been delivering justice for a long time but what he's had to do recently isn't justice – it's simply wrong. He's killing young wolves without even the chance for mercy." I ready myself for what I'm about to demand of the Marrok. "And it's going to stop. Now."
Bran growls loudly at me, his body vibrating as he stands up to his full height in an effort to intimidate. "Did you come to my house to give me orders, Omega?"
Asil stands as well, the concern palpable on his face. "Anna, I think you should be-"
"Go home," Bran interrupts with a snarl. I think the statement is directed at me.
"I will when you tell me you'll quit calling on my husband to kill people," I answer doggedly. I didn't have to take orders from him and I'm not going to back down. My confidence is back. "I know my mate. I know him better than you do, and he'll break before he disappoints you or fails to do his duty. You need to stop this because he can't."
The Marrok's power washes over us as his temper increases. "I'll tell you one last time, Anna. Go home."
"I can't!" I cry out, my frustration and anger getting the better of me, "Not while Charles is in there scrubbing his body raw to remove the blood of a girl whose crime was being caught killing her rapist. I can't go home to him when he flinches away when I try to touch him!"
Bran looks somewhat surprised at the news but still shows no sign of changing his mind.
"He hasn't touched me in a month," I whisper, damning the tears that were again building in my eyes. "I don't just mean sexually which is a lot longer. He won't take my hand. He hasn't picked up a musical instrument in just as long. You're destroying him."
Bran flinches and looks caught between remorse and pity. Asil gasps and turns to face him.
"Bran..."
"I am the Marrok," Bran cuts him off, the brief second of remorse replaced with something harsher, "I know what's best for my packs, and I know what's best for my son. I'm not asking anymore, Anna. Go home."
He comes around the desk to take me by the arm, threatening to forcefully drag me out if need be. But I've come too far, I'm close to getting him to change his mind. I can feel it.
"No, please!" I whimper against his hold, "Bran, please! You have the power to stop this. Please, stop this!"
I wrench my arm out of his grasp. "You may think you know what's best for the packs but I don't think you do. You know I only want what's best for them; I only want what's best for my mate and that involves you stopping him from killing unjustly."
He stares at me coldly, seeming to ponder what I've said, before taking my arm again and dragging me out of the room. I dig my heels into the carpet to slow us down but he's too strong.
"Bran, let the girl walk out of here with her dignity," I hear Asil say from behind us. I can only imagine what he sees: a slight Omega still in her pajamas being dragged physically out of the Marrok's house by the arm, and not being able to do anything because no-one can question the Almighty Marrok. No-one can refuse the-
It's then, with a sudden gasp, that the craziest idea I've ever had comes to my mind. One that just might help Charles in the only way I know how.
"Then I challenge you for the position of Marrok!" I cry, still trying to stop him from dragging me to the door.
He instantly drops my arm and stumbles away from me in shock. His eyes wide like he can't believe I'd just challenged him. It's about time he learnt not to underestimate me.
"I can say that, can't I?" I question suddenly nervous about his response.
I hear the heavy sprint of a man – Asil – behind me before one of his hands clamp around my mouth and his other hand around my waist. He pulls me against his chest, lifting me high so my feet don't touch the ground.
"She didn't mean that!" he says frantically to Bran, who's like a statue in front of us. "Didn't mean it, just ignore her."
Asil has me right in front of the door before Bran says softly, "Let her go, Asil."
He does, dropping me heavily to my feet where I stumble upright.
"Run now," Asil whispers, taking my face into his hands. "You don't know what you've just done, Anna. Go to Charles, tell him what-"
I jerk away from him angrily and take a step back. "Yes I do. I'm allowed to fight for what I think's best for my pack, and that's what I'm doing. I don't actually plan on being the Marrok, Asil, I just wanted to show you how serious about this I am."
"You stupid, stupid, little girl!" Bran roars from behind me. He's so truly frightening at this moment I could feel my heart skip a few beats. I'd fooled myself into thinking he was harmless when right now he's anything but.
'I'm sorry,' I want to say, though I don't know why. I want to plead, beg for him to not be mad at me but I couldn't. I had to think about Charles and resolve myself.
Bran's body is vibrating heavily and he drops to the floor, his back arching as the change to wolf begins. I glance at Asil in confusion, who's looking between us in horror.
"What's happening? Why is he changing?" I ask.
"Asil," Bran chokes out through the force of the change, "Call any available healer. Here. Now. Bring Charles. Tell them what's happened."
He collapses, his body needing the energy to change completely into the wolf. Asil frantically pulls out his phone to make a call.
"I need you here at Bran's now!" Asil exclaims frantically into his phone without bothering with any pleasantries, "Anna's formally challenged Bran for position of the Marrok. Bring anything, bring everything. I don't know, just get here."
He cuts the call before making another one. "Charles! Get to Bran's now. Anna just challenged your father for Marrok and he's already changing."
I grabbed the phone from his hands, realising Charles is on the other end. "What?! Asil!" I hear him through the speaker.
"Charles," I say softly into the headset. I wanted to hear a comforting sound among this chaos.
"Anna! What the fuck are you thinking!" he yells and I pull the phone away for a moment in disbelief. "I'm on my way, get out of that fucking house now!"
"I don't understand," I tell him softly, my nerves catching up to me.
"A challenge for the title of Marrok is a compulsory, no conceding, fight to the deat-"
His words are cut off as a heavy weight falls onto my back, instantly dropping me to the floor where my head whacks hard against the tiles. Asil's phone breaks on impact and I can feel one of the shards dig into my cheek. A low snarl echos into my ear and drool hits the nape of my neck.
Very slowly, making no sudden movements, I turn onto my back where I'm met with the wild eyes of Bran's wolf. They're beyond wild, they're feral, with absolutely none of the human behind them. I don't think he even knows who or what I am.
Asil is no where to be seen. Terrified, I try to inch my way slowly to the door behind me, using just my hands, and not looking the feral wolf in the eyes, but it's hard. My head is pounding from the fall and the amount of fear coursing through me makes my palms wet with sweat. In a split second decision I turn, jumping to my feet to make a run for it. The door is only a few feet away.
'Never run from a wolf,' I couldn't help but think the second I decided to. My fear was making me take crazy chances and when I feel the wolf's teeth sink into the soft flesh of my arm, tearing the skin off my bones, I know it was the worst decision I could've made.
The wolf hauls me back by my mangled arm – away from the door – knocking me flat onto my back once more as its form hovers over me. I thrash my head in denial of what's happening to me; the pain and fear making me cry openly and heavily now. I think I'm in shock.
"Please don't," I beg, "I yield!"
The wolf doesn't understand what I'm saying though, and his claws dig deep into my stomach. I can feel them tear into the softness of my belly, shredding through my pajama top like it's water. I can't even scream at the pain – I don't have any breath left. I can't. I can't...
My vision swims, coating everything in a sheen of white. I think I hear a bang but I'm not sure. I can't hear much of anything anymore, but at least thankfully the pain is fading. The whiteness of the room looks beautiful; comforting as it takes away the image of the horrible wolf.
I close my eyes, and the blackness that overtakes me, is even more beautiful.
'Anna.'
I'm lying on the best pillow in the world, I decide. It's warm, and it has a strong heartbeat.
'Is she awake?'
'I don't know.'
I try to shuffle in closer to the heated pillow, and I can feel it press up against my back as well.
'She's moving!'
'Anna?'
Straining with effort I somehow fight the grogginess surrounding me to lift my eyelids. All I see is bare, bronze skin. I think my pillow is a person.
"Charles?" I murmur, unsure of where I am exactly. I can't remember what's happened either. The arms holding me tighten even further, but it's not uncomfortable or painful in the slightest.
"Not too much pressure on her abdomen, Charles!"
The arms around me loosen up a little. It is Charles.
"Charles?" I repeat, lifting my head with effort to look at him. In this position, from the way he's holding me, I'm almost lying right on top of him. I feel him shaking underneath me and when I meet his eyes I see that he's crying.
"Don't cry," I say softly, trying to lift an arm to wipe the tears away, but it's too hard to move and my arm feels heavy. Glancing down at it I see it's covered in a white gauze. That's when the memories of what happened rush back.
With a small wail, I shift around helplessly, trying to locate the wolf that attacked me, irrationally afraid it could hurt my mate, too.
"Don't move," Charles whispers, stilling my movements. "You don't want to tear open the wound before you heal."
Wound sounds so insignificant, so small. Maybe what happened was just a small incident. I relax back into him. It certainly didn't last longer than thirty seconds after all, or at least I don't think it did.
I turn on Charles' lap to take in my surroundings. There were two healers I haven't met before standing off to the side, examining me from a far, and a third one attending to a human Bran in the corner of the room. His shoulder is covered in gauze as well, but I don't remember attacking him.
"Bran," I start weakly, eliciting a growl from Charles, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I wouldn't have..."
I don't know what I was thinking when I challenged him. Maybe that we could talk it out and he would've seen how serious I had been about the whole situation.
'I'm such an idiot!' I think with self-derision. Of course wolves wouldn't talk things out; they fight for their territory and their titles.
"I wasn't thinking. I didn't know. I thought I could've protected... my pack."
I stop speaking – it hurts to talk too much. Bran walks over to me silently and Charles' human growls increase ten-fold. He can't attack his own father when I'm laying so vulnerable above him though. As Bran comes closer I let my eyes drop in submission. I don't want to anger the Marrok. Not when I've just been at the receiving end of his true power.
He stops in front of me, takes my face into his hands and turns my head so his eyes meet mine. Up close I can see how splotchy his face is and how red his eyes are. He's been crying as well. He kisses the top of my head, and then both cheeks before dropping his forehead down onto my own.
"I'm so, so sorry, Anna," he whispers, his warm breath fanning across my face. "I had no control. Not even my wolf knew what was going on, he would never willingly harm one of my own, definitely not an Omega. Especially not you. Not my daughter-in-law who only wants the best for everybody." He shudders, "It's part of being the Marrok – a challenge means a fight regardless, and I couldn't resist it."
I nod in understanding, blaming mostly myself for what had happened between us.
"You died," he whispers and I feel hot tears against my face. I close my eyes in embarrassment – his face is still so close to mine. "I killed you and I couldn't stop it. I killed you."
"Get away from her," Charles snarls from under me. I can feel the tension in his body and I know he wants to attack his father. More problems I've caused for him. I can deal with those later. Bran moves away and I turn back to Charles, mostly so I don't have to think about how I've died and come back. I place my hand onto his bare torso.
"You're touching me," I whisper. Who knew all it'd take is my death for my mate to touch me again.
"I'll never stop," he whispers back firmly with resolve. "You'll be glued to my side for centuries until I know something like this doesn't happen again."
"You were right, Anna," Bran interrupts us. Just a few feet away he nods at Charles. "He won't be killing anyone anymore. At least not those who aren't complete monsters. We can deal with the rogue wolves another way. The way we used to."
I smile tentatively at him. I guess the Omega did get her way in the end after all, even after losing the fight. Realising there's someone missing from the room I gasp as a thought hits me.
"What happened to Asil? Did he get... away in time?"
Bran grimaces, holding a hand against his shoulder. "Yeah, he got out fine. Found my rifle and pumped me full of lead for the time it took the healers to arrive."
"That's good. That he got out. Not that you were shot."
Surprisingly I don't feel too bad that Bran was shot, especially since it was only lead. I think it'll help him overcome his guilt about hurting me – knowing that he was injured as well, and that the injury likely saved my life. I lean back to make myself comfortable against Charles, taking his arms to wrap them the right way around me as Bran leaves with the healers to give us some privacy.
"I can't believe I almost lost you," he says. I feel his extreme fear and heartbreak through our mate bond – he's opened up again. Finally.
"I'm sorry I put you through that," I say weakly, stroking his chest. "I promise it'll never happen again."
There are a few moments of silence before I say, "You've opened our connection back."
"I'll never block you out again. I felt it, the very second you... you died, I felt it in our bond. It was the worst feeling that I've ever experienced, in all my years on this Earth. I won't feel that wrongness again. I won't."
"No you won't," I agree, although it's not something I can promise. Sometimes accidents happen. "You know, I still didn't get us breakfast."
He laughs brokenly, tears coming back to his eyes. "I love you, so, so much, Anna."
"I love you more."
Hope you enjoyed. It's been a while since I've read the books so I don't know if a fight to the death would be the way things go down, but it's an entertaining thought nonetheless.