He smiles, puts down the glass beside his own chair and rises without haste to his feet.
Military discipline says it's not done to sit when a superior officer is standing, so I do the same. I'm not quite sure how it's happened, but we're face to face, and I can smell the faint musk of his aftershave.
Desire wakes in me, which I suppress ruthlessly. I want Harris, I want proof, and then I want my revenge.
It's a delicious shock when he puts his hand on me. I don't move a muscle. My eyes reflected in the visor don't even blink, though assorted sets of nerves fire off salvoes of excitement as the slow seconds pass.
Presently his other hand goes to his face. He unhooks the visor and tosses it carelessly onto the chair, and as there's a faint gasp from behind me, everything becomes brutally clear.
His eyes are blue. Not blue as in blue irises, blue as in azure coins, blazing blue staring back into mine.
"I was there too, Reed," he whispers, his mouth bare inches from mine. "I killed the Alpha. I am the Alpha. The rest is up to you."
Blue. Memory is blue. Obey, kill, survive!
With a whimper of understanding I drop down in front of him. The sensation of his jaws closing on my neck is an appalling joy.
Em watches without a word. She has a small tattoo on her left breast, just above the nipple: the pawprint of a wolf.
We snap and snarl for a moment, as fabric rends, and then there is a silence punctuated by staccato breathing and the impact of flesh on flesh.
Afterwards I lift my face, and he leans over my shoulder and licks my mouth tenderly. I have been accepted.
We are pack.
Soon Sato will have cause to regret that she saw my injuries and thought them amusing. As for Mayweather … we'll see. He may be useful. Or there again, he may be entertainment.
I wriggle a little, swivelling to bring my head up, licking at the mouth above me; the movement feels natural already. It's the way wolves beg to be fed, and I'm famished with a long-held hunger that demands to be satisfied. I no longer care about proof. I believe.
Sound is rumbling in my chest. When my mouth opens, it emerges as a growl that hardly sounds human. "Harrrrisss…"
The expression of satiation shifts subtly. His mouth moves in what isn't a smile as he touches the button again.
The MACOs bring the gurney back in. Their eyes are locked level. They park it and go, without a backward glance.
We stand. The movement feels awkward, unnatural. We're more used to being on all fours.
A drop of saliva makes a stain on the clean cotton shirt under the leather coat. But something's wrong. I snarl. My brain won't give me the words I want.
There's a hypospray lying beside the man's face. Alpha looks at me and picks it up in one paw. With a deft movement he presses it to the base of the prisoner's neck. Then he flicks off the restraints. It'll be more fun that way. We can enjoy the chase first.
Consciousness comes back to the man who sent both of us to be robbed of our humanity.
His reactions are fast. To my delight, he tries to run, but the doors are locked and he has nowhere to go; Em fends him off effortlessly. We herd him between us, and I listen to the terror in his breathing. As we finally pin him down, he even tries to speak, though not for long.
Once or twice through the noises that follow I vaguely hear Em vomiting her guts up; I never realised she was that squeamish… Nevertheless, when at last silence has fallen she's still upright beside the door, somewhat green-hued in complexion and looking slightly sheepish about the small puddle of puke in front of her.
It would be churlish to say the least to make an issue of that minor mess when there's five litres or so of crimson spilled all over the hitherto immaculate landscape. The cleaning detail tasked with putting all this to rights will probably put in for a month's overtime. As for what remained of our uniforms, at a guess they're beyond salvaging, but what the hell. It was fun while it lasted.
Alpha looks down at me calmly. "Wash." He points to the other wall, which presumably has a door leading to a bathroom. "We wash."
"We wash." I turn a predatory smile on Em. She can make herself useful, to make up for the vomit. She has a dab hand with a squirt of shower gel, and it's not like Alpha and I are hungry any more. Once she gets over her initial nerves – and out of her clothes – I'm sure she'll get into the swing of things beautifully.
I ought to be afraid. I'm not. I'm proud, joyful, happy. I don't remember a time when I was so satiated, body and – for want of a better word – soul. I've found my mate, and the Army of the Dispossessed can look forward to an extremely rewarding future.
Would he want me if I didn't have so much power? Of course he wouldn't. This is real life, not some bloody damn silly fairy tale. But I do have power, and he wants it and me. We could be enemies and destroy each other, or allies and take whatever we want. Personally, I'd rather seize my chances. The vista of opportunity opens before me like a landscape flooded by the dawn. Once I've settled my scores nearer home I might even pay the construction yards at Jupiter Station a visit. I'm sure Mistah Tuckah would like to see me again.
Well, probably not very much. But that's his problem. The first of many I'll have the pleasure of introducing into his sad little world.
I wonder what did happen to Captain Archer?
Alpha puts his paws possessively around me and I respond, biting passionately at his mouth and nose. This, not V'Rel's kind of love, is my destiny. Once a wolf, always a wolf.
And the Big Bad Wolf is loose.
The End.
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