#i whumped three pups in my fics two years ago so yeah

[neuroticphysiologist]

Quarter to Three

It sure took me a very long time to get me motivated to write...

Probably some sad old songs might help.

Man, this is one of the hardest fics I wrote. At least I made it.

My OC from my one shot "Itinerary" is back! But the setting of this is before Scott and Bethany are in a relationship.

Contains language.

Also available in AO3 and FF.net

***

He can't handle it anymore. He wanted to leave. He's fucking exhausted.

After a rescue mission in Alaska, he decided to stop by in New York. He switched into a full black casual outfit, fixed his hair, and grabbed his jacket with a few bucks, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in its pocket before he hopped off Thunderbird 1. He rode on a cab, heading to the main street full of bars.

He looked around the street. It's a gloomy Saturday at around quarter to three in the early morning. Few people walking, wearing trench coats, some of them having a smoke, just like those black and white pictures back in the old times.

He had been thinking about his life. With both parents gone, and now living with four younger brothers, one adopted sister, and his grandma. He's currently the head of the family, he had a lot to do, and now he's exhausted.

He had to leave for a while.

It started to rain, so he entered a small bar, sat near the bartender's table, and ordered a drink. He lit up a cigarette and took a drag.

Surely is a sad day. Quarter to three, a little quiet, few people in the bar, some are asleep because of drunkenness, the jukebox playing slow paced songs. Scott listened to the song currently playing. He thought about his situation again, but then, a young woman sat beside him.

"There he is."

He turned to the right to see who it was.

"Beth?"

"Hey, Scott, glad you stopped by," she ordered a drink. "I haven't seen you since the opening of the new building in Manhattan, which turned out to be a disaster. You wished to see me but your brother needed you for his next mission."

"You came in the same time as I did?"

"Nope, I've been here for hours. I almost ran out of cents for that jukebox right over there. The local standup comedians earlier were a bore. Ten minutes before you came in, I had a great talk with the bartender named Mick over there. He made the best margarita, gotta tell you that."

"At least we have the time to meet again."

"Yeah. I missed you, Scotty."

"Missed you too, Betty."

He had another puff.

"What brings you here?"

"Disadvantages of living alone. Got to pay the bills, my aunt seeking help, and now I only have a few bucks for the gas tank. And I left my boyfriend because he's being a dick. My second cousin responded to my call and she helped me out, which is a relief."

"If you need more help, you can always contact me."

"Of course I'll call. And what about you?"

"Been hella busy. Dad's business, taking care of my brothers, especially Gordon and Alan since they're still in school. I have a few weeks left before going back for the last semester but still I'm in a fucking mess. Sorry I didn't get to call you, Beth."

"It's alright."

Beth took her drink, and so did Scott.

"That doesn't taste like the scotch I usually have."

"Mick probably gave you the heavy one."

"But that helped, thanks, Mick."

"Hey Mick, next time I come back, you know my usual."

Mick gave them a thumbs up.

Scott sighed. "I'm tired, Beth. It's been a month since Dad left us. It's like I'm carrying this really huge backpack with a heavy load of tasks that I have to do, and I'm climbing this steep hill. Also there are boulders coming in to knock me over. I jump over them to keep going. At times, I feel like I wanna drop the backpack and give myself some time off."

Beth rubbed his shoulder. "They'll understand if you want to rest. Just ask for help."

Scott felt like he was about to tear up. Losing his father and now taking care of his business and the whole family, that's a double, and it's stressing him out.

"Beth, your hand..."

"Sorry."

He nodded. She rested her hands on the table.

"What about you?"

"As I said, I have my cousin. You're the one who needs it more. You're stressing yourself out. It's your health I'm concerned about, and it's not just me. Your family's gonna be worried about you if you don't tell them."

"You're right. I did put myself into so much stress."

He stood up, put his cigarette on the ashtray, and took his last drink. "Alright..." he paid for the drinks, and then puts his hand on Bethany's shoulder. "Thanks for the reassurance."

"Anytime."

"Maybe I could give you some money for your gas tank, or your necessities..."

"I got it. You don't have to worry about me much."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll call you if this situation is fucking me up."

"Okay then. And you might wanna go back home too."

"I was planning to. I'll go back at 4:30."

"See you when I see you."

Beth smiled.

Just in time, the rain has passed. He closed his jacket and rode on a cab. He looked through the window to have a view of the night lights. He couldn't stop thinking about the same thing. He was close to crying in front of Beth earlier but he didn't want to get through it.

He entered the hangar and found his 'bird. He hopped in, went through systems check, and Thunderbird 1 flew off the city.

Thinking about his current situation made his emotions get worse, and again, he's close to crying, this time in the cockpit. His heart felt heavy and he felt tears running down from his eyes. He hurriedly wiped them off.

When he landed, he did not change to his usual clothes. He went back to his father's desk, supposedly to finish his report from his mission earlier. His footsteps woke Virgil up, who's at the sofa.

"You didn't turn on your comms since the time you rescued those workers, Scott."

"Sorry."

"Brains tracked down your last location. Did you have a drink?"

His brother nodded.

"Don't do that again, bro. Drinking then flying Thunderbird 1 isn't good."

Virgil sat up. "Why did you go somewhere without telling us, Scott?"

He did not respond.

"Scott?"

Virgil heard him sniffle. He approached to him.

"So this is how heavy Dad's job is like," tears fell from Scott's eyes again. "How does he do it, Virgil? I can't do this myself."

Virgil knew that Scott could handle anything, but this is the only moment that he'd say the opposite. Scott is the one who never gives up on anything, well, not only him but all of them, of course.

"It's building up every day. I have rescues to handle, I have to prepare for the last semester, and I have to take care of you all, and... I can't..."

"Come here."

Scott came in closer to hug his brother and cried.

"I was concerned about you, Scott. You're taking over Dad's job and I think it's hard to manage it by yourself."

"It's not just these tasks, Virg," he croaked. "It's just... I miss him. It's hard without Dad."

That last statement made Virgil tear up. The loss of their father has affected their lives so much.

"We all miss him."

"Oh, Virgil, I..."

The sound of him crying made his younger brother cry too. Virgil hugged him tight and rubbed his back.

***

The two elder brothers released from the hug. Scott wiped the tears from his eyes. Virgil glanced at their father's desk containing the files his brother had to finish.

"Alright," Virgil said. "I'll tell Grandma, I'll tell John. You need a day off, Scott. We can manage this without you."

"But I only oriented you a few."

"Don't worry, bro. I can handle it. Head back to your room, turn off your alarm clock just for today, and get some sleep. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Virgil."

"And then you'll come back strong again. Come on."

Virgil followed as Scott headed to his room.

Scott turned off the alarm clock. Before Virgil left his room, he hugged him again. "Thank you, little brother."

"You're welcome. Good night, Scott."

[artistic-writer]

Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - CSSNS Fic

Title: Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer   artwork by @cocohook38  [FULL RESOLUTION]

Summary: Mongrel Killian Jones, packless and alone, finds Emma by chance in a bar, but she neglects to mention she is running away from her pack responsibilities...responsibilities that her strict father and alpha, David Nolan, expects of his only child and heir to the Misthaven pack. None of which include falling in love with a mongrel. Loosely based Lady and the Tramp AU.

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Word Count: 4172

Also on AO3 - Updates Sundays with Mid-week illustrations (time permitting)

A/N: Welcome to my contribution for the @cssns ! This is a multi chapter fic that has been in the planning for a long time. Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted and @hookedonapirate who i am sure, thanks to me, hates tenses lol (i am a dick and missed Hannah off the original post!) . Without your constant encouragement, I would have probably given up on this fic already. Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. The BIGGEST thank you to @cocohook38 who, after I had finished fangirling over the fact she was my artist, has gone out of her way to make some of the most amazing fanart for this fic - I am amazed and so humbled!  She even let me watch ;) And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz  @therooksshiningknight 

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Set back far from the road, along a pothole ridden dirt track, was Misthaven. It was a grand house, single story with an eclectic mixture of modern and older architecture that set the house apart from anywhere else. In the summertime, the surrounding grass would make way for meadow flowers that sprang up from the ground and enveloped the whole estate in a blanket of blue and white. Surrounding the main lawns was the woodland that came with the house, trees as tall as the sky and as dark as night for as far as the eye could see.

There was an old grandfather clock in the hall to the house, standing steadfast against the wall and standing the test of time. It had been passed through no less than seven generation of Nolan men, and Emma had always remembered that her grandfather used to tell her stories when she was a child, always including the warm, wooden furniture as if it were some magical piece of history. In reality, Emma knew it was nothing more than a clock, ticking away the seconds of her life, its bulk a symbol of her defiance.

Emma Nolan was an only child, born pure of blood and whelped in a one-pup litter. Her parents, David Nolan and his wife Mary Margaret were pureblood too, the product of generations of breeding that created stronger, faster offspring who had so far been successful in maintaining a stronghold over the werewolf community. That was, until the death of the fairest pack leader Misthaven had ever known threw his twin sons into a power hungry struggle for dominance.

Pack law stated that once an alpha was defeated in battle, his title and everything associated with his prestige would pass onto his victor. As archaic as it sounded, it was upheld, and losing a challenge for superiority was an alpha’s worst nightmare. Not only would they have to give up their power and influence over the community they oversaw, but they would also have to give up their home, loyal followers and would have to leave the place they called home forever. They would be exiled with the mongrels, shunned by their own, losing all breeding privileges and destined to slowly watch their family names die out as outcasts.

But when an alpha dies simply of natural causes, it falls on his eldest pureblood child to take up the mantle. If they are a female, they must be married, or the pack will nominate a high ranking pack member to enter into an arranged marriage with her; the idea of strength and unity was one that so often could not be shaken. If they are male, they are free to lead as alpha, choosing their own path and mate in good time. But when David’s father died, he left not one but two pureblood progeny.

David and James were twins, whelped as pups at exactly the same time, sharing an embryotic sack and leaving their mother at exactly the same moment in time. This meant that by rights, both had a claim on Misthaven, and even though David was the far superior wolf, leaner, stronger and far more level-headed than his brother ever would be, James was blinded by the greed of power, and challenged David to a fight for the position of alpha. It was a fight that he lost in no less than two minutes, his fate sealed as a mongrel in exile thereafter and the hatred for his brother growing more and more each day.

Despite his years of exile, David was fair to his brother and only sibling, offering James the chance to start his own pack in another state. That was the only way he could gain power, and even though it was never the title he was ultimately entitled to, James took the offer. He was to stay away from Misthaven and anything to do with David’s pack at all times, ensuring that their paths never crossed unless he was summoned for political reasons or in the greater interests of wolf kind.

There were few instances that meant David would ever call upon his brother, but as family, it was expected of him to attend the wedding of his only niece, and so James had answered his brother’s summons and set out for Misthaven. It had been nearly thirty years since he had last set foot onto the sacred turf of his childhood home, and as he stepped from the expensive black SUV, James surveyed the property with a mixture of pride and distaste.

“This place could have been so much more,” he huffed, dismissively brushing some fluff from the shoulder of his suit jacket, “if I had taken place as the alpha.”

The sound of a car door slammed behind him and James turned to see his right-hand man standing beside the driver’s side door.

Walsh pulled the dark sunglasses from his face and folded them between his fingers, quickly tucking them into the pocket of his jacket. There was less sun here than in their home state, the sombre atmosphere surrounding the entire state setting cold and damp into his bones. “Is this it?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” James agreed with a slow nod. “This is Misthaven.”

Walsh twisted his features into a grimace as he tried to think of the words to describe his boss’s childhood home, which was also the home of their greatest opposition. “It’s…big,” he managed weakly, shrugging. “Why are we here again?” he asked dumbly.

“My niece is to be married,” James barked, slightly annoyed. “Pack law...blah blah…”

“Ah,” Walsh sounded with a sigh. It made him nervous just setting foot onto the pea-sized gravel driveway of the man who had banished his boss three decades ago, let alone meeting to discuss the conditions of them attending the wedding.

“And we have to show our good intentions,” James said with a smirk. “So when we crush David and his family, they will never see it coming.”

As if he had heard them, David appeared on the expansive front porch, exiting the huge double doorway and stepping forward into the overcast light of day. He stood with his hands in his pockets - a conscious effort to seem neutral, James thought; his features and demeanor having changed little since they had last crossed paths. James looked upon his brother with a narrowed gaze, sizing him up. David was noticeably larger than he had remembered, his brother’s broad shoulders much wider than his own and his biceps bulging against the material of his shirt. His face was unchanged, maybe a little more leathery and with a few more fading scars, and his hair was dusted with silver that was more prominent around his ears.

“Is that him?” Walsh asked softly, stepping closer to James so David could not hear his words. James smiled, reflecting that of his brother, who had clearly heard the exchange with his heightened hearing and had moved to fold his arms over his chest in a display of dominance.

James nodded, keeping eye contact with his twin as David’s daughter and the bride to be stepped from behind her father. Emma was as imposing in presence as her father, identical in her posture and stern bravado that spoke volumes of the woman she had become. James had not seen her for over twenty years, since the last council meeting, and she was a far cry from the small, skinny, blonde-haired girl who he’d once met.

“Is that her?” Walsh stared at Emma, shuffling his weight uncomfortably on the stones beneath his boots. He was dumbfounded by her beauty, his jaw dropping open and his tongue almost lolling out of his mouth like a cartoon mutt. A slip of wind whipped at her long, golden tresses and tossed it backward over her shoulder as she gazed at them with a murderous look in her eyes. Walsh tilted his head back, sticking his nose into the air and inhaling hard, his eyes fluttering closed as he gulped down her scent on a gust of wind that had carried her fragrance down the driveway.

“Down boy,” James warned, buttoning his suit jacket at the front and tugging at the white cuffs of his shirt which poked from his sleeves. It had not escaped his attention that David’s jaw had clenched at Walsh’s display. “Lest you upset the alpha,” he bit out darkly as he struggled to say the words with anything but hatred.

“Yes sir,” Walsh said flatly, falling in line behind James as he made his way up towards the house.

“James,” David greeted awkwardly. He extended a stiff arm to his brother who, after so long, had become more of a stranger with darkness in his heart. James took his offered hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

“This is Walsh, my number two.” James let his hand slip from David’s and motioned towards the man beside him.

David took in the shorter man, letting his eyes roam over his weirdly wide shoulders, pin-like neck and pointed nose. He had an instant hatred for his floppy brown hair that made him look like the outcast stray he was, and when Walsh offered him his hand, David squeezed maybe a little tighter than he should have. “Nice to meet you,” David lied, pinching Walsh’s hand even firmer between his when the man’s gaze wandered towards Emma at his side.

“And this must be Emma,” James sighed with a tiny bit of pride. “It’s been a long time.” He smiled at her warmly, but Emma didn’t uncross her arms to greet him like he expected.

Emma looked away from her uncle, noticing a raised patch of skin on Walsh’s throat. “Where did you get the scar?” she enquired, motioning towards his scar with a nod of her head.

“Now, Emma,” David warned with a tight-lipped smile. “Be nice.”

Emma shrugged. “Just asking,” she huffed, quirking her eyebrow and turning away from the men, stalking back into the house.

“She’s feisty,” James noted with a grin. “I’m sure she gets that from you, brother.”

David laughed a stifled snort through his nose. Pack law dictated that alphas were not permitted to interact with the mates of other alphas, so James had never met the tenacious woman he called his wife. “You have never met her mother.”

James laughed with him, but the whole atmosphere on the porch was a little tense. There was nothing but animosity between the brothers and there was a layer of tension that hung thick in the air and made everyone around them uncomfortable.

“Does she know?” James asked quickly, lowering his voice.

David shook his head and plunged his hands back into his pockets. “Not yet,” he admitted.

James’ face lit up a little at the possibility of a crack forming between the bonds of the Nolan pack. If Emma didn’t know she was to be married, and this would be the first she would hear of it, then this meeting just might be the highlight of his year. “Shall we?” he prompted gently and David turned sideways, motioning him into the house with an extended hand. James followed his direction with a nod of thanks and walked through the huge oak doorway into the darkened reception area of the house.

Walsh moved to follow his boss, but David stepped between him and the doorway, pressing his huge hand to Walsh’s chest and digging his fingers into the planes on his torso. Walsh stopped dead, his feet bumping into David, who did not move a single inch from the impact. Walsh looked up, real fear in his eyes, the prick of heat and the beads of sweat soaking the shirt underneath his jacket.

“Where did you get the scar?” David whispered darkly, echoing his daughter’s words of intrigue, only his tone was more demanding. His eyes flickered over Walsh’s face and down to the scar, the white, lumpy skin long since healed, but clearly a bite wound.

“A mongrel,” Walsh gulped.

David raised an eyebrow, almost impressed. “Did you kill it?”

“No, it got away.” Walsh swallowed hard again, panic setting into his bones. “I’m sorry.”

The code by which werewolves lived their lives was very clear. It was a structured set of rules that every pureblood followed in order to survive, regardless of conflict between packs; the greater good was always the end game. Mongrels were half breeds, hybrids between werewolf and humans, who belonged with no pack and generally lived a life outside of pack culture. They were more like humans who didn’t fit in, and unless they posed a threat to werewolf society, either by threatening to expose them to humans or attacking purebloods, they were left to their own miserable existence.

Mongrels could never breed with a pureblood, destined to procreate with only humans, which would always result in a human child. They would be the last of their line, their werewolf genetics dying out in the child, who would show no signs of ever being supernatural. They may be more successful in their lives, having a slight edge over their competition, but this only ever really manifested itself in sports and other competitive professions.

No mongrel had ever, in the entire stretch of time surrounding werewolf lore and traditions, been permitted to marry into a pack. And for the good of werewolf kind everywhere, they never would.

David moved his hand from Walsh’s chest and slid it around the back of his neck, his long fingers gripping at the sinew there and pulling Walsh’s head beside his. David’s thumb brushed over the scar on his throat and he purposefully dug it into the raised flesh until Walsh winced uncomfortably, the leer at Emma not having gone unnoticed. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and dark, his dominance over all werewolves clear by the tone of his voice. “Next time it won’t.”

David gave Walsh’s face a playful slap, his face erupting into a wide, boyish smile that many a werewolf had made the mistake of misreading as kindness. Walsh knew better and just shook his head in response, breezing past David with his head held low when he motioned him through the door before he followed behind.

James was in the lounge with Emma but they stood on opposite sides of the huge, square room. Walsh joined James immediately, straightening his jacket as he did so and offering his boss a sheepish glare when James noticed his sudden nervous nature. They had all been joined by Graham, David’s beta, who had been orphaned as a pup and sent to live with David and Mary Margaret because no one in his Irish pack wanted him around.

Graham’s father was American and had found love with his mother, much to the disgust of her very traditional Irish pack. Like many pack marriages, they were arranged by the alphas for the unification of packs, and they had been wed to try and mend a long and very time consuming rift. It also helped that Mary Margaret’s cousin was his father and her marriage to David had solidified his integrity. However, not long after Graham turned nine, his parents were killed by hunters when they had unexpectedly strayed onto farmland as wolves, and the pack saw it fit to ship Graham off to America to rid their pack of his ‘filthy foreign blood’.

It hadn’t mattered one bit to David about his beta’s lineage. He was pureblood, with a heart of gold and a fiery temper fuelled by his hatred for his old pack, who could get the job done when he needed him too. He had been at his side since Graham’s early human teens when David had supported him through his puberty and first change as if he were his own son.

Werewolves had two birthdays. One, known as their human day, along with many other human qualities was the day they were physically born. Even as purebloods, they had to blend into society so as not to arouse suspicion, and used their birthday to indicate their ages as if they were human. The other, known as their wolf day, was to celebrate the day they first turned, which normally coincided with human puberty and usually occurred at the human age of ten. And now, as Emma approached her eighteenth wolf year, she was to be married to Graham to secure both of their places as pack betas.

Only, Emma didn’t know yet. And neither did Graham.

“Thank you for coming,” David said more formally as he followed Walsh into the room. The crackle of the fire as logs popped in the flames was the only sound, other than David’s voice, as everyone kept quiet for the alpha. He stalked towards the fireplace, joining Graham and Emma on that side of the room, a clear divide between the packs evident. “Graham is my beta,” David introduced him finally, slapping his shoulder with pride. “Graham, this is my brother James and his beta, Walsh.”

Graham looked between the two men as he leaned on the mantelpiece and nodded. “Pleasure,” Graham grunted coldly, the scent of both of the wolves before him causing him nothing but offense. They smelled dirty, like mongrels, and he was a little irritated that the whole purpose of this whole meeting was to announce a wedding. The only logical reason for them to be present was so that Emma would be wed to Walsh, and the idea made his skin crawl.

“You know pack law,” James said casually as he walked around his side of the room, taking in the dated decor of Misthaven and turning up his nose at what his brother had let it become. “I have to be here,” he shrugged.

“Indeed,” David agreed and took a breath. James was right, and because twins were rare in the werewolf world, this had never happened in their lifetime, but in the event of an arranged marriage, both of the rightful heirs to Misthaven had to be present at the announcement. It was old and archaic, but it was how things had always been. They both had to agree to the union, even if one of the twins were the leader of another pack. And James couldn’t care less who Emma married, as his main reason for agreeing to this meeting was to use the time to run reconnaissance of Misthaven and the Nolans.

He had bigger plans for them.

“Emma,” David whispered softly, shaking Emma from her daydream and making her look away from the mesmerizing flicker of the log fire. “Do you know why we are here?”

“It’s got to be big,” she surmised. “Why else would they be here?” The feud between David and James had been long standing and even though it had begun before she was even born, Emma and most of the Misthaven pack knew about it. There were very few times David would ever invite his brother back to Misthaven, even Emma knew that.

James smirked to himself, running a finger over his lips to hide the twitch of a smile. “She’s a smart one too,” James noted, more to himself than anyone else.

“Wanna see what else I can do?” Emma growled, taking a step towards her uncle with fire in her veins. Graham took a step a second before her, blocking her path and giving her a blue-eyed stare.

“Watch it, Barbie,” Walsh spat, stepping between her and his alpha.

“Hey!” David’s voice boomed around the room. “Enough.” Emma shrunk back, shaking off Graham’s grip and turning away from them to stare back into the fire.

“With all due respect,” Graham said softly, leaning into David’s ear, his thick accent wrapping around the words as they left his mouth. Even after all of his time in America, Graham had never lost his Irish tones. “We should get this announcement out of the way before Emma…”

David cut him off with a raised hand and a nod of understanding. “Emma, do you know why you are here for this meeting?” David asked his daughter slowly, never taking his eyes from James as he skulked around in the shadows of the room.

“Protection?” Emma scoffed and David smiled. Emma was a formidable fighter, just like her mother, and she had honed her skills with hours and hours of practice fights as she had grown. Sometimes he would fight her, and sometimes he would pit her against Graham, but she nearly always won, even if she did suspect he’d always let her.

“Not quite,” David told her, giving her hand a squeeze as he walked past her. “As you know, you are coming up to your eighteenth wolf year, and that means a suitable mate has been chosen for you to secure your place as beta of a pack.”

Emma screwed up her face and her gaze darted towards Walsh. His monkey-like grin angered her even more, and she wondered how fast she could make it across the room and rip the primate’s throat out.

“Dad, I’ve told you, I’m not ready to get married,” Emma softened her tone in the hopes of appealing to her father, rather than the alpha who lived every pack law to the letter.

“And I’ve told you, that is not for you to decide,” David’s tone changed instantly, and a flush of adrenaline washed over Emma at her father’s sudden uncharacteristic aggression. She looked at Graham, her long time friend and surrogate brother who could have helped her out of any other situation, but all he could do in this instance was give her a sad shake of his head and look at the floor.

“Oh, this should be fun,” Walsh giggled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Like an imp, he craved chaos, as did most of James’ pack, and for a terrifying second, Emma thought he may have been her chosen mate. But the next words out of her father’s mouth left her cold, shaken to the point of almost throwing up and confused.

“You are to marry Graham,” David announced to the room.

“Graham?” Emma screeched in disgust.

“Me?” Graham squeaked at the same time, both of them looking at each other in confusion.

“I have thought about this for many months,” David continued, ignoring their apparent protests about the other. “There are no suitable candidates from other packs, and our relationship with most of our rivals is currently very strong, so this seemed like a good option.”

“A good option?” Emma almost screamed at him as she took an unconscious step from Graham. “This isn’t a good option.”

“Hey,” Graham frowned, offended.

“No offense,” Emma added as if reading his mind.

“None taken,” Graham scowled, absolutely vexed.

“Graham is a strong wolf and a good man,” David told her firmly. “He would make a fine husband.”

“Yeah, if he weren’t like my brother!” Emma laughed nervously as she ran a shaking palm over her forehead. It felt clammy, but she wasn’t sure if it were due to the shock or the anger.

“Sir, if I may?” Graham asked, but David shook his head and gave him a dark stare that warned Graham about overstepping the mark.

“You may not,” David said coldly, turning from Graham when he was satisfied that his beta knew his place. “And as for you,” David growled in Emma’s direction, “you will marry Graham. Pack law dictates you will marry whomever your alpha sees fit, and I am your alpha…”

“How could I forget?” Emma snapped, interrupting him, but instantly regretting it. His daughter or not, this wasn’t her father she was talking to right now, and Emma could be punished severely for her insubordination.

“This isn’t a discussion, Emma,” David snarled gruffly, moving to stand in front of Graham by the fire. Graham looked up at his alpha sheepishly when he extended his hand to him - the unspoken seal of any contract offered by the alpha.

“Don’t,” Emma begged him, shaking her head from side to side as the sting of tears began to prick at her eyelids. “Graham, please.”

David looked into Graham’s eyes, his hand frozen between them, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Graham was trapped, like a rabbit on a hunt, between a rock and a hard place. David was his alpha and he had sworn his loyalty to him and his family, which included carrying out any task or bidding his alpha saw fit. Only, this wasn’t just a run of the mill contract he was asking him to fulfill. This would make his alpha very happy, but it would rip the heart of the woman he had come to love as a sister in two.

With a heavy heart, Graham accepted David’s proposal and shook his hand, the sound of Emma’s wails filling his ears as she ran from the room, slammed the huge, wooden doors shut behind her and ran from Misthaven.