The Wolf & The Witch

“Let’s hurry this shit up,” Deth said, to the guard, and shoved him forward. Deth had long blond hair, and his mate, Bethany, had long blonde hair, and they wore nearly all white, except for leather braces on their arms and legs. And behind them- ten armed men- their personal guard, also in white. They stood side by side, his left, and her right, wrists cuffed together.

The guard hesitated and cleared his throat.

The brothers, Edward and James, took notice, and walked over.

“Where are they?” Deth asked.

“The dungeon,” Edward answered. “It’s not Adra and Josh.”

Bethany looked up. Her crystal blue eyes sparkled even in the shadows of the stone pillars. If it wasn’t Adra and Josh then why were they here? There was no need to fight. She looked at the alpha, and his brother puzzled, and then relieved- to finally be rid of this cuff, to finally get out of this city- “Alright, then. Let’s go.” She looked up at Deth, and he agreed, and they turned back to the inn, with their men, to pack.

“You’re still fighting,” Edward ordered. He was a tall, barrel-chested wolf, with a broad forehead and large forearms and a gold ring on every finger. James, his brother, was shorter by a foot, with no gold rings on his fingers, despite the collection of wives. It was almost certainly the wives that contributed to the lack of wealth.

The couple turned back, and it was clear from the look on their faces that they had no desire to fight. This journey had been a difficult one: budgeting, packing appropriate clothes, managing their hired men and staff, dealing with the weather, meeting with the Alpha of the Land of Streams, riding horses all goddamn day- it would be nice to finally be done with this stupid competition.

“We’re leaving. We’re not fighting them.” Deth looked from the alpha to his brother. “Why would we? Dying is dying- there’s no need to drag this out. If it’s not Josh, then it doesn’t matter.” Deth had no desire to fight; they had been travelling for two months and he wanted to get the hell out of this shithole city.

Edward stomped up to the couple, and looked down his nose first at Bethany, and held her blue eyes, then at Deth, and held his blue eyes- “You’re fighting because you have free-loaded in my city for two weeks. You’re fighting because my people want to see a fight. If you can’t manage to beat the filth in that cell, then you don’t deserve to rule anything. Why don’t you fish around your panties for a pair of balls, wolf.”

James hated his brother, but he smiled at that. Edward loved money as much as James loved women, but the love of women was significantly more satisfying than the love of money, which James assumed contributed to his brother’s hateful disposition.

They followed Edward through the arcade and into the arena. The sky was blue above them, and all around them the stands were empty and quiet, and white and blue banners fluttered from posts in the breeze. Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the arena, to the other side, and through another arcade, and down a set of stone steps, and another. Guards waited with lanterns, and guided the two alphas, and Deth and Bethany, and half of their men: ten of them, all armed, to the cell.

A wolf was passed out on the stone floor, and the witch beside him had her knees pulled up, and her head down. They all stopped outside the bars and looked at them. What a pathetic couple- the wolf’s face was unshaven and burned and he had cuts and scratches and scrapes up and down his body. His arm was wrapped in filthy bandages. They couldn’t see the witch, except that her leg was heavily bandaged and red- doubtful it would hold her weight, and her clothes were filthy. They had two dirty packs beside them, and an iron bar- a crutch, and the chains still around their waists from when they were pulled down the city streets.

“Who are you?” Bethany asked.

The witch didn’t look up.

“Answer her,” Edward commanded.

The wolf groaned, and tried to pry himself off the floor, but fell back into it, and passed out.

They waited a moment, and another. No answer.

“Open the door,” James said. A guard did, and he stepped into the cell and looked down at the witch- She appeared beat up, but on closer inspection her wounds looked superficial. Her shirt was half unlaced, and the way she was sitting, with her knees pulled to her chest, smushed her breasts up, revealing a harvest of plump, white cleavage in the flickering yellow light. He reached down and grabbed her by the throat and drove her into the cell wall. She choked, and her breasts bounced, and James watched, fascinated.

“Claire? Wow.” Bethany looked from the beaten and bloodied shell of a woman in front of her, to Edward. “You can’t be serious. That stupid witch couldn’t win a fight against a pregnant woman. We have better things to do than this. You’re pretty much asking us to go out there and murder them in front of a crowd. That’s-“

Claire reached up and smacked James across the face- hard. Loud. The slap rang out around the dungeon, and he loosened his hold on her throat, though his eyes were still on her breasts. “Pregnant woman? That’s funny coming from a bitch who aborts babies for money.” They had met a few times, at the coven, and Claire knew: her and a few other witches used their skills for abortions, and they made good money.

Bethany lowered her eyes. This goddamn bitch. She marched into the cell, pulling Deth behind by the cuff, and looked down at the filthy witch. “You are the most stuck-up, hateful bitch I have ever met. And I am not surprised at all that you’re still alive. You’re a fucking cockroach- a fucking rat.”

“I’d rather be stuck-up and hateful than a fake whore,” Claire said, and glared up at her. Fucking whore. Fucking worthless whore. “No matter what you do in this life, it will never be you who does it. I hope-“

Those words struck a nerve. A deep one. This fucking hateful bitch. Bethany stepped forward, pushing James aside, stooped down, pulled her right hand back and punched Claire straight in the face. The back of Claire’s head bounced off the stones in the flickering lamp light, and blood splattered the walls. Bethany leaned in and grabbed Claire by the throat. “No one wants you; no one’s ever wanted you. Fucking worthless-“

Claire kicked her right foot out as hard as she could- she hit Bethany straight in the chest with her boot, and while her foot was firmly planted above her heart, she forced her foot down and felt the shards of rusted metal snag in her skin. Fuck you whore- good luck with that.

Bethany fell back on her ass and looked down at her white blouse- a dirty footprint and a few drops of blood. Deth caught her and helped her to her feet. “You fucking bitch! You are dead! I swear I will-“

“That’s enough.” Deth pulled her back out of the cell, looking at the wolf on the floor- he recognized him- the sigma wolf that his father hated so much; he looked much stronger than his injuries implied. However, he also trusted his mate- if Beth said this witch was weak, then she surely was. And even if this wolf was as strong as his father had said, he was also injured, likely hungry, his witch was weak and injured, and they were outnumbered. They could win this easily.

*

Claire held Lestat’s hand, and he held hers. The orange-yellow light slowly diminished as the lanterns were carried down the stone hall, and their world went black. They did not move in the pitch black for one long minute, then another. Lestat heard her inhale, to speak, and squeezed her hand, and she stopped. Another long minute, and another.

“I don’t-“

He was up and had his hand over her mouth in half a second. He felt blood on his palm, and frowned, and pulled her down to the floor. He found her ear, and whispered. “Are you ok?”

“Y-“

Lestat clamped her mouth shut, warm blood on his hand, then very slowly released her, and whispered in her ear- “This quiet, or write on my palm.”

Claire glared, and growled, and bled in the dark, and a shiver ran down her spine every damn time he whispered. But his shit was getting old, and fast. He would be pissed as hell if she covered his mouth every time he whispered. She pulled his head around, and put her mouth on his ear, and as quietly as possible- the sound of breathing at night half covered by a blanket, she whispered, “You’re pissing me the fuck off.” Then, for good measure, she bit his ear. Blood from her lip ran across the top of his ear and into his hair.

Lestat smiled in the dark- such a fireball. He turned over, and cradled her head in his left arm. He ran the fingertips of his right hand over her lip, and frowned again- split and bleeding. He felt her teeth- they were all where they should be. He ran the fingers of his left hand up into her hair, to the back of her skull- no blood. He moved his mouth to her ear. “Did you get her?”

Claire smiled, which made her lip bleed, and sting, and covered his ear in more blood as she whispered. “Fuck yes I got her. Right in her damn heart.” She reached up and wiped blood away. “That bitch is dead.”

He found her ear again. “Did James hurt you?” he whispered.

She found his ear again. “No, but his eyes were glued to my breasts the entire time.”

Lestat growled at the thought of that bastard James ogling his woman, though he shouldn’t be surprised. Any man with five wives would obviously take every opportunity to look at other women. However, the fact that he didn’t hurt her at least suggested he was not an enemy. It was possible, if they actually killed Edward, that Lestat and Claire would be named instant rulers of this land- that’s how it worked in most lands: kill the ruler, become the ruler, or, when you’re tired of the job, hand it to someone else.

They opened their packs in the dark and cleaned and stitched and bandaged each other- in complete and total blackness- their fingers had memorized the steps. Chains were still locked around their waists, and the wolf pulled one of the small saws from his pack and cut the locks. Then he crisscrossed the chains across his chest, and back- it was the only armor they had- and slipped his shirt back on. They ate all the food they had with them- not much: a few handfuls of nuts and some dried meat. Then they unrolled their dire wolf cloaks on the hard stone, and Claire untied her shirt, slipped it off, balled it up, and put it under Lestat’s head. He pulled her onto his chest, and pulled the other cloak over to cover her, and kissed the top of her head.

She reached up and found his ear, “Take those damn chains off.”

He sat up and slipped the chains off, then his shirt, and pulled her back down to his chest, but then she struggled free and found his ear again, and whispered, “Will you… scratch me?”

Lestat smiled at the blackness. He held his little witch close, and brushed her hair aside, and scratched her bare back, up and down, then her arms, and shoulders, and she groaned and purred and snuggled her body up close against his- a perfect fit. He scratched her until he she was asleep, breathing softly, her body rising and falling slowly, then he pulled the cloak around her shoulders, and put his left arm around her, and fell asleep.