A couple of hours later, Bren would be fixing up his concoctions in the Gamma’s apartment. He was truly challenged in following Ma’Heron’s request for a specific type of brew with a particular kind of effect and personalized for the Gamma’s use tonight.
Meanwhile, M had decided to take a shower; and then began to meditate in one corner of his living room, which sported a small bamboo mat, a few votive candles, and some lighted incense sticks in a glass holder.
Somehow, the short silk robe that he still chose to wear made him all the more sage-like, as he sat cross-legged with his eyes closed on the mat.
“And you really think that he’ll try to push you to the edge tonight, even if the Elders are there, Sir?”
“I profile people for a living, Bren. And knowing Abner, he certainly will,” was Ma’Heron’s low and sonorous reply, the incense smoke curling around him. “Besides, he knows that I will be there due to the Proxy Provision.”
“I’m sorry for sounding so naïve, but I’ve been a rogue wolf for most of my life and I have never heard of that kind of condition in a challenge before. How does it work, by the way?” Bren asked as he set aside the completed mixture to cool.
“Instead of our Alpha fighting, I will be the representative of our pack during the challenge. Simple as that.”
“Let me guess, the reason behind that setup isn’t as simple as that though.”
M didn’t speak for a full minute, as if he was in a deep trance. Truth is, he was torn between keeping everything in and suffering in silence or telling Bren everything so he can let it out.
“Gamma, I would really like to know,” pushed the personal assistant as he felt the internal pull to know more and M’s need to speak.
Atty, Denar opened his eyes to look at Bren, before starting to talk about the past, “Alright, I might as well…” Again, three years ago…
He woke up to a familiar song being sung acapella by the most beautiful singing voice that he had ever heard in his life. Admittedly, he has quite a particular taste for such performances since he had some background in classical music.
The one he was hearing then obviously sounded like it had been trained for quite a few years. The control, tremolo, and timbre of this feminine singer could easily take her to perform professionally for a Broadway musical or even a light operetta if she decided to.
“When the war comes
And I need to find shelter
Can I stay with you?”
Right now, the disembodied voice was satisfied with singing a contemporary love song about wanting to be with someone. Meanwhile, he was more than satisfied hearing her finish the piece, realizing after a few stanzas that her feelings were spilling into the words.
“And if they form a club
Where I don’t want to belong
Can I stay with you?”
Then, to his surprise, he knew that he was now feeling the song too…
Mag ik dan bij jou by Claudia de Breij… beautiful… but wait… am I awake or am I just dreaming…
The wounded and battered Gamma opened his eyes and saw a not-so-familiar ceiling of minty green painted plaster and carved mahogany wood edgings. Right above him was a vintage brass ceiling fan with crystalline flower lights at the center, and thin but long wooden blades.
The fan/chandelier was turned on and was whirring silently to keep him cool and comfortable. Based on the coolness of the room, and the moon’s view from the open window as he rose from the bed, it seemed they were somewhere at the edge of the city and it was sometime after midnight.
And that delicious smell of food… coffee… chilli… freshly baked bread?
“Oh, you’re up, good. Stay in bed. I’ll bring your food there, just a minute.”
He looked up at the singer/cook/companion who just poked her head into his open bedroom door.
Alexia? How the hell… Wait, this is one of the Silvercrest safe houses! How did she manage to unlock it? Or even find it!?
“Do you want butter for your bread? How about orange juice?” Alexia loudly asked from the other side of the door.
“Coffee’s fine and a glass of water please,” M answered as he noticed the expertly applied bandages and gauze around his arms, chest, sides, and even calves. He also realized that he was buck naked, his clothes folded on a chair a good distance away from him and wondered if that was also her doing.
He then tried to sit up all by himself and felt pain stabbing several parts of his battered anatomy. His yell of anguish sent Alexia running into the room, as she balanced the tray of food and drinks expertly in her hands.
“Ma’Heron, what are you doing? Wait a minute, please!” Alex scolded worriedly as she placed the tray on a nearby table, then rushed to his side so she could help the still-wounded Gamma to sit up.
After propping fluffed-up pillows behind him, she took out a small foldable table, set it up across M’s lap, and placed the tray on top of it. The smell of food wafting up to his nostrils – and her scent – was so appetizing, he couldn’t help but salivate.
There was a small slab of bacon, a bowl of Texas-style chilli – beans with chopped beef instead of ground – with grated cheese, sour cream, and dill on top, and a whole medium-sized loaf of bread with a side of butter curls on a dish. The large mug of coffee was strong and steaming, while the glass of water was chilled with no ice.
The Gamma looked at the feast in front of him, then at the wall clock adjacent to the bed. He couldn’t believe that this woman could have possibly cooked all these in less than a couple of hours.
And how the hell did she know that I love chilli with cheese and sour cream?
“Eat up while it’s hot. I was hoping you’d heal fast enough to have at least a still-warm meal. Wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up, but I took the chance and started cooking as soon as I’d dressed your wounds. You can take painkillers after you’re done eating. They’re right there on the bedside table.”
M took bites of the chilli as she started opening up the other windows, taking his clothes from the chair, and throwing them into the washing machine which was inside the bedroom’s private bathroom, and then finally sitting down on the edge of the king-sized bed. All the while, she was talking her head off as if it was her own way of entertaining him – or reducing the awkwardness of silence – while he ate.
The bacon is so tender, the beans and beef so perfectly marinated and cooked, and the bread so crusty outside and fluffy inside… even the coffee is how I usually like it. I can’t believe how delicious and tasty everything is… how all the dishes seem perfectly fitted with each other in taste, texture, and combination!
“Don’t forget there’s still dessert, ok? It’s amazing how your larders here in your safe houses are so well-stocked with supplies. I even saw a whole suckling pig in the chest freezers beside the fridge. Who the heck has time to cook all of that?”
Ma’Heron was in the middle of dunking a large piece of bread into his chilli when he finally piped up, distrust lacing his voice, “How did you even manage to get into one of our safe houses without a key? And how the damn fuck did you even find it?”
“You have this weird habit of talking in your sleep, but only when you’re asked a question.”
“Really now? How did you figure that out?” he asked, as he tried to hide the shock and suspicion of her knowing another one of his well-kept secrets.
“While I was carrying you, I started asking myself aloud where the hell was I supposed to bring you and you started mumbling coordinates. I used that to get to this location, then it was easy to find the security plate behind the mail slot beside the door. I put your hand on it and Voila! Here we are…”
M took about fifteen seconds to realize that he needed to close his mouth.
Despite his still being bewildered at how smart and analytical Alexia was, he didn’t want her to know how impressed he was with her. If he was just honest, he would tell her himself how intelligent and street-smart she was by doing all that, and more. However, he still remembered his downfall at the hands of Abner, his being beaten up by his pack, his getting drunk, and losing all self-control in public…
And being rescued by this woman who practically lied to him about her true identity.
The thing is, it seemed that Alexia was not in any way affected by his doubtful and negative attitude towards her at that time. It seemed she was just happy. Whether it was because she was free from the engagement/marriage proposal that she was supposed to receive, or just feeling good that they were both safe, it wasn’t really clear to him.
However, he wasn’t at all sure how to react as this woman started to talk non-stop again.
“I’ve always wanted to cook my own meals, but father never let me. Those are the omegas’ jobs, he would say. He never liked anything I wanted to try out. Besides cooking, I learned how to play the drums, and keyboards, sing, write novels, street and pole dancing without him knowing. He wouldn’t even let me learn self-defence, and I had to pay for those lessons myself.”
He felt a strange tug at his heart, an emotion reserved for family and long-time and trusted friends…
“Once, I tried to join the pack’s sparring session, and I got thrown out. Females aren’t allowed inside. Not even the Alpha’s daughter.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry to hear that…”
“Are you? Well, he’s not. He even thinks it’s a waste of time for me to be part of the pack’s medical or psychiatric team, despite all my efforts to become a doctor. He always said that I should concentrate on looking sexy, pretty, and desirable so I could be married off to the highest bidder. ”
Hearing her vent as he devoured the food that she so expertly prepared, he couldn’t help but really feel for her. It was very different at the packhouse, since, as was usual in most packs, on Silvercrest, the she-wolves joined the sparring sessions and were part of the warriors. And he knew, for sure, that if she was living with him, she would be welcomed by the trainers with open arms.
If she was living with you, huh? Wonder where those thoughts came from?