04

“Move, Omega!”

Alessia hardly had time to weather the sudden shouldering of a body and she stumbled back, blinking her nebulous thoughts away.

Distractedly, she rubbed at the sore spot on her arm, her other hand rising to press tentative fingers to her lips; they still tingled from the kiss as if it had occurred only seconds before but in fact, three days had passed.

Three days of contemplation.

Three days of confusion.

Though the girl was not eidetic, the memory of it was vivid beneath her eyelids.

Circe reaching for her.

Circe leaning into her.

Their lips landing was the clumsiness of youth as if just learning the art of intimacy. She tasted like freshly brewed wine and the sweet grape Alessia had fed her moments before.

She must have pulled away at some point but Alessia did not realise, her eyes too wide and open throughout as she gazed blankly at her friend, a bemused expression on her face.

And then it hit her — the recognition of what had just happened. It battered through her core with a burst of adrenaline that sent her fleeing the terrace, unable to hear the calls of Circe over her shoulder.

“Ten… twenty… twenty five.”

Alessia’s attention was stolen by the sight of an old woman: she was just past the counter and entered from a side door, bent at the waist and hobbling forward with a small sack of coins in one hand. The pouch landed with a thump on the table, the coins inside tinkling enticingly.

Alessia reached into her knapsack and produced the captured hare before holding it out for her to take. The feathered tail of her arrow stuck out from its neck now angled awkwardly.

She would have haggled for a higher price had it been another time, but the weight on her chest felt heavy and her body felt like it had all of the strength of a newspaper left out in the rain.

Frail. Blurry. Tearing at the seams.

“Next time, bring in somethin’ larger,” the woman at the counter remarked.

She spat into her metallic cup, then smacked her lips, briefly revealing yellow teeth that looked like they’d had a passing nod with a toothbrush, if any. “Heard the borders will soon be closed for security reasons. So if you’re gonna go hunting, do it now.”

Alessia heaved her downcast eyes from the pouch in hand to the woman with a sort of lost expression.

“Oh,” she uttered while slipping the pouch into her pocket. “Okay.”

After a final nod at the old buyer, she headed out of the store and found herself wandering about the streets.

The summer heat had brought with it a sense of suffocation. The air was thick and dancing with sand, embers flaming in the tangerine sun and spinning around Alessia’s windpipe.

Wolves passed her by with ardent eyes that flickered to the shawl slowly coming undone from her head, a white curl loosely swaying by her temple. She did not bother to hide it.

She turned a corner and meandered away from the town center, past open stalls and bleating sellers wielding fistfuls of fine clothes, jewellery, perfumes — items that had her hands itching with the urge to swipe at them.

The urge to steal was almost overwhelming; her body was in desperate need for a quick dopamine rush to numb the guilt that pricked her skin, to unclench the fist that reached past the dome of her rib cage and squeezed her heart bloody.

She needed a distraction from the Arctic blue eyes that held insurmountable fear and regret as she pulled away. The flushed lips that glimmered with their saliva, parting to say something — anything.

Alessia.

Circe had called for her, begged her to return, yet she did not.

The thief had been a coward and fled with her tail tucked between her legs instead of facing her friend of eight years.

“Why?” Alessia kicked a stone from the footpath before raking a frustrated hand through her curls and gripping them at the roots. “Why, why, why?”

Her frustration dissolved to anger, and that anger soon molded to confusion as her emotions were cast up in turmoil.

How had I not seen this?

The feelings that Circe held for her passed the borders of friendship into something… romantic.

Has it always been that way?

Have I always been this stupid?

Alessia stopped rocking and stared at the gravel under feet. She smelled the soft ash blowing in loose swirls all around.

A soft epiphany came to her in that moment; it was one where she saw Circe perched on the bed beside her whilst gazing at her sleeping form.

It was one that painted the slow, ready smiles that curled at her friend’s lips like the steady shifting of an Indian summer towards autumn, and her hands… her hands were delicate, petal-veined, and never wrong.

Always holding.

Squeezing.

Slotting between hers readily like they belonged there.

“She loves me,” Alessia whispered to no one but herself.

Slowly, her head turned to the segments of road winding down the hills and into the bustling city. Traces of standing smoke curled from chimneys. Pups squealed and dashed about, leaping at one another, but despite the flowing world around her, time stood still.

Circe had loved her for god knows how long, and Alessia had been an oblivious numbskull.

The knowledge was a novelty and she didn’t know what to do with it. But one thing was clear to the thief, and she rose from the path while dusting off debris from her outfit.

They needed to talk.

That’s what they always did when friction formed between. Talk it out. Discuss the problem, peel the layers until the rotten core has been exposed, and deal with it.

They talked, they didn’t flee.

Alessia took a shortcut through the woods, her feet pounding rhythmically as she jogged back, her heart matching each footfall.

“You absolute fool,” she cursed herself.

She wanted to knock herself unconscious for even daring to run away. If she felt this terrible, Circe must have felt far worse and the mere thought of it churned bile up her throat.

I’m sorry.

She would scale that damn wall and fall on her fucking knees if it would guarantee forgiveness. They could work through it. They would. Even if she could never reciprocate such intimate feelings, they would always work through it. That’s what made their friendship so special.

The bond of a princess and a thief.

An Alpha’s daughter and an Omega.

The titles meant to set their worlds apart simmered to nothing before them because in each other’s eyes, they were just that — Circe and Alessia.

Her jog broke into a desperate run as the woods cleared and a familiar twenty-foot wall came to view.

Instinctively, her eyes flickered about the stones in search of the familiar crawl space when suddenly, a ripple of shouts disrupted the cool air. Skidding to a halt, Alessia ducked behind a tree with her shoulder blades pressed to the bark.

“Circe!” male voices shouted from the opposite side of the walls. “Circe?”

Alessia hesitantly peered around the bark. Too blinded by adrenaline, she had failed to register the pealing of bells from the palace’s top floor, the golden toll swaying densely back and forth as its ball clung inside. She recognized that sound - the warning bell.

Danger.

“Circe!”

Alessia suddenly felt cold as her mind raced with thoughts of the princess. Her eyes flickered over the wall and towards Circe’s bedroom window where three guards stood among wolves. They were lifting her garments to their noses, rummaging through drawers, throwing open more windows with wild, searching eyes-

She was missing.

Alessia skipped a breath.

“No,” she breathed, heart sinking into some part of her where she could no longer find it.

Missing.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered, tangling two hands in her hair and wrenching back. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

Rooted to the spot, her eyes and ears sharpened in time to hear the palace gates opening as guards and wolves paraded out of them. They carried weapons that glimmered silver, faces tight with focused anxiety for the princess’ wellbeing, but such emotions were incomparable to the girl hiding behind a tree only feet away.

The sacrifice was in two days and Circe had disappeared.

If she was not found, the whole pack would be substituted at the Lycan King’s altar.

It took Alessia a moment to recover from the reeling shock, lowering her hands from her hair before taking off in the direction from whence she came. Crashing through the trees, a string of nerves tightened in her ribs but it was the questions that ate her.

Circe had never pulled a stunt like this.

Where would she have gone?

Why did she leave?

Was it because of me?

Alessia arrived at the capital before the guards who had only just started to comb through the thick woodlands. The people were still peacefully wandering about and fulfilling their daily duties, oblivious to the impending doom darkening in the distance. Overhead, the sky began to darken with rolling golden clouds as the heady scent of rain billowed her curls and clothes about.

“Woah there, thief-”

Alessia almost crashed into a familiar body and for a moment, hope rippled through her like a merciful wave at the prospect of it being Circe-

No. It was Damen.

He stepped out of an alley, a cigarette still perched between his bloody lips. He looked beaten but not as badly as the bodies stuck in the alley like driftwood after the flood.

“Damen,” she rushed. Her hands clutched at his forearms, wild eyes darting about. “Where is she?”

Damen’s dark brows furrowed. “Where is wh-”

“Circe, damnit! Where’s the princess?”

An odd expression came upon his face. “I thought she was with you.”

“What?” Alessia faltered, “You saw her?”

“Yeah, she came here around an hour ago looking for you.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “She looked pretty desperate to me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so afraid… she looked hot though-”

Searching for you. Alessia took an unconscious step back as though the words had physically bruised her. She blinked at Damen, at the floor, at her hands. Circe had escaped to find her.

Because their friendship meant so much more than safety and comfort.

A soft breeze shifted her dark curls and above them, foliage moved like an awning black silk. “And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged and gestured at the maimed victims in the alley behind him. “As you can tell, I was pretty busy. Didn’t she find you?”

Alessia couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Damen saw the shift in her face and it seemed to affect his confidence.

“Less…” he began, a tremor to his voice, and her distraught eyes lifted to meet his gaze. His face blanched.

The city had already been notified as they exited the alleyway: the marketplace and town squares were emptying quickly; the merchants withdrawing their money and items; shoppers glancing at each other with tight, anxious expressions.

No one was angered by the disappearance of the next sacrificial lamb but instead, trepidation took precedence, snarling like static in the pits of their bellies.

If she was not found-

Hurriedly, Alessia led Damen as they trudged through the mud between rows lined with the heads of slaughtered vampires, their skins glimmering in the paling, orange light.

A rumble of thunder echoed above and moments later, a drop of cold water fell on Alessia’s cheek.

“Where could she have gone?” she demanded in desperate search of an answer.

The streets were fairly safe, but not everyone would have the courtesy of respecting a wandering princess. They checked each stall that was still open, then picked their way through the dwindling crowd: the lame beggars dressed in the remains of tattered rags, the vendors with rugs on their shoulders, the cloth merchants and butchers briskly closing shop for the day.

She found no sign of Circe.

Standing there amidst the crowd of bustling bodies, Alessia felt a rope slowly wind around her throat and carefully draw itself taut.

“Less!”

Her head snapped to the left, eyes squinting at Damen who stood beside a fruit vendor. She approached them whilst silently praying for some kind of breakthrough before it was too late.

If I hadn’t run away from her, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.

The old man was loading his mule with crates of sheepskin wearing a powder blue turban. He paused to look at her for a long time with milky cataract eyes before replying, “I might have seen her.”

Alessia felt a rush of something cold down her spine - relief?

“Which way did she go?”

He eyed her up and down, searching, inwardly calculating something.

Alessia was suddenly conscious of the coin pouch in her pocket. She hesitated at that moment - a human reflex of selfishness - unable to stop her mind from gauging the number of coins she possessed and realizing that it may take another week to catch anything valuable with the borders closing.

But Circe.

“How much?” It was Damen’s voice that drew her out of a stupor as he was already reaching into the pockets of his coat, drawing out a fistful of pennies. “I only have this.”

The merchant counted it with a pair of skeptical eyes, then shrugged with disinterest.

“We need to find her. It’s the princess!” he argued.

Alessia reached into her pocket and withdrew the coin pouch, tossing it at the vendor without a second thought. “That’s twenty-five silver coins. You can count it later!” she snapped but he proceeded to untie the string and peer greedily at the coins in hand. Alessia was already reaching for the dagger sheathed at her waist when Damen’s hand closed around her wrist. He shook his head subtly.

“She went down that way with some boys.”

“Boys?”

The man nodded and shoved the bag in his robe before beginning to load his cart once more. “Some three boys.”

Frustration began to leak into her voice as she asked, “What did they look like?”

A shrug. “Tall, fat, sunburned,” he said boredly.

Her stomach hollowed out like a drum at the descriptions. She knew those boys. The same large ones that had idled in the alley when she walked by with Circe; the ones that had eyed the princess with violent, open want, like a starved man just served a meal on a silver platter.

“Fuck,” Damen whispered, his face paling just the same.

He knew.

Without a second glance, Alessia took off in the opposite direction, turning a deaf ear to Damen’s calls. Her feet pounded against the cobblestones and bricks, dust licking at her heels in the growing mugginess of the air.

The storm was here. The flicker of her own quickening pulse drew something acrid up her throat and into her mouth as the clouds cast their malevolent shadows.

Please be safe.

The sky opened with a sigh and rain began to pelt down on the earth, drumming on her head as she squeezed and struggled past the bodies, stumbling over polished stones.

She skidded to a halt at the entrance of the dark alleyway, her wild eyes bolting towards the harrowing figure that stood ahead. He was blocking the way- no, he was keeping a lookout.

Alessia’s mind blurred over with a fog of red as she stepped forward.

Where is she? The words lodged in her throat like a hot bone. She couldn’t breathe as her hand reached past her coat and curled around the dagger - couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, her only capacity being the thought of her one and only friend whom she loved more than air itself.

“Get the fuck out of here, mutt,” threatened the boy at the entrance. He pushed off the wall once she didn’t withdraw the knife, watching her repeatedly twist the grip in her hand. His shoulders sloped indifferently.

Suddenly, the breadth of Alessia’s own shoulders were pulling taut and she was driving forward with one sole desire - blood.

The adrenaline surged through her so powerfully she shifted on the spot. The feet that pounded the stones switched to paws within a fraction of a second and she dove straight for the enemy. Her wolf moved in a blur of darkness, lips drawn back in a snarl as she bared her teeth in a cloud of bloodlust.

The man was large, and had it been any other day when her veins had not thrummed like a live wire to protect her only friend, Alessia would have lost the battle.

She slammed into him, claws tearing through his clothes and the next moment, they were burying into flesh. He staggered back, a harsh hiss of pain escaping him.

All it took was a stumble for her to take him to the ground, claws sinking deep into his shoulders as his head hit the bricks beneath. There was a sickening crack.

Not wasting a moment, she sunk her canines straight into his neck and snarled into the air.

Blood doused her tongue like gasoline. It was sweet, bitter, but nothing compared to the heat riveting through Alessia’s veins. She clamped her jaw shut until she felt the lining of his trachea wedged between her canines and with a vicious yank, she tore his throat out altogether. She spat it to the side. All that sounded was the boy’s chokes and gurgles, his lips parting to speak as he blinked owlishly up at her, hand slumping over the gaping maw in his neck.

Her wolf stepped over his twitching body, only to shift back to squeeze through a small opening in her human form which led further into the alley.

“Circe!” Alessia cried into the rain. “Circe!”

The rain pelted on her nude frame. The gravel dug into the bare soles of her feet. She turned into an alley and backed away at its emptiness.

“Circe!”

Lightning flashed hot and white above, briefly brightening the maze of darkness horribly.

Pain spread across her chest like a fog and wrapped its hands around her vocal chords, making them tremble like a leaf in winter. Heat crept behind her eyes, across the bridge of her nose. She could no longer tell the rain from tears.

“Circe, please!”

“...Lessie?”

Alessia skidded to a halt, then whirled around and rushed back to the alley. She knew that voice. She knew that name. She did not know what awaited her at the end of the tunnel.

As she drew to a stop by the alley’s mouth, Alessia’s breath cluttered at the sight before her.

My fault.

A havoc of scrap and rubble littered the alley. Splintered wooden wheels, bottles with peeling labels, torn up magazines, yellowed newspapers - they were all scattered amid a pile of bricks and slabs of cement. But that wasn’t what she saw.

Strewn over one of the garbage piles was Circe’s ripped coat.

And above the coat were pieces of her dress.

Circe stood a short distance from her. The pale skin of her shoulders bruised blue by the hands of another. Hands that had held her to the alley floor as she begged for some deity to come forth and help her.

My fault.

Her delicate throat was an angry red from the fingers that wrapped and squeezed, silencing her cries that were only drowned by the roar of the rain and rhythmic grunts above her.

My fault.

The moment their eyes met, a look of pained relief came upon the princess’ face for she had found her friend. She dragged a wrist across her face, wiped snot and tears.

Alessia tried to speak but no sound left. She tasted the salt of her tears and rain.

My fault.

They stood there in silence, in the fading light and clouding darkness. For once, she was grateful for the dark shadows that masked the pain contorting her face, the guilt that wrecked her features into something indecipherable.

Circe started to say something and her voice cracked. She closed her mouth, opened it, and closed it again.

My fault.

A drop of blood trickled between her thighs and stained the alleyway.