It was nice to be treated better than being bullied, but bullies never stopped invading my life. I felt it—their minor but malicious gazes pierced at every move I made. Although it didn't matter much, there was a tug on my chest, a warning that kept me vigilant.
The scents that annoy me were from the same jocks who pissed me off on my first day, and the one that disgusts me—the scent of wet, horny dogs—was from my haunted past. Both teams were carefully eyeing me, waiting.
As I was putting my things in my locker, I sensed Almira and Allison's presence just around the corner when the jocks finally made their first move.
I sighed—not out of surrender, but because I was not in the mood to deal with their egos. I played it cool, natural, and calm, but I was ready. "And here we go again."
The school drama began. I sensed them behind me, but I pretended not to notice as they pushed me harshly into the locker right after I closed it. The loud clatter of metals echoed in the hall, drawing attention. The bullies snickered as they pulled me away, rough enough to make me stumble to the ground.
It's funny, though, because to me, everything I do is an act.
I fell on the ground with poise. But it alarmed my fans as they tried to help me up. But the bullies were being bullies. They pushed them away, threatening to bully anyone who intervened. My fans hesitated, torn between heroism and self-preservation.
Then the jock grabbed my collar, and with spite, he taunted, "You think I would let you off the hook after humiliating me? I don't think so."
I wanted to laugh at his grudge because it had been days since I knocked him down in front of his peers. It seems that he wants to taste it again. Being a kind person, I let him push me around for a few minutes. But when he tried to grab my coat, I quickly shifted into a defensive stance.
I slapped his hand away before it could pull my coat. Then I said coldly. "Not the clothes."
He was surprised at first but recovered quickly, smirking as if he had found my weakness. "Then I'd better ruin it." He tried again, but I didn't let him. I kept slapping his hands when he tried again. He grew frustrated. "Let me grab it." I snickered as I kept my defensive martial art stance, annoying him further. "You think it's funny?"
I still snickered, "Oh, sorry," but I sincerely apologized. I kept dodging and blocking his frustrated attempts before I continued, "My training is paying off."
Taunted, he called his friends to gang up on me. I shivered—a reminder of my haunted past—but it didn't stop my instincts. I felt more like a fighter than a cowering omega.
I did a backflip, ensuring my feet would hit whoever approached me, but werewolves were short-tempered, especially when things didn't go in their favor. I was an eyesore to them, but I didn't care. But I grumbled when one managed to claw my arm, ruining the sleeve. I was petrified, and he smirked, thinking he had won.
They charged at me, reckless and predictable.
I easily dodged every attempt they had given me. Muscle reflexes. I blocked their sneaky attacks. They even tried to trip me and towered over me, but with one backflip and a roundhouse kick, landing perfectly on his face, making him collide with his friends. They groaned but still attempted to fight me. Then I noticed something—I frowned. They were wearing their jersey. They were more comfy than I am.
I did a backflip, stopping from being in a defensive stance. I was frowning as I pointed to their clothes. They stopped, confused about what I was pointing at. Then I said, "Seriously, that's unfair."
"What?" the jock confusedly asked before looking at his peers. They were all puzzled.
"You're wearing your jersey, and I'm not," I answered, pouting. "That's unfair." They looked at each other, weirded out by my reason, before laughing. I glared, pouting. "It's not funny. You look way more comfortable than I." Laughter erupted in the locker area. Then I continued, gesturing my clothes between theirs before saying, "Look at me; I'm a more sophisticated boss than a chill student."
"Okay, okay, you got us good there," the jock said, controlling his laugh. He stood up straight and approached me, still amused by my sudden remarks. "You earn my respect." His voice was genuine, and his smile was brighter than when he was taunting. Then he added respectfully, "You're not just an omega. You're a fighter, and I am pleased to have another combat with you."
I was taken aback, but I smiled at his sincerity. Then I reached out my hand, shaking his before saying, "Then shall we make this a routine?"
"If that's okay with you, we might learn more from you than in class." He agreed, chuckling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck.
"That's better than bullying," I commented, and he nodded, then the locker hall erupted with clapping hands as the reconciliation unfolded before them.
As the bullies became my friends, the hall quieted down as the bell rang. Allison and Almira were smirking at me, clearly proud of how I handled the confrontation. But then, both gave me a strange look, staring intently at my forehead.
"I know. It's permanent," I said, but instead of heading to our class, they dragged me to the girls' bathroom. I frowned, wondering, "What? Why did you bring me here?"
"Look at yourself in the mirror," Almira said firmly, crossing her arms with worry.
I frowned but obeyed. I gasped as I finally understood what they were staring at. It wasn't the solid mark on my forehead—it was how it was bleeding. The mark had darkened to a deep crimson. When I reached to touch it, blood dripped, and a sharp ache stabbed my head slightly.
"Why is it bleeding out when I don't feel anything…?" I wondered internally. My eyes narrowed against the mirror, thinking carefully about what it meant, until she recalled what her wife told her once, about feeling strange that sometimes it might not be mine. "Mirxa?"
"Bernila?" Allison gently called my name. But I didn't say anything.
I placed my index finger over my lips before I closed my eyes, channeling my energy to our mate bond. I felt every flow connecting in different ways until I heard her faint heartbeat, and Mirxalyn's face flashed in my head.
"Hon, what happened to you?" I thought, without thinking, she would hear it, until she responded in my head.
'Bernila?'
Startled, I jolted away from the mirror. Luckily, Allison was there to support me, and Almira looked confused. I was frightened, but I managed to smile, saying, "I think I heard Mirxa's voice in my head."
"You telepathically messaged her?" Almira guessed. I shrugged my shoulders, as I wasn't sure if that happened. "Try it again. Talk to her."
I nodded. I took a deep breath and focused on speaking with my wife through telepathy. It was a second when I heard her voice again.
'Bernila, baby, can you hear me?'
"I do," I answered, smiling to myself because I finally could speak to her even though we're away from each other.
'Good. I thought I was hallucinating here.'
"Honestly, same here." I chuckled, admitting the surprise I felt when I heard her voice in my head. Then I added, "I didn't realize I was doing it."
'And it seems to me it isn't hard for you to telepath me.'
"It isn't, but there's a slight ache—bearable though," I responded, watching Almira and Allison's relieved expression in the mirror where I was staring.
'It's new; that's why. Keep talking to me until you're used to it.'
"And you're not?" I wondered, grinning as I watched Almira look at me teasingly. I rolled my eyes because I am sure she's going to grill me about it.
'I'm a gifted vampire.'
I hummed, amused when I recalled the pain in my head, and I asked my wife, "But, hon, tell me, did something happen to you?"
'Why?'
"My mark bled, and when I was about to touch it, my head stung. Then I recalled what you told me when you half-marked me," I replied, explaining what made me telepath her.
'I see. I was furious about work a few minutes ago before I received your telepathic message.'
"Oh, no wonder I was annoyed at simple things earlier." I chuckled as I washed my forehead, and slowly, it returned to its natural crimson color.
'Really? Well, it's given, and I'm grateful that you reached out for me because if not, I might have killed one of the reckless subordinates earlier.'
Something had twitched in my chest when I heard it. "Mirxa, don't easily kill your subjects without evidence or their honest reasoning." My voice was gentle but serious and commanding. "It could backfire, you know."
'I know, and I don't care as long as my people are safe and at ease.'
"Still, be careful," I reminded her, since I'm sincerely worried about malicious threats around her. She's a queen—a bloody conqueror queen. "I don't want you hurt when we haven't..." I added, but quickly trailed off when I realized what I was trying to say. I instantly blushed, covering my face when I heard my wife's sweet giggles. I groaned, embarrassed, before I shouted at her. "FORGET THAT! FORGET WHAT I TRIED TO SAY THERE! I'M WARNING YOU, MIRXALYN!"
'I'll keep it in my heart, baby.'
"MIRXA!" I shouted, still embarrassed. And my wife was not helping to calm it down. She was still laughing.
'Don't worry, it's safe. But shouldn't you be in class?'
"I'm calming myself," I replied, rolling my eyes, annoyed, before glaring at my reflection, thinking it was her. Then I warned her. "And you're dead later at home."
I ended my telepathic conversation with my wife. I was grumpy. Almira was grinning teasingly but didn't say anything, and Allison tried her best to hide her amusement as we headed out of the girls' comfort room and went to our classes.
***
The classes flowed as usual. I was improving in physical and weaponry combat, which pleased my instructors. But during Lunaria's class, I found myself lost—not physically, but in thought. I heard her explaining the Blood War, but flashes interrupted her teaching, as if I were seeing the war unfold before me.
I could smell blood over moist earth. I feel every ache in the fresh wounds. I hear battle cries. In the middle of anguish and anger, entangled with hope and desire, something made me gasp. The midnight-blue Fenrir stood majestically, commanding and heroic as it fought with conviction. I was in awe, drawn in, until it towered over me, facing me as if I were there on the battlefield.
'Be the Gamma that you were.'
My body was trembling. My heartbeat was deafening. My vision was blurred. And my breathing was caught in my chest, expanding my lungs to the fullest. I stood up to excuse myself, but I stumbled from my seat, alarming the class.
Something was happening in my body.
I curled on the ground, whimpering in pain. I felt my body was burning, making me toss and turn, but I crawled away to the corner. I groaned, fighting the pain, but it was too much. I began shredding my clothes as my body felt like it was being skinned alive. I groaned more as my bones felt like they were breaking, morphing into something, but I was not. I even scratched the cemented ground, not caring if my fingers bled.
'Wake up, little one.'
I screamed with a sound that was like a roar, making the class flinch. I was panting, catching my breath, when I felt Lunaria's presence carefully approach me.
"Bernila," she called my name, and I looked at her, tired, before she asked, "Do you know where you are?"
I nodded, but I didn't trust my voice except for one thing: "Reaper, call my wife."