Episode 14 The Wolves at the （Studio） Door
Piers
It’s been three days.
Three days since we flew across the world.
Three days since we slipped into bed next to Ren’s feverish, unconscious body and pulled her back from the brink.
She hasn’t said a word to us for two of those days. Not after her horrible revelation about her knee, her aversion to alpha barks.
No, that’s not true.
She’s polite enough whenever we stumble upon each other in the giant estate she lives in, though she’s all but ceded her little pool house to us. I don’t know if she thinks it’s a punishment or what. But I couldn’t be happier staying anywhere but there, surrounded by my omega’s things, her scent.
We’d worked out a plan of action, a way to approach her again about returning to Bravonne with us.
I’m not sold on the move, but I was outvoted as I often am.
Forsythe’s voice always carries more weight in our decision making and he is certain that the way forward is to at least get her to agree to return home with us.
Never mind that doing so brings her into the very jaws of danger we were trying to avoid.
The queen will not be thrilled when she hears of it. And she will hear of it.
I think it’s a much better plan for us to stay here with her. Make Isadora come to the States if she still wants to be a princess. Though I think that too is a mistake.
Florence is our mate and we really need to start treating her like it. I can only hope that the more time we spend with her, the more they’ll realize this to be the case. Florence is ours and no other will do.
She needs us to survive.
We need her to survive as well.
But Forsythe is still stuck on his duty, which means the rest of us are stuck too.
If we could just get her to spend some time with us, have a conversation that isn’t thick with hurt and heartbreak, then maybe we can all come to some kind of an understanding. But it’s been two days of dancing around each other.
Yesterday she was gone from early morning until the evening with Atticus and Jude. We still have no clue where they went or why. No one bothered to tell us. Hale only informed us that she was gone and where she went wasn’t any of our business.
Which brings us here. Now.
Standing in the parking lot of the yoga studio where she works. It's Saturday, so she has three classes and that means she would have been absent all day again. Hiding from us, avoiding the conversation that we need to have.
Her beginner class starts in ten minutes and we have every intention of crashing it.
Court eyes the building, bouncing on his toes, like he can barely keep himself from rushing into the studio.
“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Thayer asks, folding his arms over his chest and watching as a few omegas dressed in workout gear chat and giggle as they enter the studio where our mate has been hiding out since early this morning.
“She’s been pretty clear about wanting to keep her classes safe for other omegas. ”
“They will be,” Court says. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’m only interested in Pixie. I’m not gonna even notice the other omegas.”
“So our plan is what?” Grieves asks, scanning our surroundings, checking for threats like always. “Just walk in and hope she’s too polite to kick us out?”
I snort at that. “She won’t have a problem demanding we leave.” I shift, feeling uncertain. “This place is important to her. Knowing she’s providing a safe place for omegas to center themselves. I’m not sure we should be here.”
“If she really wants us to leave, we will. We’ll wait in the parking lot if we have to.
But we can’t keep going like we are,” Forsythe tells me, tells us.
“We only have a limited time before we need to get back to Durvain. We can’t spend that time as we have been. It won’t convince her of anything.”
I want to disagree, that the best thing we can do to prove to Florence that we aren’t going anywhere, is to not go anywhere.
To stick around, sleep in her tiny house even though there isn’t enough space for five grown men, let her do what she needs to do and just always…
be there. Ready to talk about it when she is.
But our prime isn’t convinced of that.
He’s not content to simply wait.
No matter that he said he is, that he told her we’d be there when she’s ready.
He needs to do--to act--to convince her to return with us to Bravonne, so he can get back to his duties.
I’m fairly certain it’s not the right move for our omega though.
She needs time.
Even still I trail behind them as they make their way across the parking lot and into the studio.
The foyer is small, with a wooden counter sitting front and center, a partition wall behind it with openings on either side leading into what I imagine is the actual studio itself.
I can hear the low chatter of mostly female voices filtering from the other side.
The air has a slight chemical tinge to it, and I’m sure they're using descenters in the air-con, like most public spaces do these days. But there’s still the faint whiff of sweet omega scents in the air.
The woman at the counter looks up, a smile already in place, brown hair pulled into a ponytail. “Hi. How can I-” Her eyes widen when she sees us, when she realizes who we are.
“Good morning, love,” Court says, swaggering forward and leaning an elbow on the counter. “We’re looking for our mate, Florence.”
She stares at us for a moment, a flush spreading over her cheeks at his grin. “She’s um- She’s through there, your highness.” And then she lifts her voice and shouts toward the back of the studio. “Ren! You have visitors.”
All conversation on the other side of the wall cuts off.
“Into the breach,” Thayer mutters, before leading the way past the desk and into the studio, where our mate is standing surrounded by athleisure clad omegas.
“No,” she hisses, stomping over to us and looking far too beautiful for her own good. For my own good too. Her finger jerks up pointing at all of us. “No. Absolutely not. This is an omegas only class. You are not omegas.”
Court gives her his most charming smile. “We are most certainly not. But we promise to behave. We won’t spend the session staring at the other omegas. We promise to only stare at you.”
Ren rolls her eyes, but her cheeks go slightly pink.
“Maybe we can ask your other students if they mind?” Thayer asks, sounding like he already knows they’re going to say they don’t. When I glance over at the omegas crowded on the other side of the room, I can see that he’s right.
Every last one of them is eyeing us eagerly. Not like they want to make a play for us, but like they’re salivating at the thought of tearing into us. I can’t even blame them for it.
“You’ve been avoiding us, cor mea,” Forsythe says. “We need to talk.”
Ren gives her head a sharp shake. “This is not the time or the place, Your Highness.” I watch as his jaw ticks at her use of his title. “This is my job. And you being here is only going to fuck up one of the few good things I have left.”
“That’s quite the thesis statement, killer. Care to back it up with facts?”
“I don’t have to back it up with facts. It's just the truth.”
Thayer crosses his arms over his chest and arches his brows, waiting.
Ren huffs. “Fine, professor. Since you insist. If word gets out that you are here, that you’ve been here, that you attended a class here, things are going to get out of hand.
People will swarm and they’ll insert themselves and they’ll ask questions of my students about you.
They’ll be like flies on shit and I do not want to subject myself or my students to that.
Which means I’ll have to resign. You know I’m right, so please just go. ”
“I hate to break it to you, bubbles, but I’m sure everyone already knows you work here. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out. If they’re determined.”
Ren blows out a breath and shakes her head, lips moving like she’s talking to herself, and it’s so fucking cute. The door at the front of the studio opens with a soft jangle and Ren looks toward it, her face folding into a frown before it’s wiped away and a huge grin takes over.
A real one, like the ones she used to give us, but can’t seem to muster anymore.
I turn to see what has made her so happy, an itch forming between my shoulders that makes my teeth grit. I swear if she’s smiling at another alpha or beta like that, I’m going to-
The thought cuts off as a blonde teenager barrels through the door, trailing a faint lavender scent, and right into Ren’s waiting arms. They hug each other tight and that itch between my shoulders disappears, replaced by a flip of nerves.
Looking at that honey blond hair I know who this must be. Ren’s little sister, Ginny.
“What are you doing here, Gin?” Ren asks, pushing the smaller girl away from her by the shoulders, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It's Saturday,” Ginny answers with a shrug. “I always come to a class on Saturday.”
“You usually come to the intermediate class on Saturdays,” Ren corrects. Ginny’s eyes move to us, hazel and pretty, but nothing like Ren’s enchanting gaze.
“Yeah, but… I’m guessing they weren’t gonna be at the intermediate class.”
Court grins at her. “Actually we’re planning on hanging out all day. Don’t want to let your sister out of our sight, you know?”
Ginny scoffs and the look she gives my pack mate is full of disdain. “Funny, you didn’t have a problem with doing that a month ago.”
Court’s brows arch like he’d expected her to be charmed enough by him to just forgive the way we treated her sister.
But that’s the thing about Ren.
People love her with their whole hearts and when she’s hurt? Well, everyone will rise to defend her.
It's more than a little telling that the pack of people who are supposed to always, always have her back are the ones being defended against.
Ren tugs Ginny closer to her. “Is that why you’re here? To protect me from them?”