4 – Ginny
I didn’t have to wait long. Perhaps 20 minutes after Henry left our shared home, I started feeling slight cramping in my lower abdomen. I guessed they were warming up. The thought made me want to retch. Soon, however, the intensity of the pain became what made me want to retch. The best way to describe it was the all-consuming abdominal cramping that accompanies food poisoning.
I broke out in a cold sweat, and my ability to think clearly went out the window. I was pain. I was burning up, I was melting, I was suffering, and in a very sick way, I welcomed it. I wanted to burn for my barrenness, I wanted to etch my mate’s betrayal into my skin in order to never forget it as long as I lived, in order not to forgive it no matter what may happen afterwards.
As the pain gradually subsided, I glanced at the clock. Thirty-five minutes. Not your best work, Henry, I thought, amazed at myself for still having the energy to be snarky. I involuntarily remembered some of my first heats with him, the unbearable craving for my mate, the desire to be completely enmeshed with each other, all thoughts completely gone except for him. The male whose ambrette smell was so deeply imprinted on my body and my insides that no one could tell where he ended and I began. Now, I imagined that same scent mixing with the cloying vanilla of his whore, and, not for the first time since this ordeal began, I wondered how he could be doing this to us.
Lost in thought, I almost missed the first stirrings of new pain, but then it hit me like a ton of bricks, more intensely than the first wave, but at least it got me to stop thinking. My wolf was howling inconsolably; the poor animal was devastated by the deepest betrayal known to our kind, that of a mate. The mate bond took precedence over even the maternal bond since shifters were known to almost always survive the death of their pups, but over half of them could not go on after the loss of a mate. And those who managed to were never the same again.
???
I woke up in the hospital to Henry angrily pacing and yelling something at the nurse standing next to my bed. When they both noticed I was awake, Henry ran over to me and grabbed my hand:
“Ginny, are you okay?”
Even with my addled brain, I knew enough to shoot him an incredulous look and yank my hand out of his.
“What happened?” I asked the nurse instead.
She looked at me with clearly visible pity.
“What's the last thing you remember, Luna?”
“I was trying to get to the bathroom. The pain-” I trailed off.
“Do you know what date it is today?”
I focused on the day Henry left. It was May 20. I think I made it to the next day without passing out.
“May 21?”
“It’s May 23,” she informed me and I couldn’t bear to look at her anymore.
“When can she go home?” The Alpha asked.
“The doctor will be with you shortly to go over everything.”
He sat down next to me and tried holding my hand again. This time I let it rest in his like a dead fish while staring at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry, love. I – you wouldn’t believe how sorry I am you got hurt. Why didn’t you take the drugs, Ginny? What were you thinking?”
I didn’t respond. What was the point? He was still saying that I got hurt, not that he hurt me.
“Never mind then, the important thing is that this is behind us. It’s done. We don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
We were worrying? From where I stood, I was the only one worrying while he was off at his fuck-fest. As for it being over, I wasn’t so sure about that either. A deeply buried insecure part of me was hoping that she wouldn’t get pregnant on the first try, even though it meant enduring the pain of the last four days two more times, as per the agreement set forth by the Council.
It would confirm what that small kernel inside me surmised, that maybe the puplessness we were struggling with wasn’t my fault. It had been weaponized against me so many times that, despite my better judgment, I occasionally found myself viewing it as a shortcoming instead of a simple fact of life.
I felt around in my mind, trying to reach my wolf. She was uncharacteristically quiet. I could barely feel her deep in the back of my mind, licking her wounds. My poor female. After a terrified doctor cleared me to go home, I walked with Henry to his car and sat in the back, forcing as much distance between us as I could.
He kept trying to chat me up as if he wasn’t keeping me hostage in his pack and as if we were a happily mated couple returning home from a picnic, and not the hospital stay his infidelity put me in. It felt surreal, as if someone was playing a cruel joke on me, but no one around me would admit to it.
For the next ten days, an apologetic Alpha Henry Giles did all the things that I would have given my right arm for just three months ago. We ate breakfast (which he prepared) together every morning, he was home at four every day, he brought me flowers, tried asking about my day (which I ignored), kept talking to me about his days (which I also ignored), tried sitting next to me (upon which I would leave the room), and came to the guestroom after I was already asleep and slept next to me every night.
I was, however, already gone. To be on the safe side, some mornings I hid in the bathroom during breakfast so I wouldn’t have to look at his face and I only came downstairs after I’d heard him leave. I still felt the pull of our bond, weakened as it was, but there was nothing he could do to provoke an emotional response in me. Or so I thought.
On one such morning, I came down to the kitchen and found a note next to a bowl of foraged berries on the kitchen table, and I stopped in my tracks. The tears came quickly and violently, and before I knew it, I was clutching my chest, sobbing. That bastard. I knew what the note would say.
Ten days after I’d moved into his pack, Henry went out and killed the biggest bear he could find in the mountain, presenting me with its carcass proudly, as was the custom of the Spruce Mountain pack. As a mating present, the male would kill the largest animal he could find, presenting the female with the meat in order to prove himself a worthy provider, and the fur would later typically be displayed in the couple’s home as a cherished reminder of the early days of their love.
My home pack, however, had different mating customs. Since the wolf already wanted their mate and didn’t have to prove anything, it was the human who had to do the work, and it typically included gathering berries in the forest for the female, and building her a bed with one’s own two hands to prove that you were worthy and consistent.
I’d told Henry about this and he joked that on the fifth anniversary of our mating, he’d do things the Allegheny way, and on the tenth, he’d pick another pack, and then five years later, another one, and through the course of our lives, he would court me in all the ways known to man and wolf. What a fucking joke that had been. Yet today, he’d remembered a day I had forgotten. It was honestly worse that he had.
That night, he came to my bed while I was still awake and turned to face me while I was lying on my back. He slowly slid his hand under my shirt and cupped my breast while kissing the side of my neck. In the past, thanks to the insane love I’d felt for him and the bond that tied us together, that was all it took for me to combust with desire for him.
Yet now I laid there, secretly enjoying the slight tingles I still felt from his touch, but not making a move otherwise. I felt him lift his head and look at me nonplussed, but I kept my eyes on the ceiling. He whispered my name in the dark and tried kissing my lips, which remained firmly pressed together. After two more pathetic minutes of this, he angrily threw the covers open and left the room in a huff, slamming the door shut. I turned around and fell asleep.
The next morning, when I woke up, he was gone, but he mind-linked me mid-morning to tell me my father was here. Another Alpha feature he was blessed with and could use with all pack members at his discretion. He was the only one who could open the communication channel, and then the pack member he addressed could respond.
In the early years of our mating, he'd made good use of it by dirty talking to me via mind link whenever we were at boring functions together. He liked seeing me blush, he’d said. Now we were down to Gamma Haines is here on official business, he’ll be done by 2, but I was too happy that I had a family member nearby to mourn that fact right then.
“Thank you, tell him to come to the house for lunch when you’re done, please,” I replied.
“Ginny!” My ecstatic father enveloped me with his giant frame in one of the best hugs known to mankind: dad hugs.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m so happy to see you! Why didn’t you bring Mom with you, I haven’t seen you guys in months!”
“Oh, you know, with Freida days away from giving birth, your mother felt it was best if she stayed behind to be there for her.”
“Oh. Okay.”
And there it was. The great Eirwen Davies would not miss out on a chance to vicariously relive her glory days as the princess of the Pembrokeshire pack through her younger daughter, who was mated to the Allegheny’s next Alpha. I hated her for tainting the happiness I felt for my sister and it must have shown on my face.
“Don’t be like that, Ginny. This is a vulnerable time in your sister’s life, she needs all the support she can get.”
“Maybe I could use some support as well, have any of you thought about that?”
My father sighed and ran a hand through his hair, something he did often when I frustrated him as a teenager.
“Look, Ginny, we know things haven’t been easy for you either. Your mother-in-law keeps updating us in her letters -”
“Catherine writes to you?” I was mortified.
“Yeah, your mother corresponds with her regularly. You never write to us anymore!” He said defensively upon seeing my shock. Shifters were still old-school when it came to communication (and many other things) because most electrical devices and appliances bothered our extremely sensitive senses too much. The entire pack had one cell phone, which was kept in a tin box in Henry’s office unless it needed to be used for emergencies, such as funeral announcements or calls to the Royal Court.
“Dad, I – I don’t know what to say. I never wanted to worry you. I’ve been having a hard time, and I couldn’t take mom’s little digs anymore, so I’ve distanced myself a bit for my own peace of mind. And I hate that Catherine has been going around telling my business to everyone behind my back -”
“We’re not everyone , honey.”
“Dad, it’s my decision what to share, even with you guys. Don’t you think that’s fair?”
“I guess,” he reluctantly conceded. “How are you holding up?”
“What do you think?” My gaze conveyed how ridiculous his question was and he shot me an apologetic look.
“I honestly didn’t think the bastard would go through with it.”
I shrugged. What was there to say?
“I can’t even imagine how difficult this is for you, Ginny. I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“You could help me leave,” I suggested quietly and, against my will, hope started to well up inside my heart. Maybe his Alpha could override Henry’s command, maybe they could -
“Oh, honey.”
That was it. Two words to crush my hope. To break my heart.
“We can’t risk war with Spruce Mountain. They are bigger and stronger than our pack and definitely more blood-thirsty,” he shuddered. “Besides, you know that the mate bond is sacred to our kind, and no one will support you on this. For as long as you both live, neither can have another mate.”
“Don’t you think I know that?! Do you want me to recite the list they made us memorize in primary school: there are no rejections, there are no chosen mates, you cannot mark an unfated while your mate lives, and so on,” I listed in a monotone voice. “Do you really think I’d be looking for another mate after this shit show?”
Now I was yelling. “I would be living in a hut in the fucking mountains, alone, trying to recover from this, and probably would never succeed! Don’t talk to me about mates!”
I was desperately sobbing at this point, mourning both myself and the image I used to have of my father as my protector, as a male who would be on my side no matter what. The disappointing males in my life were two for two right now.
“Just go home, Dad,” I managed to say. I could tell he was wounded, but I didn’t care any longer.
“I’ll go over to Dotty’s for a minute to say hi and then I’ll be on my way. You can do this, Ginny, you will make it through this,” he said and hugged me. I leaned into the hug, letting myself enjoy the warmth and the imaginary support that came with it, but when I let go in the end, I knew that I was all alone in the world.
???
On a lovely June morning one month after the heat, the three of us were at the doctor’s office again. He informed us that, unfortunately, the first attempt at insemination had been unsuccessful. Compared to the first visit, Hannah was visibly subdued and almost sad, whereas it was a wonder Henry had any teeth left with how hard he was clenching his jaw.
I felt ashamed at the secret sense of satisfaction I derived from the whole thing. Although this meant another attempt and more pain for me, I was morbidly happy she hadn't conceived on their first try.
While the doctor droned on about all she needed to do to best prepare her body for the insemination, how she needed to eat a lot - all things that I was unfortunately too familiar with, I let my mind wander to the West Virginia Day celebration the pack was holding tonight. Me and some of the young females had worked really hard on it, and the weather seemed to be in our favor. Before I knew it, our meeting was over, and I ran to my office to take care of some last-minute details.
The party was a huge success – the barbecue was delicious, the desserts I prepared with the kitchen staff were out of this world (not my words), and the females’ decorations looked professional. I would have to include them in other celebrations while they were on summer break, maybe the Fourth of July party could use their touch.
As I stood in the corner with my lemonade and critically observed my work, always finding ways to do better, I saw my mate at one of the tables with Hannah and a female I concluded was her mother, judging by their similar coloring. Hannah was coyly glancing at him while pushing food around on her plate until he sternly stabbed some meat with his fork and offered it to her. She hesitated and then her eyes got a faraway look in them, and I just knew that he was mind-linking her. She smiled slyly, licked her lips, and seductively put her mouth around the fork. Henry seemed mesmerized at first and then flustered, maybe in response to whatever she had linked back. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the scene. I was going to be sick.
I felt someone grabbing my upper arm and leading me away. The comforting scent of sage flowers informed me it was Dotty. She led me behind the pack house, where I unceremoniously threw up all over the grass.
“How hilarious would it be if you were pregnant right now?” The crazy female said and actually chuckled.
“It would be insane,” I chuckled, too, wiping my mouth with the back of one hand and accepting the glass of lemonade she was handing me back with the other.
“So what was that display back there?” she asked while leading me to a bench.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, what do you want to talk about?”
I thought for a moment.
“Remind me of Welsh mating customs.”
“Well, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten those of Pembrokeshire, but I’ll humor you. The male needs to steal an item of clothing out of the female’s room without detection before she accepts to move in with him. But have I ever told you about my mate’s pack?”
My ears perked up. Dorothy rarely talked about her mate; it was probably too painful. All I knew was that his name was Thomas and that he was killed a year into their mating.
“You haven’t.”
“His pack, the Eryri, would begin carving lovespoons after their first shift, which they would give to their mate upon finding them. They were meant to symbolize them putting in the work and thinking of their mate even before ever meeting them,” she said wistfully.
“Wait, the spoon? Your pendant? It’s...?” I asked, astonished, referring to the intricately carved heart-shaped wooden spoon Dorothy had worn around her neck ever since I’d known her.
“Yes,” she smiled at me warmly. “It is the only thing I have left of his. And when I die, I want you to have it.”
“Dotty, please. No death talk. Not tonight.”
“Fine. Let me tell you about the English pack in which males give females handkerchiefs soaked in their sweat so they can enjoy their scent,” she laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh, too.