Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13924641.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Mercy_Thompson_Series_-_Patricia_Briggs, Alpha_and_Omega_-_Patricia
      Briggs
  Relationship:
      Bran_Cornick/Original_Character(s), Bran_Cornick_&_Original_Character(s),
      Asil/Sage_(Alpha_and_Omega), Charles_Cornick/Anna_Latham
  Character:
      Bran_Cornick, Original_Female_Character(s), Kara_Beckworth, Asil_Moreno,
      Sage_Carhardt, Charles_Cornick, Anna_Latham, Samuel_Cornick, Leah_Cornick
  Additional Tags:
      Past_Abuse, Past_Rape/Non-con, Past_Attempted_Rape/Non-Con, Past
      Violence, Flashbacks, Leah_is_Gone, Clean_version_on_FanFiction.net,
      Originally_Posted_on_FanFiction.Net
  Series:
      Part 1 of Tawny
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-10 Updated: 2018-03-15 Chapters: 3/? Words: 5652
****** Tawny ******
by Kati3_Un1corn
Summary
     I tend to lose myself in thought and ignore the world sometimes. When
     Leah's pack bonds were cut, I thought I was just dreaming because I'd
     been having a nightmare. Sage and I went to Asil's hothouse and he
     told me to go to Bran's. What can I say? Stuff happens.
     __
     Originally on FanFiction.net. Sanitized version without sex,
     flashbacks, etc. there. Trigger warnings.
***** Chapter 1 *****
This is an unsanitized version of a story by me on FanFiction.Net. This story
occurs before Cry Wolf, and I’m planning to use this as a foundation to create
a retelling of the Alpha and Omega books (which will probably come out way
different than Patty’s originals.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Please comment! .U.
 
“I’m going to Asil’s, wanna come?” Sage asked from the kitchen.
I stood form the chair, albeit slightly regretfully, and stretched, yawning.
“Yeah, sure. Really, though, why don’t you just fuck him?”
Sage sighed. “You know exactly why, Nicole, he’s still mourning his mate.”
I rolled my eyes. “God, he wants it.”
My best friend ignored me. “Come on, loser,” she said, and walked out the door.
I followed her, closing it behind me.
“It’s way too cold out here,” I complained.
“You always say that,” she replied.
“It’s always true,” I said.
Sage snorted, trekking to her car. I followed, sliding into the passenger seat
and cranking the heater all the way up, then squeaking when it was cold and
turning it off again. She started the car and I curled up into the seat,
resting my head between my knees.
“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?”
“I’ve only been here one year!”
“This place has two modes, cold and colder.”
“And inside,” I said irritably, turning on the heater again now that the engine
had warmed up, but we were already halfway to Asil’s.
“Fine,” she allowed.
Our relationship seems really passive-aggressive sometimes, but we’re good.
Stopping her car in front of Asil’s hothouse. He didn’t say anything at first
when we entered, but when he did speak, it was unexpected.
“Nicole, you should go to Bran’s house.”
I raised my eyebrows, then checked out the pack bonds. Bran was really upset.
“Why me?” I asked.
“You can be oblivious. Just go,” he said, waving me out. Puzzled, I left the
hothouse and started walking to Bran’s house, ignoring the cold in favor of
trying to figure out why Bran was in such a funk.I felt at the pack bonds more,
and felt an absence— I thought I’d been dreaming when I’d felt the pack bonds
break.
“Leah is gone,” I told myself quietly, then started moving faster. “But how
would I help?”
Pushing open Bran’s door, the scent of his distress was strong in the air, as
was the projection of calm presumably coming from Anna. I quickly trotted up to
the room where they were, Bran’s study, and opened the door to find Bran
pinning Anna to the wall. No wonder her projection of calm was so weak. She
glanced at me as I entered, and strengthened her calm, pushing it outward.
“Bran?” I asked. “Asil said to—” He quickly released Anna and grabbed me, and I
probably would have squeaked had I not been doped up on Omega magic. Pinning my
wrists against the wall, he growled at me, and I tried to break eye contact but
couldn’t. Anna’s calm slowly started to sink in, his eyes fading back to warm
hazel. He let go of me, shame in his eyes, and I wished Anna wasn’t there.
“Asil said to what?” he asked after a few long seconds.
“Come here. The first thing he said when Sage and I went into his hothouse was
‘Nicole, you should go to Bran’s house.’ Then he called me oblivious and just
waved me out.”
Bran’s eyes got a gold glint to them again for a brief second, then it was
gone, and he nodded. “Anna, you should go home.”
“Bran,” she started.
“Go,” he ordered simply. Reluctantly, she nodded, even though she could have
refused.
“Did he say why?” Bran asked once she’d left.
“Not why I’d help, if that’s what you’re asking, and I figured out the issue on
my way over,” I replied.
He just nodded again, and I didn’t know what to say.
“You’re still uncomfortable around me,” he said after a moment.
“Things happened in my old pack, and when I was a kid. While this place—” I
gestured at our surroundings and Aspen Creek in general, “—helps, thirty years
of abuse is hard to heal from. It doesn’t happen in a day, or a few weeks, or
even a few months like in stories. It lingers.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t find out sooner.”
“Bran, that isn’t your fault.”
“It’s my job.”
“Then it’s an occupational hazard.”
He huffed a derisive laugh. “You could say that.”
“Well, I just did.”
He smiled a little bit at that, his eyes on the floor, sitting on his desk and
kicking his feet, but he still smelled upset. “Would you stay here tonight?”
Admittedly a bit taken aback, I replied, “Of course, whatever helps.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
I shook my head, joining him on the desk. “It’s nothing.”
I froze as he touched my hair softly. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he
apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. None of them ever did that, you just surprised
me.”
“Never?” he asked.
“Not like that, no.”
He nodded in understanding. “Nicole?”
I looked at him.
“You’re safe here,” he said, and reinforced it with his dominance. For the
first time in years, I actually did feel safe. I moved closer to him and he put
an arm around me, and I relaxed a bit.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It’s my job.”
I grinned. “You’re good at it.”
“There are a lot of people who would disagree.”
“There are a lot of people who are idiots, Bran.”
He smiled again. “True.”
“Unfortunately.”
He laughed again, but I was frustrated that he wasn’t feeling much better.
“Bran, what can I do?”
The mood in the room became much more subdued. He shook his head. “Leah left a
few days ago. Our mating bond was cut by a witch, along with her pack bonds,
earlier today. The wolf is… more angry than sad, but not much more.”
I sighed. “That doesn’t tell me how to help.”
“Just stay here.”
Puzzled, I let it lie, but only from the finality and slight discomfort Bran
emanated. I nodded. We sat in silence for a while, until I started to tense up
again, my brain working itself up over being alone with a dominant male. I
started staring at my feet and shrinking away a bit subconsciously.
Bran looked at me, concerned. “Nicole, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“It’s still hard to believe that most of the time,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “I still can’t trust witches.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime,” he said, and the subject was closed. “Want to
go for a run?”
I nodded, both accepting his closing the subject and his offer of a run. “Yeah.
I think we could both use one.” Sliding off the desk, I turned to face him.
“Meet you outside?”
He nodded and I left, going into the bathroom but leaving the door partially
open so I could open it in wolf form. I undressed and folded my clothes,
starting the excruciating process of the Change.
My wolf is tawny, with a black chest and ears and a black spot on my left eye,
which is ice blue (my right one is gold, my wolf has heterochromia). My tail is
tipped in black, like Bran’s except his is white, and my muzzle is like caramel
with pepper sprinkled throughout, as are my legs. My front left foot is black,
and I have a little cloud-shaped splotch on my right flank, which Sage calls my
‘cutie-mark’ in reference to My Little Pony. I shook myself, then pushed the
bathroom door open with my nose and trotted to the front door, exiting the
house.
Bran was waiting as agreed upon, and his tail wagged a tiny bit when he saw me.
Jerking his head north, as if to say come on, he started running in the
indicated direction. Chasing him, I plowed through the snow, paying the cold no
mind as I ran, the euphoric feeling of freedom being all that was on my mind.
Most wolves loved the hunt most, but my favorite part was the chase; the wind
blowing through my fur, my eyes watering from the wind, the trees flowing past
me as I leapt over fallen logs and rocks. I raced after Bran, falling
snowflakes sticking to my fur, then melting. I caught up to him, still running
hard, and started to pass him. Redoubling his speed, his tail passed my nose
and he left me in his tracks. Somehow, I started going faster, attempting to
catch up to him. Ahead of me, I saw him turn back to his house, so I cut back
without completing the path he had; we’d never declared it a competition, so I
could hardly cheat, could I?
I fell over into the snow behind Bran’s house and he gave me a contemptuous
look. I let my mouth hang open and my tongue loll out, going inside to change
again.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Disclaimer: I own nothing.
     Please Comment!! .U.
“You can’t cheat if it isn’t a competition,” I sang as I left the bathroom, and
Bran gave me a filthy look. I just smiled, sitting on the counter. “Whatcha
making?” I asked, looking at the bowls on the counter. “No, let me guess,
pancakes. That looks like pancake batter.”
He didn’t give a reply. I pouted, and he growled. “Don’t.”
Confused, I stopped,. But replied. “Why?”
“Because,” he stated unhelpfully.
“Fine, can I go to my house and pack an overnight bag?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Take the Humvee.”
“Thanks,” I replied, jumping off the counter and taking the keys, leaving the
house and turning on the heater in the car ASAP once the engine warmed. I
backed out of the driveway, driving to my house, and I opened the door to a
blast of warm air. I hurried inside, closing the door behind me and going to my
room to shove some clothes in a backpack. After a moment’s thought, I took my
acoustic guitar, too, then made the mad dash back to Bran’s Humvee through the
snow. Thanking God that the engine hadn’t cooled too much, I blasted the heater
again, just sitting in my driveway for a moment before driving, soaking up the
heat.
I really hate the cold. I loved staying inside, anyway, and I had a home and a
good pack, now, so it wasn’t as bad, but I still really hate the cold. I jumped
up and down in the entryway of Bran’s home for a second to warm myself back up.
Unlacing my boots, I put them in the closet, then (very reluctantly) my jacket
as well, using one of the spare hangers. I went into a spare bedroom to change
(it was after five o’clock, and pajamas are so much better than denim). I
curled up on the couch with my guitar and started strumming a Maroon 5 cover
without the lyrics. I heard Bran in the kitchen distantly, but allowed myself
to mostly tune out the outside world and concentrate on the music.
I set the guitar down as I reached the end of the song and went into the
kitchen still carrying it to find the pancakes abandoned and Bran nowhere to be
seen. I frowned. Flipping the pancakes, then started looking around for him. I
checked the entire ground floor, then went back to the kitchen to remove the
pancakes and unplug the griddle before continuing.
I’d saved his and Leah’s bedrooms, both individual and shared, for last. I
knocked on the door to his room first, with no answer, then Leah’s, to the same
result. I knocked on their shared one last, and poked my head in to find Bran
on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a tear leaking out of his visible
(hazel) eye.
“Bran?” I whispered, but he didn’t seem to be in the present. I nodded to
myself, then started to play another song on the guitar I still held, this time
a Beethoven cover, softly, curled up in a chair. I glanced up and found him
asleep, so I moved him into a better position and climbed onto the bed next to
him, wrapping my arms around his middle and fell asleep with him, having never
turned on the light.
Anna had decided that she should go check on Bran, and Nicole, too. She was in
Charles’s truck (he’d gone somewhere on business), parked in Bran’s driveway.
She got out, trudging through the snow to the door and opened it, toeing off
her boots before proceeding into the house. There were pancakes in the kitchen,
some of the batter left uncooked in the bowl. It was a mess and unlike Bran, so
she continued looking through the house to find a bag that smelled like Nicole
in one of the guest rooms. Anna checked each bedroom but found Nicole absent,
and so proceeded to the three bedrooms which had been (previously) Bran’s,
Leah’s, and their shared room.
Nicole was with Bran in the latter of the three, curled tight around him as
they slept together. When did this happen? Anna asked herself, taking out her
phone and snapping a picture, sending it to Charles. Look what I found, she
added to the picture, leaving the room and closing the door gently as not to
wake them, going back into the kitchen to finish cooking the pancakes and clean
up, putting them in a plastic bag and into the fridge, then went home,
pondering what she’d found.
I woke up to hear a phone conversation in the next room. “—hurts and helps,” I
heard Bran say. “You know why I took Leah as my mate. I could never love her.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to try to overcome that fear, Da,” the person on the
other end replied, and I decided that it was a private conversation, so I took
my guitar from the chair and went downstairs. Someone had finished making the
pancakes and cleaned up, because the kitchen was spotless again.
Sometimes my guitar can become a bit of an obsession— I play mostly as a sort
of therapy. My wolf is really dominant and being stuck at the bottom of the
pack makes her angry, but the music soothes her and makes her easier to handle.
I started softly strumming enough to cover Bran’s conversation upstairs and
stared off into space, thinking about what I had heard without really realizing
it, letting my fingers move instinctually from my years of practice. It hadn’t
taken me long to re-learn my old proficiency after I’d gotten out of my abusive
old pack. I’d been more dominant than the Alpha there, and they’d kept me
locked in a silver cage most of the time, when they weren’t trying to rape me.
I still have the scars from the silver weapons they used, and the memories of
being drugged with a silver/DMSO/ketamine mixture were as vivid as the day I
acquired them. I felt myself start crying, but I was too distant from myself to
really be involved in where my mind was wandering. It was like a lucid dream,
except I wasn’t asleep. I was aware of my fingers moving but I didn’t really
feel it as I lost myself in memory.
I was in wolf form, curled up in the center of the cage to avoid touching the
silver. I tried to hold in a whimper as I saw Darian enter the room with a
syringe, and my grogginess was wiped away in a rush of adrenaline and fear as
he advanced, and my Alpha drew from his entire pack to push me over the edge
into human form. I was tired, hungry and weak as I felt my bones begin to crack
and the Alpha watched me maliciously, syringe in hand and smiling a bit. I
wasn’t a large person; five-foot nothing, long (blonde, but you couldn’t tell
from the dirt and sweat) hair and green eyes, somewhat stocky (but mostly as a
result of being a werewolf). I shook on the floor of the cage and curled in on
myself to keep the silver away from my skin as Darian approached the cage. He
unlocked it, pulling me out by my right arm, and injected some of the drug he
had in the syringe. I went woozy again as he dragged me out and into his
bedroom, where he put the syringe in a desk drawer as he started stripping,
dumping me on his bed. I curled into as small a ball as possible. Everything
hurt as he forced me onto my back and crawled on top of me—
“Nicole,” Bran said, shaking me. He’d taken my guitar from my arms and I was
curled up, sobbing, my face soaked with my tears. “Nicole, you’re not there
anymore. He’s dead. You’re safe.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried, and he picked me up and sat down
in the chair, settling me in his lap and petting my hair soothingly. I sobbed
harder, remembering how filthy I felt after his hands roved my skin, how
violated I’d felt when he was whispering things in my ear in his bed as he
abused my body. I let Bran’s dominance comfort me as I cried on his shoulder
and he stroked my hair soothingly. He smelled like safety and pack and Bran, a
sweet saltiness along with the mint and musk all werewolves possessed.
“You smell sorta like caramel, I never noticed before,” I said shakily.
“You smell like dark chocolate,” he replied, still petting my hair.
I let out a watery giggle. “We’re the perfect match.”
I felt Bran go stiff under me, and looked up. He had paled and his eyes were
gold.
I had a sense of dawning comprehension as I had an idea. “Bran, are you
philophobic?”
“What?” he asked, but he sounded weird.
“You’re scared of love. I’m a psychologist, Bran, I know these things. Is it
because of Blue Jay Woman?”
He nodded. “How did you know about her?”
“People like to talk to me. I’m actually kinda sort-of friends with Charles, I
think,” I said uncertainly.
“You’re not scared of him?”
I shook my head. “Only when I stop to really think about it. Then again, Anna
is almost always handing out calm vibes. Really, are you okay?”
“Are you?”
I took a deep breath. “I will be, eventually, if you are.”
“Your dominance shows a lot.”
I grimaced. “I’ve always been a horrible actor, but really, pot calling
kettle.”
“I never said I didn’t like it,” he replied somewhat irritably.
“Was that what happened last night?” I asked quietly. “Your philophobia.”
He nodded. “I panicked when I saw you playing your guitar.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just my horrendously attractive physique and
personality? Or are acoustic guitars sexy now?”
“You’re beautiful when you play. You get lost in it.”
“I’d say the same, but you tend to look more pensive. But you’re beautiful all
the time, so whatever,” I replied with a smile. “I’m not going to push you
unless you want me to.”
He nodded, and we fell silent, Bran still stroking my hair.
“Pancake salad?” he asked after a second.
“Absolutely,” I replied.
I hope you enjoyed; please REVIEW and tell me if you did! And pancake salad
doesn’t have greens in it, just to clear that up. It’s tiny (or cut up)
pancakes with chopped fruit and syrup or jam for dressing (I wanted to have
Bran and Nicole share a quirk).
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Disclaimer: I own nothing
     Warning: extremely graphic rape content in a flashback. You can check
     out the Fanfiction.net version or skip from "I slowly backed away
     into the corner of his study..." to "Nicole! Bran shouted. He had
     pulled me..." and from "The vivid terror drowned me as the flashback
     overtook me again..." to “She’s asleep,” Bran said to the Omega. “We
     should get her home..." .
Both Bran and I were still somewhat tense and unsteady as I chopped
strawberries. He got up and left, and I watched him go, listening for where he
was headed. I heard a small thunk as he knelt in a room I thought was his
office. I finished cutting the strawberries, putting some in each bowl and
adding blueberries and raspberries, then the syrup. Taking two forks, I grabbed
the bowls and pushed open the door to Bran’s office, which was where he was. I
put the bowls on his desk and knelt beside him.
“You’re more dominant than Charles, aren’t you?” Bran asked.
I nodded, staring into the fire he’d lit as he was.
“They did it because they couldn’t control you,” he continued.
I shook my head, watching the still-growing flames. “Not only that. I was the
only female in the pack. They killed Lucy because she was a lesbian.”
He grimaced and I broke my stare at the fire to glare at him. “Not your fault,”
I growled.
“Be careful,” he growled back.
“We’re both victims here,” I replied. “It’s okay to show that to me, Bran.”
“I’m more dominant,” he growled lowly.
“By a split hair, if that,” I scoffed. “I’d be your second if I weren’t female,
maybe even challenge your position as Marrok.”
“Mercy would like you,” he replied.
“Everybody loves me, don’t try to change the subject by appealing to my ego.”
“If I acknowledged what you said, the Berserker would escape.”
“Just for now, just tonight. We can go back to the way it was a week ago
tomorrow.”
His eyes flashed, but his resolve weakened slightly. “If the beast gets free—”
he started.
“Your wolf already thinks of me as your mate. You can tell. He’ll listen to
me.”
“Nicole,” he started.
“Shut up,” I ordered with a glare. “Relax. The wolf wants to listen, doesn’t
it?”
His eyes widened a tiny bit. “It wasn’t like that with Leah.”
I growled. “I’m not Leah.”
He looked up from the fire. He didn’t growl or snarl, and his eyes were earnest
as he replied. “I know.”
“Bran…”
“You really should be careful,” he said, still staring into the fireplace. “The
wolf wants you more than he ever wanted anybody else.”
“You don’t?” I asked, hurt but feeling a bit guilty about it. “I mean, that’s
okay,” I added hastily, not wanting to push him too hard. “Sorry.”
He looked up at me sharply. “I do want you. I’m just not ready yet.”
“I’m sorry, Bran. I didn’t mean to push you.”
“You’re always pushing me somehow. It’s part of who you are.” At my worried
look, he continued. “A good part, Nicole. It’s one of my favorite things about
you.”
“Anna would say you’re—” I stopped myself before I could finish with acting
like a lovesick puppy. “Never mind.”
He seemed mildly curious but dismissed it with a nod. As he looked back into
the fireplace, I could see him smile a bit, as if he already knew what I had
been about to say.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; on the contrary, it was rather peaceful, with
only the sound of the crackling log fire. After a while, though, I sensed Bran
getting restless again, and he stood up, taking one of the bowls and dumping an
excessive amount of syrup into it.
I sighed, standing and joining him, but with less syrup. “We should’ve added
bacon,” I said regretfully.
“Then we would’ve had to put in chocolate shavings, too.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked as I stabbed a strawberry with my fork.
“I don’t have any,” he replied, and I looked at him, putting my bowl down.
“That,” I proclaimed, “is an abomination. One cannot own strawberries without
chocolate. I’ll have to go grocery shopping.”
Bran nodded. “I’m not sure it would be wise to leave me here alone.” He looked
at me. “You’re dominant enough to control me with the aid of our bond. If the
berserker takes control, do whatever you can to keep him in check until you can
shoot him.”
“Let me take you as my mate, it’ll be safer. We don’t have to have anything as
humans if you don’t want to,” I said, even though it would hurt if he didn’t
want that. Stupid, I reprimanded myself.
“No,” he growled, the fork bending in his grip. “I won’t.”
I calmly approached and took the bowl from him, sliding it onto the desk, then
taking both of his hands. “I won’t be like Leah.”
“That’s why I won’t,” he growled.
“You can’t be afraid forever,” I stated. I was growling now, too.
A flash of vulnerability, then fear, entered his eyes, and his resolve cracked
a bit. “It’s worked for two and a half centuries.”
“It won’t work for three,” I growled, pulling him a little bit closer without
breaking eye contact.
“It could.”
“It won’t.”
“Only because you won’t let it.”
“It’s hurting you.”
“I can deal with that.”
I growled. “I can’t!” Pulling him closer, I threaded my fingers through his
sandy hair and rested my forearms on his shoulders. I still hadn’t broken eye
contact. His eyes had changed from human warm hazel to molten gold. I knew mine
were amber and blue as I looked into his. “I need to talk to Bran. Please?”
I knew neither Bran nor his wolf would hurt me, but the golden eyes and
predatory posture brought old memories to the surface, and I barely kept myself
from breaking down. His wolf’s eyes were full of lust and want, and I slowly
backed away into the corner of his study.
Jason came in holding a syringe. In human form, I only had room to curl up with
my knees drawn to my chest in the silver cage.
“I prefer them with short hair,” he said, and took a knife out of the desk in
the corner as he grabbed the key to the cage. The silver of the blade gleamed
in the yellowish artificial light as he approached, key and syringe in one hand
and knife in the other, and I knew that my hair wasn’t the only thing he was
going to cut with it. He would’ve taken the steel, otherwise.
The click of the lock was now a familiar sound, as was the creak of the cage’s
door. Jason’s strong hands took me by the shoulders and dragged me out and up
to a wobbly standing position. He dragged me into the bathroom, where there was
a rough towel and an open shower. He cut my hair off in violent, jerky motions,
cutting my neck and shoulders just enough to hurt badly but not to cause
serious injury. He dropped the knife in the sink and turned the shower on,
forcing me in. The icy torrent mingled with the blood running down my
shoulders, and I started to rinse myself off quickly until he changed the
shower temperature to what I assumed was what he preferred. He peeled off his
clothes and stepped in with me, closing the curtain, and took the shampoo from
the rack, roughly washing my hair and using the shampoo on my face, then
letting it rinse out while he took a bar of soap and started washing me with
his hands, leaving me feeling dirtier rather than cleaner. He started washing
me down there, exploring with his fingers, and when he was done, he grabbed my
face and kissed me hard, forcing me to open my mouth and let him in. He started
drying me with the towel, and when he was done with that, he pulled me to the
door and out into the hallway after taking the knife and syringe. He led me to
a guest suite, closing the door and stabbing me with the needle and injecting a
quarter dose; just enough to keep me coherent but completely weak and unable to
fight. I was shaking badly as he forced my head down to his hips and pushed
himself into my mouth, pumping in and out. He exploded into my mouth and held
my head there until I swallowed it, then lifted me up and onto the bed. I was
limp as he spread my legs, physically incapable of moving because of the drug.
My wolf howled inside my mind as he penetrated me, and the now-familiar
sensation of being torn apart from my core would have made my cry out if my
body had not been so completely incapable. Wet tears streamed down my face,
and—
 
“Nicole!” Bran shouted. He had pulled me into his arms and was rocking me as
Anna sent out powerful waves of calm. It washed over Bran’s study like ocean
waves. I was sobbing into his shoulder, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane as
he held me like a small child. “They’re dead. They can’t hurt you anymore.
Nicole. Nikki.”
The nickname brought my wolf to the forefront of my mind, my eyes turning gold
and blue as I scrambled away, knees to my chest. I was shaking and unable to
speak as the panic attack overtook me again, unpenetrated by the Omega’s calm.
The vivid terror drowned me as the flashback overtook me again.
 
He didn’t stop moving his hips as he reached for the silver knife. I caught a
glimpse of a steel one, as well, before he started cutting me with the steel.
He pulled out of me, and I thought he was done with that part, at least, until
he lifted me and slid under me, pressing back into me as he cut my stomach, but
it didn’t heal. It should’ve; it was steel, not silver, and cut like it, but I
hadn’t eaten in two days.
“Shit,” he cursed under me, and stopped cutting, dropping the knife as he
pulled out again, pulling on a pair of pants. “Don’t move,” he said, and left,
as if I possibly could.
I was too dehydrated to cry and too drugged to move or speak or scream. I lay
there paralyzed and bleeding until the world went black and I lost
consciousness.
 
“She’s asleep,” Bran said to the Omega. “We should get her home.”
Anna shook her head. “Put her in your bedroom. It isn’t you she fears, it’s the
look in your wolf’s eyes. Give her time and work with her on it.”
“She’s been here a year; why hasn’t she gotten any better, talked to anyone?”
“Nicole is a lot more dominant than anyone here except you. She probably has a
really hard time admitting her problems. Do you want help moving her?”
Bran shook his head, picking up Nicole’s limp form. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, get her a chocolate cake. It’s her favorite comfort food.” Anna turned
and took a step towards the door, but turned again. “Take care of her, Bran.
She deserves it,” she said, and left. The Marrok nodded again, leaving his
study.
As he was about to open his bedroom door, Nicole jerked in her sleep, then
moaned. Tears started running down her already stained cheeks again, and
elbowed the door open. “Nicole,” he said, shaking her a bit. Laying her gently
on his bed, he shook her. “Nicole. Nicole!”
She wasn’t waking up, so he yelled her name, but that failed, as well. She
whimpered, and she brought her legs up to her chest protectively, rocking a
little bit. He sat her up, pulling on her shoulders to do so, and she let out a
wolflike whine. “Nicole!” he yelled in her ear.
She gasped, throwing her arms around his neck and collapsing. He guided her to
a horizontal position and put his arms around her, one encircling her waist as
he buried his fingers in her long blonde hair.
“I’m… sorry…” she choked out into his chest through her sobs.
“Don’t be,” he replied as he began stroking her hair. “Is there anything I can
do?”
“My mom always used to make chocolate cake…” she mumbled, tightening her grip
on him.
“Anna said you’d want that. Do you want to go do that or stay here a minute?”
“Here…” she said, curling her legs in and breathing deeply. “Chocolate can
wait. You’re warm.”
Bran huffed a laugh as she wrapped a leg around him, but as he thought about it
he became slightly uncomfortable.
“I know; me, too, but we both need to work past it. I couldn’t with anybody
else, not even Sage. Can’t show weakness.”
Bran sighed, but nodded.
“Plus, I can steal more of your body heat this way.”
That made him smile into her hair. “So, I’m your personal heating pad.”
She pulled back a bit to look at his face. “No, you’re my personal furnace, my
alpha, my mate, and my pillow. You’re a great multitasker.”
“I’m not your mate,” Bran protested. “We haven’t—”
She clapped her hand over his mouth to silence him. “All things in time. It’s
not as if our wolves aren’t already halfway there.”
“Nicole, do you even remember what happened in my study?”
Carefully maintaining her even breathing, she nodded, moving away a little bit.
“I’m not saying we’ll be okay today, or tomorrow, or the day after, but we both
need to heal.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t, either,” she replied. She’d pulled away from him again to look at
his face. “I won’t force you to be my mate, and if you really want me to go,
you can send me away and I’ll listen.”
“You’re good at that.”
“At what?”
“Forcing me to do something while completely submitting,” Bran replied,
carefully keeping the growl out of his voice.
“You’re forcing yourself; I’m just great.”
Bran smiled as she fell into a peaceful sleep next to him.
 
I hope you liked it. If that was too much for you, maybe check out the version
on Fanfiction.net, which glosses over or skips Nicole's flashbacks. However,
that version will also gloss over or skip any sex and, um, vivid, descriptive
thoughts, so if you don't want that, you'll just have to skim over it (sorry).
Please comment and tell me what you thought!
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