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proto_alphaIt's been two weeks since the other Barge departed, their stolen passengers reclaimed...six or seven weeks since Tig Trager had become her second human Beta, and Allison still wasn't totally sure what to do with him.
Taking Jerry on as pack had a purpose: his warden was terrible, he was a hunter like she was, and he was a good man. He was safe...she was genuinely fond of him. Tig was, simply put, dark. An inmate, God knew why because the wardens had such an easy time swaying him towards violent behavior. He spat and snarled, more or less, more a contrarian than anything. Because he was an inmate, he fought, bucked the system...
Until she walked into the room.
The strange thing was the way he made her skin crawl, the way the wolf rebelled whenever she let him get close...but at the end of the day he was a good Beta. He followed orders, he looked to her when they dealt with issues on the ship...and in exchange, she allowed certain liberties. She endured when he invaded her personal space, she hid her fear and her discomfort when he tried to rattle her. He seemed to be testing her limits...and it was working.
He was finding touches that were actually welcome. He started mirroring her own, discreet means of scent marking, branding her property. The beast actually enjoyed it, being branded in return...as uncomfortable as he made her, he'd pledged his loyalty to her. He was pack, and her wolf responded to that.
It made the aftermath of the breach harder to deal with because being outdoors for days and nights under open sky, hunting for her food...it made her miss the moon.
The lack of lunar influence on the ship did make her restless, but time in the gym and exercising in her room, or simply running around on deck kept her calm. More often than not, however, she found herself gravitating to them: Jerry and Tig. Spending time with them, talking with them...mostly Jerry, mostly helping him withstand the stress of his own warden.
And Tig...she didn't like to think about how often she was finding excuses to see him, to exchange those touches the wolf craved...how her revulsion was fading despite the fact that he was still preying on her, and how the fear was ceasing to matter.
Like tonight, before she was set to return to her cabin. Instead of heading for her room, she found herself at Tig's door just to check on him.
Like she would for Jerry. Not because she wanted to see him, but because Tig was her responsibility.
Not because she was so jumpy she had to keep one hand at her side, balled into a fist, claws digging into her own palm to keep her in just enough pain to prevent an unwanted transformation.
Taking Jerry on as pack had a purpose: his warden was terrible, he was a hunter like she was, and he was a good man. He was safe...she was genuinely fond of him. Tig was, simply put, dark. An inmate, God knew why because the wardens had such an easy time swaying him towards violent behavior. He spat and snarled, more or less, more a contrarian than anything. Because he was an inmate, he fought, bucked the system...
Until she walked into the room.
The strange thing was the way he made her skin crawl, the way the wolf rebelled whenever she let him get close...but at the end of the day he was a good Beta. He followed orders, he looked to her when they dealt with issues on the ship...and in exchange, she allowed certain liberties. She endured when he invaded her personal space, she hid her fear and her discomfort when he tried to rattle her. He seemed to be testing her limits...and it was working.
He was finding touches that were actually welcome. He started mirroring her own, discreet means of scent marking, branding her property. The beast actually enjoyed it, being branded in return...as uncomfortable as he made her, he'd pledged his loyalty to her. He was pack, and her wolf responded to that.
It made the aftermath of the breach harder to deal with because being outdoors for days and nights under open sky, hunting for her food...it made her miss the moon.
The lack of lunar influence on the ship did make her restless, but time in the gym and exercising in her room, or simply running around on deck kept her calm. More often than not, however, she found herself gravitating to them: Jerry and Tig. Spending time with them, talking with them...mostly Jerry, mostly helping him withstand the stress of his own warden.
And Tig...she didn't like to think about how often she was finding excuses to see him, to exchange those touches the wolf craved...how her revulsion was fading despite the fact that he was still preying on her, and how the fear was ceasing to matter.
Like tonight, before she was set to return to her cabin. Instead of heading for her room, she found herself at Tig's door just to check on him.
Like she would for Jerry. Not because she wanted to see him, but because Tig was her responsibility.
Not because she was so jumpy she had to keep one hand at her side, balled into a fist, claws digging into her own palm to keep her in just enough pain to prevent an unwanted transformation.
