For the greater good. Or something like that. The vampires had mentioned it probably a hundred times in the last two months. Rorick had sat through maybe a dozen meetings with their leadership, been in neutral human territory for days now. He could barely remember the last time he went for a run. Could feel his body itching to shift, even partially, just to let out the tension. But, this was all for that greater good. Everything was ever since the day he became the Alpha for his pack. Things had been unstable, dangerous. Now, they were starting to become normal.
Not less dangerous, but at least he felt like he knew what he was doing. Weres and vampires had been at each other's throats well before he was born, centuries before. And so many of his ancestors had been happy to lean into it. So, Weres died left and right, somehow twice as often as vampires despite being physically stronger. Things were out of hand. Always. And that had been when Rorick decided to try things the old way. Call back on a tradition that had been an attempt to keep the peace.
Vampires used a collateral system. Shipped children off to serve as insurance against war. Fucking children. That was absolutely not how they were doing things. And not in such a useless and temporary way. No, Rorick had gone with a different tradition. One he could actually sleep after agreeing to. And that was how he had ended up standing at the end of an aisle, wearing a stupid fucking suit, feeling like he was about to crawl out of his skin.
The entire crowd as silent as the grave, watching each other more than they watched the altar. Waiting for the other side to attack. Rorick felt the whole thing was a little stupid. They were here to make a peace agreement. None of them had to do anything, except to serve as witnesses. Rorick was the one throwing away any chance he had at a normal life. He was the one marrying a vampire. Another sacrifice to add to the list. It could be worse, sure. The pictures had been flattering to say the least. However, that mattered very little when she would likely never want to be in the same room.
Everything seemed to pause for a moment, like an intake of breath. The security team were all humans, all neutral. He felt like things were out of his control, which was a frustrating feeling before he had agreed to all of this, and significantly more so now. He could not even control when the ceremony started. All he could do was watch the door as Thane, his "best man" for this very human ceremony, leaned in to tell him they were starting.
Then, she walked in and it was like the collective held breath was let out. Everyone relaxed, if only a fraction. It was happening. This was not some complicated set-up, not some plot to take vengeance for a blood debt. Both sides had provided their collateral. And now, they were going to be married. It felt like a bit of a death sentence. While he could probably try to live a normal life, try to find a partner, a real one, there would always be this string connecting him to a vampire. He could only hold her gaze as she walked.
If he was honest, the photos had not done her justice. Blonde hair, a pixie face that was cute at worst and beautiful at least. The plunging neckline of her dress was flattering, and he found himself following the line of it despite the wearer being his mortal enemy. It was stupid, all of it. After convincing himself they would hardly see one another, appreciating her appearance was superficial and stupid. So, he turned away, showed her his back as he waited for her to meet him and begin this stupid marriage. Maybe it was because he felt ragged in his suit, plain black with a complete lack of flourish. No tie, collar undone, the only thing it flattered was his rich brown skin, the white shirt underneath making his natural color glow.
His human ears felt clunky and useless compared to his Were ones, but he still heard her footsteps approach over the sound of the music. They could say the words and leave, pretend to enjoy a reception he had no idea why they were having. Then, they could get on with a lifetime of hating each...
The scent hit him like a hammer. While his hearing was pulled in his full shift, smell was at full strength. It was like someone had doused him in cold water and boiled him at the same time. Everything in his intelligent brain turned to absolute mush. He turned his head to look at her, at Keres according to her file, and breathed deep. His pupils blew out wide, consuming his entire iris as he drank in the smell of her like it was a replacement for air. Like he needed it to live. Cardamom, caramel, and cinnamon, but more than that. It was sweet and warm and perfect. It took every single bit of his self-control to not just wrap his arms around her and breath it in. There was only one word that a Were could think when something hit them like that. And it was the most insane thing he could ever imagine.
Little girls often plan their wedding day, dreaming of what the event will be like. At least, human little girls. Keres was not human, though she’d grown up among them for the majority of her life. The notion of romance, of finding that forever person? It was as foreign to her as the man who was to be her husband to-be. Keres wasn’t completely clueless. He was a man. An alpha and werewolf. Keres also knew that he and his kind hated her and her kind. Vampires and werewolves had been at each other’s throat since, well forever. A millennia of war, with humans caught in the middle.
Staring at her reflection, Keres almost didn't recognize herself. Her pale skin was luminescent, the purple of her eyes almost glowing in the sunset. The mass of icy white hair had been pulled into elegant braids, twisted into a bun, with tendrils falling around her face. Diamonds had been woven into her hair, catching the light. The slender tops of her pointed ears on full display. Her skin had been left plain, made to look dewy and almost virginal. The idea was not missed on her, though she highly doubted her husband planed on consummating their marriage.
It wasn’t exactly a sham marriage, but close enough to it. A marriage that would cement the ties between two factions at war. It was meant to broker peace between them. To put old hostilities to rest. It was a diplomatic marriage, yet there was a small part of her that wondered if she’d see the next sunset.
The wedding planner, Harriet, flitted to and from, toying with the folds of her lace dress. Fussing with her hair. As her makeup artist left, she approached with a small pot of green and Keres couldn’t help lifting her brow. “What is that for?” Harriet tutted and applied it just under her jaw along her neck, blending it in till there was a faint green hue to her skin. It was repeated on the other side and along her inner elbows and wrists. “I think they are going to know I am not a were, you know?” Her voice was sardonic. “Trust me, your husband will appreciate this.” Harriet hummed and straightened. Amethyst eyes blinked at her, once before Keres signed and nodded.
Not like it was Harriet’s fault she was about to marry a complete stranger. No, that was her father’s doing. When she’d been eight, she had been selected as collateral to the human delegation. Collateral was a system that humans and vampires used, to be sure that no hostilities would break out. If they did? Well the collateral was first to die. Each child was the child of someone important. Her father, the current ruler of the vampires had elected her to go. Even at eight, she could have told them it was a pointless exchange. Her father didn’t care if she lived or died.
Keres. Spirit of violent death. She’d been given a cursed name for an act she had no control over. The death of her mother upon her birth. Named by a man that hated her. It wasn’t blatant, obvious hatred, but it showed in a thousand little cuts. Being sent to live with humans was just one of the many. In truth? He’d been glad to be rid of her and they both knew it.
Growing up with humans had not been better. They feared her and resented her all in the same breath. Tutors, caregivers and security, they all treated her the same. Like a rabid dog who would bite when you let your guard down. Keres had wanted one thing. To be loved. It was the hope of a child’s heart and one that had never come to fruition. So, she’d grown up guarded, sarcastic and to be fair, more than a little bratty. It was her way at rebelling, at taking control of what little she could. Ten long years and then, she was back with her father who instantly had turned around and offered her like some prized sow to the werewolves and their ridiculous deal. Never once had she been asked. Never once had her concerns been addressed. Keres was little more than a doll.
So as night descended around them and Harriet told her that they were ready, Keres turned away from the mirror in a swirl of skirts and headed barefooted along the cool stone. The wedding was outside, under the glow of a waxing moon, with the stars glittering down on them. It was beautiful, Keres had to admit. A gentle breeze toying with a lock of hair. It was beautiful as long as you ignored the stoney faced gathering separated by an isle.
On one side were her people. Not that they had considered her one of them in a long time, if the human fucker title was anything to go by. Annabeth, the girl who was one year her senior, had called her that and she watched Keres with magenta eyes. All vampires had some shade of purple for their eyes. That, pointed ears and fangs told the world what they were. Oh and their blood? It too was purple. Werewolves could turn into.. Well wolves and their blood was green. That was the absolute extent of her knowledge of her husband to-be’s race. It was pitifully lacking.
The man himself stood at the end of the aisle, watching her for a moment before turning his back to her. She had seen pictures of course, but they had not done him justice. His loose hair curled in the breeze, a deep, midnight blue. It seemed brighter, for his dusky, tanned skin. His eyes, in the picture, had seemed almost brown, but even from a distance, she could see that they were not brown at all.
Stopping beside him, she looked up into his face. Keres was a tiny thing, her head forced to tip back a fair bit to look into his face. She was five feet even and her husband? He had to be at least six feet. Closer now though, she could see his eyes were golden, like a harvest moon. She watched as he inhaled, then his eyes blew out and she frowned. Had he sniffed her? With how rigid he went beside her, she wondered if to him she smelled bad?
It would be a shame if so. For her husband? She couldn’t smell him, like he or humans could. She could hear his blood though and it sang to her. Sweet and strong. It was perhaps his power or maybe all weres blood sounded like this. Whatever it was, Keres loved it.
The ceremony began and her mind was pulled from the man beside her to the priest before them.
It was like trying to breath while sitting in a house fire. The most deliciously intoxicating house fire to ever exist, but still just as difficult. Every inhale was difficult. Not because it was unpleasant. Because if he breathed to deep, it was like someone knocked him on his ass. Maybe his house fire analogy was falling apart. He was having difficulty completing complex thoughts at the moment. She was beside him, head tilted up to take him in, and he could only stare down. The dog jokes would never end if he started to drool, but how else was he supposed to feel? No one had warned him a vampire could even be a mate for a werewolf. Probably not likely to occur when they were at war for most of the last thousand years.
Somewhere close to him, a whole wedding ceremony was starting. A political farce created out of a human tradition to bind together a werewolf and a vampire. It was all already a joke. Why did someone have to add this extra punchline? There was only one solution, which was to stop breathing. So, Rorick held it his breath as the officiant, a human in her later years, began to go over the importance of marriage. He could survive this. He just needed to get through the vows and never be near Keres again. There was no way he would allow her to steal everything all at once, even if he found it unlikely she wanted to be here.
A small glance toward her. That was all it took to be a fatal mistake. A splash of green in his peripheral vision had him turning his head. Oh, someone had done their research. Or had found very misguided rumors. Each one of her scent spots, places where a werewolf would smell the strongest, the same spots that a mate would mark with their own scent so that others could tell from their mixing that they belonged to one another, was marked in green. For a true mating, one would mark those spots on the other, one by one. It took time. Was incredibly... intimate. Right now, it brought his animal instinct to the surface. Told him that he should mark those spots himself, wash away whoever had done it. In all of that, he forgot to not breath. Another full intake of her scent and he was almost on the floor. Almost on her. Rorick drifted closer, nearly reaching out for her. Thankfully, the officiant took that moment to look at him.
"Your rings."
It was a blessing in disguise, and another cruel joke. He turned to Thane, who looked deeply confused, and held out his hand. When the ring was placed in it, he caught that worrying look on his second's face and growled low and harsh. It was like a ripple through the crowd, making both sides shift with sudden unease. A quick glance had the werewolves settling immediately, a silent order to stand down. He turned back to Keres and held out a hand for her own.
When she surrendered it, he had intended to jam the ring on her finger and end it there. Instead, he lingered, holding her delicate wrist in his massive hand. Because right in front of him was one of those damned green marks. His thumb brushed over it for an eternity in a single second. Then, he swallowed hard and pushed the ring on with a complete lack of delicacy, dropping her hand like it burned.
The rest of the ceremony, he refused to so much as glance at Keres, holding a hand out for her to put his ring on and pulling it away when it was halfway on. The officiant was smart enough to not ask if they wished to kiss. Rorick was ashamed to say he nearly ran from that altar when the ceremony ended.
♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎
The reception began without him and when he arrived, it looked more like a siege. Both sides were separated by a moat of a dance floor. He had taken a break to get a drink or three and explain what happened to Thane, who would tell his key pack members. This was an issue, but one he could manage with distance and time. And, standing off to the side like her own people were just as volatile as the werewolves, was Keres. With a swallow, Rorick braced himself for her scent, ready for it now, and moved to stand beside her.
He wasn’t breathing. Did she really smell so bad? His posture was rigid and she fought a frown. From what she understood this was his idea. He had come to the vampire council with this plan. Then again, it was just a political move. He was tying himself to her, forsaking any real chance at a life? Or maybe he planned for them to be married only in name. Keres doubted he’d want anything to do with him if her scent offended him so much.
Eyes found her, but she didn’t notice as she stared at the woman proceeding over their wedding. It was a human tradition, as far as she knew. Vampires were very rarely monogamous, while they might have a partner, they never tied themselves down. Children were too rare and their species was dying. Not that it was popular knowledge. The good of the many came first. Always. It had been the excuse to send her to the humans and the excuse to wed her to a man that thought she smelled like a sewer.
A deep inhale made a muscle in her jaw twitch. Keres thought he was taking a deep breath to avoid breathing her in, not that he’d been so shocked by something he’d breathed unintentionally. Her eyes never left the woman before them until a small, subtle nod was offered to her by the officiant and she turned to face the man beside her. Rorick was lucky not much hurt her anymore, otherwise she might have cried. Oh, well that and vampires couldn’t cry. Something about their anatomy. Well then he was lucky her feelings were not hurt. The growl that slipped from him had not only Keres stiffening, but everyone present. One look had the wolves standing down, the vampires however were still as the grave, when no further threat came, they finally seemed to come alive once more.
Warmth enveloped her hand and she looked into his eyes as Rorick held out his hand for her own. They were beautiful, there was no other way to put it. The feather light touch of his thumb over her pulse made her heart do a funny little flip, his eyes focused on the green mark. Harriet had been right it seemed. As if he suddenly noticed what he was doing he shoved the ring unceremoniously on her finger. When it came to Keres putting the ring on his finger, he pulled his hand back before she’d even gotten it past his knuckle.
Jaw twitching she turned back to the officiant. No one requested that they kiss and as soon as the ceremony was over, he fled. She watched him before letting out a sigh. Well, she was now a married woman. Her eyes drifted down the black band that now stood out starkly on her slender finger. Diamond stood on either side of dark blue sandstone polished into a mirror like finish. The stone between the moons was the same as them, bigger and glittered like the night sky. “Beautiful.” The word whispered to no one.
♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎
Neither side would cross the dance floor, the weres ate, stoically, and the vampires glared. At least she had convinced Harriet to not serve blood in wine glasses to the vampire guests. Feeding was often done privately and never communally. Standing off to one side, she watched them. Harriet had tried, bless her, but oil and water never mixed.
Hi.
Startled, she looked toward him. He had chosen to stand beside her? Keres licked her lips before answering. “Hello.” At least no he wasn’t holding his breath. Biting the inside of her cheek she lifted a brow. “Do I really smell that bad?” She couldn’t help but ask. Her eyes were on their people, not him, watching the uneasy detente that had settled between them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harriet motioned to her and then mimed dancing and pointed at the dance floor.
“I think we are meant to have our first dance now,” Her voice was husky and she held her hand to him. When his own slipped into it, she found once again that the warmth of his skin was pleasant against her own cool body. Together the pair made their way to the dance floor and as they took their places, the music began.
Hand in hand, her other rested on his shoulder, fingers curled against the soft fabric of his jacket. Rorik took the lead, and they began to sway. It was her first dance, but she found it easy to follow his lead and the world slowly spun around them as if they’d been placed inside a music box. Even the music matched and a smile pulled at her lips, a giggle trapped in her throat.
Gods both real and fake damn him to whatever torment was real, he could not take his eyes off her mouth as her tongue swept out to wet her lips. This was torture. It was impossible to explain to her the depths of what went through his mind as soon as her scent hit him again. Vampires would not understand the concept of a mate. The visceral change that happened in his brain the moment Keres wrapped around it. There was never going to he a moment of his life where she did not feature in at least some part of his thoughts. And she was a vampire. A sworn enemy, despite this union being an attempt to curb that very problem. There was only one option. Distance. He could be polite tonight and move on.
Except, then she asked if she smelled that bad. Rorick felt his heart grip in his chest like every vampire here had taken a turn squeezing. He wanted to deny it. Tell her that was insane. That her scent was the blood in his veins and he would give that to her too if she wanted. Which would not help with creating distance. It would tangle her up in a very Were problem she could never understand and would not be responsible for. So, he gave her a non-commital shrug of his shoulders, pushing everything else down and locking it behind a little door. "I was just caught off-guard before."
Rorick would not have been able to name Harriet given a look at her face, but he now cursed all of her descendants to mildly uncomfortable fates. Slow dancing was also not distance, and the idea of standing that close to Keres sounded taxing on so many levels. Unfortunately, the outcome of this whole alliance might quite literally rely on this dance. At least he knew how. It was when she asked him to dance, though, that he really focused on her voice. Husky and sweet, just like her scent. It made it strangely easy to give in and take her hand, guiding her into the middle of the siege of glares.
His own hands eclipsed her small body, fingers forced to either go low and brush against her ass or go high and cover her almost from her hips to her breasts. High was really the only choice. But, as they settled into their slow sway, he found himself getting lost in it, in the feel of her in his hands, the scent of her coaxing him closer. They were nearly touching when he spoke. "At least no one killed each other today. That feels like a success." The smile on her face was soon mirrored on his own, his eyes drifting down to those marks again, thinking about maybe just touching the one at her collar. Making sure there was some hint of him...
The first thing that caught his attention was the flash of white clothes. Someone was making their way out onto the dance floor. A few couples had taken the hint and begun to move, but this was fast. Too fast. Then, metal flashed under the lights and he was moving before he could process. Keres was here. His mate. And someone was attacking. He wrapped one arm around her, pulled her flush against him with her face in his chest. The other hand grabbed the wrist attached to the blade. He was barely even aware there was a person attached until he felt the crunch of bone under his fingers and the human who had just tried to kill his mate crumpled to the found.
There was a sudden silence, then two of his pack were on the man, twisting him from Rorick's grip and pinning him to the ground. That was when he saw it. The green rising to the surface on his sleeve was of some concern, his arm serving to block the blade as it slid by, but worse was the purple. The pin prick of blood on Keres's shoulder that had his pupils expanding again, the urge to growl rising. It was only when he saw the vampires rising, starting to move, that he remembered what was happening. What he was doing. His arm released Keres and he took a step back.
"Are you alright?" Warm blood ran down his arm under his sleeve, but he still seemed unaware.
Had Rorick turned around and told her what had occurred, she might have looked at him as if he'd grown another head. If swearing to be with one person forever and always was strange to her, mates would have broken her brain. Even living with humans, seeing their relationships, she'd notably understood it. Eight years old was old enough to form solid ideas about the world around you. Even if the next decade had been around humans, her idea of family, of love? It was vampire all the way. Perhaps that was why she'd not had a relationship to speak of. Oh, no, it was the fact that she had fangs and was feared by the humans she'd known. Love was just a myth though, right? A construct of humans and weres.. Somehow, she knew this to be a lie, but without an example, how could she know.
A frown pulled between her brows and suspicion colored her features. "Right…" The sarcasm was thick. He had to prepare to smell her? For some reason the idea made her unhappy. Maybe it was because she liked the way he 'smelled' to her. Or the thought of not only him but his pack being forced to deal with the vampire girl who smelled like a sewer? "Okay then." The words held no pain, no emotion, just an emptiness. That was how she'd protected herself this far, why should now be any different.
Dancing was never high on her list of activities, but it was expected. Something that humans did at this stupid function. Something expected of them. A warm and enclosed her cooler, smaller hand and the shock of it, she found oddly pleasant. Guided to the floor, her slight form almost cuddled into his larger, firmer body. It was hard to not realize how they seemed to fit. Soft against his strength, cool against warmth..One large hand settled against the bare skin of her back as they swayed. "The night is still young." The words though were playful almost and she winced. "Sorry, that was in poor taste." The way he looked at her made her stomach swim uneasily. The feeling unknown and confusing.
Pulled suddenly against him, her gasp was muffled along his chest. The slice of the blade was sharp, but the edge razor sharp had her skin parting with ease. Behind her the human crumpled and after a stunned moment, both sides moved into action. Around them sound erupted and she found herself looking up into his eyes. Blood, purple and vibrant as her eyes darkened the creamy lace, his eyes focused on the spot. He held her so tight and then suddenly he was gone and she felt his absence. Licking her lips, she nodded. "I am.." She looked to her shoulder and frowned. It wasn't the worst attempt on her life she'd been through.. Her eyes fell on his arm as deep green blood soaked through his sleeve. "Are you.. Alright?" She nodded to his arm, a hand reaching out to apply pressure.
Pressure would help the blood clot, help it stop bleeding, but likely? Her husband would need stitches. Husband… the word had come so easily with their vows, not that it meant anything to her. "Shee, I was right though, the night had still been young enough.." She tried to make a silly joke as she helf his arm tighter. His own people moving closer, the unfriendly looks making her stomach tighten, bit this time with uncertainty and a slight tinge of fear.
There was a strange apathy to his new wife. Keres seemed to deflect to humor and sarcasm like it was second nature. He was no expert on vampires, but they usually seemed to come off as arrogant schemers, not someone who made jokes about their wedding guests killing one another. And, despite her sudden worry that the joke would bother him, he found it charming. Maybe it was because his brain was now trying to convince him of the perfection that was his mate. Or maybe it just made her seem... normal. Either way, he would have been happy to tell her he was fine with any tasteless jokes she chose to make, as long as they were not malicious. The assassination attempt, poor as it was, broke that line of thought.
It was only when the whole room was full of excitement and tension that he finally managed to slow his breathing, to stop himself from giving in to the urge to slaughter anyone nearby just to protect her. That was not the kind of Were he was. Keres putting her hand on his arm helped immensely, though he knew it was only to stop him from bleeding. His pupils shrank and Rorick finally managed to slip back into a reasonable state of mind. Just in time for another little joke that had the corner of his lip twitching. Those same eyes glanced down at her hand, tempted to put his own over it to savor the cool feeling of her skin. It was the same kind of feeling as putting something room temperature against hot skin. Relief and relaxation. When he took a moment to look at anything except Keres, things were more complicated. She had only a drop or two of blood rolling down her skin, staining her lace. She was fine. The Were closing the distance, matched by the vampires from the other side, were not.
"I'm fine. I get worse than this on a weekly basis." It was almost painful, but he peeled her hand away from his arm and took a step back. The Weres seemed tense, and he could tell from the tell-tale tightening of their neck muscles that a few prepared to shift if needed. He turned to them, suddenly a brick wall of authority. "Everything is fine. A human slipped through and made an attempt on my wife's life. That means both sides failed. So, all of you stand down." When he glanced toward the vampires, it seemed they heard what they wanted. There would be no more blood. After all, despite their schemes and smarts, they had even numbers, and that did not favor a vampire in open conflict. Things would be calm, at least for now.
Taking another look at Keres, he saw the green on her fingers. His blood covered her palm and he could not help the reaction in his gut. She was his mate, but there were things he knew he needed to do to save face. So, with a loud tear, he ripped the sleeve from his shirt, splitting it from the cut down. Rorick bundled the white fabric into a ball and took Keres's wrist. There was a sharp sound from both sides, like a room-wide inhale, but all he did was wipe the blood from her palm, from her fingers, until it was nothing but a pale green stain. Leaving her alone with Were blood would only invite issues. He looked up to see her eyes, startlingly purple and beautiful, and he spoke as flatly and evenly as he could. "I'll see you at my home, then."
And with a sharp turn and a few long strides, Rorick left her there, the dance unfinished.
♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎
Despite his promise, Rorick did not want to see Keres again. He had been right. A day or two without smelling her scent had managed to put his thoughts in working order. Not that he forgot about it. Not that he could stop thinking about her even if it would save his whole pack. It just became... easier. When she was not in front of him, he could approach normal, normal with a gaping hole left by her absence. Unfortunately, there was no getting around the truth.
That truth was that Rorick needed to keep her close by. He was the Alpha. No one would disobey him. But, like Keres's scent, his authority faded with distance and the hate for vampires was deep. So, the only place he could keep his bride without risking her life every minute of the day was his home. A regular reminder that, whether he was there or not, his authority was law. And that was how Keres ended up delivered to his home by her driver. They were likely the only vampires to get this deep into his territory for centuries, and she would be coming to stay.
Rorick's home was not exceptionally lavish. The leaders of the pack, himself and his closest seconds, lived off a percentage of returns from investments the pack made. The house had been built well before he was an Alpha, but the idea of spending that money on some mansion seemed absurd. No, this house was just his style. Deep in the forest, the house sat in a clearing around a lake. Once could step out of the back door and walk right onto the long dock. It was well over a hundred feet to the water, but connected directly to the back porch. The house itself was a fairly standard modern farmhouse style, though it was filled to the edges with extra rooms, almost like it had continued to grow after being constructed until it was barely capable of supporting itself. It was all soft colors, blue with clay colored tiles on the roof. Most of the building had some kind of wide windows, open to nature at every angle. And that was another problem.
There were two rooms that did not flood with sunlight during the day. One was the basement, which presented a few issues, most of which would be summed up to having only a single exit. The other was the adjoining bedroom attached to his own. It only had high windows in the slant of the ceiling, once intended to be a library. So, that was the only place they could place a vampire without risking her getting scared by the sun every morning. And so, that was how the distance he needed to keep shrank down to a single door. Things only became more complicated when Rorick tried to organize delivery of donated blood. He needed a driver who was willing to make the trip to the edge of vampire territory, a supplier, and somewhere safe to store it. A massive steel fridge with a lock was the only part of this that actually came together. And that was what Keres arrived to, greeted at the front door by a striking young Were who could only be a year or two older than herself.
This Were looked like someone had hit Rorick with a shrink ray and flipped his gender. The same dark hair with the blue tint, same tanned skin, even the same eyes. Whoever they resembled from their parents, they had strong genes. The shocking difference, however, was the canine ears that sat atop her head, twitching at every sound. "You are staying upstairs. Come on. I'll show you. The goons can carry you boxes in." The goons were a pair of Weres sitting on the couch across the room from the entrance. They were the same pair that had wrestled her attacker to the ground after Rorick turned his wrist into powder. They lacked the same ears as this new young woman, but clearly heard what she said from the raised middle finger one of them gave her. She smiled and turned on her heel, walking away to reveal the flicking tail that poked from a hole in her sweatpants.
She led Keres up to the doorway of her new room, which sat almost completely empty aside from the large bed. With crossed arms, she leaned on the doorframe. "I'm Ophelia, if Rorick hasn't mentioned me. Your beloved sister-in-law and least likely to try to murder you in the house." She paused for a moment, then realized that this was likely not funny. "Not that anyone is going to murder you. Rorick gave strict orders. Big Alpha voice and everything."
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