Chapter 7
1908 Words
Chapter 7
“Why me?! Of all the people out there, why did she have to pick me?!” Arden complained loudly to the ceiling, lying flat on her back in bed, completely sore and utterly convinced she could no longer move a single muscle.
“Sam always picks on the newcomers, babe,” Warlord chuckled, his deep voice echoing from the bathroom over the sound of running water.
When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his waist, he found Arden curled into a miserable fetal position in the center of their mattress. She was tightly hugging her own abdomen, still feeling the brutal aftereffects of Sam completely knocking the wind out of her during sparring.
“You didn’t tell me she was such a formidable fighter,” Arden whined, shifting just enough to glare a lethal death stare in Warlord's direction.
Warlord walked over to the edge of the bed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I literally told you she’s the head trainer of the entire pack. Her being formidable should have been implied, Arden. You don’t get appointed as the head trainer for a pack of this size without having the resume and the skills to back it up.”
“I thought she was a mom of four kids!” Arden countered, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“She is,” Warlord laughed, sitting on the edge of the mattress and looking down at her. “Why do you think she still has the stamina and strength to endure sparring like that? She literally uses her pups as weights to retain her workouts at home. Her speed and endurance come from chasing down little Keegan all over their house and the pack territory every single day. Trust me, running after a toddler werewolf is better cardio than running or flying could ever be.”
“Ugh…” Arden groaned, burying her face deeper into the mattress.
Warlord was about to say something more to tease her, but he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the bedroom door.
“Knock, knock! Are you guys decent?” Margot’s voice rang out from the hallway.
“Yeah, come on in!” Warlord called back over his shoulder.
The door swung open, and Fury and Margot strolled right in.
“Whoa!” Margot shrieked, instantly spinning around on her heel and clapping her hands over her eyes the second she realized Warlord was standing there wearing absolutely nothing but a low-slung towel. “Warlord! You are not decent!”
“I have a towel on,” Warlord reasoned, completely unfazed and flashing a grin.
“Westley, go put some damn pants on,” Arden groaned, using the very little strength she had left to shoo him toward the closet with her foot lazily.
“Fine, fine,” Warlord smirked, sauntering away to get dressed.
Arden shook her head, forcing herself to sit up against the headboard as she smiled at their guests. “What’s up, guys?” she asked, trying to ignore the ache in her ribs.
“I brought you this,” Margot replied, turning back around now that the coast was clear. She stepped up to the bed and handed Arden a small glass potion vial filled with a shimmering liquid.
Arden held the vial up to the light, inspecting it with furrowed brows. “What’s this?”
“It’s a healing potion to help you recover,” Margot explained with a sympathetic smile. “Odin told me what happened at training this morning with Sam. I figured you could use a little pick-me-up.”
“Oh my God, you are a literal lifesaver,” Arden grumbled with pure delight.
Eager for immediate relief, she uncorked the vial and downed the liquid in one aggressive gulp. But the instant the fluid hit the back of her throat, her eyes nearly popped out of her head. The shockingly bitter, vile taste had her violently coughing, choking, and grimacing.
“Oh, *uck! What is that?!” Arden gasped, wiping her mouth and staring at the empty vial and Margot in absolute betrayal.
Margot and Fury burst into a fit of laughter at Arden’s dramatic reaction.
“Hey, I said it would help heal you. I never said a single thing about it tasting good!” Margot giggled, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Pleh! Oh, God! That was absolutely awful!” Arden gagged, frantically wiping her tongue with the back of her hand.
“But it works wonders,” Fury reasoned, chuckling as he stepped up and wrapped a comforting arm around Margot's shoulders. “Margot and her sister, Maxine, actually created that recipe when they saw the sheer amount of torture we put ourselves through during morning training. Trust me, it’s the best thing out there for muscle soreness and tension.”
Just then, Warlord walked out of the closet, now safely dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. He took one look at Arden’s thoroughly traumatized expression, noticed the empty potion vial clutched in her hand, and immediately put two and two together.
“You gave her the remedy potion, didn’t you?” Warlord asked, looking over at Margot with an amused eyebrow raised.
“I did,” Margot beamed proudly.
“Did you at least warn her before giving it to her?”
“Eh… She didn’t exactly give me a chance,” Margot shrugged, entirely unbothered. “She just snatched it and downed it.”
“Hence her expression right now,” Fury concluded, gesturing to Arden, who was still glaring at the empty glass in her hand as if it had personally violated her. Warlord shook his head, trying his best not to laugh at the remaining look of misery on Arden’s face.
“You ready for work, bro?” Fury asked, shifting his attention over to Warlord.
Arden looked between them, pushing her hair back. “Are you guys carpooling today?”
“Yeah. Percy is on his way over right now. He’s just dropping Candy off at the daycare first,” Fury answered.
“But the daycare is on the complete opposite side of the territory,” Arden noted.
“True, but he has to drive back past this way regardless to leave the territory, so he’s just going to swing by and scoop us up on his way out,” Warlord replied, reaching into his dresser and pulling a crisp black polo shirt over his head.
Margot leaned against the doorframe, tracking his movements thoughtfully. “You know, I just noticed that you always wear black, Warlord,” she stated, a playful smirk on her face. “Seriously, don’t you own any other colors?”
Warlord smoothed down the fabric of his shirt, glancing at his reflection in the mirror with an effortless shrug. “I look damn good in black. Why fix something that isn’t broken?”
“Don't let him fool you, Margot. His entire side of the closet is a black hole,” Arden chimed in from the bed, rolling her eyes affectionately. “It is strictly filled with black and dark blue, and that is it.”
“Perhaps we should go shopping today and forcefully update his wardrobe,” Margot playfully suggested, tapping her chin with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“You know, I think we should,” Arden agreed, a matching, mischievous look spreading across her face.
Warlord turned around slowly, pointing a warning finger at her. “Arden, I love you, but if you touch my side of the closet, I’m going to destroy your—”
“Destroy my what?” Arden shot back immediately, cutting him off without missing a beat. She leaned forward, raising an amused eyebrow. “I don’t exactly have a lot of material possessions, Westley. I left the Fairy Kingdom with a single bag of clothes. The only thing I truly have of value—other than you and this relationship—is that Coach wristlet the girls got me. And I highly doubt you'd dare mess with that, unless you want a human, a werewolf, and a witch teaming up to come after you.”
Fury let out a sharp bark of laughter, while Margot just smiled smugly, thoroughly enjoying how effortlessly Arden had flipped the script.
“It’s Michael Kors, Arden,” Margot gently corrected, her voice dripping with mock disappointment at the brand mix-up.
“Oh… Oops. Well, whatever!” Arden waved her hand dismissively, completely unfazed. “My point is that there is absolutely nothing for you to touch, Westley. So, meh!”
Arden playfully stuck out her tongue at him. Warlord just stood there, staring at her in utter bafflement, trying to find a comeback. But as he looked at her sitting defiantly on the bed, the reality of the situation fully set in. She was right. Arden was such a total minimalist that he literally had zero leverage to use against her. If she and Margot actually decided to throw out all his black clothes and replace them with a neon wardrobe, there wasn't a single thing he could do to retaliate.
“That just gave me the absolute most brilliant idea!” Margot gasped, her eyes lighting up as she clapped her hands together in pure delight.
“Oh, no. I know that look,” Fury groaned, tossing his head back in theatrical dread. “Someone shield the credit cards.”
Margot completely ignored her mate, turning a bright, plotting smile toward the bed. “Arden, get dressed and get ready. I’m calling Candy and Sarah. We are going shopping.”
“But Candy is literally at work right now,” Arden pointed out, though a matching smile was already tugging at her lips.
“Oh, please. A little thing like a day job is not going to stop her, believe me,” Margot scoffed, her tone dripping with pure mischief.
“Margot, no! Do not corrupt the daycare staff,” Fury immediately intervened, pointing a stern finger at her.
“Try and stop me, babe,” Margot retorted, stepping closer and giving him a sweet, utterly defiant smile.
“You know I can’t! Not when the baby has your back with their powers,” Fury grumbled, throwing his hands up in mock indignation.
Margot lovingly patted her belly and raised her eyebrows in beautiful disobedience. “Hey, don't look at me. The baby knows my ideas are awesome, and he or she fully, one hundred percent approves of this shopping spree.”
Fury let out a heavy sigh, exchanging a look of defeat with Warlord.
Warlord, realizing he was firmly on the losing side of this battle, didn't even bother arguing. With a stoic expression, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and slipped out his credit card. He held it out toward the bed.
“Just… no bright colors, okay?” Warlord pleaded softly, his tone practically begging.
Arden looked down at the plastic rectangle, then glanced over at Margot, who was already furiously typing away—eyebrows wiggling in pure victory as she blew up Candy and Sarah's phones in their group text thread. Finally, Arden looked back up at Warlord, who just gestured for her to take the card.
Arden snatched it with a slow, wicked grin. “I make absolutely no promises.”
- Writer
