Doureena was dying. She laid in a bed with a blanket over her, only her head appearing above the covers. She was alone in the room, thinking, dying simply because of old age.
She heard the news of Apex. They lost it all. They lost all the land they had occupied twenty-five years ago. Sous, Kara, Tany, Faye, and Alana, Doureena hated them. She should have killed Sous when the mutt was younger but she didn't.
"Oh well," the wolf said, leaning her head back in her pillows. "Oh well."
Monica entered into the room bringing tea. She wore a light dress that flowed with the wind from the open window. She moved gracefully, her feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor.
The tea smelled faintly of mint and something else Doureena couldn't quite place. Monica set the tray down on the bedside table, her movements precise and unhurried.
"You look like you havent aged a bit," the Alpha said to her mate, making the Omega smile. Monica leaned over and kissed Doureena on the forehead. "Its all lost."
Monica sighed. "Apex needs to learn to not exist because all Apex brings is war," Monica said.
"What can I do now?" Doureena asked, shifting under her blanket.
Her old body struggled against the linen. She stretched her legs and winced when her knees popped. She tried to roll onto her side, but her arms shook too much to push herself up.
Monica's hands were there before Doureena could ask: gentle, strong, helping her shift onto her side. The Omega kissed her, moving herself in bed with Doureena.
Monica tasted the tea on Doureena's lips, mint and something warmer, deeper, before pressing further. Doureena's breath rose as Monica's fingers traced her jawline, down the fragile curve of her throat where her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird.
The blanket slid away, pooling around Doureena's waist as Monica's palms smoothed over her ribs, the skin paper-thin now, mapped with veins and the ghosts of old scars.
The Alpha sighed into her mate's mouth, and it wasn't pity, just hunger, slow and syrupy with decades of knowing how to touch her even now, even like this.
Monica's fingers were careful but not timid, dipping into the hollows of Doureena's collarbones, tracing the loose skin of her belly.
The weight of Monica's thigh settled between the Alpha's, warm even through the fabric of their clothes, pressing just enough, always just enough, to make Doureena's breath catch in herself.
They laid there together in the nude. "You want Sous to win, don't you?"
"Yes," Monica admitted. "I was always on her side."
"It was you who killed those scouts way back, wasn't it?" Doureena asked.
"Yes," Monica answered.
Doureena smirked. "I loved you no less," she said to the love of her life. "Apex shall die with me?"
"Yes."
"Then so it shall be."