Chapter Text
Three days. It had been three days since she was found here in the Canadian wilderness, near Quebec, of all places. Right now, all Enid could do was hold herself together, wearing an ill-fitted pair of faded jeans, brightly colored fuzzy socks, a pink hoodie, and plain underwear underneath.
Enid peered up to look at the girl next to her, sorting through her belongings carefully and ignoring her presence. The only light came from a lit lantern as shadows crawled across the delicate canvas of their tent. Thing was perched between the black sleeping bag and the pale pink sleeping bag, idly looking between the two of them.
A lot had happened. So much that Enid couldn't even process it as she noticed each tremor that slipped from Wednesday Addams's jaw.
At the end of it all, Wednesday had hunted her down and gotten her to change back. Now, all that was left was to return home—a place where Enid no longer believed she belonged. Her nails extended subtly from the thought. Her teeth lengthened out of sheer emotional distress.
Wednesday stopped what she was doing, turning just slightly to face her. Unblinking eyes analyzed Enid's reactions before her jaw tightened. The two of them hadn't talked properly since Enid had shifted back to her human body. Not since her teeth had been sunk into Wednesday's neck.
She winced at the memory—the shock, embarrassment, and confusion. Wednesday didn't seem to care, but the mark now indented on her collarbone, no longer bleeding and wrapped in gauze, told a different story.
"I'm so sorry. I don't know why..." Enid spoke up, her thoughts tangling. Her voice was still raw, still unused.
What was she supposed to say? That somewhere in those months, she'd become more animalistic, and now she had instincts she couldn't control. This sort of stuff wasn't taught in Werewolf Studies. Alphas, marks, pack hierarchies. She wasn't prepared to be this sort of wolf, let alone return after fully recognizing herself as one.
"Enid, stop apologizing," Wednesday said flatly, her movements measured. "You were in a state of panic. I was the only sentient creature nearby." She glanced at Enid, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "Your teeth are showing again."
Enid's eyes narrowed. "Gee, thanks for the update." Her voice came out rough, still raw from disuse.
"I've spent three months tracking you down, and this is the gratitude I receive. Charming," Wednesday said dryly, her left eye twitching ever so slightly.
"Are you serious right now?!" Enid growled, turning to face her fully. "This wasn't some obligation, Wednesday. It wasn't supposed to be." Her nails dug into her sleeping bag. "I wouldn't have even been out here if you hadn't gotten yourself buried alive! I sacrificed everything to save you because—"
She stopped. Her throat tightened.
Wednesday waited, expectant. Patient in that unsettling way of hers.
Enid took a shaky breath. "Because that's what you do for your pack. You fight for them. You protect them." She met Wednesday's eyes. "You even die for them."
Thing suddenly scrambled toward the tent entrance with unusual urgency, as if he'd just realized he was somewhere he very much shouldn't be.
Enid watched Wednesday calculate what she'd admitted. Her jaw tightened subtly as a sharp breath rose from her chest.
Then something just exploded. Almost simultaneously, Enid's palms landed behind her body, and Wednesday lunged forward, grabbing her wrists, trapping her against the sleeping bag.
But that's not what made Enid scared. No, what did that was the crashing of Wednesday's lips and the insistence they possessed upon her own. Enid's fingers dug into the fabric beneath her, her heart rate skyrocketing to newer heights.
Wednesday didn't budge, her grip tightening as her chest pressed closer. Enid felt herself pinned on her back, hands held above her head as Wednesday climbed over her body. Her tongue brushed with precise force across Enid's lower lip, prying open the last resistance before swallowing muffled gasps.
All logic slipped from Enid. Eyes closed, face leaning further into the warmth. Wednesday's grip on her—both exhilarating and maddening—made Enid's fangs sharper. Her emotions were wild, hungry, confused, but also filled to the brim with pent-up frustration. Her wolf rattled the cage in her soul, pushing her to show more strength, to reclaim control.
Wednesday, though, had other plans. Or was she even thinking at all? Enid didn't know and didn't care as callused fingers loosened their grip on her wrists, trailing down her arms. Wednesday's hands found her sides and the bottom of her pink hoodie. At first, they were tentative, testing as they slipped beneath the hem, pressing against the softness of Enid's body. One finger traced the lines while the other pushed and bunched the hoodie further up, finding and then touching her tight abdomen through her camisole.
Enid threw her head back, lips breaking the kiss, her neck presenting in an instinctive show of vulnerability—but she barely had room, having to catch herself, shoulders pressing into the sleeping bags instead. Her hands, now free, immediately found Wednesday's hair, gripping at the base of her braids where they met her neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands there.
They both breathed unevenly, eyes wide as she heard their heartbeats pounding hard in sync. Her eyes were clouded—she could tell Wednesday's were too as the other leaned in to kiss Enid again, slower this time. Wednesday's mouth trailed kisses down Enid's chin, jaw, and the exposed line of her neck, taking her time in the limited space.
It made Enid twitch, extended nails digging into the bandage around Wednesday's neck. The sudden need to tear it off and press her nose to the newly claimed mark made her head spin. Wednesday's lips, though, didn't give her the chance as they returned and engulfed Enid's. Her tongue lingered on one of Enid's canines before those nimble fingers slipped inside her undershirt.
The touch of skin somehow scorched her body and made Enid arch back, claws scraping Wednesday's shoulders as words couldn't express how she was feeling. She was so lost in the moment that her palms slid down Wednesday's back, moving to her front before finding the zipper to her sleek, black jacket. Without thinking, she pulled, hearing the loud hiss as she eased it down to Wednesday's waist.
Something had always been there between them, but Enid had always pushed it to the back of her mind. She'd assumed it was just how friends were. But this—whatever this was—made her doubt everything.
Wednesday pulled away, eyes darker than usual as her chest rose in deep breaths. For a moment, they just stared at each other, then Enid pushed the jacket off Wednesday's shoulders. They had to shift—Enid sitting up carefully, nearly knocking over the lantern, while helping guide Wednesday onto her back on the sleeping bags.
Enid pulled her hoodie over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside. Her camisole followed, leaving her in just her plain white bra. She settled over Wednesday, straddling her hips, and Wednesday's hand immediately came up to Enid's waist, fingers splaying against her ribs as if anchoring her, keeping her close.
Her bright blue eyes scanned Wednesday, who was still catching her breath, watching Enid with an intensity that made her wolf rumble. Wednesday's grip on her waist tightened slightly—a silent demand, a statement of intent.
Enid's unpolished claws hooked the fabric of Wednesday's white blouse and dragged, slicing it clean down the middle without losing eye contact. The sound of tearing fabric was sharp in the small space, and Wednesday's breath hitched at the deliberate destruction, her fingernails digging slightly into Enid's skin.
Wednesday's eyes widened. Enid didn't understand any of this, but her instincts beckoned her to continue. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the bandage on Wednesday's collarbone, nuzzling against it briefly before lifting slightly to press her lips to Wednesday's throat.
Wednesday's tremors increased as sweat formed on her hairline. Enid glided her lips down her roommate's body, leaving trails of kisses and bites in her wake. The space was tight, forcing them to move carefully, their limbs tangling with the fabric of the sleeping bags.
Enid lifted her eyes through her lashes as she moved lower, pressing hot kisses on Wednesday's chest, her defined abs, and tight stomach. The lantern cast everything in shadow and gold. At one point, her head bumped awkwardly against the low tent ceiling, and she muttered a curse against Wednesday's skin, feeling her shudder in response.
It was now or never.
Their eyes locked, and Wednesday swallowed, her heartbeat quickening in Enid's ears as her head moved in the smallest nod. Enid stared at her for only a fraction of a second before her fingers—shaking—reached out and unbuckled Wednesday's belt. She fumbled with the leather, the cramped angle making it difficult, before finally pulling the stubborn strap free.
Enid froze when she caught the scent around them—sweat, anticipation, and something uniquely Wednesday. She licked her lips, bending down before using her canines to hook around the button of Wednesday's black fitted pants.
The satisfaction of it snapping free echoed around the small tent. A smirk formed on Enid's lips as she glanced up, noticing the faint heat on Wednesday's cheeks that wasn't there before. Her breath was heavier, and her arms trembled slightly as she braced herself against the sleeping bags.
It was a delicious sight for Enid as she then used her fangs to catch Wednesday's zipper, sliding the metal down slowly, the cold taste of it on her tongue. Wednesday's hips pressed up slightly, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before opening wide again, fixed on Enid's face.
And without words, Wednesday reached out, using one arm to pull Enid up, their foreheads nearly touching in the dim light. Her other hand found the lantern switch. When she looked at Enid in that moment—truly looked at her—her composure shattered. There was no mask, no walls, just raw vulnerability and want written across her features. Their eyes never left one another in that silent moment, lingering, communicating everything they couldn't say.
Then she tilted her head, pressed her lips to Enid's, and turned off the light.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
In the darkness, there was only breathing—only touch—only the two of them.
Another two months passed, and neither of them mentioned that night.
Enid’s jaw clenched as she watched Wednesday sit alone at another table. Ajax made a joke about snakes. Wednesday caught it, ignored it, and for a fraction of a second, her gaze flicked toward Enid before returning to her black coffee.
It was infuriating.
Enid stabbed her eggs with more force than necessary.
“Okay, seriously,” Bianca said, leaning forward, wrists resting on the table like a queen surveying her court. “What is going on with you two? The tension is so thick, I can practically taste it.”
“There is no tension,” Enid said flatly, even as her canines threatened to extend. She forced them back down.
Bianca’s eyebrows lifted, sharp and calculating. She exchanged a look with Ajax. Agnes, at the end of the table, smirked into her cereal.
“You’ve been avoiding her like she’s radioactive,” Ajax said, tugging at his beanie. “Which is… ironic, considering—”
“I’m not avoiding anyone,” Enid snapped, her leg bouncing under the table.
Bianca leaned closer, voice smooth and dangerous. “You literally crossed the entire quad yesterday just to avoid walking past her. Tripped over a bench. In front of everyone. Twice.” She let the statement hang, perfectly satisfied.
Enid’s face burned. “That was unrelated.”
Agnes let out a sharp laugh. “The denial is painful.”
“There’s no—you know what? I don’t have to explain myself.” Enid shoved back from the table, chair scraping against the stone floor.
She risked one glance toward Wednesday. The other girl had looked up from her case file, dark eyes tracking Enid with that unnerving focus she always had. And there—just visible above her collar—was the mark. The bite that wouldn’t fade. Enid’s stomach twisted.
She looked away fast, but not before she saw Wednesday’s jaw tighten.
“I need some air,” Enid muttered, already moving toward the exit.
The quad was busy with morning foot traffic. Enid wove through clusters of students, trying to put distance between herself and the breakfast table—between herself and Wednesday and the guilt that had been eating at her for two months.
Ever since she'd returned to Nevermore—courtesy of the new headmistress and the Addams family buying the school—everyone suddenly had opinions about her. About her Alpha status. About how she was unmated and, apparently, that made her fair game.
Three wolves had approached her this week alone. Two from her own year, one eager junior from the class below. All with that same careful posture, that same measured interest. Like she was a prize to be won. As if being an Alpha meant she had to start some grand new pack.
It made her skin crawl.
Movement caught her eye. Marcus—that same junior with too-white teeth and too much confidence—was cutting across the lawn toward her. Again.
Oh hell no…
Enid changed direction sharply, heading toward the covered walkway that led to the dorms. If she moved fast enough—
"Enid."
She froze.
That voice. Flat, deliberate, and far too close.
Enid turned slowly. Wednesday stood three feet away, case file tucked under one arm, expression unreadable. Behind her, Marcus had stopped mid-stride, apparently reconsidering.
"Wednesday. Hey. I was just—"
"Walking to our room," Wednesday said, though it wasn't quite a question. Her jaw was tight. "I need to retrieve additional files. You're coming with me."
Wait, what?
"I—what? No, I was just—"
"The Hyde pack case requires your input. You have firsthand experience with prolonged transformation and loss of control." Wednesday's words came out clipped, faster than usual. "It's relevant."
Enid's nails pricked at her palms. This was the first time Wednesday had spoken to her directly in weeks, and it was about the case? "I don't think—"
"I'm not interested in what you think." Wednesday turned sharply toward the dorms. "Come."
For a moment, Enid just stood there, caught between the urge to run in the opposite direction and the traitorous pull in her chest that wanted to follow. Her wolf stirred, restless and insistent.
Wednesday had made it several steps before she stopped, shoulders visibly tense. She didn't turn around. "Enid."
It was the way she said it—not quite a command, but not a request either. Something uncertain lay underneath the usual deadpan delivery.
Enid's feet moved before her brain caught up.
They walked in silence, the distance between them carefully maintained. Three feet. Always three feet. Close enough that Enid could smell the faint scent of Wednesday's shampoo and old books. Far enough that they weren't actually together.
Enid was hyperaware of every eye on them. The way other students stepped aside, watching them pass.
"You've been working on the case," Enid said finally, because the silence was suffocating.
"Obviously." Wednesday's grip on the file tightened slightly. "The pattern of attacks suggests coordination without a master. They're operating as a collective—supporting each other, hunting together. Someone is organizing them, but not controlling them."
"And you need me because...?"
"You're a werewolf. You understand pack structure and how groups function without a single dominant force." Wednesday's voice was perfectly controlled, but something brittle lay underneath. "You spent three months operating on pure instinct. Your perspective is necessary."
They reached the entrance to Ophelia Hall. Wednesday pulled open the door without looking at her, and suddenly the reality of it all hit Enid like a freight train.
They were going to their room. Their shared room. The room where they'd been carefully scheduling their time to avoid each other for two months. The room where Enid still smelled Wednesday on her pillow sometimes, even though she'd washed the sheets three times.
Wednesday's steps slowed slightly as they climbed the stairs, and Enid realized with a jolt that Wednesday had just figured it out too. Her carefully planned excuse had trapped them both, and there was no backing out now without admitting the lie.
Neither of them said anything, nor backed down.
Wednesday reached their door and stopped, her hand on the knob. For just a second, Enid saw her throat work as she swallowed. Saw the subtle movement of her hand toward her shirt collar before she caught herself.
Then Wednesday pushed the door open and walked inside, leaving Enid to follow.
The room looked exactly the same as when they left it. Wednesday's side was a study in darkness—black curtains, antique wooden furniture, a typewriter on her desk, and black bedding. Enid's side burst with color—pink everywhere, fairy lights, plushies, warm and bright and alive. Two opposite worlds sharing one space, divided down the middle.
Except now the air felt different, heavier. Charged with two months of unspoken words.
Wednesday moved to her desk, setting down the file with precise care. Her back was to Enid, shoulders rigid.
Enid stayed near the door, one hand still on the knob she'd just closed. The room stretched between them—half colorful chaos, half monochrome control.
"So," Enid said, her voice coming out rougher than intended. "The case."
"Yes." Wednesday didn't turn around. "The case."
The lie sat between them, obvious and unacknowledged.
Enid's nails pricked at her palms again. "Wednesday—"
"The Hyde pack has struck four times in the last month," Wednesday interrupted, still not facing her. "Each attack occurred on a new moon. Each victim was found with identical markings. The pattern suggests—"
"Wednesday." Enid took a step forward, past the threshold, letting the door close behind her. Her wolf pushed against her ribs. "Why did you really bring me here?"
Wednesday's hands flattened on the desk. For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, slowly, she turned around.
Her expression was as blank as ever, but her eyes—her eyes were a storm. Dark and conflicted, fighting to stay unreadable.
"I don't know," Wednesday said finally, and the admission seemed to cost her something. Her jaw tightened. "I saw that boy approaching you, and I—" She stopped. Started again. "You've been avoiding me."
"You've been avoiding me," Enid shot back, her heart hammering. She took another step into the room.
"Yes." No denial. No excuse. Wednesday's fingers left the desk, her hands falling to her sides as she stood straighter.
They stared at each other across the room that suddenly felt too small and too large all at once.
"So what now?" Enid asked, hating the way her voice shook.
Wednesday's hand drifted to her collar, fingers pressing against the fabric, against the mark underneath that wouldn't fade. She took a step away from the desk—just one, but it brought her closer to the invisible line that divided their sides of the room.
"I haven't figured that out yet," Wednesday said quietly.
The silence stretched between them, taut as a wire. Enid's wolf was restless beneath her skin, pushing, wanting. She forced herself to stay still.
"The mark," Enid said finally, voice barely above a whisper. "Does it... does it bother you?"
Wednesday's fingers pressed harder against her collar. "It's permanent." She took another step forward, putting more distance between herself and the desk.
"I know. I'm sorry—"
"Stop apologizing." Wednesday's eyes flashed. "I stopped counting your meaningless excuses at ten." Another step—she was nearly at the center now, standing right at the border where black met pink.
"Well, what do you want me to say?" Enid's claws extended slightly. She moved forward to match Wednesday's approach. "I bit you. I marked you. I—we—" She couldn't finish.
"We had sex," Wednesday supplied, matter-of-fact despite the rapid flutter Enid could hear in her pulse. "In a tent. Three days after I found you. After you'd shifted back from three months of being feral."
Enid flinched. "You don't have to make it sound so—"
"Accurate?" Wednesday took another deliberate step closer, crossing fully into neutral territory now. "Would you prefer I romanticize it? Pretend it was something other than what it was?"
"And what was it?" Enid demanded, her own heartbeat matching Wednesday's frantic rhythm. She moved closer, narrowing the space between them. "Because I don't know. You won't talk about it. You just avoid me and work on your stupid case and act like nothing happened—"
"I don't know what it was!" Wednesday's voice cracked, just slightly. Just enough. Her hand dropped from her collar as she took another step—they were maybe three feet apart now, the space between them charged. "I don't—I've never—" She stopped, jaw working. "You're the first person I've ever wanted to—"
She cut herself off, but the words hung in the air between them.
Enid stared at her. "Wanted to what?"
Wednesday's eyes were wild now, that careful control fracturing. "Touch. Be near. Think about constantly, even when I'm actively trying not to." Her hands clenched into fists. "It's infuriating. You're infuriating."
“I’m infuriating?” Enid took a step forward, closing the distance, her fingers flexing. “You hunted me down. Found me. Made me change back. And then… in that tent, you—” Her voice dropped. “You kissed me first, Wednesday.”
"I'm aware." Wednesday's breath was coming faster now. She didn't step back. "I've replayed that moment approximately six hundred and thirty-two times."
"Six hundred and—" Enid's brain short-circuited. "You've been thinking about it?"
"Obsessively." The admission seemed dragged out of Wednesday against her will. "I can recall every detail. The way you trembled. The sound you made when I—" She stopped, eyes darkening. "I haven't figured out how to stop."
Enid's wolf surged, and she took another step. They were barely a foot apart now, standing somewhere in the middle of the room where neither side claimed dominance. She felt her canines lengthening, pressing against her bottom lip. "What if you don't have to stop?"
Wednesday's throat worked as she swallowed. Her eyes flicked down to Enid's mouth, catching on the barely visible points of her fangs. "Enid—"
"You said you wanted to touch me." Enid's voice came out rougher, breathier. "So touch me."
"That's not—we can't just—" But Wednesday's eyes had dropped to Enid's lips again.
"Why not?" Enid moved closer. Six inches now. "You pulled me in here. You said you don't know why. Maybe..." She hesitated, then pushed forward. "Maybe you should stop thinking for once and just do what you want."
Wednesday's jaw tightened. "I always think."
"Not in that tent, you didn't." Enid's eyes flicked to Wednesday's collar, where the mark lay hidden. "In that tent, you just... felt."
Something shifted in Wednesday's expression. Her breathing was shallow now. "This is inadvisable."
"Probably." Enid took the last step, bringing them inches apart. She could feel the heat radiating off Wednesday's body. "But you're still not backing away."
"Neither are you."
"No," Enid whispered. "I'm not."
They stood there, frozen. Enid could count every one of Wednesday's eyelashes from this distance. Could see the barely perceptible tremor in her jaw. Could hear both their hearts hammering in perfect, frantic synchronization.
"Enid." Wednesday's voice was strained. "If we do this—"
"We've already done this," Enid reminded her. Her hand lifted slowly, hovering near Wednesday's collar. "Maybe we should stop pretending we can undo it."
Wednesday's eyes tracked the movement of Enid's hand. "And if I can't stop again?"
"Then don't." Enid's fingers made contact with Wednesday's collar, and she felt Wednesday's sharp intake of breath. Slowly, carefully, she traced the edge of the fabric. Her claws had extended fully now, the tips just barely grazing Wednesday's skin through the shirt. "Don't stop."
For a moment, they just stood there—inches apart, breathing each other's air. Wednesday's eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide, her usual control visibly fraying at the edges. Enid watched her throat work as she swallowed, saw the exact moment the last thread of restraint snapped.
Wednesday's hand shot out, fingers tangling in Enid's hair as she pulled her forward. Their mouths collided—hard, breathless, teeth knocking before Wednesday adjusted and kissed her again with ruthless intent. Lips parted, pressed, pulled; the kiss was all urgency now, stripped of hesitation, like slowing down would give doubt time to breathe.
Enid gasped, and Wednesday immediately took advantage, tilting her head to deepen the contact. Her teeth caught Enid's bottom lip, tugging—sharp, deliberate—before she chased the sound it drew from Enid's throat. The kiss turned messy, consuming, breath shared and stolen in uneven bursts.
Enid's fingers curled into the striped lapels of Wednesday's blazer, tugging her closer, claws catching in the fabric. Wednesday's hands found the bow at Enid's collar, pulled once, then made a frustrated sound against Enid's mouth and yanked harder until it finally gave way, ribbon sliding loose. She shoved the blazer back off Enid's shoulders, and Enid twisted to help, shrugging it off before it hit the floor.
Wednesday didn't pause. Her hands found the zipper at the side of Enid's dress, dragging it down in one purposeful motion—the sound loud between their breathing. She hooked her fingers under the straps, pushed them off Enid's shoulders, then shoved the fabric down past her chest. The dress settled at Enid's waist in a wrinkled heap of purple stripes.
Her fingers moved to the buttons of Enid's blouse next, working them open with focused precision. One button. Two. Three. The fabric parted under her hands, and Wednesday pushed it back and down until it bunched over the dress at Enid's waist—white cotton tangling with purple fringe in a messy pile, leaving her only in a lavender bra.
Enid shuddered at the cool air, and Wednesday's mouth broke from hers, trailing hot and open along Enid's jaw before descending to her neck. She pressed her lips there, tongue dragging slowly across Enid's pulse point. Enid's breath hitched, fangs sliding out further as her head tilted back instinctively. Wednesday's teeth grazed her skin—sharp enough to make Enid gasp but not enough to bruise. She continued lower, her mouth focused on the junction of Enid's neck and shoulder, kissing and licking, her teeth scraping but never quite breaking through.
The sounds Enid made changed something—Wednesday's grip tightened, her breathing grew ragged. Enid felt Wednesday's fingers dig harder into her waist, felt her mouth work more insistently along her exposed throat, and heard the change in her breathing.
They moved backward—clumsy, uncoordinated. Wednesday's grip tightened on Enid's hips, pulling her from the center of the room toward her side—past the invisible line that divided color from monochrome. Enid's hands fisted in Wednesday's blazer to keep her balance as they stumbled through Wednesday's half of the space, nearly tripping over discarded clothing. One of Wednesday's platforms caught on the edge of Enid's fallen blazer, and she stumbled, but Enid caught her, steadying them both.
Another step deeper into Wednesday's territory, then another, mouths still connected, breathing ragged. The black walls seemed to close in around them as Wednesday pulled her forward until Enid's legs hit the edge of the bed—black comforter, black sheets, everything stripped of color—and she sat down hard, pulling Wednesday with her.
Wednesday followed, one knee pressing into the mattress beside Enid's hip, the other foot—platform still on—planted on the floor. She leaned over Enid, close enough that there was no space left to retreat.
Then she broke the kiss, pulled back, and knelt on the floor between Enid's legs. Before Enid could protest the loss of contact, Wednesday's hands moved to her boots. Enid felt the methodical tug of laces being undone, then the first Doc Marten being pulled off. It hit the floor with a thud as Wednesday moved to the second.
The moment the second boot dropped, Wednesday rose and captured Enid's mouth again—fierce, consuming—and Enid forgot what she'd been annoyed about.
Enid's hands moved with sudden urgency. She grabbed Wednesday's blazer, shoving it back off her shoulders—the striped fabric catching until Wednesday shifted and let it fall to the floor. Her fingers went to the tie next, pulling it loose and yanking it over Wednesday's head before tossing it aside. She fumbled with the vest buttons, her shaking hands working through them—first one, then the second, pulling too hard on the third before she finally got it open and pushed the vest off.
The blouse. Enid managed two buttons before frustration won. She grabbed the fabric and pulled. It strained, a button popping free and hitting the floor with a faint click. Wednesday's breath caught, but she made no move to stop her. Enid yanked it open the rest of the way, dragging it down Wednesday's arms and tossing it aside.
Wednesday was in her black lace bra, pale skin stark against the dark fabric, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Enid barely had a second to take her in before her body pushed forward with singular focus.
Her mouth found Wednesday's neck immediately, pressing kisses along the pale column before moving lower to her collarbone. She found it—the faint shadow of the mark she'd left two months ago, the four indentations still visible. Her wolf roared to life, possessive and claiming. Enid's fangs extended fully as her tongue traced over the mark—soft and reverent but unmistakably possessive. Wednesday sucked in a sharp breath.
"Enid," she warned, voice tight.
Enid didn't answer. She licked the mark again, slower this time, kissing it after. Her fangs grazed the scarred skin with more pressure—not breaking through, but pressing hard enough for Wednesday to feel the sharp points. Wednesday's hands tightened on her waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
Wednesday's breath hitched, and Enid felt her whole body tense.
She pulled Enid into another kiss—deep, unrestrained, breathless—gripping her waist like she was afraid to let go. Her mouth moved with renewed intensity, lips parting, tongues meeting in a rhythm that felt almost feverish.
Wednesday's hands slid down to Enid's hips, and she pushed hard. Enid went willingly, scooting back on the mattress until she was fully on the bed. Wednesday followed, kicking off one loafer, then the other. They hit the floor with twin thuds. She brought both feet up onto the bed and settled fully over Enid, straddling her lap. Both knees sank into the black comforter on either side of Enid's hips. The change in position brought them flush together, chest to chest, and Enid's hands immediately slid around to Wednesday's back, holding her there.
When Wednesday broke away, she returned to Enid's neck, mouth working along her throat—kissing, licking, teeth dragging against skin. Her hands slid up Enid's sides, callused fingers finding bare skin, touching where clothing gave way to warmth.
Enid's own hands moved tentatively at first, then bolder—mapping Wednesday's shoulders, ribs, the small of her back. Her claws left faint red lines wherever they passed, not deep enough to hurt but enough that Wednesday would feel them later. Every touch brought a catch of breath from Wednesday, a shift of position, a tightening of grip.
The kiss deepened, became something hungrier. Enid felt Wednesday's methodical fingers tracing patterns on her skin even as Wednesday trembled against her with each sound, each movement that brought them closer.
When they finally broke apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together, their uniforms half-undone and forgotten, mouths still hovering too close to pretend this hadn't happened.
Neither of them moved away.
Wednesday's hand came up to cup Enid's face, thumb brushing across her flushed cheek. For a moment, they just looked at each other—really looked—taking in swollen lips, dilated pupils, the evidence written across disheveled clothing and marked skin.
"This still doesn't solve anything," Wednesday said quietly, but there was no conviction behind the words.
"I know." Enid's voice was just as soft. "But I don't care right now."
Wednesday's thumb traced Enid's bottom lip. "Neither do I."
They were kissing again, plunging forward into the unknown territory that neither wanted to label. Their raw emotions poured into a single action as Enid took a sharp breath and gripped Wednesday's back, using the momentum to flip them. Wednesday's back hit the mattress with Enid following her down, settling over her—knees on either side of Wednesday's hips, hands braced on either side of her head, caging her in.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, Wednesday's dark eyes wide beneath her, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her braids had loosened, strands escaping and framing her face in a way Enid had never seen before.
Enid leaned down, capturing Wednesday's mouth in another kiss. Her lips traveled lower—trailing down Wednesday's throat, across her collarbone. Her fangs scraped carefully against pale skin as she descended further into the darker depths of whatever this was.
Three hours later, she reopened her eyes to her phone blaring.
Enid scrambled upright, disoriented, her hand fumbling across black sheets to silence the notifications. The screen screamed 1:00 PM in accusatory white numbers. She blinked, trying to focus, trying to understand why everything felt wrong.
Then she looked down.
Her uniform was a disaster—dress bunched around her hips, blouse completely gone, tights torn in multiple places. She was still in her bra. On Wednesday's bed. On Wednesday's side of the room, surrounded by black everything, the scent of old books and something distinctly Wednesday clinging to her skin.
Shit…
Enid gripped her head as the memories crashed back. From this morning. After she left breakfast, after they'd come back here and everything had exploded between them. After they'd stumbled into Wednesday's bed and—
Her face burned. Her heart started hammering against her ribs. This wasn’t like the tent—that had been instinct, pure desire neither of them had understood. This was deliberate. Conscious. She could remember every detail of what had happened three hours ago: the way Wednesday had looked at her when Enid pressed her mouth to her stomach, how her braids had come loose in the process, how Enid’s name had sounded in that low, breathless voice.
Her fangs threatened to extend. She forced them back, trying to control her breathing, trying to figure out how to extract herself from this situation without waking Wednesday, without having to face what they'd done just hours ago—
"You've been awake for fifty-three seconds. Are you planning to continue feigning sleep, or shall we address the current situation?" Wednesday's voice came, flat and matter-of-fact, from right beside her.
Enid's head whipped around. Wednesday was propped up on one elbow, fully awake, watching her with dark, unreadable eyes. Her hair was down—actually down—loose black waves framing her face in a way Enid had never seen outside of that tent. She was in her bra and uniform skirt, her stockings discarded somewhere on the floor, the picture of composure despite their state of undress.
"I wasn't—I didn't—" Enid started.
"You were." Wednesday's gaze didn't waver. "Your breathing pattern changed. Then you looked at the time and experienced what I can only assume was mild panic."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they'd done just hours ago. What had happened after breakfast could've been explained away—tension, two months of avoidance, unresolved feelings from the tent. But they'd done it. They'd actually done it again, and now they were lying in Wednesday's bed half-dressed and—
That was harder to rationalize.
"We missed first period," Wednesday said, her voice carefully neutral. "And second period. We have precisely forty-seven minutes until the next period begins."
"Right. Class." Enid's voice came out strangled. She couldn't stop staring at Wednesday's hair, at the way it fell over her shoulders. "We should probably... get up. Get dressed. Go to class."
"Probably."
Neither of them moved.
Enid felt every inch of space between them—six inches of black sheets, close enough to touch, far enough to pretend this was fine. Her dress was still bunched at her waist. Wednesday’s lipstick was smudged. Faint scratches marred her shoulders and back, and the mark on her neck was fully visible now, four indentations stark against pale skin.
Evidence everywhere.
"Enid." Wednesday's voice was quieter now, more careful. "We should discuss—"
"We really can't miss third period," Enid interrupted, probably too quickly. Her wolf was doing something complicated in her chest, satisfied and possessive and wanting to close that six-inch gap. "I mean, it's Monday. We have Botanical Sciences, and you know how the new professor gets about attendance after... everything."
Wednesday studied her for a long moment, something flickering in her dark eyes that Enid couldn't read.
"You're deflecting."
"I'm being practical." Enid couldn't meet her gaze. "We already missed two classes. If we miss a third, people will ask questions."
"People will ask questions regardless." Wednesday sat up fully, unselfconscious about her state of undress in a way that made Enid's face burn hotter. "Bianca saw us leave breakfast at the same time. that…Fur witnessed us walking to the dorms. By now, the entire school likely knows we disappeared into our room for several hours."
Several hours. They'd been in here since breakfast—probably four or five hours total.
"Then we definitely need to show up to class," Enid said desperately. "To prove everything's normal."
"Is it?"
The question hung between them, deceptively simple.
Enid forced herself to look at Wednesday directly—her loose hair and smudged lips, the mark on her throat fully exposed without a collar to hide it, the way she sat completely still waiting for an answer like it was just another mystery to solve.
"I don't know," Enid admitted. Her fingernails, digging into her palms. "Is it?"
Wednesday's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You marked me two months ago. We had sex in a tent. We avoided each other for eight weeks. This morning we had sex again." She said it clinically, like reading a list of facts. "No. I don't believe things are normal."
"But we're—we're okay?" Enid hated how uncertain she sounded. "Still roommates? Still friends?" She swallowed hard. "Still a pack?"
Her wolf had settled, content, at Wednesday's proximity, at the scent of them mixed together on these sheets.
Wednesday tilted her head, studying Enid with that unnerving focus. "Did you expect that to change?"
"I don't know! Maybe?" Enid's voice cracked slightly. "I just—I don't want things to be weird between us."
"Things are already weird, Enid. The question is what we do now."
Enid's face burned. Hearing Wednesday say it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, made it real in a way it hadn't been just hours ago in the heat of the moment.
"Do we have to do anything?" The words came out before Enid could stop them. "I mean, we're friends. Best friends. Roommates. We're a pack." She met Wednesday's eyes. "I don't want to lose that."
Something flickered across Wednesday's face—too quick for Enid to read. Her fingers curled slightly against the sheets.
"You think engaging in sexual activity would jeopardize our dynamic?"
"I don't know!" Enid's voice rose despite herself. "Do you? Because this isn't—we can't just—" She stopped, breathing hard. "I marked you, Wednesday. When I was feral… in half transformation… I bit you, and I don’t know what it means. And now we did this again, and I still don’t know what it means, and I'm scared that if we—if we make it into something—"
She couldn’t finish. The words caught in her throat. If they tried to turn this into something more, she was terrified of losing everything they had.
The silence stretched.
Wednesday stood slowly, and Enid tracked her movement before forcing herself to look away. She heard the soft scrape of drawers opening.
"You're not going to lose me," Wednesday said quietly, her back still to Enid. "That's not how this works."
"How does it work then?" Enid asked, turning to face her. "Because I've never done this before, and my wolf is—" She stopped, jaw tightening. "I don’t know how these marks work when it’s done in half transformation."
"Why would you assume it's the marks doing it?" Wednesday said, turning around, eyes unreadable but calculating. "You could merely be attractive to me."
"That's not how mating works!" Enid blurted, but didn't deny Wednesday's observation. "Unless… do Alphas have something I don't know about? Like, does it only come out during the full moon or something?"
She tried to make sense of it all, but it was overwhelming. Why didn't any of the werewolf studies ever mention Alpha subtypes, their status, or… why they were so rare?
"…Oh my god, please don't let those crazy normie stories be real!" Enid groaned, burying her face in her hands. "In junior high, some of my normie friends asked me about this ABO crap, and I was scared forever. Like, why would anyone even read that kind of story!?"
"ABO?" Wednesday asked. Enid blinked, momentarily distracted by the fresh clothes in Wednesday's hands—new blouse, vest, tie, stockings. A full replacement for what they'd destroyed. Wednesday raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Enid sighed. "Alpha, Beta, Omega. It's this whole genre that got created from some grossly inaccurate study on wolf packs. Alphas are 'supposed' to mate with Omegas… like, ew, no. I do not want to relive those talks. Seriously, who even started this?"
"Should I research—"
Enid saw the calculating look forming in Wednesday's eyes. "No! Please don't. ABO should never be mentioned ever again. They think all Alphas, even women, have… like, dicks. And it's so offensive to trans people, plus it makes no sense even for actual wolves. Ugh. Just… don't."
"Normies seem to contaminate everything regarding Outcasts."
A beat of shared understanding.
"Tell me about it…"
Wednesday side-eyed her but didn't speak. She set down the spare clothes on her desk before turning back. She walked over to the bed, stopping just short of where Enid sat. "We still need a solution. This will happen again." Her tone was precise, measured. "I can recall seventy-two reactions from you. I know every spot on your body that makes you lose control, every sound you make when I touch you there." She leaned down, bringing herself to eye level with Enid. "I've catalogued at least fifteen new places, from what occurred hours ago."
"You don't think I know that?" Enid's voice cracked, breath catching as Wednesday moved even closer. "After feeling every curve, hearing you moan my name… How I want to smudge your makeup, make you lose control, turn you into putty…" Her nails dug into the dark sheets.
Wednesday's eyes dropped to Enid's mouth, her head tilting slightly as if considering closing the remaining distance between them.
"Don't." Enid's body betrayed her by staying perfectly still even as the word left her lips. "Not when we don't know what this even is… I'm not Tyler."
Wednesday straightened slightly, head tilting as she studied Enid's face. "Correct. You aren't. And neither of us is manipulating the other."
"Then what do you want us to do?" Enid breathed, eyes tracing the hidden freckles on Wednesday's cheeks.
"Let it play out. We were always unconventional." Wednesday pulled back, returning to her desk to collect her spare clothes.
"So we just… don't talk about it?" Enid tilted her head, heart returning to a steadier beat.
Wednesday nodded, her back to Enid now as she adjusted her grip on the clothes. "We are us. It doesn't need to be anything else." She glanced back over her shoulder, dark eyes meeting Enid's. "This mark didn't do anything to my body—only your touch did."
Enid swallowed hard at the intensity in Wednesday's gaze before sliding off the bed to search for her blouse on the floor. "Right. So we just go to class and let the rumors stew even though nothing's changed."
"Things have changed, just not the way others perceive." Wednesday turned fully now, watching Enid. "Neither of us is looking for romance. What we did—and will do in the future—works. It's practical."
"Practical. You should probably stock up on those meds while you're at it. Who knows—we might end up on the rug next time. Or my bed." Enid busied herself with buttoning up her blouse, slipping her straps back over her shoulders. The words had come out more suggestive than she'd intended.
Wednesday's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as she brushed her loose hair away from her shoulder. "I'll speak to Mother later, but I'll keep the reason discreet."
Enid's heart pounded, eyes widening briefly as she reached for her boots. Just the thought of Wednesday taking her allergy into account for what they were doing made her head spin and her palms sweat.
Yeah, this plan was gonna go south real fast…