Chapter Text
Miorine hisses, recoiling at the stench wafting off the venue.
It reeks of alpha despite their best efforts, and she—is going to kill Delling Rembran for forcing her into this. That he’d made her organize this shitshow and had the audacity to tell her to use her own building for it is just cherries on top.
“I guess the ventilation system’s not enough after all,” Nika mutters, nose scrunched.
Miorine glares at her lead developer. “Did we forget to turn it on?”
Nika shakes her head, apologetic but too used to her anger to be cowed by it. “No, we didn’t. This is just—” She gestures vaguely at the doors and shrugs.
“I want to go home,” Martin whines somewhere behind her right as Lilique starts to curl into herself even as she hands the tablet to her so that she can check the guest list her father had organized.
On paper, this gala is meant to celebrate GUND-ARM, Inc. It’s not. If it is, Miorine would’ve invited anyone who might actually be of use to her company.
No, the guest list is filled to the brim with high-profile alphas who also happen to be bachelors. She scowls at the names; this is a thinly veiled auction, and she—and everything she’s worked for—is the prize. Her father had argued that she needed an alpha to legitimize her company and bring in the investors they needed. As if GUND-ARM doesn’t have the right to stand on its own, as if it’s doomed to failure, as if her blood, sweat, and tears simply aren’t enough to make the difference she’s been fighting to see in a world made by and for alphas.
She grits her teeth against the lump in her throat at the thought. It’s embarrassing, and juvenile. At twenty-four, she should’ve known better than to expect anything even remotely decent from her father. Still—she’s his daughter.
“You can’t,” Nika soothes Martin. He’s less affected by it than the rest of them, but still, this is unpleasant, even for a beta. “We could lose the budget for the prosthetics, and we’re… we’re so close.”
“I know you’re right,” Martin sighs, shoulders slumped.
“It’s just three hours,” Lilique tells them, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, nodding and attempting to combat her omega instincts by standing straighter. It doesn’t really work.
The stench is hard for them. Three omegas and a beta are as good as prey, and Miorine pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Let’s just get through this.”
Walking into the bespoke crowd is even worse, the air around them saturated by overcompensation and posturing. Miorine snatches a champagne flute from a passing tray, resisting the urge to throw her clutch at a random alpha.
“This is making me nervous,” Nika mutters, eyes sweeping over the crowd gathered around their products.
Miorine understands. Nika and Martin are tasked to talk about their products in hopes of attracting an investor, but Miorine’s well aware that it’s no different than sending them blindfolded across a battlefield.
“There’s no need for that,” she attempts to soothe them, though it comes out with half a growl. “I’ve placed security near each of our stations, and I’ve made it clear that you’re not to be touched by anyone. I don’t care who. If there are problems, rely on them.”
“Okay,” Nika nods, attempting a smile only to give up halfway through. She nudges Martin. “Let’s go.”
Martin whines, and Miorine hopes they’ll be okay.
At some point during the night, Lilique has gone non-verbal. Miorine doesn’t blame her. She leads them from person to person, doing her level best to only interact with people she trusts will give her decent conversation. The prospects are few and far in between, but she’d expected nothing less from this crowd. It’s frustrating, but she pours all her effort into it.
Beyond her company’s goal to introduce affordable technology into healthcare, GUND-ARM is also the home of omegas and betas who have been pushed and discarded to the sidelines. War survivors, orphans, the meek and timid – Miorine owes it to them to be at her best even in this shitshow.
“Are you okay, Ms. Miorine?” is the first thing Lilique manages to ask the moment they find a corner to rest in, far enough from the crowd to escape unwanted attention and get a whiff of fresh air.
Miorine sighs. “It doesn’t matter. Who else do we have to meet?”
Lilique checks the guest list. “Dr. Belmeria has been invited, if you want to talk to her about—”
“I regret letting you drag me here.”
They startle at the intrusion, a group coming to claim space a few feet away from them. Miorine recognizes Prospera Mercury, the CEO of Shin Sei, one of the smaller companies under her father’s group. She’s with her… daughters? They’re almost twins, only distinctive by the fact that one of them has short-cropped hair and had gone with a red dress. The taller sister has longer hair, and she’s wearing a crisp suit, her tie matching her sister’s dress.
“Prospera Mercury, her daughters Ericht and Suletta Mercury,” Lilique fills her in quietly. “I don’t know who the other girl is.”
Said girl—outrageously pink hair tied up in huge pigtails and also wearing a suit—glares at the taller sister.
“If I end up punching someone in the face—”
“Please don’t,” the taller sister pleads, her voice soothing, her hands up in surrender.
“No, Chuchu’s right, I might even help,” the sister in the dress grumbles, doing nothing to hide her disgust with the crowd.
“Eri, no. I don’t think the Command will like that.”
“Okay, so you punch someone in the face since you’re not under them anymore.”
“I-I’d really rather not,” Suletta—Miorine assumes—groans.
“Now, now, children,” Prospera says, tone amused. “Eri, remember that you’re the one who wanted to come. You convinced Suletta and Chuatury, too.”
“Yeah, Mom, because I knew they wanted to see the prosthetics not… whatever this is.”
Prospera hums, her face vaguely amused. “It is rather smelly, isn’t it?”
Miorine takes the tablet from Lilique and scrolls through what they know about Prospera. Typical data engineering company interested in utilizing biological information to improve healthcare, though they’ve recently dabbled in mining technology with the goal of promoting employee and environmental well-being. It’s a tangent from Shin Sei’s original mission, but it’s one that’s made a positive impact as far as Miorine can tell from the news articles about the company’s hand in reducing mining injuries. It might be worth a conversation, at least.
“Miorine.”
She hisses under her breath before she forces a neutral expression and faces the alpha responsible for the new retch-inducing stench in her corner.
“Guel.”
He’s her father’s first pick, but because God hasn’t died just yet and her father can’t force her to marry him, Miorine has managed to dodge every single attempt Guel has made to claim her. Lilique whimpers softly, and Miorine steps slightly in front of her, wishing she’d found a way to stuff a handkerchief somewhere in her blue dress.
Guel smirks at the action, his smell now pungent and steeped with dominance. “Still keeping that trembling lamb, I see. At least, someone knows her place. Why don’t I force her to grow a spine?”
Lauda, Guel’s brother, rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to waste your energy on that, brother.” He steps forward, and Miorine’s lungs burn. “Let me.”
She feels Lilique’s stance falter. Miorine acts fast, stepping fully in front of Lilique. “Forcing submission now?” She questions, ice in her tone. “I expected nothing less. After all, respect’s a little hard to come by when you’re too busy pissing all over the place.”
Lauda bears down on her. “What did you say?”
He’s trying to force her to submit, so she stands to her full height and places a hand on her hip. She gives him her best unimpressed look.
“That’s it?” She asks, at this point genuinely curious and beyond done.
Someone snorts from behind her, quickly followed by a slap. Miorine doesn’t waste her time looking because Lauda’s moving in, hand already reaching. Guel does nothing to stop his brother, so Miorine kicks Lauda where he must be tiny. Lauda yelps and drops to the ground, hands moving back to cup his crotch. The satisfaction Miorine feels is cathartic.
And short-lived.
Guel snarls at her as he steps in front of his brother, his pheromones choking any pocket of clean air they might’ve had around them. Lilique drops to her knees behind her, and Miorine trembles but stands her ground, fully abandoning any mask of professionalism in favor of glaring at him. She’s not going to give him the satisfaction.
“Go, Suletta,” she hears someone say.
It’s the smell that hits her first – startlingly clean and crisp but earthy, like petrichor. She makes half a turn before someone’s stepping in front of her and someone else is gently pulling her and Lilique back.
“Ms. Rembran,” Prospera presses a handkerchief into her palm, looking annoyingly serene amid the stench. “Please use this in the meantime.”
Miorine hesitates before taking it and pressing it to her nose. Lilac, alpha, she thinks vaguely, still reeling from the rush of pheromones. It’s too sweet, but it’s miles and miles better than Guel’s scent. It grounds her enough to take stock of the situation.
Ericht is helping Lilique up to her feet, handing her another handkerchief. In front of them, Suletta and Chuchu face off against the brothers.
“Who are you?” Guel demands.
“I-I’m S-Suletta Mercury.”
Miorine frowns. What were these people thinking, pushing someone who sounds so timid in front of an enraged alpha?
She tries to take a step forward only to be stopped by Prospera’s gentle hand on her shoulder, raising a finger to her lips and giving her a sly, conspiratorial wink. She watches Suletta’s shoulders rise and drop with a deep breath.
“Please step back, Mr. Guel,” Suletta asks, voice steadier though still too soft than what the situation calls for. “You can’t act like this. Forcing submission is not the way an alpha should do things.”
“Move,” Guel orders, snarl still full and menacing.
“N-No, thank you,” Suletta answers immediately, sounding unfazed but sincerely polite.
Miorine wants to laugh, incredulous at the turn of events. Behind her, Ericht snickers.
Lauda groans and gets to his feet, trembling like a newborn pup. “Brother…”
Chuchu laces her hands behind her head and drawls, “It’s no use, Captain. You’re better off talking to a wall.”
Guel lunges straight for her in retaliation, and everything happens fast.
Suletta intercepts him, hits his throat, and kicks the back of his leg. He lands on his back, and Suletta follows him down to press a hand on his chest, keeping him in place just as she stops Chuchu’s advance with a hand in the air.
Lauda is frozen to inaction, chin already tipped up. It alerts Miorine that pheromones have doused the air once again, though this time, she can pick up hints of petrichor. Suletta turns to look at Chuchu, face calm but serious. Chuchu throws her chin up in a movement that’s haughtier than it should be had it been forced out of her.
“Ericht?”
“I’m fine, Suletta. I have Mom’s extra handkerchief.”
Suletta looks down at Guel, who glares right back at her as he coughs and clutches at his neck. “Please leave,” she says quietly, unmistakably an order.
She stands and takes a step back. Guel gets on his knees and looks like he might make another attempt, apparently unsatisfied with being humiliated once.
Miorine catches his eye. “I will call security. Back off, Guel.”
She thinks he might offer up a trite response, but he only lets his brother help him up. They wobble away with their proverbial tails between their legs, though Miorine’s sure that despite his lack of response, he’s going to find a way to get back at her for this.
For a moment, the tension sticks to them, heavy and uncomfortable.
And then, Suletta sneezes.
She turns to them, squeaks at the attention, and blushes bright red.
Miorine doesn’t know what to think, but Prospera and Ericht start laughing good-naturedly, chasing the tension away as Suletta clasps her fingers in front of her, fidgets, and smiles bashfully. Chuchu slaps Suletta’s back.
“Stand up straight, Captain. That was almost worth going to this shit.”
“I’m not a captain anymore,” Suletta mutters before stiffening. “Chuchu, I’m so sorry—”
Chuchu rolls her eyes. “Shut up, it’s fine. You didn’t force me. I chose to submit.”
Suletta’s shoulders slump in relief.
She’s an anomaly, Miorine decides, someone so rare that she’s having trouble recalling if she’s ever met an alpha who acts even close to what she’d just seen. She exhales. First things first. She checks on Lilique, who looks up just in time to give her a shaky smile and a thumbs up. Miorine nods then shakes off the last of Guel’s pheromones before approaching the group.
“Mrs. Mercury,” she greets and offers a hand.
Prospera takes it, grip sure and firm. “Ms. Rembran.”
“I wish we were meeting under different circumstances but thank you for your help.”
Prospera releases her, and Miorine offers her handkerchief back to her. “No problem at all. Though, you might want to thank my daughter instead. Suletta,” she pushes Suletta forward. “She’s been interested in your company for a while now.”
Miorine watches Suletta fidget, ears red. “Yes, um. Hi? It’s nice to meet you, miss…” She winces.
“Miorine.”
Suletta nods. “Ms. Miorine.”
Ericht leans on her sister’s shoulder, expression curious and a tad sly. “Oh? What’s this? I sense—”
“Eri, come here,” Prospera intervenes. “Let’s go get some food and drinks.”
“I’m coming with,” Chuchu announces before nodding at her. “Nice kick for a princess.”
“But Mom—”
“Eri,” Prospera insists, chuckling. “Leave your sister be.”
They leave in a mess of jokes and quips swapped so easily that it makes Miorine ache a little, caught by the way they act un-self-consciously, the way it doesn’t seem to matter who’s an alpha and who’s not, the way Prospera smiles gently at Suletta before leaving them. She can’t remember when she’d last felt that close to people, doesn’t even know if there’s a part of her that’s capable of feeling that still after years and years of dealing with what it means to be an omega, to be a woman, to be ambitious.
“Ms. Miorine, a-are you okay?”
Suletta’s brow is a little furrowed, genuine concern on her face.
“I’m fine,” she answers before turning to look at Lilique. “Go to Nika and Martin. If you want to leave early, you can.”
Lilique shakes her head and smooths her clothes. “I’ll find Nika and Martin, if you’re sure.”
Miorine nods. “Go ahead.”
Suletta offers a hesitant smile as soon as they’re left alone. “Should I go too?”
“No,” Miorine decides. “Come with me. I need fresh air.”
The greenhouse is built into the rooftop, accounting for half of its surface area. Miorine feels her stomach settle at the sight of it, its tall glass panes a welcome sight, its thin steel frames a reassurance. It had been the reason why she’d gone for this building despite the bigger and better options that the realtor showed her.
This space is hers, untainted and tucked away and far from everything that could ruin it. This is the life she’d wanted to live once, a piece of it carrying her through one day after another in the life she’d ended up having.
She enters through its doors, tension leaving her in a breath. Suletta follows close behind but hesitates just outside.
“Don’t come in,” Miorine confirms her hesitation.
Suletta nods without argument and goes as far as to kneel on the ground, hands folded neatly on her lap. “Is this yours, Ms. Miorine?”
“Obviously.” She doesn’t mean to snipe at her, but it’s been a long night. “Just… give me a minute.”
She moves from one potted plant to another before stopping by the tomatoes. She can feel Suletta’s attention, and Miorine finds that she doesn’t mind. From the corner of her eye, she sees Suletta tilt her head, her upper body leaning forward in curiosity even as the rest of her remains firmly rooted down on the ground.
“A-Are those tomatoes?” She asks, tone cautious and hesitant.
“What else would it be?”
Suletta’s hesitance makes way for something like awe, her eyes wide, jaw a little slack. “I’ve never seen them that big before. They look really good.”
As if on cue, her stomach rumbles. She flushes, and Miorine isn’t sure if she should be unimpressed or endeared. She doesn’t understand what the deal is with this alpha, how she can flip a man onto his back like it’s nothing and, at the same time, blush and hesitate and stutter.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to have dinner before—um.”
Miorine wraps a tomato and gives it to her. “Here.”
Suletta picks up the tomato, eyes still wide and bright as she carefully sets it onto the palm of her hands like she’s afraid to crush it. Unnecessary, but Miorine feels herself relax at the sight.
Suletta hesitates, trying to figure out how best to bite into it before letting her canines sink into the giving flesh of the tomato. Her face brightens. She looks at Miorine as she chews, trying and failing to talk and eat at the same time. She manages a happy sound.
“Ms. Miorine, this is really good,” she says the moment she finishes it. “How…?”
“My mother,” Miorine answers, softer than she’d intended. “She was a genetic engineer. I use her recipe to grow those.”
If Suletta catches onto the past tense, she doesn’t give it away. “That’s amazing,” is all she offers, genuine and honest, as if she hadn’t been surrounded by things that could redefine healthcare technology just a few minutes ago.
Miorine crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Who are you?”
Confusion has Suletta’s brow furrowing again before she looks down at her lap. “S-Suletta Mercury, twenty-five years old, um, recently unemployed. I used to be an Air Force pilot, but—” Something dark and glazed takes over the innate child-like wonder, and Miorine almost asks her to stop. She holds her tongue when Suletta nods to herself, decisive and determined. “I’m not a good fit for it, I think. I didn’t like following some of the orders we were given, so—so I decided to leave.”
There’s history there, and context, and Miorine wants to know more. “Were you good? I heard your friend call you Captain.”
Suletta blushes a little. “I was. But I couldn’t have done it without her and the rest of my unit.”
Humility and alpha don’t usually go together, but Miorine is realizing that there’s nothing typical about Suletta. She confuses her and makes her head twist over itself. She massages her temple.
“Your mother said you were interested in my company. Were you disappointed with the event?”
Suletta hastens to raise her hands. “N-No! It was… That is…”
Miorine snorts. “You’re a horrible liar. You don’t have to. My father forced us to hold this event.” She sighs as she moves out of the greenhouse, hearing Suletta scramble to follow her.
The city beneath them is shining, its grandiosity and vibrance almost too much for her. It’s loud, and it feels like it’s always running, and it’s almost no different from her every day. Miorine is tired of it all.
“He threatened to pull his investment if we don’t comply, which means that we’ll lose more than half the budget for development. If he leaves, the other investors won’t stay either,” she explains, her voice distant even to her own ears. “As if that wasn’t enough, he’s also threatening to buy us out if I don’t choose an alpha to legitimize my company. That’s the point of this event. GUND-ARM isn’t credible unless it’s led by an alpha. At least, that’s what he says.”
“That’s—” Suletta’s lips thin.
Miorine nods, beyond caring at this point. “Guel Jeturk was his prime pick. And then, you flipped him on his back and exposed his belly. I doubt he’ll be able to keep my shit father’s favor when he hears about it. So, will you take responsibility?”
“Respon—yes,” Suletta answers, apparently still catching up. She winces, probably realizing she’d changed Miorine’s status quo in a single instant. “I’m sorry—”
Miorine waves a hand. “I want nothing to do with Guel. But you,” she places a hand on the railing and faces Suletta. “Work for me.”
Suletta’s eyes widen.
“We don’t have enough budget to hire and train more testers. Seeing as you were part of the Air Force plus your interest in my company, I’m going to assume that you have experience working, or at least interacting, with people who may need our prosthetics. You were a pilot. You should know your way around our technology. At the core, we don’t use anything different from the things they use for wars. That’s what my father’s group stands for anyway. My goal is to turn the technology that kills into technology that saves lives.”
Suletta clasps and unclasps her fingers. “Oh,” she breathes, the same jaded look passing her by again. “T-That’s why Chuchu and I were interested actually. She comes from a family of miners, and we’ve seen our fair share of injuries on the battlefield.” That would explain Shin Sei’s tangent into mining, Miorine muses. Suletta pauses. Then, “But all your hard work… I don’t want to take that from you, Ms. Miorine.”
Miorine scoffs. “As if I’d let you. No, we’re buying time. You’ll be the stand-in alpha so that I don’t have to worry about my father, but I will make my company’s success irrefutable before he can force me into being mated. I’ll break away from the group, and you won’t have to worry about claiming me.”
Suletta hesitates, attention solely on her feet.
“I won’t force you,” Miorine says before she can stop herself, never mind the fact that she can’t actually force an alpha to do anything. “What do you want to do, Suletta?”
Suletta blinks and, for the first time, meets her gaze head-on. Miorine resists the urge to shiver.
“I want to help if I can,” Suletta nods. “I… Chuchu and I, we volunteer at a veteran’s hospital sometimes. We left the army at the same time because we couldn’t… Ms. Miorine, if I can do something different from what I’ve done before, I’ll do it.” Hesitation chases away a little of her confidence. “May I ask for a favor?”
Miorine raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Could you hire Chuchu too? I understand if you don’t want any more alphas, but…”
“Will you vouch for her?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Suletta responds in an instant, defaulting back to habits she’d probably developed during her time in the military.
Miorine scrunches her nose. “Don’t call me that. If we’re going to do this, we might as well get familiar. Miorine’s fine.”
Suletta’s face seems to explode. “M-Miorine.”
Unbidden warmth climbs to Miorine’s cheeks. “Bring your friend with you on Monday,” she decides. She looks away to recenter herself. “We have to go back. Give me your jacket.”
Suletta starts unbuttoning her suit jacket even as she asks, “Why?”
“It’ll keep any other try-hard alpha from approaching me and make it clear that I’ve made my choice.”
“Oh, okay. Um,” Suletta looks at the jacket in her hands and then at her. “M-May I?”
Miorine doesn’t understand what she wants to do but nods anyway.
Suletta moves behind her, and Miorine tenses until she feels the jacket draped over her shoulders, petrichor and warmth seeping into her. It almost dwarfs her, and she finds that she has to swallow a sigh. Suletta steps back and gives her space, looking away from her and scratching her cheek and clearing her throat. She’s acting so shy that it makes Miorine feel self-conscious.
“What?” Miorine growls.
Suletta jumps. “No-Nothing!”
Miorine rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
Her apartment is a mess.
“I’m home,” she exhales, letting the weight of her life bear down on her back.
There’s no one here, and Miorine can no longer tell if that’s a good thing or not. It’s familiar, at least, and safe. No one expects her to be anything but herself here; she can stumble out of her heels and not have to pretend that her feet haven’t been aching, toss her clutch on the couch and not have to worry about what people will say about it, go straight into her bedroom sit in her nest and pull her legs to her chest and not have to be anything but small and tired. Power is exhausting to wield, and it’s even more sapping when there are constant attempts to pull it out of her hands.
She takes her first deep breath of the day, letting her home dig into her lungs. The earth rises to the occasion, fresh and clean from the jacket still draped over her shoulders. She picks up the trace of musk that gives Suletta away no matter how unconventionally she behaves. She’d forgotten to return it. It’s not that big of a deal, she decides; she’ll just give it back on Monday. Anyway, Suletta probably wouldn’t have let her, especially if she knew that Miorine had forgotten to bring her own coat.
She tips onto her side and wonders how things will change now. She’s so tired, and all she wants to do is sleep and pretend that everything’s okay. But first, she should change. Or maybe just remove the jacket so that Suletta’s scent doesn’t bleed into her nest. She closes her eyes instead and dreams of rain and tomatoes.
“I don’t know why I keep letting you drag me everywhere.”
“But Chuchu, you’re also unemployed, and Ms. Miorine—I mean, Miorine—”
“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said. So you keep saying.”
Miorine puts the pen down, overhearing the conversation and listening for the footsteps nearing her office. It’s an annoyingly bright Monday morning, and already, her day has shifted off course.
“I can’t believe you got reeled in by a princess—”
“Shh!”
A knock comes, and Miorine has half the mind to keep them waiting. Except, she has a meeting scheduled with her father in a few minutes, and she’d rather have them onboarded before then.
“Come in,” she calls, standing to greet them.
Suletta and her friend enter the office. They’re both dressed like military personnel out on a rare holiday, clad in pressed slacks and pristine dress shirts. Miorine doesn’t impose a dress code for her company, but she supposes they’d gone with what felt safest.
“Good morning, Ms. Miorine!” Suletta greets, offering a smile. “This is my friend, Chuatury Panlunch, the one I told you about.”
Miorine rounds the table and approaches them. “Good morning, Suletta,” she returns before extending a hand to her friend. “Miorine Rembran. Thank you for what you did at the gala.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” she grumbles but takes her hand anyway.
Miorine brushes it off, unbothered. “I’m having one of my lead developers come meet you two so that she can explain what you’ll be doing. She’ll be giving you the tour, but here,” she pulls out two IDs in her pocket. “You’ll need these to access the building.”
Suletta takes hers. Chuchu considers her, unmoving.
“Question.”
Miorine inclines her head.
“You’re not gonna turn whatever you’re doing here into weapons, are you?”
Suletta inhales sharply before nudging at her friend and whining, “Chuchu.”
“It’s okay, Suletta,” Miorine responds, looking straight at Chuchu. “No. We won’t, and we never will.”
Chuchu stares at her for a moment longer before taking her ID. “Guess we’ll see.”
The door opens once again. “Miorine? Are they—Chuchu?”
Suletta and Chuchu stiffen in surprise.
Nika freezes by the door, wide-eyed. “Suletta?”
“What the—” Chuchu blusters. “You work here?”
Nika steps inside, and Miorine feels a little out of place in her own office.
“I do—I thought you two were in the army!”
Miorine watches Suletta nearly vibrate on her toes, grinning wide and bright. Something unpleasant stirs in her gut. Probably because she missed breakfast.
“We resigned,” Suletta admits.
Nika smiles, and Miorine wonders if she’d ever seen her lead developer make that expression at an alpha, let alone two. Nika opens her arms, which is apparently all the invitation Suletta and Chuchu needed to shuffle to her and embrace her. Miorine crosses her arms and looks away, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from kicking them out. She’s fond of Nika Nanaura. She can give her this.
“I missed you two,” Nika says with a chirp as she releases them.
“We missed you too,” Suletta affirms.
Nika steps in front of the two. “Sorry, President. Are they our new hires?”
Miorine nods. “Yes. You can take them for the tour, though Suletta,” she turns to her. “Stay here for a minute.”
Nika claps her hands, obviously happy about the news. “Great!” She turns on her heel and takes Chuchu’s hand. “Let’s go. I need you to test some arms.”
“Test—Arms? What?” Chuchu sputters.
Suletta turns sheepish as soon as they’re left alone, hands clasping and unclasping in a movement Miorine now recognizes as a nervous tick. “I’m sorry about that.”
Miorine waves off the unnecessary apology. “How do you know Nika?”
“We went to college with her,” Suletta explains softly, smile fond and nostalgic. “She was a year above us. We tried keeping in contact, but we got… busy.”
Miorine hums, moving back to her desk to retrieve Suletta’s suit jacket. It probably smells like her now, and—on second thought, she doesn’t know how she feels about giving it back. Suletta doesn’t seem power- or sex-crazed like most alphas, but she’s far, far away from trusting that.
“Do you need this back?” She asks.
Suletta shakes her head. “Please keep it. Your office is cold, M-Miorine,” she tests, stumbling a little at her name. “And, um, thank you for taking Chuchu in too. She can be blunt, but I promise she’s a good person.”
Miorine drapes the jacket over the back of her chair. “I didn’t do it for free.”
Suletta straightens. “Still, thank you. We’ll be in your care.” She peers at her, a tad apprehensive. “Is there anything I can do with the, um, alpha s-stuff?”
Miorine grits her teeth and absolutely hates that she has to ask. Her father won’t be convinced until there’s proof that she’d chosen an alpha at the gala, will likely try and resort to dirtier tricks to see her claimed. Asshole.
“Yes, actually,” she cringes before steeling herself. “Can you scent mark me?”
It’s almost hilarious the way Suletta gives a squeak so uncharacteristic of an alpha. Her cheeks burn, and she doesn’t seem to know where to look, eyes leaping from her to the glass wall to her feet. Miorine would probably laugh if she had it in her to be anything but resentful over the situation she’s in.
“I have a meeting with my lousy father,” she explains as impassively as she can manage.
Suletta swallows, scenting the air tentatively. Miorine realizes that she might be broadcasting her distress as Suletta frowns, inching forward, her timidity replaced by concern. Miorine roots herself to the ground and reminds herself why she’s doing this, why it matters even though it shouldn’t, and who deserves her anger far more than Suletta does. It’s not easy; being kind is not a thing she’s always capable of doing, not when the world pushes and tramples and beats it out of her.
Suletta stops right in front of her and raises her hands, palms up. Distress spikes sharply in the air despite the choice she’s clearly being given, and Suletta almost pulls her hands back all while she lets out a quiet croon.
Miorine shoves her wrists roughly into Suletta’s hands. “Get it over with.”
Suletta hesitates for a moment longer but chooses not to question it. Miorine is grateful.
At a snail’s pace, Suletta wraps her fingers around her wrist, her hold loose enough that Miorine can pull back whenever she wants to. Her thumbs pass hesitantly over her scent glands, and Miorine shivers. The croon in Suletta’s throat deepens. Miorine can’t remember the last time she heard that sound, and maybe it’s the unfamiliarity of it, or the cadence, or just… Suletta in general, but it coaxes a knot in her chest and convinces it to untangle, her distress giving way to tentative trust. Suletta’s hands are calloused, worn and used but warm. Gentle. Miorine’s throat tightens (how long has it been since someone was gentle with her?), and she surrenders a minute more, lulled back to steady ground by the soft press of Suletta’s thumbs against her scent glands, the almost hesitant wrapping of her scent around her, the unwavering croon Suletta unconditionally offers in comfort.
“I’m sorry,” Suletta whispers. “You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll bring some of my clothes tomorrow if you’d like.”
Miorine relaxes despite herself. “I’d appreciate it,” she mumbles. Suletta beams. “Enough.”
Suletta lets go instantly and takes a whole step back. “Um, thank you?”
Miorine sets a hand on her desk and huffs a grudging laugh. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”
Suletta clasps her hands behind her back, her entire face soft and open and friendly. “It’s really no problem, Ms. Miorine. I’m happy to help.”
Miorine nods; she can trust that at least. “I have to go.”
“Okay,” Suletta says. “Have a good day today. I’ll go—” Her eyes widen for a fraction of a moment before she winces. “Actually, um, w-where should I go?”
Miorine snorts. “I’ll walk with you.”
Suletta bounces after her, a puppy with boundless energy, happy despite the supposedly unfortunate situation they’ve found themselves in. She chatters about her family; Ericht who’s the better pilot, Prospera who knows everything, Godoy who scares her more than anyone. She doesn’t seem to mind that Miorine has little to offer to the conversation, seems utterly content with the hums and glances Miorine affords her instead.
Petrichor follows them through the halls like a promise of relief, and Miorine won’t know it yet, won’t let herself think about how comforting it is, won’t allow it to be something she looks forward to until she does. She has no way of knowing that she’ll learn to look for her in the quiet, that Suletta will be far more constant than anything she’s ever known, that she’ll lead her out of the cold and into the warmth that has always been there if she wants it. It’ll happen, but for now, it’s too soon for her because the world has been too hard on her, so when Suletta waves goodbye, Miorine lets her go without a second thought.