Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blood slipped through her fingers as she covered the wound on her legs with dirt-covered hands, trying to see through the heavy tears that covered her vision, trying to breathe despite the choking panic that gripped her lungs and brutally closed her throat, trying to calm her arrhythmic, horrified heart that pounded in her chest so hard she felt like she was going to break in two.

Go away.

She couldn't stop trembling, feeling her senses slowly shutting down; the terror grew even greater at the thought that she might lose consciousness in a matter of minutes and be at the mercy of a beast, which watched her with a row of gleaming teeth and a sadistic countenance, awaiting her imminent defeat. It dug its nails so hard into her skin that the pain seemed to overtake her anguish almost successfully.

Get away from me.

She wanted to speak so loudly that her voice would reverberate through the vastness of the forest, she wanted to intimidate him enough to turn his skin pale and apologize on his knees. She wanted to stop being a victim, she wanted to be able to fight for herself, she wanted to stop being afraid. She wanted so many things and she couldn't have any of them. She tried to clear her vision by rubbing her eyes with bloody hands as she tried not to break into hysterical sobbing.

“Please” his unpleasant tone rang in her ears like an alarm, raising her head quickly, turning away from him as she regained mobility in her legs, which burned from her superficial wounds. Looking him in the face bristled her skin “I didn't even say how I was going to shut you up”.

“D-don't come closer” she raised her hands uselessly, stained with blood and dust. Tears fell silently down her cheeks, her belongings strewn behind her unsteady posture “I'll apologise, I'll say it's not true. I really didn't mean to cause any harm. I swear”.

“You think I'm going to believe you?” he kicked at the ground, dry leaves flying at her from autumn's arrival. The sun had not yet managed to penetrate the density of the trees, nor had it allowed their conversation to be heard. Her mind worked at full speed to find a way to escape from the man who cracked his knuckles “A dog like you knows nothing but to create slander and hurt my family. I'm sure you won't open your mouth after this”.

“Stay away” panic was taking her voice, trembling at her future and the nearness of a man with square shoulders and untouchable impunity in Avonlea society; he might be able to disfigure her face with his fists and no one would ever be able to even hear her, blinded by the perfect image of Billy Andrews, one of the few alphas in town. She wiped her tears compulsively, desperate to get as far away from him as possible “I'll do whatever you ask me to fix it, but please don't take another step”.

“I don't understand why I would have to listen to you” he made a slow step, as if positioning himself to attack her as effectively as possible, watching her with bright, expectant eyes. He tilted his head to one side as she drew her arms to her chest, struggling to remain calm. “No one will believe whatever it is I'm going to do now if you dare to tell. Everyone will see it as the justified action I took to protect my sister from scum like you. Of how I, Billy Andrews, am a role and protective role model to follow because of my heroic action”.

“You're wrong” she shook her head anxiously, trying to breathe through her fluttering heart “Everyone will know what you did and be horrified when they find out you're a monster, because there will be no way to shut me up. I-I'll scream until they hear me”.

He let out a humorless laugh, combing his hair back before adjusting his hat. The teenager walked away as far as she could, unable to stop crying “I'll make it clear that everything I said was a lie and your sister won't have to face it, I'll take full responsibility. This won't make up for what I did”.

He started to move closer, forcing her to want to escape his grip before letting out a shriek “Please no! I will take full responsibility, and you won't have to worry about what I said ever again! I'll take full responsibility for my actions, please let me go!”.

“Enough” he growled, losing his patience. In one swift movement he grabbed her slender arm between his large hands, which he squeezed so brutally that she screamed from the pain and terror of thinking she would be able to break it into pieces. Desperate to free herself from his grip, she stumbled over her own books, falling hard on the floor, falling out of his grasp in a matter of seconds with no hope of escape.

She tried to crawl on her elbows, afraid to turn her back on him “You think you can get away from me, huh? You think...?”

Even in the deepest of panics she could feel his scent burning in her throat, bristling her skin with disgust and making her on the verge of nausea at her body's natural rejection of a being as dangerous as Billy was. Her senses, the most instinctive and deepest part of her person, struggled to sharpen and fight tooth and nail to get away from him, to protect herself, but the terror was stronger, paralyzing her and leaving her unable to move. She feared that the icy sweat trickling down the back of her neck, the uncontrolled pounding of her heart and the rough mouth were a sign that she was lost, that she might not have the means to save herself.

Her muscles tensed. Her heart stopped.

“Billy”.

There was someone else, someone else who was witnessing what was happening, someone else who stopped her assailant just by calling his name. The young man stopped his growl, suddenly pale, as he turned to watch the man approaching them. The girl, so weak that she thought she would lose consciousness, tried to sit up as quickly as possible while trying to stay awake; a nearby tree was enough to lean against and catch her breath, determined that this was her chance to run with all her might towards Green Gables. Of course, her plans never happened as planned. A scent filled her lungs, so warm and robust she felt it on the roof of her mouth, fresh and soothing, coursing through her veins like a sedative. She didn't have time to think of similarities, but she was sure that the salty sea breeze caused the same familiar feeling inside her, enveloping her with such immensity that she felt her own body come alive again, swept by an unfamiliar, searing electricity. Her eyes glanced in front of Billy, meeting a boy about his age, with surprisingly dark eyes that never once noticed her. His tense jaw marked his defined, serious face, impassive in the presence of an equal, so calm that her heart beat fiercely at the possible danger in front of her.

An alpha.

She began to gather her things awkwardly, kneeling on the twig-covered ground that sank into her wounds, letting out a whimper unconsciously from the pain. She bit her lips to silence herself, doing her work as quickly as possible to take advantage of the perfect escape situation.

“I didn't think I'd find you this way” at the lack of response the dark-haired alpha commented, not taking his eyes off Billy. Perhaps if the girl had watched a few moments longer she would have seen the tension in his muscles, enlarged as a warning, with widened veins and a scent that seemed repulsive to the other young man. He looked around him “It seems quite a distance to your home”.

She clutched her belongings to her chest, deciding that the safest destination was towards the school; closer and more open, giving her the certainty that they would be able to hear and see her should anything go wrong again. Without a word she wanted to pass by Billy's side, as far away from him as possible, when he raised his arm, preventing her from passing. Still frightened, she jumped slightly in place, escaping his grasp without any concealment, forced to stand behind him.

This did not go unnoticed.

“Is everything alright, miss?” the alpha's voice seemed to grow huskier, ignoring Billy as if he wasn't there. His black eyes bore into her with a brush of savagery, noting the dirt and blood on her face, eyes reddened from crying. The young woman was unaware of how he had to fight to keep his growl, deep and menacing, inside the bottom of his chest from terrifying her when he tried to approach. Billy positioned himself in front of him so as not to let him advance.

“Gilbert, you don't know how happy I am that you're back and that I met you so casually” the woman could even imagine him smiling, toothless and without it touching his eyes, a comment so passive it would never be interpreted as a threat “But you're worrying for nothing. You'd better be on your way, no one wants any trouble”.

“Excuse me, are you all right?” Gilbert tried to be able to look at her again, moving to the side and ignoring the boy's responses, but Billy was quicker to block his vision. Gilbert's face darkened.

“We were just playing, Gilbert. None of your business,” he tried futilely to maintain eye contact, failing in a matter of seconds when the taller one glared at him intensely. Gilbert fought the urge to take the face between his hands forcefully to force him to explain himself, ready to break his jaw with his grip.

“Stand aside” his tone sounded decisive and, from where she stood, the young woman could see Billy's expression become disfigured by surprise and, eventually, by nerves and disgust. If she looked more closely, she might have noticed how he naturally shrank back, knowing that in a confrontation he couldn't beat him and deciding to look as unthreatening as possible; but she was too desperate to leave to see small details. The opposing alpha saw him, walking past her, holding his chin up, with a frown of concern for the state of the girl who was trying to regulate her breathing. He couldn't get too close, as she instinctively recoiled at his proximity. He gulped.

“Are you alright?” his genuine concern confused her, still intimidated by his presence and dejected by the events.

She struggled to recompose her calm as she nodded “Your legs and your face, what...?” no one is going to believe you.

“I tripped” she stammered, running her hands over her face unsuccessfully to remove the traces of dirt. Gilbert's heavy gaze expressed his little credibility in what she said, but she didn't have the strength to keep thinking. She needed to leave so she could breathe “I really tripped because I've been so clumsy lately and... and then I forgot that my hands were stained and I wanted to wipe my tears because I'm in a hurry and I-I really, really have to go”.

“It's nothing” she had to keep her gaze fixed on the floor as she felt Billy's eyes on her, squeezing her things so hard her knuckles turned white. Billy continued speaking “I'll walk her the rest of the way to make sure she doesn't accidentally kill herself”.

Gilbert, in a matter of seconds and naturally, landed between them giving her a broad back and muscles flexing beneath his heavy clothes. Her scent radiated strongly from his skin, like a barrier filling her lungs and clouding her senses; she had no other reaction than to cover her nose with a bloody hand at the overwhelming sensation of the uncertainty of what her body was causing in her own senses and reasoning. His broad shoulders covered her vision, preventing Billy from being able to see her again as he uttered a smile she couldn't perceive, “I think she can make it the rest of the way alone. You might want to stop wasting your time here when you know the professor has all his eyes on you. Your father won't be pleased to hear all he has to say”.

“I appreciate your concern, Gilbert, but I'll be fine,” she heard the branches creaking under his weight as he feinted to approach, having little success when the alpha's tense body blocked his path. He began to splutter in protest, but the young woman knew on rare occasions when it was the right time to open her mouth, and this was one of them.

“I don't need you to come with me” she shook her head, watching as Gilbert looked over his shoulder in slight surprise at her intrusion, clearing her voice to leave no doubt of her desire. She prayed with all her might that the man would hear her silent prayers, accompanying her until Billy had left “I can take care of myself”.

Her assailant held up his hands as if in defeat, but she knew his expression was nothing more than a profound warning and a reminder of all that had happened, a simple warning of what he was capable of away from the public eye. A shiver ran down her back, her sour but imperceptible scent exuding from her neck and wrists like a desperate but silent cry for help.

“I'll have to leave, then. But please don't forget what I've told you, okay? It's a secret between you and me” fear rendered her mute, not finding her voice, her muscles or her own person. She couldn't react, and even with Gilbert's strangely comforting presence, it wasn't enough to calm the nausea that threatened to attack her. The alpha was pressing his jaw so brutally that the bone was marking violently on his cheek, Billy didn't even bother to look at him “Don't hurt yourself, okay? See you over there”.

He walked away from them with relaxed shoulders, not bothering to look behind him, leaving them in an overwhelming silence that was only filled by their heavy breathing and Gilbert's racing heart, who was trying to figure out what was going on all by himself, uselessly. The sun slowly illuminated the darkened path, showing the morning dew resting on the few plants still standing thanks to the imminence of autumn; she wanted to move, she wanted to gain control of her own anatomy and her revolted emotions, so panic-stricken that her muscles ached for the tension, so much so that her throat burned with the desire to break into an agonizing and honest cry.

She had to close her eyes tightly to compose herself, letting out a shuddering breath that stole Gilbert's full attention, who turned to look at her devotedly for the first time. She lost her breath under his watchful gaze, oblivious to the reddish colour of her hair that blended exquisitely with the warm landscape of the forest, hating her porcelain face bathed in tiny freckles, in the fineness of her nose, in the moisture of her lips. In the brutality of the blood that stained her face like that of a damaged cherub, in the dirt that rested on her neck and chin, in the irritation of her eyes from recent tears. In the delicacy of her trembling body, dressed in clothes she was grateful for daily, but silently wished they were beautiful like Diana's. In the bitterness of her fragrance that broke the barriers of her medication, desperate to express her emotions in some way without knowing that she was slowly sweetening in the face of tranquility and a presence that irrationally gave her a false security. In the beauty of eyes identical to the bravura of an ocean on the cusp of winter, tinged with a blue that could pass for coldness and remoteness, but which translated as the widest sky and calmest waves that could ever be imagined. A heavenly beauty, almost angelic, bordering on the divine; neither of them knew what to say before the immensity of their gazes, of the silence that introduced them into the deepest of wonders, into something inexplicable that she had only tried to dimension in the most tragic of her tales.

“Are you...” Gilbert broke their hushed conversation with slow blinks, still trying to regain control of himself after such a revelation, beginning to salivate at the almost imperceptible sweetish taste that landed on his tongue “Are you okay, what happened, are you hurt—” she opened her mouth, bringing her gaze down to the ground before half-turning on her feet, walking away from him in a matter of seconds.

Her slender legs looked comical walking at an undisguised speed, quick as a hummingbird to disappear from his field of vision. The alpha began to follow her with confusion, but following in her footsteps like a loyal dog, at a safe distance so as not to intimidate her, but not far enough to lose sight of her. Her scent, as savoury as honey and a new book, marked his path like a beacon; he was sure he could find her even with his eyes closed, and the thought terrified him. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

“Miss,” he called hoarsely, trying not to look so amused after the tense situation that had occurred in the forest moments ago. Her braids bounced behind her back from the force of her footsteps, determined to gain as much distance between them “It was no trouble at all to save you, really. You're welcome” she hesitated to take the next step, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder at him with an unreadable expression, but deciding she wasn't prepared to be threatened by another strong, sharp-toothed alpha.

If he had managed to intimidate Billy that was enough for her to not have the slightest intention of sharing his space, but at the same time she had to try to erase from her mind the detail of his image; his face seemed created to enrapture her, the hardness and definition of his features coming together in harmony, with deep, dark eyes and expressive eyebrows that told her all she needed to know.

“What is your name?” her instincts were getting the better of her as she noted how he had not hesitated to care for her, even without knowing who she was or why she was being threatened, and willing to protect her without question as he perched in front of her to act as a barrier, muscles tensed to appear larger, veins flaring in adrenaline and senses clouded by the most instinctive part of him to keep her safe. Perhaps that wasn't the most enigmatic thing, but the warmth of his brown eyes and the softness of his auburn curls, which hung naturally on top of his head, in the catchiness of his scent that wafted up to her chest like a warm syrup, that made her salivate and ran through her veins like a sedative; in how he smelled of freedom, but of home at the same time, of how... “Miss?”.

She quickened her stride, eliminating all thought from her head. She had to flee his presence as soon as possible, knowing she couldn't trust anyone with the truth of what had happened if she wanted to maintain her personal integrity; not only did Billy's clear threat bristle her skin, but also the undeniable reality that no one would ever believe her words because of her gender and status. They would dismiss her as insane, probably laughing at her sayings, or horrified by the nasty rumor that Prissy Andrews was having an affair with Professor Phillips before a formal proposal of marriage. She was bound from head to toe, understanding that if she didn't play along she would end up permanently hurt, no matter how concerned or kind Gilbert seemed or how much she wanted to break down in anguished weeping in Diana's warm arms. However, it was hard to ignore the strong presence of her savior, following her with a rigid posture and eyes fixed as if she were the only source of light for miles around. The insistent footsteps behind her caused a cold sweat to break out on her velvety skin, her agitated breathing forming an almost imperceptible vapour in the frosty air, but knowing he was keeping a considerable distance so as not to encroach on her, uttering questions without pausing, but with a kind and respectful tone that did not stir her heart with distrust.

“Wait!” he called, but she ignored him again. She failed to notice his sudden approach as she distracted herself with the nearby school display, finally adjusting her things before quickening her steps. To no avail “Wait!”.

Gilbert took one of her slender arms in one of his warm, strong hands with a firm grip that forced her to stop and let out a squeak in surprise. Her belongings fell to the floor, kicking up dust on the floor from the blow. He released her arm with his expression painted in despair, speaking in a rushed manner “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you”.

She frowned at him in confusion as he bent down to gather the books with surprising speed, not daring to look at her face in embarrassment “Your face is dirty, I thought you might prefer to clean it up before anyone else sees it”.

“Oh,” she brought her hands instinctively to her face, brushing it with her fingers as she remembered it was covered in blood and dirt. She glanced over her shoulder, noting that there was no one lurking around the outskirts of the school, taking the opportunity to sneak over to the stream, covering her face so that she wouldn't be seen through the windows. She wiped her face firmly leaving the sensitive skin a faint reddish color from the irritation, thankful that the blood was little because it was so difficult to remove and making sure there was no more dirt on her face as her hands came back clean as well as the icy water she used.

For some reason Gilbert had waited quietly away from her, respecting her time and space without complaining about holding her things, handing them over without another question as he observed her face now clean and moist, free of wounds. The young woman had taken the opportunity to clean her injured legs so as not to raise any curiosity about what had happened, receiving her belongings without being able to find her voice or any action other than to walk past him towards the door.

He, as most alphas in the world were idealized, was an exemplary gentleman to be quicker to open the door for her respectfully, murmuring a soft “After you”. She felt a sudden prickle of guilt right in the center of her chest as she passed him, breathing in his scent without any escape as she entered the room, which was engulfed in laughter and conversation that was uninterrupted by their arrivals, oblivious to their presences. Gilbert closed the door behind him with no apparent intention of walking away from her, giving her the impulsive opportunity to open her mouth to save herself from her own sense of disappointment, how could she not be the least bit kind after all he had done for her?

“I apologize if I was rude, I sincerely didn't mean to be. My name is Anne” she offered her hand, which she detested for always being icy, so thin that beneath her porcelain-white skin her dark veins showed through, and her sharp bones were defined. Gilbert was quick to return her greeting, wrapping his hand around her own, covering it by the difference in size and giving it a light squeeze that managed to pierce the warmth of her body despite the cool temperatures due to the presence of autumn: she let out an imperceptible sigh of surprise when she was forced to raise her eyes, meeting his gaze.

“Gilbert” he offered her a small smile that didn't quite touch his eyes, a mere gesture of friendliness “A pleasure, Anne”.

She removed her hand as if his touch burned, tucking them away inside her apron as if she had the desire to flee from his grasp, something she perhaps desired for the wrong reasons. He frowned at the oddity of her gesture but quickly disguised it, beginning to remove his heavy scarf that wrapped tightly around his neck without another word: he suddenly seemed to contain no interest in what had happened, and Anne did not know whether to feel relief or a feeling akin to sadness. It didn't take her long to lie through her teeth “I greatly appreciate your concern in the forest, but it was nothing serious. Really”.

“No?” of course he wasn't going to believe whatever she had in store. She bit her tongue wishing with all her might that her salve hadn't failed her, revealing her condition. She couldn't panic, so she decided not to answer and nodded with the best expression of sincerity and reassurance she could offer, “I see. I didn't mean to interrupt”.

Confusion intensified as she noticed the indifference of his words, busying herself with putting her things away where they belonged without following the thread of the conversation with any sort of interest, how could he act this way when moments before he was walking behind her without stopping to ask about what had happened, curious about her name?

She sighed, deciding she was too exhausted to continue lying, copying his actions as she shed her heavy clothes on the available racks when a question settled into her thoughts, impossible to ignore. She spun on her heels to find him inspecting something she paid no attention to, clearing her throat to be heard. He looked at her with raised eyebrows but showed little inclination to talk to her. She ignored the pang of pain that shot through her chest at the rejection.

“How did you find us?” Gilbert looked slightly surprised by her question, but didn't show it for more than a few seconds, leaving her to wonder if what she had seen was real or not. He shrugged closing his book, not abandoning his calm but bored tone.

“I always walk down that path, I stopped because I heard Billy's voice and smelled the blood. Nothing more” it left her frozen in place as her companions finally noticed her presence, exclaiming “Gilbert!” to greet him with claps and welcoming smiles, noticing how the alpha's expression offered nothing more than a polite smile that didn't turn out to be genuine. She felt Diana's gaze upon her, but was unable to move, frozen in place, clenching her clothes in an unconscious fist in stupefaction.

He hadn't smelled her blood, it was impossible with the small amount on her. Imperceptible, faint, impossible.

A shiver ran up her spine, unstoppable.

Her ointment had betrayed her. Gilbert had been able to smell her, to catch her scent, her own perfume. He had been able to find her because of her nose despite having used other words that had failed to lie to him, he had found her not because of the stench of her blood, but because of something far worse: Gilbert knew she was an omega, and worst of all, no one else did, not even Billy, who had pounced on her like an animal.

Not even Diana, her best friend, who had so often plunged her nose into her hair, held her hand. No one. No one else.

She knew in that instant that her world was going to fall apart, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“Anne” her soul mate whispered, leaning over her as the professor turned his back on them. All attempts to engage her in conversation were failing as it seemed as if the words just wouldn't come to her, as if she was submerged in a deep river that shielded her from the outside world.

Diana couldn't take it any longer when, as gently as possible, she kicked her friend's leg with the toe of her foot, who jumped in her seat before feeling her eyes fill with tears. She covered her mouth in horror, unable to disguise the shocked tone in her voice “Anne, what's wrong? What's wrong?”

Anne let out a snort, trying to keep the tears from falling freely down her face, stroking the area where she kicked her gently. Diana continued in a kind voice melted in regret “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you and I tried to touch you to get your attention because I know there's something wrong with you. I don't understand why you won't talk to me; I know something is wrong and you can tell me. I can help you if...”.

“Anne Shirley” the teacher stood in front of them, his chin raised in haughtiness and a superiority he possessed only at school over underage people. He could never survive with people on his own terms “Again causing a disturbance during class. First warning of the day”.

“Professor, I was the one who...”.

“I'm not talking to you, Miss Barry. I would appreciate it if you would answer and address me only when I require it” Diana spluttered like a fish, observing Anne who had made no response whatsoever “And please stop defending her, because it will eventually cause a repercussion on you if you persist with your attitudes”.

“Excuse me, but...” he silenced her with a simple wave of his hands, leaving no room to defend her best friend, who seemed to have ignored the whole conversation after the blow. Her eyes were irritated, and her nerves flared, knowing that her kick had been careful enough to cause her such distress. She took her hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as the professor pulled away before whispering, “Anne, please talk to me”.

Anne, however, was still fighting back tears. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, or an overflow of emotions that would be impossible to keep under control once released; she was terrified of Billy, who was not present, but whose dark shadow felt like a monster stalking her until their next meeting, she was stunned by the assumption that Gilbert knew of her condition which she had worked hard with blood, sweat and tears to keep hidden from everyone she knew in order to stay alive and be able to lead a normal life. She was exhausted from having to keep secrets that hurt her soul, from lying to her loved ones so easily that it rotted her heart, from hiding inside herself instead of warm and comforting hugs that would heal her pain, she was tired of having to deal with Professor Phillips, who seemed to hate her, and she had been lucky enough to be kicked with the toe of a stiff shoe and import it squarely into her raw wound that she was sure to feel the heavy drops of blood under her dull dress without puffy sleeves.

Vanity is not something I give up easily, she wanted to joke as she thought of a comment Marilla would make if she knew everything that was going on. How she wished she did. Yet she knew how unfair she was being to Diana, and what a bad liar she was being by not answering any of her questions of genuine concern. She returned the handshake with a small smile, pretending that nothing was going on, that everything was more than fine; perhaps her eyes looked brighter than they should “Sorry, I'm more distracted than usual thinking about all the possibilities for endings to the stories I wrote yesterday, oh, if you only knew, Diana”.

She watched her, analyzing her, but eventually falling into a mischievous grin that made her shake her head before settling her attention on the book in front of her. She was sure that at lunchtime she would ask her about it, and fortunately Anne possessed such a coarse imagination and graceful way with words that she could be trusted to create a story then and there, not having to spend time thinking about what had happened, what she could do, and what was to become of it. It would be easier, of course, not only if the throbbing pain in her leg would die down, but also if someone's intense gaze on the back of her neck would disappear. It seemed to burn over her skin, relentless, and she feared she knew whose answer it was; usually Josie Pye had long sessions of hateful stares, but none compared to this one, which seemed to sink beneath her to tickle the pit of her stomach and prickle the skin on her arms, covered by her clothes.

She had to regulate her breathing to calm herself, stifling the desire to look over her shoulder to meet his eyes, wanting to ask without shame what it was that he was staring so hard at, if there was something wrong with her, with her appearance. Was it her red hair, bordering on ridiculousness, as opposed to the majesty of Ruby's beautiful golden hair? Her freckles as if they were smudges of dirt on her sickly white face? The wretched row of teeth as opposed to Josie Pye's? The lack of elegance and beauty as Diana so effortlessly possessed? Or perhaps the slightest detail that she knew her true identity, the rawest and most morbid revelation of her nature, the part of her person that was hidden by churches and societies, that horrified priests, paled women and disgusted gentlemen. That she held in her hands the darkest of her secrets, the secret that would shatter her life into shards that would cut her skin so deep that she would have no choice but to bleed to death before dark and prejudiced eyes, the secret that would ruin her future, her present, her past.

The secret that would kill her at the drop of a hat, like a verdict of terror or a mere rumor; all for the stupid fear she felt, all for not putting enough ointment on her neck and wrists, all for opening her mouth about Prissy Andrews. For those banal reasons her life hung in the balance, rather from an alpha with kind eyes but frivolous words, a man who didn't even seem to be fazed by the creature that lay helplessly and vulnerably before his eyes.

She had to breathe, she had to keep her composure, she pinched her skin so hard she felt her nails pierce the thin layer of skin, burning and unable to ignore.

Why was he unaffected by the fact that she was an omega, and that he was the only one who had been able to detect her? He didn't look like a clueless person; he could conclude that no one else knew that fact because she was sitting as just another person, a proper beta-gendered lady who knew her place, who was controlled and adored. He might have known because Billy would not have been able to hurt her, or not as easily as he tried to, or because none of his mates, who were alphas but lower in rank as a matte4, did not unconsciously try to insinuate themselves into her or watch her as intently as he did.

Why him, why him and not someone else, why did he look so calm? Why hadn't he told the four winds what she was in front of his friends as a joke, or why didn't he let Billy get on with his task if the omegas were known to be nothing but scum and lust dressed as an innocent and overwhelming cherub? Why did he treat her so differently, and then couldn't stop looking at her? What could she offer so he wouldn't say a word?

She was trapped and could do no more than rest her forehead on the back of her hand before letting out a deep sigh, having to bite her lips to release what little tension was stored inside her. She tried to pay attention to Mr. Phillips' lousy lecture, failing to see mathematical exercises on the board that she knew she couldn't solve with so many things going through her head. She picked up her chalk to write on her own blackboard, pretending to do something so as not to draw unwanted attention again, hoping that her imagination would once again be strong enough to save her instead of plunging her into despair.

“I can't wait” Diana took her hands in hers, genuine and with a dreamy expression, as the class ended after an eternal day. She felt like a stampede had passed over her, so tired she feared she had lost her euphoric energy and joy forever “It's getting closer and closer until my parents allow me to come back with you, now that you're a Cuthbert!”.

“Sounds fantastic” she wanted to sound enthusiastic, but failed terribly. Her other classmates were scattering through the forest, keeping each other company and laughing among themselves, keeping a good distance from her not only for being an orphan, but also for being a cruel, lying person who was ruining Prissy Andrews' life by creating such a scandalous rumor. The only group of girls, Diana's close friends, had been very curious about what they had seen together, but once she began to relate the daily events of her former workplace they were so disgusted that they couldn't even look at her. They took it upon themselves to spread what Anne was saying around the school, horrified, but not surprised that a person with a past and personality like hers would decide to take such a dedicated and sweet person like Prissy down with her. Diana, firmly in her place knowing that the rumors had not yet come to fruition without parental intervention, had not stopped sitting with her and treating her as what she was, her best friend, and Anne could not explain how much she valued it.

School ravaged her imagination, her reality overtaking her. People could be cruel, be celebrated and get away with it, and she was getting tired of seeing it more and more effectively. At first it seemed to be a warm place that could become like what she dreamed of, but in a matter of moments it was enough to prove to be one of her most livid nightmares. She could never compare it to something as sadistic as the orphanage, the owner of his darkest thoughts, nor of the coldest memories of his childhood, but it was a driving force for her greatest terrors and insecurities; she felt that she belonged nowhere, to no one, to nothing. She saw how everyone ran to safe arms, to trusted friends, to laughter that went with sincerity and good intentions, not to mockery and mistreatment and tears. She feared that this would be her life, that it was meant to be, and she knew that when her rumour spread far enough to reach the big families, to Professor Phillips, she would have nowhere to run because no one would be willing to do it for someone like her. No one. And perhaps that was not what broke her heart the most, but that they were never able to see her heart or her intentions or look at her with eyes free of hatred and prejudice. She wanted to be seen with lively, open, understanding eyes, but she was only pointed at, beaten. It hurt, it hurt so much that she had to hide inside herself to persist.

“Anne” she had unknowingly moved on, plunged into the cold forest being slowly abandoned by the sun. They were alone when Diana stopped walking, releasing her hand to face her ‘What's wrong?’

“I'm worried, Diana” she tried to stop the lump forming in her throat from anguish, but she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it long enough. She let out a shaky breath “I should never have opened my mouth about what happened with Prissy. Now everyone will think she's a promiscuous woman, or that I am one, as well as being an orphan and a liar. No one will put themselves in my place and I don't know what I'm going to do, I'm terrified of the consequences that I never intended. I never meant to hurt anyone”.

“Oh, Anne” her best friend was quick to wrap her in a hug, squeezing her shoulders gently, like the touch of a butterfly. Anne hugged her, taking a deep breath to keep from bursting into tears, as she tried to reassure herself “You'll see that soon everyone will forget about it and eventually you'll be able to start again with the girls, it'll be a while, yes, but it won't be forever”.

She pulled away so she could look at her smiling calmly and the young girl felt her heart slow its beating with peace, how could she not believe her when the most precious of souls was comforting her in this way? “I doubt Prissy will be easy to win over, of course, but it won't take the others long to see your charm and understand you”.

“They're never going to forget it. They're always going to see them and they're going to think what I said, or they'll see me and I'll already know what they're thinking”.

“Anne” frustration was mounting, but she knew enough was enough when they got to where their paths parted “It's really not like that...”

“Isn't it relieving to think that there is only so many mistakes one can make in a day?” she sighed for the umpteenth time that day, fixing her gaze on her feet “And to think that tomorrow is a mistake free day, free of mistakes I might make”.

“Anne, you really have nothing to worry about” her sympathetic voice filled her ears, having to lift her head “I'll talk as much as I can to put it in the past and I'm sure they'll be willing to give you a chance, they just need time. Tomorrow may not be a day without mistakes, didn't you think it a good idea to deliver a formal apology to Prissy for what was caused?” she sank her feet under the dry leaves, thoughtfully.

“I thought of ways to fix this, I thought I'd apologise to her and assume in front of everyone that it's a lie so as not to involve her any further with it”.

“Maybe an apology would be a good first step” Diana nodded, looking over his shoulder knowing she had to be prompt so as not to raise suspicion “Because you didn't lie, we saw what the teacher wanted to do to her, and she let him. What you said isn't false, but it's too serious for someone who is accused to admit it” Then I'll go down myself, instead, for not knowing how to keep quiet.

“All right” Anne didn't want to keep her any longer, though she wished to stay with her until the moon reached the top of the sky “I'll think of an apology, and then you'll give me your opinion, yes?”

“Perfect!” she reached over to link her little finger with her, waving goodbye as she turned to head towards her mansion “See you tomorrow, Anne, be very careful on your way back”.

“What, why, did you see something?” the sudden desperation in her tone surprised her friend, crestfallen at having made a comment out of pure politeness and habit. She looked at her with eyebrows raised in confusion, unaware that Anne still dreaded the reigning image of Billy looming over her in the middle of the woods, alone.

“N-no, there's nothing, I said that because, you know...” she started to explain, but her friend dismissed her with a wave of her hands.

“Yeah, sorry, horror stories shouldn't have to be my regular these days” she began to pace so as not to give her any more question time, pulling out her hat to wave it in the air “Bye, Diana!”

Though she tried to stay alert, aware of her surroundings and the noises coming from deep in the forest, Anne arrived home exhausted, almost numb from the day's events. Her attitude was so strange that Matthew, who used to listen attentively to her talk and answer occasionally, stroked her shoulder with a hand calloused by long years of hard work in the sun, warm through her dress. She lifted her head to look at him calmly, so tired she would be able to fall asleep in his arms if he dared to hold her “What's wrong, Anne?”

It was so easy to read her that it was beginning to bother her poor ability to disguise or hide her emotions, leaning back against him with a sigh, dressed comfortably enough to be inside her house, scorched by the constantly burning fireplace “School's been so hard lately. I don't understand how I'm going to fit in” .

Her problem was sadly not the one she was relating, and she wished with all her might that it was something so harmless rather than the stark reality she had to face since meeting Gilbert Blythe. While it was a guess, she knew there was no other way the alpha could have found them if it weren't for the cold, sour scent of her uncontrollable panic, which had managed to break through the density and effectiveness of the ointment and drugs she'd been using since she was thirteen to hide her identity. The words would come out on their own if she began to speak, horrified to find an answer as to how he was the only one who had been able to detect her in her entire life, how she could convince him not to talk about what he had discovered, but she didn't know how. She was lost. Her soul was breaking, and her heart was rotting as she watched Matthew's empathetic expression, who had been a loner all his life and knew what it felt like to be unable to find his place, not understanding that the situation was far more serious than he was able to see. It pained her to think of the possibilities, of the fact that they had adopted her despite what she was, knowing they were risking their physical integrities, the lives they had built, the reputation and the farm. All at stake for an issue that she had no choice in, that she could not get rid of no matter how much she wanted to, all because she was an omega woman in a world that had taken it upon itself to hunt them to death. She felt a shudder.

“It's okay, it's okay” he patted her shoulder, sweet, noting her deep frustration “You'll see how time settles everything” She breathed into his chest, the comforting scent of the familiarity of his closeness not knowing what else to say, he heard Marilla's firm footsteps but didn't care to stop hugging him. If she had eyes in the back of her neck, she would have been able to see the woman's frown, surprised at the sudden display of affection between them.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” the older man replied, patting her head as he broke their embrace. Anne turned and smiled softly so as not to cause further interrogation, feeling more reassured to be home “Everything's fine”.

“Then I find no reason why you shouldn't be helping me with dinner, Anne” she dried her hands with the dish towel resting on her arm, ceasing to block the entrance to the kitchen as she turned away with a reproachful tone “The day you concentrate on your chores will be the day the sky falls in, and so will I”.

“Yes, Marilla” she obeyed without any sort of excuse or stammer, helping to set things on the table in a matter of minutes and watching the stew warming over the fire to perch where it belonged, beginning to serve the meal under the woman's watchful eye. As she sat down at the table she watched the dinner with dismay, picking up the spoon with little motivation and playing with the sauce unconsciously.

Marilla didn't let it go “Child, how many times have I said you can't do that with food? Do you even know how many kids don't have the possibility of a meal like yours?”.

“I'm sorry,” she shoved a spoonful into her mouth, out of obligation not to be foolish before the desire to eat. The occupation of her thoughts did not allow the enjoyment of the taste of dinner, chewing mechanically “My head is far, far away from here”.

“I thought nothing was wrong, but as far as I can see I haven't been told the truth” Marilla wiped her mouth, on the verge of letting out a sigh of exasperation “What's wrong?”.

“It's nothing” she wanted to downplay the situation, but failed miserably as her lower lip began to quiver with anguish, trying to take a deep breath as her tongue wiggled of its own accord “It's just that everyone is so cruel, so cruel when you just want to do good or try to do good despite the treatment you get and I'm tired. Everyone talks behind my back and laughs at me no matter what I do, even the girls who look so sweet say I have lice when I know I don't. The teacher isn't interested in me at all. The teacher isn't interested at all in helping me with extra hours so I can pass my Queen's exam when I'm the only one who didn't have other years of teaching like the others, and he always ignores all the doubts I have, and I have to bother poor Diana to explain so I don't fall further behind than I already am. There are so many rules I don't know that no one bothers to tell me, except Diana who tries to detail every one of them to me although she sometimes forgets because of how natural they seem to her, and I'm sure they all talk too about how my dresses look compared to theirs because they are beautifully colored and feminine and have delicate bows with puffy sleeves, and they all have brown hair or a blonde that looks majestic while I have a horrible color...”.

“Anne” interrupted Marilla, beginning to stroke her brow to regain patience “We've talked about your vanity”.

“I can't control it” her lower lip was still quivering, trying not to blurt out the gravest of her anguish by accident. She felt more frustration at seeing that, of all her worries, Marilla had only rescued the one she could reproach. She clenched her fists under the table.

I'm sick of hiding who I am. I am envious of my fellow ladies who are exemplary by being controlled and simple betas and who don't have to bear the hell of this category. I am sick of raving with fever for days because of my body's impure desires, I am sick of being a ghost prowling this earthly plane forced to hide to aspire to a normal life when no one else has to. I'm sick of having to take care of my medications, ration them and use them every day of my life several times to keep my identity hidden. I'm sick of thinking about the damage I could cause them if I ever decided I wanted to show myself, because I'm sure it would destroy them. I'm sick of feeling threatened, of fearing for my life, of thinking that because of a stupid encounter with a frivolous and uninterested boy my life now hangs because of my nature, because of something I can't change. I'm sick of not even being able to say it, I want to shout it out, I want it to spread across the seven seas, I want it to...

“Would you like to go to bed, then?” Matthew commented, noticing the apprehension reflected on her face not knowing how else to help her. Marilla gave no more than a curious glance, but without intruding on his decision; she preferred absence to having to tolerate watching her play with her food and complain about the dress she had so painstakingly made. Anne nodded with her lips pressed together in frustration, bothering to gather her plate and settling the chair under the table.

She was able to murmur “Goodnight” half-heartedly before, with little finesse, she climbed the stairs quickly enough that they couldn't hear her agonized sobbing. The emotions she had held in all day, the deep worries and raw terror she harbored in her chest, could momentarily be released through tears and gasps as she sought to fill her compressed lungs with oxygen. There, lying on her bed and with her vision blurred in the darkness of the window, she could see the precious petals of the snow-white queen fall tragically from the tree, dead.

Chapter Text

During the night, with the wind whispering and the stars dancing above her head, hugged by the sheets and her cheeks kissed by her tears, Anne dreamed.

Dreaming was an ability she had enjoyed all her life, a gift and a curse that had saved her from countless situations by taking her to paradisiacal places, with beautiful princes and magical abilities to forget her present, her reality. The people around her did not appreciate her lack of attention and great enthusiasm for things unseen, punishing and harassing her when she did her homework badly, when she was inattentive, or simply for making fun of her boundless imagination. At the orphanage Anne learned to sit a certain way so as not to over touch the bruises on her thighs, she forced herself to eat slowly with her eyes fixed on her food at dinner time, and she knew the ideal time to sneak out into the yard where she could be alone, careful to leave without anyone being able to see her.

In those fragile, fleeting moments Anne could allow herself to fly, to pick the few flowers that grew in spring, to gather the stones in the snow to draw on them with icy fingers, to listen with fascination to the song of the birds that lived among the dry, old trees that surrounded the orphanage. Of course she could never escape the cries from inside, the threatening screams and the quick and useless steps in an attempt to escape when the caretakers chased the children at the slightest mistake; having to hide behind the logs, with a threadbare scarf wrapped tightly around her sensitive neck to recite her stories in whispers.

At bedtime she had to hide the notebook, yellowed and dirty, under her pillow so that no one could take it from her or read it. She always waited for the others to fall asleep so she could close her eyes, too terrified that they might come to her when she was unconscious, mindful of previous experiences that would not let her body rest even in absolute darkness because of the horror that clung to her insides. Anne was aware of the great difference she possessed from the other girls in the orphanage, which was becoming clearer and clearer, and more and more evident to the people around her.

Anne was different.

It was not only a matter of personality and intellect, which was always great evidence of the abysmal distinction that existed between her peers and herself, who never missed an opportunity to punch her whenever possible, but also a physical difference that grew as the years went by in a disturbing way, something she could not escape.

The young teenage girls had grown tall and muscular despite the poor diet and the small amount of time they were able to spend in the sun, forced to work inside the orphanage to keep it clean and earn perks such as going out on Saturday afternoons for a walk around the village without a penny to spend. Anne saw the height of the others, the muscles of their arms under the sleeves of their grey dresses, felt the strength in their hands as they decided to shake her through the corridors and knew that she was not like them, and probably never could be.

Anne understood that perhaps in her childhood she had not received the nurturing that a developing person should have, but her peers had suffered the same and had evolved anyway. She watched them clean for hours without exhausting themselves, fight each other when no one was watching and watched the ferocity with a cold sweat clinging to the back of her neck; they ate more than she did, abusing their strengths to take food from weaker people, and she understood that she was different. Different in the way she walked, light as a feather, so clumsy that bruises appeared instantly on her hip bone when she bumped into the edge of the tables, with a lower blood pressure than usual fainting from not eating breakfast and being put to work, exhausted in the evenings from doing the same as the others. Legs and arms pale and weak from lifting chairs and walking miles for clean clothes, hair thin and sparse, suffering in winters and suffocation in summer.

Anne was fragile. So fragile that they were not afraid to break her.

Lloyd, the meanest young woman she had the displeasure of meeting, rested three beds away from her own. For as long as she could remember she slept covered in sheets that were not her own during the winter, taking over the bed closest to the window when the heat came. The first to sit at meals, the first to choose the easiest chores, the last to be discovered in cases of disobedience, the most feared among her companions, and her luck was no accident.

When something was not to her liking she did not hesitate to let it be known. She struck without remorse even when her knuckles were exposed raw, even when dirty fingernails scratched her cheeks in desperation to be freed. She never stopped, eyes and veins swollen with rage, willing to make it clear that things, life inside the orphanage, had to be as she saw fit. The caretakers never listened to the pleas in terror from the younger ones about the unconscionable violence of Lloyd, who was growing less and less patient and more forceful for her unjustly acquired benefits. She was joined by those who not only didn´t want to be beaten, but who were not afraid to rob and threaten frightened young girls to live in greater comfort in a hostile and cold life.

Anne was fortunate to have gotten jobs outside the orphanage, caring for children and feeding herds, sleeping on thin beds under a roof where the wind trickled through the wood, grateful to escape Lloyd's grasp for a few moments. The teenager enjoyed pinching her, pulling her away from everyone's attention in the boiler cellar to tug at her hair and crunch her fingers, oddly choosing to slap her rather than beat her with his fists. Anne thought she could see the fragility of ger face, rarely aware that breaking her nose would not be an easy thing to fix, saving herself the trouble of something so tedious. Anne, with the passage of violent episodes, understood that biting her tongue and holding back tears in silence made it all end sooner, always infuriating Lloyd by her lack of response. She wished she could have told someone else to save unnecessary suffering.

The first time she was taken away from the orphanage was by Mrs Graham. Mrs Graham had four children, the eldest six years old and the youngest three months old; Anne had to suppress the shudder that ran through her as she placed the newborn in her arms, so small she feared she might accidentally drop and kill him. Her arms did not fail her, beginning the duty of pushing her body to the limit to deliver a good job that would convince the mother to keep her in her home: getting up before the sun rose, heating the water and bread for breakfast, leaving clean cloths for the father's baths, waking the children, feeding the chickens, going to the market. Cooking was a hard blow, never having read a single recipe, having to endure Mrs Graham's loud orders at mealtimes that left her ears burning. Her head and her imagination were a lifesaver, managing to learn quickly and even adding ingredients that made the food tastier, leaving the family in contented silence. She was the last one to go to bed after cleaning the whole house, the only one to put the infants to bed, the first to take care of them when they were burning with fever, the last one to bathe in ice-cold water. Sometimes she felt like she was going to disappear in her place.

It was hard to fight against herself, against the desire to perhaps walk in the garden, to ride the skinny horses that rested tethered behind the hearth, to risk stealing a pen to write in her damp notebook hidden under her pillow. Crying hidden in her bed eased the weight of her heart, but nothing thrilled her as much as having a moment to herself where she could move silently around the room, reciting a story she had learned by heart where she was a princess waiting for a prince who would take her by the hand, someone who would lead her to the edge of the sea to recite poems and comb her ugly hair. The very idea that her imagination could never come true made her skin crawl in terror, refusing to accept that her life was destined to sleep in a cobwebbed attic and be treated as a decoration, as someone who had no feelings or purpose.

If Anne had known what the future held, she would have valued the experience at the Grahams' house even more. They were indifferent to her presence, but they had never raised their hands to whip her or raised their voices to curse her, even setting up a small room for her alone; demanding and icy, but treating her with such contempt that she became invisible to their eyes. And it was better than being perceived.

It would never be possible to forget, even sleeping in her real home, safe in her own bed, Lloyd's expression when he saw her return with her old, broken bag.

The darkness in her eyes, the small smile that anticipated the hell that was to burn in her story.

Anne thought, in terror and unconsciousness, that she could see Billy looming behind her.

The morning was not easy. She woke up bathed in cold sweat and wrapped uncomfortably in the sheets, having to kick them off to free herself from them and get out of bed. Being autumn, the sun was starting to rise later, and she could see through the curtain as it peered across a field tinged with blue and dew, the window blurred by the temperature differences.

She took a deep breath, caressing her eyes and yawning, it might be one of the only moments in her day where she could be herself. Inhaling her scent reached her senses, sweet and warm from having been resting, feeling the sour hint of fear from her nightmares; she could rarely be aware of her scent, because it was hers, but coating it with the neutralizing ointment made her nose forget that it was her own, surprising her every morning. There were times when her own scent revealed to her what her true feelings were when she smelled it, making her feel more comfortable with herself, resentful that her whole life was going to have to be a secret.

She would love to tell Diana what her scent is like when she is near her, as she imagines it; perhaps sweeter than now, cloying as honey, happy to enjoy her company. Or how unpleasant it must become when in the presence of Professor Phillips or Josie Pye, almost smiling at the thought of imagining her wrinkling her nose in disgust; she was sure Diana would have to cover her small smile with one hand. She brought a handful of her nightgown to her nose, sniffing deeply, before heading for her clothes to change quickly before Marilla knocked on her door.

She pulled the white stockings across her injured knees biting her lips, enduring the burning pain of rubbing her scrapes against the heavy fabric with the understanding that over the course of the day it would become one less worry; her dress was long enough to cover her knees, but she feared the sudden intention of her companions to lift her skirt as they did repeatedly, or fall victim to a heavy blizzard that might expose her ugly wounds. She did not have the strength to invent any more lies.

She combed her fine hair, braiding it between her fingers absently as she recited in whispers the apology she had thought up for Prissy, hoping from the bottom of her heart that it would be enough to get her off to another kind of start with her classmates. Diana had been delighted with the idea, and sure that her best friend always wished her well, and genuinely saddened by the hurt she had caused, Anne wrote a sweet letter that had served to unburden herself. She was not going to give it to her, considering that telling her in person was more honest, but keeping the letter as a simple guide to the right words she wanted to offer.

Anne left her room dressed, wiping her face with ice water to bring down the swelling of her eyelids irritated by crying and sleep, licking her lips and pinching her cheeks to make her look more awake. She took the jar of ointment between her fingers that rested next to the bowl of cold water, spreading it on her neck and wrists, waiting for it to dry before adding another layer, remembering Gilbert Blythe's intense gaze on the back of her neck, in the darkness of his pupils when he found her. She closed her eyes tightly, shivering, forcing her mind to focus on the cold, wet feel of the ointment before thinking about the fact that someone, specifically Gilbert, held the future of her life and her family in his hands. Her heart was pounding in terror and anxiety, fluttering from something unknown that she forced deep in the back of her mind. Perhaps it was her imagination. She wished it was.

Anne greeted Matthew with a kiss on the cheek as he came down the stairs, patiently received Marilla's scolding for the scene the night before, concentrating on hiding the swelling of her eyelids to avoid a tense and uncomfortable conversation she wasn't ready to face. She endured the tea boiling in her throat, chewed anxiously on her hot breakfast and confirmed with certainty that the ointment was dry, and that she had used one layer, pretending not to notice Matthew’s strange expression at the news.

Marilla watched the clock hanging on the wall with her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, raising an eyebrow that always followed from an unwanted observation or scolding “If you don't start finishing getting ready now you'll be late”.

“Oh. I didn't think it was time” she gathered with less care than the woman would appreciate, but she didn't throw anything away, and that was enough for the moment. She left all her breakfast in the kitchen, not bringing in the rest so that the elders could continue to consume it as they had no schedule to keep to as she did “Can I play with Diana today? I promised that, after studying of course, we could act out the characters I've been creating, a novel I don't know if I've had a chance to show you. I'll tell it briefly, so I don't reveal the ending which I'm still working on, but I couldn't yet because I always forget to buy paper after I go to school. Maybe Diana can come with me, she'd have to ask permission, I suppose, you know what her parents are like; they don't let her stand in the sun for long without giving her a French umbrella so she doesn't burn, although even she knows, being so smart, that nobody gets a tan in autumn, let alone in two hours! Perhaps if she stood in the same place all day, without moving or covering herself, her cheeks would be more red than usual, but it wouldn't be serious. I find quite a beauty in that flash of color, more so having such pretty hair as hers is, black, long, not like mine which looks like a...”.

“Enough, Anne” the young woman blinked, puzzled at being interrupted, watching as they both awoke from the confused trance that gripped them each time she began to speak enthusiastically, without stopping “You are not allowed to play with Diana today. You must help me clean and tidy up, dust the utensils and change the sheets, I'll leave you a space before dinner to get ready and do your homework”.

“But” Marilla raised one of her eyebrows again, threatening, but Anne didn't hold back. It wasn't enough to see her soul mate only during school hours, where they couldn't talk and laugh, sometimes hysterically “When can I see her to put on my play? When winter starts we can't perform outside”.

“Anne” Marilla began, watching the clock again, as she opened her mouth and took a deep breath to speak....

“I'm sure she’ll be able to see you this week. Don't be anxious” Matthew interrupted with wide eyes, lighthearted comments that left neither woman satisfied, but was enough to keep them silent as they found a possible middle ground “Your play isn't even finished”.

“No, but not because I don't want it to be, it's because the character, a knight wearing iron armour, begins to notice that no one is looking after his kingdom as he should, and must then turn to the queen who decides that...”.

“Anne” Marilla interrupted again, stretching an inner fiber of irritation at being interrupted a second time, disguising her displeasure as best she could when the woman decreed, “You need to leave now. Your class starts in twenty minutes”.

She nodded, walking towards the entrance to wrap her new, heavy scarf around her bare neck, accustomed to protecting it from cold temperatures and curious noses. Her palms broke out in a cold sweat as she picked up her hat, dreading the thought of facing Billy, Josie Pye, Prissy, the professor who would be watching her with a pointed nose, Gilbert. To Gilbert who was going to look at her with dark eyes, was going to take a deep breath, was going to open his mouth to sentence her to death in front of her classmates, in front of her best friend, who would watch her pale with terror and disgust and how they would all hold their noses at the putrid, sour smell of horror that was going to wash over her at the knowledge that her life had come to an end, at how they would burn the farm down for living in it for months....

“Did you hear me?” the voice of Marilla broke through the anxiety of her thoughts, looking at her impatiently at her inattention, frowning at her pallor and bewilderment. She was quick to insist, “Don't be late in coming back today. I'll be waiting for you”.

“Of course,” she kissed them both on the cheeks, holding her belongings in one hand and her hat in the other, trying to control her breathing at the knowledge that she would have to plunge into the forest again, where Billy had decided to chase her to terrorize and imprison her the day before. She didn't know if her voice would be loud enough to be heard if he decided to reappear, if she would have the strength to fight, to run away. She had to turn on herself and walk away from her parents so that they wouldn't be able to notice the terrified expression that painted her features, the nausea that clawed at the pit of her stomach. Once she got her distance, certain they wouldn't be able to see her in detail, she faked a cheerful voice and a brisk wave of her arms to wave them goodbye “Goodbye!”.

Although Jerry slept some nights in the spare room, or in the stable when it was cooler in summer, he was lucky not to meet her as she left the farm, unable to control her terror as she passed under the fence that divided the farm from the forest, which was still slightly dark for the autumnal time of year. Looking over her shoulder she made sure her parents were inside their home, unable to see her, bending down to search with frantic hands through the grass. One of her fingers brushed against what she craved; a heavy stone, not too large (fitting perfectly in her small hand), with a sharp edge that was enough to make her feel she could defend herself against any scenario. She would be able to threaten him, of course, but if she had to use it... her skin bristled violently.

She carefully stowed it, face down so as not to cut herself if she reached in, inside the front pocket of her wool coat. The weight was comforting, a reminder that calmed her anxiety, vowing that once the school was in her vision she would throw it back into the pasture to avoid trouble or suspicion that wouldn't help her at all. She took a deep breath, swallowing the shadows that lurked behind the dry trees, the sound of the icy wind through the dead leaves and damp earth, and took her first step towards the density of her path. She began to walk at an unnatural, trot-like speed, but one that she was unable to control; she feared that in the darkness someone was waiting for her, ready to tear out her hair, that the darkness would surround her until she was lost far from home, that her heart would betray her in terror and begin to falter. She clenched the stone over her coat tightly, until her knuckles went pale, breathing through her nose arrhythmically as she closed the distance to her destination and approached the warm visibility of the sun's first rays.

Dear Prissy, perhaps you think my apology, my intention to present myself to you, is vulgar, hypocritical, unusual?

No. It doesn't seem honest, she thought, observing all that her eyes could take in with their quick walk to calm her anxiety. She didn't let go of the stone when she started again.

I just wanted to apologise for my great audacity, my nerve to say or even think that you and Professor Philips were romantically involved because of what I thought I saw that day....

Nausea clawed at the pit of her stomach as she remembered with deep disgust how he looked at her with vacant eyes, how he took her in his malnourished hands to abruptly caress her with his cold fingers, to see her blink in curiosity but bewilderment as she let him come even closer, the brush of lips that forced her to stand static in something she couldn't define. Diana seemed excited by what they had just discovered, eager to tell the other girls, unlike Anne who was so deeply repulsed that she would not listen to the teacher's voice when he resumed class, concentrating on Josie's murmurings behind her back, which she had learned to ignore as the hours passed.

I understand the deep pain my rumour caused you, how girls laughed at you and looked at you mockingly for the false deeds you did, how boys avoid you at all costs because they think you are impure, how you judge yourself. I know, I can imagine. Your brother made it clear to me, he let me know.

He came for me.

No, no, no. Anne didn't want to think about him and the putrid, angry, ecstatic scent he emanated when he found her alone, when he saw her eyes widen in horror and despair, how she shrank in a futile attempt to protect herself and escape from him. In the strength of his hands that managed to squeeze her arms so hard she thought he was going to break them in two, in the terror of thinking, even for a second, what would have happened if he hadn't been interrupted. In whether he would have beaten her unconscious, in manipulating and isolating her for fear of hurting her even more, in remembering pathetically how she tried to reason with him, begged him not to do anything, how inwardly she wished her voice and her chest would let her scream, sink her nails into his face and fight, but her instinct was stronger than her character, controlling her to preserve herself in the most docile way.

He terrifies me.

The fear was growing, and Prissy's apology and her miserable face were no longer part of her thoughts, but on the vastness of the forest and how heavy her feet were and how it seemed that she could not move forward, that she was in the same place hours ago being consumed by anxiety and horror. Cold sweat was beginning to trickle down her back and chest, her things were so heavy that she felt that her heart, imprisoned by her strained ribs, could not beat normally, how she had to blink more than once to keep her vision ready, her muscles working, not to lose sight of the path that seemed to be her only salvation.

The scarf, far from being helpful, was beginning to itch at her neck as it brushed against the sweat that pearled her skin, weighing her down, forcing her to try to remove it without stopping, knowing the fit and the knot she had tied to keep it in place. It was enough to divert her eyes from the path to her hands, which were struggling with the fabric to untangle it, to come across a shallow branch that snagged her left foot, accomplishing its task of making her fall in a matter of seconds.

Her belongings were scattered in the mud, along with her neatly wrapped food, an apple and the glass jar full of fresh milk that did not shatter on impact. Anne didn't have the reaction to brace her hands, lucky she hadn't hit her head, but she knew instantly that the wounds on her knees were even more open from the stumble as she felt them burn brightly beneath the long stockings that covered them perfectly. She sat up as best she could, untied the scarf and, consumed with frustration, threw it down hard. Her wounds burned, hurt so badly she couldn't even touch them with her fingers, and she was filthy with mud and terrified of being alone in the middle of the forest when Billy could come back for her at any moment.

She tried to breathe deeply, unable to regulate her arrhythmic breaths and trying to fight back the heavy tears, surrendering to the weeping that was taking almost inaudible sobs from her lips, her cheeks damp and icy in contrast to the hot drops that fell relentlessly. She struggled to her feet, feeling her knees burning and the familiar sensation of upcoming bruises forming under her skin as she began to gather her things together and stow them away to keep them fastened. She shook them out of the excess mud, running her hands down her dress in a poor attempt to clean it, and, her vision blurring, she looked down at the blood staining her white stockings “This can't be real”.

She bit her lips so hard she feared she had cut them with her own teeth, closing her eyes to wipe away the tear-wet cheeks that continued to bathe her stricken face. She was grateful for the icy air around her finally uncovered neck, the uncomfortable sensation centering her a little more on her unsteady shaft, trying to pat the sides of her neck dry of sweat so that the ointment would stay adhered and functional to her skin. She combed her hair with her fingers before reaching, with irrational anger, for the discarded, clean scarf still resting on the floor. She reached out, pressing her jaw to bear the pain of the stretched wounded skin, grasping it between her fingers and awkwardly wrapping it around herself to tuck it under her arm so she wouldn't have to wear it again.

She turned away, sighing, stopping abruptly when a scent hit her full in the face, unique and invasive, sinking into her lungs and filling her mouth with cotton wool. She would be able to make it out even with her eyes closed, thanks to the wild pounding of her heart, and the fear and fascination swirling in her head. She couldn´t think.

“Anne?” Gilbert Blythe stood before her, his shoulders broad and his height forcing her to tilt her head up so she could see his face. His scent danced on her tongue, heavy as honey, fresh as sea salt, and his presence coursed through the blood in her veins like a sedative, forcing him to take steps backward so she wouldn't be intimidated, terrified of the uncontrollable sensations he caused through her body. Gilbert observed the wet eyelashes, the red nose, the broken lips with a frown and the jaw pressed so hard that it seemed capable of breaking; his expression denoted something she could not define, as if he himself had been the protagonist of the fall “What happened?”

He didn't wait for her answer, his eyes dark and deep, his voice so hoarse it seemed unrecognizable. Her skin crawled “He did this to you?”.

She felt her thoughts were unclear, confused and irrational, bringing the back of her hand to her face to wipe it as best she could from the tears, ignoring the redness of her face and the swelling of her eyelids. Anne began to shake her head, the questions beginning to arise with such urgency that she had to take a deep breath “What? No, no, it was my fault, I…”.

Gilbert couldn't see her blood-stained knees, due to her stockings and dress covering them (it would be inappropriate for him to see them, a scandal unless he was courting her) being able only to perceive her stricken face, the dirt on her dress for the second time. Perhaps Gilbert was the reason for her bad luck and her terror. Her voice came forward before she could think twice, “What are you doing here?”.

Again he was able to find her in the middle of nowhere, when she was hurt, appearing without making a single noise or a clue that would allow her to see him before he decides to show himself, feigning concern for her when she had met him the day before, who feels such concern for someone they don't know? An alert sounded inside her, until reality fell in front of her like a bag of sand. He knew who she was, he could see her for who she really was. The blood fled from her face.

“I use this same path to go to school,” Anne looked uncomfortable from the eye contact, but she didn't take her eyes off his. He didn't seem to believe Billy hadn't come back for her, judging the way he scanned her face in detail “I walk this way every morning, only today... today I got the smell of blood again and couldn't keep walking. I didn't mean to scare you”.

“Of course. You just show up in the middle of nowhere at the exact moment I'm crossing” Anne didn't know whether to feel anger, frustration, or fascination with his scent, the hardness of his temper sinking his dark eyes into her, blue as the winter sky. She shook her head, indignant at her erratic thoughts, and adjusted the backpack on one of her shoulders, feigning security when she was aware of her chaotic appearance; she was going to have to make up something to get out of class, but she couldn't show up at home bathed in mud and blood as if it were a regular occurrence. Desperation began to claw at the back of her throat as she tried to devise what the solution was going to be “I would be enormously grateful if you would not breathe a word of this encounter, not even to Diana, or whoever you talk to. I'm fine, and I'll be fine, it was just a stumble, and I don't need you to be talking about me any more than you already do when....”.

“You're bleeding,” his gaze bore into her with such intensity, interrupting her, that she felt the air escape her lungs. She looked down at her legs with a frown, annoyed by the interaction and confused by his attitude. There was no blood in sight, except for the blood under her dress, which she prayed had stopped.

“I'm not bleeding. It's just a scrape” within seconds she watched the vermilion liquid, warm and thick, reach her stockings, bathe her ankles under the young man's heavy attention. Of the alpha who became a presence impossible to ignore, a presence all her senses wanted to follow and know, to pay attention to the scent that brought warmth to the pit of her stomach and increased enormously at the reality that she was hurt and bleeding, thinking someone else had caused it, not her own clumsiness. Anne swallowed, “Oh”.

In a moment of lack of lucidity, ignoring the social labels, the religious rumor in the back of her head and the fact that there was a man in front of her that she had met the day before, she let the anxiety control her and with both hands grabbed the hem of her dress, lifting it up. She showed her bloody knees, the white stockings that dressed her stained red, her eyes beginning to water at the thought that it was impossible to clean them, that she ruined her stockings forever by being frightened of something crude and non-existent. She took a deep breath through her nose in a futile attempt to control her anguish to no avail, cursing herself for neglecting something that was material, but meant a treasure to her, something Marilla had lovingly given her to protect her from the cold. She dug her nails into her palms, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, the frustration of crying in front of a stranger and just crying. She wanted to vanish into thin air.

“Anne, you need to sit down” Gilbert looked at her with an inexplicable feeling, warm and fuzzy and complicated. His composure was taut, his body dressed pristinely in shirt and trousers, wrapped in a tailored jacket that emphasized the darkness of his eyes and hair, the definition of his jaw and the pinkness of his moist lips. Anne frowned through her tears, her tongue sharp and her heart pounding at the thought of you're not the one to tell me what to do, until the young man explained in a hypnotic, gravelly voice, “If you don't take a seat you're going to faint”.

“It takes more than a knee scrape to knock me unconscious”.

His face looked contrite as he approached her, forbidding her the chance to move away as he took the things from her shoulder nimbly and accurately, taking the weight off her as he deposited it on the floor. Anne's cheeks burned, not knowing whether it was from fury at his boldness, or from something unfamiliar at his proximity, noting that he hadn't even brushed his fingers against the fabric of her dress “What are you doing, do you think if they find us it will be beneficial to either of us? I don't even know you!”.

“But you're going to” the comment went almost unnoticed as he removed his coat with such ease that the young woman was distracted for a second, her skin turning from a ruddy color to a paper-like pallor as she fell into the reality of his actions, gasping like a fish out of water until he deposited his coat on the floor “Please, sit down”.

“I'm not going to faint. It is preferable that you go your way and let me go mine” she feigned to grab her belongings from the mud, crouching slightly, until after blinking she felt the world shift beneath her feet, recomposing herself before she lost her balance. Gilbert didn't move when she could see him with wet eyes, but the resolve on his face and in his gesture made her skin crawl “You're not going to let me leave”.

He didn't answer, he didn't need to. Anne wanted the feelings she so desperately needed, dug deep into her heart to find panic, disgust, hatred; but she felt nothing but frustration, unbridled anger stemming from annoyance, not only with him, but also with herself for not being terrified, trembling with fury as she pointed the sharp stone resting in her pocket at Gilbert to leave her alone. For some unknown, irrational, inexplicable reason, her instinct didn't want to run away, didn't want to show her teeth defensively when all her life that was all she was commanded to do. And the confusion, the novelty of his actions made everything as horrifying as if she was facing the worst of her nightmares. She wasn't going to let her instinct drag her into situations she couldn't and didn't want to be in, but as she watched the coat on the floor, the kindness in his eyes fixed on her and the desperation overwhelming her thoughts, she let instinct move her muscles and set her down on the coat with frivolous eyes and steady, firm voice “I don't trust you and I don't know who you are. If you do something I don't like, I'll scream. And you will listen to me”.

He crouched down, same height as her eyes, not seeming intimidated by her confession, probably sensing that it wasn't true; no one was going to listen to her even if she screamed for help for hours, but he wasn't aware of the stone hidden in the fabric of her clothes. He didn't have to know, she thought as, with one knee resting in the mud, Gilbert poured some water into her hands from a flask of his own “I don't think you'll like this, but I have to do it. If you don't wish me to do it I can accompany you to Doctor Flings, but I fear the rumor will be spreading as fast as wildfire”.

“Do what?” Anne narrowed her eyes, distrustful, but Gilbert dodged her gaze like a razor, keeping his temper formal and indecipherable.

“Clean your wounds” Anne took strength to rise, dropping to her legs as they trembled beneath her. She was soiling the coat with fresh blood, but internally she didn't feel bad at all, annoyance boiling in her veins as the young man rummaged through a small cloth bag next to him; something she had never seen, cursing herself for not paying more attention, distracted by his scent that made her eyelids heavy and the need to speak slowly, to listen to his voice and... “You are very lucky I was carrying my things to practice, perhaps I am developing an instinct for spotting future patients”.

“Patients?”

“Yeah, Dr. Flings offered to teach me before I started medical school. Basic stuff like detecting when it's too much blood, cleaning wounds and doing mediocre sutures. I'm getting better, anyway, don't worry” Anne lifted her dress slightly, with her legs stretched out in front of her, to show him her wounds with all her senses watching her every move. He noticed nothing but a critical, objective eye, nodding “You won't need stitches”.

“How do I know you're not going to infect my wounds further?” she followed Gilbert's hands, which were large with long, elegant fingers, devoid of clumsy, uncontrolled movements. He pulled out a cotton swab, a freshly made, clean gauze, along with a glass vial capped by a cork to keep the formula pure “If you think I'm going to let you clean my legs you are deeply mistaken”.

He was unaffected by any of her sharp, defensive comments, lifting the container to look through and calculate its quantity. Satisfied with, what she supposed to be alcohol, he almost shrugged “I can show you how to do it, if you can stand the pain of course”.

“The pain” Anne repeated, feeling the anxiety begin to play with her heart, the proud voice in her head assuring her she could take it.

“It burns. If you do you have to be sure you'll do a good job and clean everything up. If you can't I'll have to do it and it will take longer, and therefore more pain. As you wish” she looked down at her legs again, this time with a little sorrow in her eyes, Anne sighed “You're going to have to tear your stockings if you want to clean your wounds and stop the bleeding”.

“No, no, no” the young woman was not naive, having suffered several wounds that forced her to be brutally and carelessly cared for she knew she had to tear them or, at worst, remove them. She knew, too, that the bloodstains were drying on the white fabric of her stockings, and that it would be unlikely to remove the dirt and leave them as before. Her ears burned with anger at herself, at Billy, at Gilbert, who wanted to tear them in half “I'm wasting time when I could be trying to fix this—”.

“I have scissors. You can cut them up and then sew them back together” Gilbert reached into his things, offering a small, sharp scissors, just enough to make a clean cut “I'm sure you have thread and needles at home, don't you?”.

She eyed the scissors warily, in an internal struggle of whether to accept it and allow him to care for her wounds, or to stand and walk to the nearest stream to clean them as soon as possible and possess a slim chance of saving them, knees splayed open in the mud and water, returning home with her legs wet and again soiled by blood. Even if she decided to have Gilbert disinfect her cuts, how was she going to get home dressed in red?

Diana.

She took a deep breath, certain that she would regret her choice, but understanding from the depths of her conscience that she had no choice. Anne took the cold metal in her hands and, with the best pulse she could imitate, peeled the sticky cloth away from her wounds with a pained expression, cutting through the cotton a straight, thin line, which ran from one side of her knee to the other, a wide space to clean what was needed. She did the same on her right leg, removing the braids that fell over her shoulders so they wouldn't disturb her vision, and pulled the ends of her clothes aside so she had to cut as little as possible “Is that good”.

“It'll do” Anne handed over the dirty scissors as Gilbert reached out to touch her legs, regretting it in mid action, closing them in the air “Can you bend them a little more?”.

She nodded, carefully stretching as much as the fabric would allow, watching the alcohol on the floor, Gilbert followed her gaze “Explain to me what I have to do”.

“Are you sure?” he handed her the bottle with crystal clear water, doubtful and watching as she dumped the liquid on her hands, rubbing them together without looking at him “It really is very painful, and I'm afraid you won't be able to do it properly”.

Anne frowned “Put the alcohol on the cotton wool, wipe it off, and wrap it with gauze, am I wrong?”.

“No, but...”.

“Then I'll do it. Don't worry, I have a good tolerance for pain” liar, she thought looking at her fresh and painful and dormant wound, I'd rather burn than let myself be touched by a stranger, an alpha who knows who I am, who has my secret in his hands “Can I ask you a question?”.

She could do it; she could ask him straight out, look into his eyes earnestly, not let her lip quiver, and say it, ask if he could see her for who she really was, if he could perceive her differently, if he could smell her despite being yards and yards away and smell her sour, heavy scent on the back of his tongue when he felt terror and blood. If he could see through her, like a crystal with a dark and punished background and full of sin for her existence, for her essence, the dagger of God stuck in her back and running through her veins. She could do it, visualize the power on his shoulders and feel the cold, cruel panic creeping down her neck like death at the inevitable and horrifying truth that Gilbert was in control of her life, could burn the farm, could sum her life to ashes.

         One heartbeat. Two.

The scent of the young man, always heavy and formal and warm clouding her thoughts, like a sage that would heal her wounds just by consuming him, his eyes always intent on hers, drawn to her like a magnet, drawn to something supernatural and irrational. His face defined, but his expression soft and vulnerable as if he trusted her when he only knew her name, when he could see the devil manifesting through her camouflaged scent and porcelain skin.

“Yes,” his voice, low and patient, like silk, like sunbeam. She swallowed, and without taking her eyes from his, almost breathless, it escaped her lips before she could think about it.

“I need something to bite on” she nodded, almost in a trance “I won't be able to take it or concentrate if I don't have something to bite on”.

Gilbert nodded with an absent expression, as if snapping back to reality. When he turned his attention away from her, Anne took the opportunity to rest her forearms on her neck and check that it was not damp, reassured that the ointment was still on her skin. The young man handed her gauze they weren't going to use, already split and formed to bite down on so she wouldn't hurt herself “Thank you”.

“Are you sure?” he looked nervous, deciding to sit next to her at a distance that wasn't intrusive, but bristled her skin all the same “I'll do it if you ask me to, and if I notice you couldn't clean it enough”.

“It was quite clear, Gilbert” Anne took the cotton wool and uncapped the bottle, soaked it carefully so as not to drop any drops and before she thought twice she popped the remaining gauze into her mouth and bit down lightly. She took three deep breaths through her nose before she brought her hands to her left knee, and without further thought Anne pressed the cotton wool against the edges of the wound.

The pain began to burn as if her skin had caught fire, her eyes filling with tears and biting down on the gauze violently, a small moan of pain being absorbed into the cloth “Anne”.

Gilbert's voice sounded concerned, surely accompanied by a frown and a scent that distracted her from the pain, but she was not distracted from the skin that was beginning to show beneath the blood. She didn't stop until the cotton was stained red and she could see her scrape clearly, grabbing a second wet cotton ball to devote herself exclusively to cleaning the bruise, and it burned and burned, and she had to blink to maintain her vision and found it hard to breathe through her nose so quickly.

She passed the alcohol until she was satisfied, and when the young man passed her the third cotton wool without a word she knew she had done a good job. She cleaned the wounds on her right leg until she could no longer stand the tears and removed the gauze from her mouth to breathe through her mouth and close her eyes to try to bear the pain. She felt Gilbert's gaze heavy and hot as a burning iron on her, but she didn't have the strength to return his gaze.

“You did amazingly well” she heard as he gathered his things together and put them away carefully. When she opened her eyes his hands were handing her the remaining gauze “Do it somewhere where you're calm, make sure you fit them snugly”.

“Oh no... I don't want to use all your stuff, I'm sorry” she started shaking her head “I used your tools without even asking you if you...”

“Please” he laid the fabric over her dress, again not brushing his skin against hers, looking at her with dark eyes “They have no other destination but this”.

“Are you sure?”.

“I am” she picked up the cloth from her lap, looking at her wounds and the cut stockings and her ankles in blood. She looked down at her things strewn on the floor, the coat she sat on stained with blood, alcohol and mud; she bit her lips, thinking about what to say, whether she should apologize when she had been implicitly forced to clean her own wounds or whether she should be grateful for Gilbert caring and accompanying her, handing her study materials to heal her wounds in the wake of a clumsy fall “What are you going to do now?”.

“I'm going to wait until it's time and go home” he shrugged, standing carefully and deciding to ignore how Gilbert's muscles tensed as he watched her rise with a little effort, alert to her discomfort. She dropped her dress to her now clean knees, her stockings cut, and ankles stained with blood, restraining the urge to cover her face with her hands to sigh deeply with anguish and frustration “Thanks for lending me your things, again”.

“It's nothing” Gilbert nodded, fidgeting in place and with his bag clutched in one of his hands, probably anxious to leave and get to class before Professor Phillips. Anne would have accompanied him had it not been for her chaotic appearance, worthy of a spontaneous battle in an open field or an unfortunate encounter with a rabid dog that savaged her legs. The young woman took a deep breath, feeling the warm scent fill her lungs, fixing her eyes on her feet with confused and contrary feelings swirling in her chest and head; the desire to turn around and leave him without a word, to threaten him with such determination that he wouldn't even be able to fantasize about telling her secret, to thank him and promise to see him within the week, as if they were friends, to chat with him and see a sincere smile instead of a polite and modest one, to sigh and look at him without fear, without thinking.

“I think I should be going now” she raised her gaze but her expression denoted nothing but neutrality, indifference, while he had a frown on his face as if he was doubting what he had just said “Do you have anything to eat?”.

“Yes, an apple”.

“Eat it, maybe your blood pressure will go down from the loss and the shock and the pain” he paused “Where will you go?”.

This time it was Anne's turn to frown, annoyed with his interrogation and his intrusion when he had no business worrying about her, was he treating her as if she was a patient instead of a colleague he had met the day before? “Excuse me?”.

“I just want to know if you'll be somewhere safe, you're hurt and...”.

“I know how to take care of myself perfectly well, Gilbert, do you worry about all your patients like that? You must be insufferable by correspondence”.

He watched her take her things, snorting and shaking his head “It's a commonsense question”.

“As much common sense as your appearances, I suppose” she didn't think about how disrespectful it might be to say goodbye to him without even looking him in the eye, but she couldn't stand another second around Gilbert and his heat and his annoying questions, her fingers reeking of alcohol as she waved him back, almost disappearing into the trees “Have a nice day, Gilbert”.

She heard no footsteps behind her, and when she looked around as she reached her destination, she noticed that the sun had finally risen.  Gilbert's scent still danced on the tip of her nose and her knees had stopped burning, for a moment, just for an instant, she thought everything was going to be all right.

Anne used to be wrong.

Chapter Text

Anne never worried so much about the passage of time as she did that afternoon sheltered under the shadows of the trees between pages, ink and torn stockings. She constantly followed the path of the sun to make sure her lie was credible, biting her lips obsessively as she whispered lines and ideas and combed her hair repeatedly, pulling her coat tight around her chest every time the icy blizzard ran through her mischievously.

She tried with all her might not to think of Billy, who she feared was laughing at her with his friends, rude and cruel and intent on her movements, nor of Prissy listening to him with eyes wet with hatred and sadness and shame that such a barbaric rumor as one concerning her purity had become so well-known because of her, because of a naïve Anne who did not think before she opened her mouth. She imagined Josie Pye hanging on Billy, showing off her white smile, perfect teeth and golden hair, enjoying a great laugh at her new orphan companion. She felt one of her ears burning, a figment of her great imagination rather than the evil tongues she visualized so much.

She prayed that Diana would take pity on her, sighing deeply every time she weighed the possibility that her best friend might say no to her idea; not only did she have to lie for her and cover for her in case anyone asked where she had been that day, but she also had to lend some of her exquisite imported stockings so that neither Marilla nor Matthew would suspect that anything untoward had happened if they came to see her with bloody ankles and open wounds. Anne wished there was something else she could do, something she could solve alone, but it was impossible; the most she could do in her spare time was to wrap gauze majestically around her wounds, repeat multiplication tables to memorize, and whistle along with the birds that flew among the branches.

Anne did not think of Gilbert Blythe at all. She didn't think of his strange habit of meeting her in the middle of nowhere, his brow furrowed in concern and his scent heavy and warm whenever she seemed to be in his field of vision, didn't think of his dark eyes whenever he saw her cry, nor his big hands and thin fingers and cold skin when he stretched out one of his hands to try to help her, regretting it halfway as if his touch might burn her. She did not think of his velvety voice, his gentle but distant smile, nor of the coat he placed on the floor just so she could sit comfortably regardless of the blood and alcohol that stained the fabric. Anne didn't think about how, despite knowing her secret and perceiving it transparently, he didn't look at her with lust or disgust, didn't look at her as the rest of the people would if they found out who she really was.

As if she were the devil.

He didn't think about Gilbert Blythe. She just bit her lips until they bled and massaged her tense muscles at the thought that someone else had the power, in his words, to end her life and all the people she loved.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the cold autumn oxygen burning her lungs as she let her mind wander to the sparse pages of forgotten, dusty books, to the expression of horror at the realization of what was happening, to the holy word of priests preaching in chaos against her existence, to mothers pale with disgust at the thought of giving birth to an omega. A spawn. A monster with smooth, shiny skin, big eyes and silky hair, fragile bones and complacent words; a being that enraptured men and women, that sedated them with lust and irrationality, that forced them to leave families in distress because of the obsession to follow the creature, to keep it close. Humans who abandoned God and religion in the name of having met an angel on earth, a cherub who walked among them and batted their eyelashes in enchantment to get what they wanted, in feeding on the material through the hypnotic of their movements, in laughing in the face of morality and purity and sincerity. A wolf in sheep's clothing, a demon speaking in the skin of a heavenly and divine being, eclipsing life itself, enveloping everything with greed and lacking in pity; the omegas were that according to religion, according to families and according to history.

That was not the worst of it. Just thinking about the words that vibrated before her when she decided to investigate what was going on, hiding in the basement of the orphanage wrapped in dust and bruises, she remembers how the air stagnated in her lungs and her heart beat wildly in her chest, erratic and animalistic, the cold sweat running down her body incessantly, death itself brushing its nails along her legs.

These creatures are rarely found among newborn babies and adults, born in darkness and with a cold-blooded pulsing heart, possessing a power delivered not by the industrious hands of the Almighty, but by their nemesis. Beings created to drag men into madness, made to destroy families and societies, happy to divert sailors from their destiny, peaceful in taking the will of every human being who crossed their paths. The creatures not only embody the evil that corrodes our souls, but are the key and light of the most powerful beings in our earthly world, men with physical capabilities greater than those of other dynamics, men gifted with strong bodies, agile movements and personalities worthy of national leaders.

The omegas are made to corrupt the alphas who, rightly enough, are capable of wiping out populations, crossing unimaginable distances, facing unbearable pain and destroying anyone who inflicts the slightest discomfort on their mate. God gave us the alphas to lead humanity, create cities and educate generations, and the Devil gave us the omega to ensure their destruction.

God Almighty will be able to take care of us, and will keep the impure in the confines of the world, protecting us from the inevitable wrath of the strongest as they find their purpose. Their curse.

Anne, to her surprise, found Diana sooner than expected. She had to hold back her laughter as she saw her best friend's horrified expression at the sudden fright of her appearance, rushing to embrace her without letting her recover from her stupefaction “Diana, how lovely to see you!”.

“Anne’” she wrapped her arms around her lightly, eager to talk to her and look her in the eyes “What happened, are you okay....?”.

“Sh, sh” Anne took her hand, bringing one of her fingers to her lips, watching as metres behind her her companions began to spread out along the paths “Follow me”.

Diana stood silently without releasing her hand, her grip so gentle that she allowed herself to bask in its warmth in the chilly temperatures of the season. Her smart and perceptive friend didn't make a sound until Anne was sure they were away from everything, having thought ahead of time the perfect spot not to be so far away from Diana's house, sighing finally “Sorry to startle you and interrupt you, it's a delicate situation to say the least”.

“Anne, what's going on, why were you absent today?” she took a few steps back, noticing how she was ready to attend classes, and her belongings suitable for study dangling from her shoulder, frowning in confusion “You weren't at home?”.

“No, I tripped and... um” she lowered her gaze, knowing Diana would eventually observe the mess of her dirty ankles and vermillion stockings, closing her eyes as she listened to her friend take a sharp intake of breath, shocked by the scenario “I couldn't attend like this and let them see me, it would be a scandal, and that's the last thing I need right now”.

“How did you trip, you're bleeding! I must take you to the doctor this instant if you don't want me to...” her friend’s hysterical voice rang in her ears like an alarm, beginning to overwhelm her, though she knew it wasn't her intention.

“No!” she began to shake her arms and head desperately expressing how unnecessary it was to get her medical help, raising her voice to be heard clearly “I was able to take care of my injuries already, look!”.

Without a second thought she grabbed two handfuls of her dress and lifted it up, revealing her bandaged knees and her cut stockings as elegantly as possible. Her legs were stained red as was the cloth covering them, the gauze clean because the blood had stopped flowing “It was awkward taking off my stockings to bandage them, but extreme situations need extreme measures, don't they?”.

As she looked at Diana's face, her lips pale as a canvas, she thought that perhaps it had been too abrupt to show her wounds to a girl with a full and wholesome family background, brought up with kindness and integrity and accustomed to wearing the latest fashions and eating the most varied sweets in Avonlea. Anne did not think of Diana as a weak person, but perhaps she did possess a character easily impressed by the sight of her legs bathed in dried blood. She wasted no time before dropping her dress to cover her bruises, taking Diana's suddenly frozen hands in her own, trying to sound comforting “Don't be scared! I took care of my wounds perfectly and I'm sure by the end of the week they'll be more than healed. Don't panic, Diana. I'm fine”.

She nodded her head, bewildered and swallowing hard, trying to recover “You're, you're bleeding. You're bathed in blood. You're going to... you're going to bleed out”.

Anne held back the laughter that wanted to crawl up her chest, and cleared her throat to sound convincing “That, Diana, is a lousy conclusion. It is a scratch that I wished to give myself the pleasure of not having to see Mr. Phillips' face today. My body is wise and really knows me”.

Diana began to deny this time, closing her eyes and pulling her hands away from Anne's familiar grip, not showing the least bit of grace at the attempted humor of the situation “It's not funny, Anne. You're hurt, bandaged, and you want to make jokes about it. You can't just hurt yourself and disappear off the map, you have to tell someone, what was going to happen if you lost consciousness, and we couldn't find you for days?”.

“Diana, please” Anne took her shoulders, giving them a light squeeze and looking at her calmly, sincerely “I'm fine. You know how little control I have over my feet, but I took good care of myself, cleaned my wounds and waited in a safe place until I knew it was time. I didn't want to go home without seeing you first”.

“Matthew and Marilla don't know?” if there was ever a glimmer of calm it was gone in a matter of seconds, the worry returning to her expression with the speed of light “Why didn't you go home so they could take care of you?”.

Because Gilbert found me, and it's easier to lie to them than to tell the truth.

“I didn't want to worry them, I'm sure they'd be the ones to lose consciousness if they saw me with gallons of blood dripping from my legs” she looked at Diana's nauseous face and pursed her lips “I'm sorry”.

“Thank you for coming to see me despite... your mishaps” she commented looking down at her ankles, her ribbon resting on her beautiful healthy black hair, Anne was never able to take her eyes off her “How did you get the supplies?”.

Anne snorted inwardly, her heart squeezing at having to lie to her best friend again; she couldn't confess to her that Gilbert had stood beside her in the middle of the forest, unescorted, watching her legs and wanting to heal her wounds without even having asked for her hand at a ball. She knew Diana would not judge her, but it would be one more weight on her shoulders that she did not wish to place “I was fortunate that my parents had left for a moment to go to the market, and I took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom and do what was necessary. It hurt a lot”.

“Oh, Anne” this time she let her guard down, hugging her warmly having dismissed all her worries convincingly “You should be more careful and watch where you walk. I'd be willing to walk with you back and forth to make sure you don't trip over your own feet”.

“I adore you” she rested her head on her shoulder, breathing in her soft, clean, feminine scent “I would never ask that of you, but I do need you to help me with something”.

“Anything”.

“I know your stockings are the most precious thing you have besides your piano, your dresses, your shoes, your gloves, your hats, your...” her friend began, involuntarily, to raise her eyebrows in confusion. Anne shook her head, sorting out her thoughts “I need, please, I beg you to lend me one of your stockings to go home in. I swear I will hand wash them as soon as you take your eyes off me, and I will wash them with cold water and the finest soap. I won't ruin them because I'm bandaged and the blood is dry, they won't stain at all!”.

“Anne” her expression was bathed in seriousness, forcing Anne to start biting her lips again compulsively and anxiously. She took a deep breath of Diana's fresh scent as she took hold of her hands and tugged her towards the path that led to her home “Do you seriously think I'd be able to say no to you, or mind if you'll take care of my things? I'll give them to you with a bow”.

“No, Diana, that's not what I wanted...”.

“The least I can do as a best friend is to give you a pair of stockings to cover your wounds and make you feel better” she gave Anne a smile, those that warmed her chest with affection and complicity as they walked through the singing, living forest “I'm sure you'll love them! They feel like silk to the touch, and my parents will never notice anything is missing. It's the perfect gift”.

She wanted to argue, but knew it was a losing battle, letting out a small giggle at the idea that her best friend was going to give her her first material gift, her own. Still holding her hand, Anne thought of all the little things she wanted to give her when the day came, from imported candles to new books and fancy shoes; she just had to wait.

When they got close enough Anne waited hidden behind the trees at the back of her mansion so that no one could see her stained ankles or the fact that Diana was giving away any of her expensive belongings. She waited patiently, beginning to feel the damp and persistent chill of autumn, when she spotted her friend walking hunched over and quickly around her home until she reached her, handing her the socks wrapped in a pale pink bow. It wasn't necessary to get too close to feel the soft fragrance that the fabric exuded, worthy of a French perfume that Diana must have kept for special occasions.

“Do you want me to stay here with you to help you change?” she whispered, worried about having to reveal her legs in the open air, due to the temperatures and the strangers wandering through the forest. Anne started saying no before she could even consider the proposal.

“No, no, I'll be fine” she hugged her best friend quickly by the shoulders, squeezing her with eternal gratitude for her gesture “I must fly because Marilla is waiting for me. I'll change before I get home, and tomorrow I'll tell you how it went”.

“If you don't come, I'm going to worry,” she said, her brow slightly furrowed. Anne smiled softly at her in a farewell gesture, still bent over.

“Goodbye, Diana!” I love you, she whispered, making sure no one in her home was watching them, and with the stockings in her hand, she began to jog until she reached the edge of Green Gables. She ignored all the warnings and whispers from her head and her instinct, which urged her to be terrified by the horrifying memories of the previous day, focusing solely on removing the torn and bloodied stockings, hiding them carefully under a stone, invisible to the human eye, and putting on the new ones with extreme care not to tear them.

Diana was not mistaken: the fabric embraced her skin effectively, protecting her from the cold, sighing as she saw that it perfectly covered her stained legs and ankles. She adjusted the strap with her belongings, greeting Jerry enthusiastically as she crossed the barn, and kissing Matthew on the cheek when she found him on the porch quietly polishing his shoes, relishing the warmth of his gaze as he began to speak carefully, trying not to say more than necessary.

“How are you, Matthew, doing well? I haven't seen you clean your shoes in a long time. Do you know which pair seems particularly beautiful to me? The one you used when...”.

“Anne” Marilla appeared in the doorway, eyeing her with a furrowed brow as she listened to her chatting so calmly when there was so much to be done, the apron covering her dull dress and her hands damp from washing. The teenager corrected her posture, obediently lowering her head after having been, once again, distracted by her conversation topics “Please go change and come down to help, I have a couple of tasks for you”.

“Yes, ma'am,” she accepted without complaint, stepping into the house before she could tighten her lips into a thin line of disapproval that never failed to make her uncomfortable. She stole a glance over her shoulder at Matthew, who was watching her with a small, conspiratorial, and enthusiastic smile, winking as if to say, we'll talk about everything you want later.

Anne quickly set out to find her home clothes, locking herself in the bathroom to quietly clean her legs so that no one would suspect her little bath, careful not to wet the gauze. The cleaning dress covered everything as she could wish, keeping warm with slightly worn stockings that diverted attention from the hidden and almost imperceptible bandages beneath all the layers of clothing, finally putting on the gray apron that protected her clothes from unnecessary dirt.

Anne cleaned carefully alongside Marilla, ignoring the low temperatures, her hands burning from the cold, her lips cracking as she sang the few songs she had learned throughout her life to entertain herself, polishing the dishes, cleaning the mirrors, and serving hot dinner. At the end of the day, with a full belly and her eyes fixed on the window, she realized she was too exhausted to waste precious time of her restful night on things so trivial compared to her best friend, her parents, daily conversations, good food, and imported stockings.

Who would compare that with dark eyes and a scent that sent shivers down their skin to something pleasant and unknown, dangerous?

The next day, standing in front of the school entrance and taking deep breaths to calm the frantic beating of her heart, Anne wished she had stayed up longer to practice her apology. She had been talking softly all the way, shaking her head when she stumbled over a phrase, starting to bite her fingers to calm the anxiety of walking alone and the imminent confrontation with Prissy, who would probably watch her with tear-filled eyes and lips twisted in hatred. She hid her face in her hands, breathing through her palms to calm herself and organize her thoughts, with her braids resting on her shoulders and listening to the loud, repetitive laughter of her classmates in the classroom, when a shoulder collided brutally with hers, causing her to stumble until she regained her balance after the unexpected impact.

When she lifted her gaze, feeling the nerves turning into anger at the push, she noticed how Josie Pye's harmonious face managed a smile full of sarcasm and disgust at seeing her reaction “You'll have to excuse me, Anne! I didn't see you pass by”.

She swallowed hard, distrustful of her false apologies, furrowing her brow and watching as her other friends hid behind Josie, shifting nervously in their feet with silent glances and flushed cheeks. They always used to accompany laughter and jokes, but they were never the first to start it without their leader's permission. Anne licked her lips to respond, futilely, upon hearing Josie's voice finishing her sentence, the coldness of her tone sending chills down her spine “Maybe if you weren't standing in front of the entrance like you were lost, I wouldn't have bumped into you. I almost ruined my favorite dress, the one I wear on Wednesdays, because of you. Could you have paid for it, Anne?”.

Anne felt her ears starting to burn with anger, flexing her hands to release the tension that was beginning to build up in her tongue, sharp and eager to respond cheekily, understanding that she couldn't afford that luxury, life testing her unfairly as it usually did “I didn't mean to make you trip, Josie, it's a dress too beautiful to be ruined. My sincere apologies”.

“Sometimes apologies are not enough, Anne,” she wrinkled her nose as she approached her, as if she were detecting a putrid smell, confident that she had used enough ointment so that not even Gilbert Blythe could sense it. She observed the beautiful blonde hair, silky and shiny, her tight bun and a sky-blue dress like the spring sky adorning her like a doll; what a pity that her beauty wasn't internal “You can ask the girls what they think, of course, except for Prissy. I believe she didn't receive an apology for what happened, but I suppose she didn't expect such a gesture from you”.

“I would be surprised to see how you apologize to her for spreading the rumor” her tongue moved before she could control it, anger and humiliation twisting in her stomach, watching with silent satisfaction as her ethereal facade of innocence and impunity shattered only under her watchful gaze, turning her back on her friends, her cheeks flushing red for having been spoken to in such a manner “I didn't expect such a gesture from you, either”.

“Watch your mouth, Anne,” she whispered, just so she could hear her, her plan to talk to Prissy forgotten in the back of her mind, feeling the heavy gazes of the spectators burning on her skin “Because you won't like what happens if you say too much”.

She blinked slowly, opening her mouth to respond, when Ruby's sweet and passive voice interrupted them, gently taking her friend's arm to separate them “Josie, Professor Phillips is coming over. We have to go in”.

“I heard you, Ruby” still shaken by their encounter, she roughly pulled away from her well-meaning friend's grip, climbing the few stairs while huffing and casting one last look at Anne filled with hatred and disgust. Anne's heart was beating so hard that she felt it vibrating behind her eyelids, at the tips of her fingers, sensing how her body was likely expressing its overwhelm and stress through a sour and suffocating scent that was impossible to perceive due to her ointment, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in the pit of her stomach and at the center of her throat.

She breathed heavily, watching as the teacher approached the school gates, jogging towards the entrance and quickly dropping off her belongings to avoid being scolded for her distractions and her tardiness in not being ready before his arrival. She took off her scarf and gloves, which covered her hands damp with sweat, hurrying through the crowded hallway filled with young people laughing and shouting, carefree and oblivious to the world, ignoring her as if she were a shadow, “Diana”.

She greeted her as soon as she sat down, trying to breathe through the anguish and stress of the overdue apology he owed Prissy, the unnecessary argument she just had with Josie, her threatening words, and a promise that guaranteed nothing but pain and worry in her heart, beating and fragile like a hummingbird. Her friend frowned, pale at her appearance, starting to gasp like a fish “Anne, you look pale. It´s your wounds, you are dying”.

She swallowed, beginning to feel a gaze that she knew, deep in her instincts, in a fiber of her nature and soul that she had never been able to explore, to whom it belonged. A gaze that pierced through her thoughts and senses, that had moved towards her like an alarm upon hearing Diana's mistaken words, sending shivers down her spine and stealing the air from her lungs, distracting her as she made a feeble swipe to silence her, flustered, “Be quiet, Diana! It's not that, it's just... it was a complicated morning”.

“Your wounds turned black,” her best friend didn't seem to recover from the idea, struggling to manage more than a whisper, letting out a trembling sigh when Anne took her hands in hers “Your hands are cold”.

“Diana, Diana” connected her eyes with her, her light eyes searching for her dark ones, breathing in her French perfume and enjoying the softness of her warm touch. In an almost instinctive, primitive way, her tone came out slow and soft, so accommodating and effective that Diana felt her cheeks flush at the foolishness of her reaction “I'm fine, my wounds are okay. I didn't stain your stockings”.

“I don't care about my socks, they're yours!” Diana replied frustrated, squeezing Anne's hands so tightly that she couldn't hide a slight gesture of pain and surprise “You can't scare me like that, appearing pale as a corpse, without telling me what happened before. You almost ended my life!”.

The redhead wanted to hide a small smile at her unjustified concern, used to drama and exaggeration, but she knew she had failed when the other looked at her with little grace and an expression drenched in seriousness. Anne's heart resumed a frantic and uncontrolled beat in the presence of an insistent, unrelenting gaze, an electric mantle that enveloped her shoulders in warmth and something unknown, vibrating beneath her skin and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She spoke almost in a whisper “I didn't want to worry you. Again”.

“No, but somehow you always manage it,” Anne would have thought that perhaps there was a hint of irritation in her response, but a small dimple on her left cheek betrayed her concealed amusement. The teacher stood in front of the blackboard, beginning to recite the attendance list of his students in a monotonous voice, allowing Anne to focus on the internal revolution her body was undergoing on all levels; the cold sweat running down her palms and lower back, the sticky feeling of the ointment on her neck, the braids of her hair bothering her ears, the itchiness from nerves and the overwhelming urge inviting her to scratch her arms impulsively until they bled; she did not allow herself to do so, wishing to breathe through the stinging and burning sensation of an undivided, foreign attention.

She began to bite her lips compulsively, feeling her teeth graze her skin in an obsessive and anxious manner to calm the instability of her feelings, the instinct that twisted her stomach and made her legs move nervously to satisfy the rumble that shook her heart, tightening her lungs, forcing her muscles almost imperceptibly. She decided, with little sanity weaving her thoughts, that a few seconds wouldn't harm her, that they wouldn't force him to reveal her secret or disclose her identity so that the entire population would hunt her down like a curse, that she would only reach out to satisfy her nature and her wild, identified impulses. Just a few seconds.

With Professor Phillips' voice as an unpleasant murmur in the back of his mind, lacking the grace to deserve her attention, feeling the vibration of her heart beneath her skin, something vividly manifesting between her ribs and buzzing as she slowly slid her gaze over her shoulder, so slowly that it felt like a torture that deafened her ears. Until she found him.

He was sitting elegantly in his seat, resting grandly on his own table, his long legs and his jet-black curls resting silky and shiny on his head. He was dressed in dark pants, a matching vest over a shirt that elegantly wrapped around his muscles, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal the firmness of his body, the hair covering his skin as white as porcelain, his large hands radiating warmth holding up his face, a universe, a galaxy in himself; the symmetry of his bushy eyebrows, the Greek shape of his nose, the softness of his cheeks, the determination of his lips and his jawline. While that was enough to tense her muscles in alertness, what drenched her in cold sweat and took the oxygen from her lungs were his eyes, fixed on her with a feeling she had never witnessed, not even in the most extraordinary of her tales; devotion, pupils wrapped in darkness that were ready to swallow her whole, an intensity so grand that she feared her heart would stop beating.

She averted her gaze.

She averted her gaze with such intensity that one of the muscles in her neck stretched painfully, bringing one of her hands to the area without considering how strange it would look to his teacher. When she focused her attention on him, with flushed cheeks and bathed in warmth, it was too late.

“Anne Shirley” her name rolled off his tongue with disdain, his brow furrowing at her strange behavior, analyzing her as if she belonged to a completely different species “I sincerely hope I won't have to scold you this class for lack of attention, as I lack the patience to tolerate such disrespect. The next time I address you, it will be to invite you to leave, so be quiet and concentrate."

“Yes, professor,” the embarrassment burned not only on her face but also at the tips of her ears, and the furious beating of her heart, irritation pumping through her veins because of Gilbert Blythe and his strange looks and the irresistible, maddening desire of her body to want to see him again. Anne grabbed the book from that day so tightly that her knuckles turned white, ignoring the almost imperceptible touch of Diana when she brushed her arm against her as a way of comfort; when the teacher resumed his analysis, which she thought were trivial and superficial, Anne opened the book to skim through its pages even though she had already read it twice.

Anne could be considered, without much hesitation, a diligent and hardworking student; this was not only due to her innate ease with reading, curiosity, and extensive vocabulary, but also because of the anxiety and terror that gnawed at her mind and her future. She had been born as a woman, something that greatly limited her possibilities and her place in that society, but also as an orphan, which left her with a dark, narrow, and difficult path ahead. Most of her peers in the orphanage had not had the opportunity to learn to read and write due to the need to work within the residence to earn basic living favors, such as more food rations, while Anne could never prioritize such luxuries over her insatiable need to read everything within her reach, to ask every question that arose in her vivid and imaginative mind, to want to learn more and more. No one around her appreciated these aspects of her personality, silencing her or avoiding her to escape the endless streams of questions, sentences filled with incomprehensible words, and stories that only served to confuse them, forcing her to keep the most precious and valuable things to herself.

Sometimes, faced with one of her many thoughts about how her life would have been if her parents were alive, contemplating the idea of belonging to the world from her beginning, she fantasized about how her childhood might have been, perhaps attending prestigious schools, with kind teachers who nurtured her curiosity, with endless libraries rich in variety and worlds to discover, filled with opportunities and choices. Real life had not been like that, having to make do with the few books available, reading the fire safety manual thousands of times to alleviate her boredom, whispering bedtime stories aloud when she was temporarily adopted to care for sensitive children and dependent babies all day long. Sometimes, when she found herself cleaning floors, chopping vegetables with cold hands, immersed in the unbearable and desperate cries of children who were not her own, Anne thought about what her life would have been like if she had not been an orphan.

For that very reason, when she realized she had found her place in the world, when she understood that she had a single opportunity to change the course of her life and become what she had always wanted, she clung to it with blood, sweat, and tears; her heart shattered into pieces when she attended school for the first time, facing a heartless teacher, mocking classmates bent on humiliating her, a pace that overwhelmed and terrified her at the thought that she would never be able to live up to her ambitions and desires. But she refused to back down, to leave despite her trembling knees, and she pushed herself harder than ever, brushing against unhealthy and insane limits; she read every day, in every free moment she had, trying to understand by herself all the topics that her peers had already learned throughout their lives, struggling with frustrated tears and so many attempts that she was starting to lose herself. Matthew and Marilla were trying to understand her, sitting down with her to explain they remembered when she came to them, her best friend giving her as many books and notes as she could to study even more. In just four months, Anne not only caught up with a lifetime of studies, but she also began to rise in the ranks of the best averages among her classmates. Despite her enormous effort and the great satisfaction it brought her, a bitter taste coated her tongue every time the mockery evolved into envy and humiliation, furious at being surpassed by an orphan who had never been able to educate herself in her life until the age of seventeen, a fool who spoke scandalously of a false rumor between a student and a respected and honorable teacher.

She clenched her jaw, struggling to stay focused as she felt Gilbert's eyes on her, her senses on high alert and her body attuned to his attention no matter how much she wanted to ignore it. A piece of paper slid over her open book, Diana's delicate handwriting in ink reciting a question that almost made her sigh. Anne wasn't going to be able to get through the day if it kept up that pace.

Why is Gilbert Blythe watching you so much? Did something happen?

She held the paper in her hands, reluctant to respond in writing, choosing instead to glance at her briefly to murmur a convincing expression of confusion, shaking her head, a basic answer: he’s not looking at me, why would he?

Diana watched the professor, who was reciting at the end of the hallway, to roll her eyes (one of the few improper expressions a lady allowed herself when she felt comfortable) and snatch the paper from her hands to write furiously and hand it back to her with raised eyebrows in a curiosity that was almost comical. Anne wished with all her might not to have this conversation, sensing that she had no way out when she read: there is something you are hiding from me, and it is something that Gilbert cannot conceal. Tell me.

Diana could not know about the episode she had suffered with Billy, certain that it would bring her unnecessary and painful anguish that she could not resolve, inventing a truth with tiny omissions. She responded almost with a huff, her ears warm with the embarrassment of having to recount such a tense and awkward encounter, beginning to weigh whether the idea of Gilbert watching her so intently quickened her heart due to something unknown or euphoric, or from a sense of horror at the possibility that Gilbert knew who she really was after having sensed her scent in the woods.

He only introduced himself to me yesterday, as he did with everyone.

Correct, but he doesn't look at each person he greets as much as he is doing with you.

You're hallucinating. Your imagination, this time, surpasses mine.

Despite her obvious desire to respond, Diana could not write back due to the appearance of Mr. Phillips at her desk, taking a chalk and starting to write the key points of the book they were reading, stealing undisguised glances at Prissy that made her skin crawl with disgust; Anne had had the pleasure of meeting wicked and horrible people throughout her life, but she never thought that her first teacher (someone she had dreamed of for so long) would be one of them.

“Well, having completed this stage of the class, we will continue with dictation and grammar to assess your studies. They will pass in pairs according to their grades, without complaints, reciting every word I tell them until I deem it appropriate that they have been studying” Anne heard panting behind her, but she couldn't care less. The less Anne had to hear his voice, the better, despite having to be under the full spotlight of his attention; she was not afraid to hold his gaze “Gillis and Sloane, go ahead”.

Anne watched with a bit of sadness the rosy and beautiful face of Ruby, who blushed easily, especially under the watchful eyes of her classmates, keeping an almost dramatic distance from Charlie, a boy who was as pale as a sheet and sweating, unprepared to spell correctly as expected, “Gillis, spell perplexed”.

She twisted her hands in front of her uniform, almost feeling the heat radiating from her face as she glanced at the boys' side of the classroom; she couldn't help but follow her gaze, finding Gilbert resting his head on his hand, an expression so indifferent that she felt Ruby's nervousness spreading to her, diverting her attention from him just in time before he could notice she was watching when the fearful and soft voice, so beautiful that Anne always envied the tone of its timbre, said, “Perplexed, p-e-r-p...”.

She cleared her throat, so nervous from being watched and evaluated, that she could feel the struggle not to bring her hands to her face to hide from the embarrassment, twisting in the desire to help her, frustrated by the impossibility of doing anything about it. She almost let out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding when Ruby finished reciting "e-l-e-x-e-d."

“Sloane, placebo”.

“P-l-a-e-b-o,” he stammered as Anne began to bite the inside of her cheek out of nerves, Diana slid the note back into her lap.

I hope Ruby doesn't find out.

She frowned, too absorbed in the revelation to worry about her surroundings, writing quickly on the piece of paper while hearing the teacher's scolding in the back of her mind, the boy’s anxious stammering trying to justify himself, and the malicious laughter of her classmates taking advantage of the situation.

Find out what?

The way Gilbert looks at you, she will feel shattered. She has liked him for years.

She felt the cold sweat, almost able to imagine Josie Pye's hateful gaze embracing her, Ruby's incessant tears, her friends comforting her and looking at her as if she were a monster, completely banished from the possibility of living a peaceful life simply because Gilbert Blythe couldn't control the movement of his eyes. She grabbed the pen so tightly that she feared she would break its tip, writing with determination and impulsiveness.

She won't have any reason to feel shattered because Gilbert isn't looking at me in any way, and I wouldn't allow it knowing that Ruby's heart is at stake!

“Anne...” Diana whispered, with an unreadable expression on her face, as if she were on the verge of disagreeing with her decision, until the professor's frivolous voice slipped into her ears, hissing like the song of a viper, automatically tensing her muscles.

“Shirley and Blythe, step forward,” he struck the blackboard with a small wooden stick he used as a marker to emphasize certain points during his thorough explanations, but he also enjoyed using it as a form of punishment by tapping the hands of his more mischievous students; Anne was sure he would particularly enjoy applying it to one of her pale palms.

When Anne understood the meaning of his words, she felt the blood drain from her face, her heart slowing its beats only to resume them in a frantic and erratic manner, pounding in her ears and at the tips of her fingers in response to the shock of being exposed and close to the person she least wanted to experience it with. Diana looked like a statue beside her, nodding coldly when Anne sought even the slightest support from her, keeping her hands on her lap and her chin held high due to years of discipline and practice to remain indifferent and respectful in uncomfortable and unwanted situations.

She heard the measured and elegant footsteps of Gilbert walking to the front of the classroom and stopping in front of the blackboard, accidentally inhaling the formal and maddening aroma that his skin naturally emitted, a fragrance that instantly dried her mouth and unconsciously locked her knees in place, leaving her frozen, her instincts in turmoil within her chest, stretching her muscles and blinding her thoughts. She felt the sweat sliding down her neck when the teacher insisted, almost threateningly: “Shirley, I will not repeat my orders. On your feet, and quickly”.

Perhaps it was the fault of her own nerves, the anxiety twisting her stomach at the thought of having to be near Gilbert Blythe, of feeling Josie Pye's hateful and furious gaze as he was forced to acknowledge Anne's presence, of having to endure the fact of presenting herself before a teacher who wanted her expulsion, the incessant and impossible-to-ignore weight of the harm she had caused Prissy, the violent consequences she had to face due to her innocence and her desire to fit in and be accepted, to belong. Perhaps it was the sweet company of Diana, who watched her with affection and patience and a silent but unbreakable promise, or a final threat from Mr. Phillips that she could not quite make out due to the noise in her ears and in her heart.

Perhaps it was all those factors that altered her senses, her vision, and her perception of reality, that when she was finally able to stand up and walk forward, nauseous and anxious, ignoring like a professional the sharp, unwanted, and whispering comment from her classmates and teacher, she was able to notice the change in him. The change that prevented her from taking her eyes off his face and from her instincts, becoming attuned to his presence as if it were magic, something magnetic and indescribable and irresistible that pulled at her soul like a wild and uncontrollable wave.

Perhaps Gilbert, unlike her, could hear the destructive and cursed comments and did not feel immune to them; his characteristic dark eyes followed her in a primitive way, the darkness taking over his brown eyes as if it were a storm, his jawline defining itself against his soft and marked cheekbones, his hands firmly clasped behind his back so she couldn't see the veins beneath his shirt and his body protesting against the disrespect, the discontent escaping from his control and manifesting through his body so obviously that the comments slowly ceased, the taunts silenced by surprise and a reality that no one could deny or fight against: the presence of Gilbert and the mere fact of his status and dominance, his silent yet scandalous displeasure in his own language, had managed to silence his classmates without having to raise his voice or make a face of disgust. It hadn't been necessary.

When she stood by his side, clearing her throat and keeping her gaze fixed ahead to maintain the little strength she had, he could notice it, he could feel it. A scent so overwhelming that it confused her desires (whether she needed to run far away from him, escape as soon as possible from his reach, or if her body was capable of enjoying a little more of his closeness) but that vibrated through her body like an unmistakable signal, sealing her in place, silencing others so as not to be disturbed, a demonstration of the strength of his nature so explicit that even the professor fell silent for a couple of seconds, as if he couldn't identify the episode he had just experienced, clearing his throat before starting to speak as if he were disoriented by the almost invisible sensation that had passed through them.

Her mind granted a repressed and unwanted memory, almost as if she could feel it despite not being able to hear it, the memory of a low, deep growl that sent shivers down her spine and awakened alerts and unfamiliar sensations that weakened her stance. Despite being just steps away from him, in her fantasy and the erroneous and desperate sensations of her body, she could swear she felt the vibration of the guttural and instinctive sound from the depths of his chest.

“Shirley, spell utopian” Phillips's voice was not as clear as it used to be, nor was his tone as bold as he typically employed. She had to strain her attention to find the muscles in her mouth, breathing deeply as she wished to distract herself with Diana's comical expression, pale as a ghost at what had just happened.

“U-t-o-p-i-a-n” she was able to spell out normally, her tone sounding slightly shaky, struggling against the need to observe him, to analyze him, even holding back the urge to explode and insult him for his unjustified reaction, embarrassed and irrationally furious.

The professor nodded, never satisfied, turning his back to them before fixing his gaze on Prissy with such little disguise that Anne couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in her feet, feeling Gilbert's attentive gaze settling on her like a spring at the sense of her discontent. He was able to connect their gazes for a few seconds, feeling an unfamiliar electricity brushing against her arms, her personality for the first time taking precedence over her instincts as she returned the look with a slight frown, an expression that conveyed her confusion and defiance. Gilbert, behind his intense and inscrutable facade, revealed a fleeting sideways smile that she thought might have been a figment of her imagination; she couldn't ponder it for long as the professor approached her so abruptly that she couldn't help but take a step back, intimidated, but concealing it as best as she could by holding her gaze and keeping her chin up with false pride.

“I don't know how many warnings I will have to give you to make you understand how you should behave, Shirley,” he spoke in a low, threatening voice, ignoring how Anne bit the inside of her cheek to avoid responding immediately to his scolding “You will learn to respect and pay attention, just like all your classmates do, while Blythe shows me the reason of his excellent grades. And you will remain silent until I ask you not to”.

Gilbert's gaze burned upon her. She took a deep breath, keeping her gaze fixed on Professor Phillips's face before directing it to the end of the hallway, deciding to behave so she could leave as soon as possible. She didn't respond verbally, her character risking her well-being by nodding rigidly, letting out an imperceptible sigh as Anne saw the teacher divert his attention towards Gilbert.

She observed, out of the corner of her eye, how Gilbert followed his teacher's movements with caution and still dark eyes, the jawline defined beneath his porcelain skin, his height greater than the man despite the wide age difference, his body so imposing that Phillips took a distracted step back, muttering with his nose held high in arrogance, “Blythe, spell conspiracy”.

“C-o-n-s-p-i-r-a-c-y” he replied with little effort, his face showing indifference and boredom with such carelessness that Anne feared she would hear an endless reprimand that never came. He turned his back on them for the second time, looking at Prissy with intent. Anne swallowed.

“Shirley, insensible” Anne crossed her hands protectively in front of her stomach when she saw Josie Pye laughing in Ruby's ear, probably whispering about her dreadful appearance or the unattractiveness of her voice, wishing she were sitting next to Diana, hidden in the ignorance of others' opinions about herself. She was sure that if it weren't for the ointment on her neck, she would be exuding a bitter and frivolous scent of shame and anxiety.

“I-n-s-e-n-s-i-b-l-e” Gilbert's eyes scanned her small hands hugging her torso, moving imperceptibly closer to her, as if he couldn't control his movements. The teacher didn't waste his time observing them.

“Blythe, arrogance,” she frowned slightly, seeking complicity in Diana, who did not seem to understand the source of her concern regarding the adult's strange choice of words. Gilbert's voice, deep and velvety, slid into her ears, forcing her to grip her uniform so tightly that she felt her knuckles turn white.

“A-r-r-o-g-a-n-c-e”.

“Persuasion” Phillip was standing in the middle of the room, Anne holding her breath as she saw Prissy's face tense under his gaze, uncomfortable with the attention and exposure she was enduring, knowing that everyone had heard the impurities that had been shared about her like a disease.

Anne weighed the option of saying the letters in the wrong order to distract him and force him to continue with the class, but she knew that if she made a mistake, the teasing would be unbearable. Her mouth moved on its own to save herself from unnecessary humiliation “P-e-r-s-u-a-s-i-o-n”.

“Commitment” she swallowed so audibly that she knew Gilbert had heard her, getting distracted because of her and thus rescuing her thanks to his mistake. It was allowed to observe him for the last time when he began to recite.

“C-o-m-m-t-m...” the teacher interrupted with a click of his tongue, annoying, stealing one last glance at Prissy before dismissing them to their seats, satisfied with his assessment. He approached his respective place next to Diana with short, swift steps when Gilbert gave her one last sidelong smile, a mischievous face and a scent so strong that she could taste it on her tongue when he spoke, as if it were meant solely for her. He raised one of his hands, radiating warmth and so large that she was sure that if he were slightly careless, it could leave bruises on her sensitive skin, hesitating halfway and pulling it away from her to say, to confess as if it were a secret, “Congratulations, Anne. In the next competition, I won't show as much mercy”.

When she observed his eyes, she noticed the characteristic brown color, his pupils looking at her with devotion and so absorbed that she felt the air escaping from her lungs, her body unable to react in any way other than a rigid nod, taking a seat next to a Diana with large eyes and lips sealed in surprise. She connected their gazes, desperate to find something beyond the addictive taste of his scent and the revolutionary feeling of her instincts and chaotic mind in the presence of something unknown, her heart momentarily stopping as her best friend's expression conveyed something unmistakable, unequivocal.

What was that?

The heavy and burning gaze of Josie Pye on her neck was more than a confirmation that she was about to face a losing battle.

Chapter Text

Gilbert Blythe considered himself a calm person.

He had been born as a result of the final effort of a weakened body, unable to withstand the pressure of childbirth, the last wish of his mother to give him life before losing her own. Raised by an elderly widowed father, one who wrapped him in heavy blankets during the burial in the midst of a harsh winter, receiving help from multiple women in the village during his first months of life to learn how to properly care for a newborn; those who had recently given birth took turns nursing him, leaving glass bottles in cool places so he could be fed at night, and patiently teaching him how to be cleaned and secured so he wouldn't get hurt, satisfied when, by the end of his first year, he was ready to stop depending on them. His father made generous gifts every year for each of the mothers despite their insistence that it wasn't necessary, pinching Gilbert's cheeks affectionately when he went to hand them out, laughing warmly at his antics.

He was an only child, used to having his father's attention for most of the day, thrilled to share activities and time with his parent without any pretense. John was a devoted person to his child, a sensitive man who shed tears at his first steps, laughed heartily at his brave displays with horses and pigs, who placed a warm protective hand when taking him to fairs so he wouldn't stray away in the crowd, and a gentleman who always gave him a gentle nudge when shyness got the better of him around kids his own age, encouraging him to have fun in his free time while telling him where he would be.

Over the years, their dynamics changed, but he never stopped having the same closeness with his father, becoming an important piece for the family's economy and livelihood. They were fortunate men to own a huge and cool house in the summers, with a vast farm that fed them in the winters and provided luxuries during the springs every year. Gilbert was happy to help, inspired by the desire to do his best to assist his father and accompany him, motivated to become his greatest pride. The task was exciting, so much so that when his father told him they were going to take their first trip in two weeks, Gilbert could hardly sleep while waiting.

He remembered that Mr. Collins appeared at the threshold of their house before dawn, greeting his father with a hug and him with a handshake that he executed with anxiety, too ecstatic about the plan that lay ahead of him. Mr. Collins helped them load their suitcases into the carriage, taking them to the only train station nearby as the sun rose behind the horizon; the young man had only been able to chew on a piece of bread and take a sip of boiling tea with a churning stomach, compelled by a father who wasn't very keen on insisting on something as trivial as food “If you don't eat, I won't be able to take you. Sailors don't like to take on fainted people”.

After getting into the carriage, pressed against his father as the first rays of the day bathed the dew of nature, nervously picking at his nails, his father patted his knee to get his attention “Are you okay, kid?”.

He wrinkled his nose at the nickname, with John using it solely to annoy him. He sighed before answering “I am... anxious. I want to know what the outside is like, to cross the sea. And I am not a child”.

“Anxious, hmm, when we’re in the water for hours, you’ll be so bored that you’ll scold me for inviting you,” he joked, gently nudging him on the shoulder “And for the first time, you’re right. Only a man could make a journey like this, that's why I brought you”.

“A man?” he replied in surprise, filling his small chest as an eleven-year-old boy with the fresh air of the train car, which had the windows slightly open to let the oxygen flow through the confinement. He rubbed his hands together, unsure of how to react when he smiled “If I'm already a man, then you can treat me to the wine you're drinking, right?”.

John let out a rough laugh, shaking his head as he rested it on the seat to relax for the remainder of the journey “You're not a man yet”.

Gilbert remembers the first voyage with his father as if it were yesterday, the nauseating feeling when he set his first foot on the boat, dizzy from the instability beneath him, swallowing hard to avoid vomiting and trying to be a man for his father, who moved through the cabin and the corridors as if it were his second home. He did not utter a word when panic choked his throat as he stepped out into the night, terrified of wandering in the midst of darkness, as if he were crossing the sky instead of the ocean; he had returned to his room with trembling knees, determined not to cry, but unashamed to lie next to his father's body to feel his warmth and sleep without nightmares.

The next day, he was forced to eat a heavier breakfast before reaching the city, the destination he had imagined and envisioned so much, eagerly tugging at John's sleeve as he walked on solid ground, his wide eyes absorbing the first impression of the unknown and foreign. The port was made of stone or cement, its edges lined with wood to effectively tie up the dozens of boats that were docked to disembark people and goods, dozens of horses and carriages transporting heavy cargo, newspapers and food, exclamations, and hundreds of people walking in different directions without bothering to observe their surroundings in the face of the vastness of the scene. Gilbert was standing in his place, accustomed to the dirt streets of Avonlea, the few markets, and the quiet families strolling leisurely in the town center, completely hypnotized by the contrast that his brain was trying to process at full speed. The sun was blazing overhead when his father firmly took his hand, holding the heavier suitcases with his other hand “Don't walk away from me, Gilbert, did you hear? You can't let go of my hand”.

The warning was unnecessary, his small hand clinging to the warmth of his touch as the only certainty he knew, his body sharpening its senses to follow him and ensure that, under no circumstances, would he let go of his hand.

Perhaps this part of his memories does become more blurred due to the stress, anxiety, and curiosity that coursed through his body. His shoes lightly echoed on the ground as he tried to keep up with his father's hurried pace, who positioned him behind to navigate through the crowd effortlessly, trusting that no one would bump into or step on him. He attempted to listen to everything happening around him: the marching of horses, the street performances of puppets and clowns, a showcase by a street band at the corner of an atelier, and the raucous laughter of couples who had crossed paths by chance on a shopping day. The heat was making him sweat, having to wipe his damp forehead with the back of his hand, where he was holding the smaller suitcases when they arrived at the hotel.

He stood still obediently when John began to inquire about the availability of a room, accepting and handing over some coins into the guest's hand before receiving a key, looking at him curiously as he turned around “I promise that after the meeting we can go see the fair and you can play in the park before dinner, how does that sound?”.

They began to climb the stairs, following him unconsciously without asking which floor or room they were going to rest in, certain that the next day they would board the ship to return to Avonlea. He cleared his dry throat when his father opened a door and entered the room, dropping the bags on the floor with a huff, “I can't wait!”.

The day had been wonderful, except for the meeting where he had to sit in a giant leather chair in a dusty office, as still as a statue for hours, listening to a conversation so boring that he felt he was going to fall asleep sitting down. He wanted to understand and analyze it, but when discussions began about logistical issues, such as transportation by boats, the payment percentage for workers, and the manufacturing of fabric bags to transport the apples and potatoes they grew, he decided he didn't want to waste energy on things so lacking in interest to him. He looked at his father with curiosity, noticing how he wrote things down on a sheet of paper with hands rough by hard work, smiling at the right moments and speaking with a bit more intensity when there were points of disagreement. Wonderfully, his partner did not show much curiosity about his son, shaking his hair as he directed them to the door and waved them off with a shake of his hands. Gilbert took his hand with lightning speed when they reached the street, his head bobbing frantically “Are we going to the fair?”.

The lanterns began to light up, fascinated by their absence in Avonlea except near the church and the more privileged families like the Barrys, who could have them inside their homes at night to illuminate their prestigious dinners. They had once been invited, but Diana was a girl who was too shy to run for fear of ruining her dress, and her father laughed too loudly for her liking. John grabbed him by the shoulders, starting to walk through the crowded streets with renewed enthusiasm “Yes, sir, and you deserve a nice caramel apple for your behavior. Quite a man, Gilbert”.

“A real man, father, indeed,” he approached for a hug, happy to be traveling, to be able to eat something sweet, to perhaps see a show. Women wore heavier and more ostentatious dresses, fabrics that Gilbert dared to say he had never seen before; children ran through the crowd unafraid of getting lost or being separated from their parents, curiosity sparkling within their chests “Aren't they afraid of getting lost?”.

His father lifted his chin to look at him, his familiar voice always answering the most obvious or strange questions, never tiring of the endless source of doubts that his son had learned to be “It's the other way around, their parents aren't afraid of losing them”.

“And when you are grown up and have no one to take care of you or guide you, how do you not get lost?” he scratched his chin, feeling his stomach growl so loudly that he could almost hear it over the bustle of the crowd. A nighttime sea breeze caressed his skin beneath his shirt, instinctively rubbing his hands over his arms to generate warmth. His eyes widened as he observed a gigantic round entrance, made of wood and painted in white and red, to enter the fair, squeezing her father's hand with excitement “It's there, look! It's huge!”.

His father had taken advantage of his distraction to avoid answering, deciding to direct his son's curiosity and energy towards something more exciting “Let's explore the entire fair, and you can eat whatever you want; you just have to remember the best parts to tell your friends when you get back”.

“Oh, yes, everyone asked me to tell everything when I return. They're not going to believe me,” his mouth opened in surprise as he observed clowns on tall stilts, so high that he was sure if they fell, they would break their legs, noticing the torches that illuminated key points of the fair route along with hand-painted directions and showtimes, squinting his eyes in concentration to read it; he was the most skilled and intelligent in his class, but he was still getting used to reading at a normal speed.

His father stretched out his hand, interrupting him, “Let's explore without knowing what's there; it will be more exciting”

He bit her lips with euphoria, agreeing that it was the best idea possible and existing, jumping on his heels as they started to pass by the first stalls. He admired the jewelry and handmade decorations, recently painted pictures, cans filled with liters of honey, essences and herbs, embroidered plush toys, and playing cards made with such precision that his father had noticed them more than usual as well; he stopped in front of a clothing stall, picking up one of the vests before holding it against his chest. Gilbert raised his eyebrows, thinking about how boring it was to buy clothes and try on different sizes when his father scolded, “Don't look at me like that. You have few vests, and by the time Mrs. Rose can dress you, several days will have passed, while here it is already done. Try it on”.

He didn't complain, but let out a sigh that showed his lack of enthusiasm for the interruption of the tour, putting on the vest and allowing his father to adjust the buttons. He moved anxiously as he watched the children run beside him, pushing each other and laughing, “Hold on, hold on, is it too tight for you?”.

He took a deep breath, inflating his chest as much as possible to check if it was tight, shaking his head. His father nodded to the vendor and left some coins in his hand, patting his shoulder as they resumed their walk, “Keep it on, that way you won't be cold”.

“Thank you, father,” he squeezed his hand for the second time, pulling him toward the first food stand that his nose detected, licking his lips in hunger. He chewed on pieces of cheese and bread, ham that his father had given him, and bits of roasted meat, closing his eyes with each bite; he heard someone else's laughter and the comments that John made with kindness, but he was too absorbed in the dinner to notice when his father paid and handed him a caramel-coated apple as a gift.

“Happy?” Gilbert nodded, his curls bouncing on his head from the force of his movement as he opened his mouth to bite into the fruit, feeling a squeeze on his shoulder “Slow down, Gilbert, and try not to get messy”.

“Well, yes” he bit the apple more slowly, careful not to stain the tip of his nose and chewing what his mouth allowed, pointing with a finger at a puppet show where several children were sitting on the floor “Can I go, please, please?”.

“You can sit down, but don't move from where you are. I will be here”.

He sat on the grass, close to his father so he could see him, feeling the sweetness of the candy fill his tongue and his new clothes protecting him from the cool night air, a warm and sparkling sensation filling his chest; he felt happy, so happy that when the puppets made absurd jokes, he laughed out loud, with tearful eyes from the lack of breath and hands careful not to drop the apple, fascinated by the fair and the new city, with the food he had eaten, with the familiar and steady presence of his father close to him. He was happy, and Gilbert felt filled with bright and unknown emotions coursing through his veins with life, his stomach aching from the countless times he had been left breathless watching the puppets fight, chase each other, and dance. Lost in the passage of time, the performance came to an end and the puppets said their goodbyes, feeling a bit of sadness for the brief duration, but regaining his spirits when he approached his father and hugged him around the waist “It was very funny, did you laugh too?”.

He didn't have tearful eyes like him, nor was he catching his breath, but he nodded with such fervor that a smile appeared on his lips to mirror his “One of the best works I've seen, without a doubt. They should go to Avonlea, shouldn´t they?”.

He felt another laugh rising in his throat, like a bubble, as he nodded against his father's chest, against his shirt “Yes, that's right, I'm sure that—”.

He couldn't finish the sentence because something exploded behind him, near them; screams and quick footsteps, as if they were running, while other voices whispered or cursed, some celebrating what he couldn't see. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fighting against his father's firm grip to turn around and see what was happening, his heart racing so fast that he feared it would stop, a cold, horrifying, and uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest, so heavy that he could hardly breathe. He felt his legs weak, being held up by John's hands gripping him so tightly that he felt it was hurting him, blinking several times to understand what he was seeing, paralyzed.

A few meters away, a carriage was passing at a slow speed, noticing that there were no clowns, puppets, or contortionists performing on it. He frowned as he observed how people were moving away from the carriage, covering their children's eyes, spitting or throwing food with such hatred and terror that he felt his stomach twist in anxiety and panic. His father reacted by putting him behind him when he ordered, “Don't look”.

“What's happening? What is that?” he struggled in his arms, his curiosity getting the better of him as the carriage approached them to pass by. His father grumbled against his insistence, but he did not stop fighting; it only took a second for his grip to loosen and for him to position himself in front of him, absorbing an image that would be etched behind his eyelids, in his memory, in his nightmares.

“Gilbert!”.

There was someone on the ground, writhing and being dragged by the carriage. He could make out a woman in a dirty dress, covered in dirt and blood, her hands on her neck in a futile attempt to loosen the rope that was choking her trachea, her mouth open in a desperate search for oxygen; her face was so battered that he couldn't see her eyes due to the swelling, thick blood mixed with saliva bubbling out of her mouth, her skin taking on a slight violet hue over the dark, violent red that colored her expression of panic and agony. Gilbert couldn't breathe, his ears unable to perceive the insults, the screams of horror, and the food being thrown at her body as if she were a plague; it was a matter of seconds before his father grabbed him by the arms, pulling him with such force that he collided with his body, falling to his knees when he lifted him again and dragged him to the other side, unable to see her, unable to move on his own.

He tried to breathe and couldn't, he wanted to swallow but felt his mouth was numb, blinking through his astonishment with something unpleasant and inevitable crawling up his spine like a damp, cold, lethal viper “She couldn't breathe. W-what, what were they doing, they were hurting her, they were killing her”.

His father walked with long strides, almost dragging him, as they left the fair and headed to the hotel. Gilbert felt horror and indignation blinding him, shaking his head when his father grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look at him “Gilbert, listen to me. Listen to me”.

“They were killing her, she couldn't breathe dad, she couldn't breathe and they were killing her and they were spitting on her and throwing things at her, we have to go, we have to..."

“That's enough, Gilbert, stop. Breathe” he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, and his heart deafened his ears and he could feel the cold of the night in his hands, the blood running through his fingers. He struggled to swallow, refusing the urge to vomit, feeling as his father pressed his palm against his ribs, forcing him to exhale and inhale when he stopped applying pressure. He blinked, letting it happen again, feeling his chest fill with oxygen “Breathe, we can't do anything. Nothing, son. I'm sorry you had to see that; I didn't think it was going to happen”.

“What do you mean we can't do anything?” he felt panic choking him again when John took him by the armpits, lifting him up and hugging him before continuing his way to the hotel. He rested his head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth against the cold that enveloped his limbs and his soul, the nausea rising with each memory that replayed in his mind over and over again as he began to climb the stairs “What are they going to do with her, father? Why can't we do anything? She was dying, dying, and they, they laughed at her and spat on her, who does that? How does God allow it?”.

“Breathe, Gilbert. And be careful with what you say,” he placed him on the bed, scolding him for using God's name in such a way, but the displeasure he felt warranted its mention. John knelt before him, looking at him as if he were analyzing the best explanation “I'm not going to tell you what they will do with her, because it's not our place; it's the church's rules to hold those parades because... she poses a danger to families and our faith, and that's why we have to forget about this”.

Gilbert shook his head, his heart fluttering weakly like a hummingbird flying behind his ribs. The feeling of happiness had been replaced by one of horror and disgust, a deep anguish so profound that he could imagine her pale skin from anxiety and his cold hands from adrenaline, exhaustion making his eyelids heavy and the desire to lie down and try to escape the memory through his dreams becoming unbearable. His father saw him, stroking his arms as he spoke in a calm tone, “Forget it, Gilbert, it will hurt your heart, and it's not something you need to worry about right now. Go change and lie down, I'll wake us up in the morning to go back home”.

“I want to go back home,” he felt as his tongue moved on its own, his thoughts escaping his mind like an echo. John helped him to his feet, guiding him to the bathroom before handing him a change of more comfortable clothes for sleeping.

“I know, Gilbert. Tomorrow we will return home, far from this. I'm sorry”.

He couldn't sleep, nor close his eyes; he saw her every time the darkness engulfed him, leaving him breathless as if a rope were around his neck, his muscles tensing as if he were fighting to stay alive, struggling through the thick sensation of blood pooling in his mouth, his ears bursting from the insults and cheers, her dress getting soiled with the food and saliva they hurled at her dying body. Gilbert was afraid to look at the door, fearful that she would appear in the hallway standing there with a face so swollen that she would be unrecognizable, like a monster, as if the devil had taken shape after so much suffering and, as a revelation before God and death, would walk and sob with the rope embedded in her broken neck after being hanged and thrown into the sea without any mercy.

When the sunlight came through the window, his father gently stroked him, realizing that he was awake before him, choosing not to make any comments other than helping him get dressed and take his bags down to the restaurant. He insisted that he should eat, buttering hot bread and making a sweet tea to encourage him to take a bite, chewing with a sense of obligation and emptiness that was impossible to hide. His father frowned.

“What is wrong, son?” he shook his head, not knowing the reason for his emotions, exhausted from trying to understand and forget it, unable to express what he felt when he looked into his father's eyes for the first time, warm and worried. He took a deep breath, thinking that they were going back home “I want to go back, that's all”.

His father watched him, knowing he was thinking something when his expression changed, a tone filled with doubt and resignation for his son's distress when he said, “If I explain to you what happened yesterday, will you be able to understand it and stop worrying once you know what it's about?”

Without breaking his gaze, he spoke firmly for the first time in hours, “Yes”.

“Not here,” he decided, getting up and taking the bags, leaving money on the table to pay for the food. Gilbert felt the blood rushing through his veins frantically as he pointed to the exit with his head “We have a ship to catch”.

The day before, he had greatly enjoyed overcoming the tides of people, the noise, and the stimulation, basking in the pleasant warmth that perfectly enveloped his body against the maritime breeze; that day, he felt as if stress was suffocating him, the sun blinding his eyes and sticking his clothes to his skin damp with sweat, the volume of chatter and laughter and the vendors making him feel nauseous, the terror of letting go of his father's hand so strong that he felt his nails digging into the skin of his palm, the smell of fish causing a headache so intense that he felt it behind his eyes. He almost ran onto the boat, leaving his bags on the ground and letting out a sigh when he was able to relax in the cabin, away from the noise and the solid ground of the city, his head buzzing with the same thought repeatedly, fearful of crossing paths with a young woman in a dress and a rope trailing behind her.

His father gently grabbed him by the shoulders, quickly scanning the room to ensure that all his belongings were where they should be, and then kindly invited him, “Come with me”.

Gilbert listened to the sailors communicating with each other to set sail, releasing the heavy ropes that drained his blood, people walking through the corridors without stopping to look at them. He followed his father to the bow, able to see the vastness of the ocean before him, his stomach twisting with vertigo as he instinctively moved closer to his father to feel safer “What I'm going to explain to you is complicated, and it's something I should have explained to you earlier. You have to swear to me that you won't talk about this topic with anyone else but me”.

“I won't say a word, not even to my friends,” he nodded against the fabric of his shirt, the anticipation throbbing in his heart unbearably. His father looked at him from his shoulder with concern and affection.

“Quite a man, aren´t you?” his lips stretched into a small, almost sad smile as he caressed his hair, Gilbert nodding his head upon hearing his sigh “I'm telling you this because I know you have grown and that you will be able to understand, that you will be respectful to others and won't speak impulsively, am I wrong?”.

“No, father. I will be careful, I promise,” he hid his hands behind his back so he couldn't see the anxious movement of turning them into fists to relieve the nervous tension coursing through his muscles. His father sighed before speaking, bending down to be at his height, his familiar face contrasting with the infinite and unknown ocean, endless.

“You know who I am, who Collins is, and who Mrs. Rachel is, right?”.

He bit his lips, trying to find the best possible explanation “You are an alpha like Mr. Collins, while Mrs. Rachel is a beta like Mr. Barry”.

“Exactly,” he took a few seconds to continue speaking, clearly unhappy with the topic, but committed to his purpose as he made sure no one was nearby, speaking a little more quietly “There is one more dynamic, one that I never explained to you. There are alphas, betas, and omegas: the girl we saw yesterday was an omega, and she was being controlled as society and the church require so that we can continue to have a peaceful coexistence in accordance with God's faith and His commandments”.

He remembered the rope, the face so beaten that she couldn't open her eyes, drowning in blood. He swallowed so abruptly that he almost choked on it, his tongue moving before his brain could allow it “Why do they do that, father? I felt, I feel...”.

He couldn't explain it, gripping his new vest with a fist, his knuckles white against his heart, desperate for his father to understand him, surprised when he took his hand in his own “I know how you feel, son, and you will always feel this way because your nature demands something different from you, something contrary to what was happening yesterday. You haven't got a rank yourself yet, but when you do, with a lineage as strong as ours, it will be harder to control. You'll have to learn to master it in order to live in peace”.

“What does my nature ask of me and why is it wrong? You always say that our intuition, our instincts are the most important, why are they wrong?”

“Because our dynamic is designed to adapt to their lives, Gilbert. We were created this way, with these anatomies and personalities and attributes, to take care of them, seek them out, and unite with unbreakable bonds. We exist so that our purpose, our life, is reduced to what our inner self, our nature, demands" his eyes were fixed on him as he tried to grasp what was happening, something strange stirring within him, named and with a defined purpose that weighed in the pit of his stomach like a reminder “If we find someone that our nature chooses and who is aware of their closeness and simple presence, your body and your reasoning will stop responding for you and will instead respond for the other person. A need that you cannot avoid, like hunger and thirst, you will seek until you are satisfied, and once you have it, you will not be able to let it go. You would rather die and kill than distance yourself from that."

He frowned, confused “I know you would do the same for me, what's the difference?”

“It means no more or less than what I feel or would do for you. I would die and kill for you, Gilbert, because you are my son, but it's different. It is a union of souls, of a destiny that religion does not endorse. The church believes that it is dangerous for us to be granted such power over ourselves; it is something that would endanger others and blind us to the priority we must give to God and our families. It blinds us, leads us, and consumes us; both for good and for bad, so they prefer to avoid it. The omegas have... characteristics that also cause societal rejection, further reinforcing the measures and humiliation like the one we witnessed yesterday,” he analyzed his expression, certain that at the slightest sign of distress or anguish, he would stop with his story, but Gilbert seemed increasingly rational about the episode they had experienced. The sun was hitting his eyes, a soft chocolate tone with thick, dark eyelashes, blinking with soft, pale cheeks.

“And if I found an omega, anyone, would I feel this way?”.

“It's hard for you to find one, son, because those who aren't hiding or running away are treated the way we saw yesterday at the slightest doubt. The church does not wait for confirmations or show mercy towards them; they prefer to solve the problem before the situation evolves; despite being irresistible to most, they are not made for everyone, but for just one. Once they encounter their destined one, it’s worse because it becomes impossible to separate them, so they prefer to act as quickly as possible before they cause disasters. The public display and humiliation throughout the town, in front of everyone, is meant to ensure that other omegas would rather flee than stay in a place where they know they will eventually be discovered and disturb the families and alphas of the city”.

The nausea clawed at his throat, rising with indignation and disgust, while something stirred in his chest with a faint life. This time, he didn't know if it was because of the rocking of the waves and the unstable boat, or the new information his brain was trying to absorb. He had to be a man, unable to bite his tongue when he observed, “You don't seem very supportive”.

“I am an alpha, and above all, a human being,” he nodded, rising to his feet from his knees and embracing him by the shoulders, gazing at the shore before confessing a secret “If I ever found my mate, or just a simple omega, my instincts know what I would be capable of doing”.

Anne clenched her fists when she felt the heavy presence of Josie Pye behind her, waiting and holding back her urge to wrinkle her nose just at the sight of her. She swallowed hard as she stood up, feeling the cold sweat trickle down her lower back while her mind struggled to find the right words to avoid a confrontation.

Diana was by her side, shifting nervously as they both stood up and looked at Josie with her perfect hair and an intact bun accentuating her pretty face. Anne wanted to look at her feet in comparison, embarrassed by her appearance of just standing in front of her; she bit her lip to release some of the tension she felt radiating from her chest, something angry and uncomfortable climbing up her throat. She was exhausted.

“Anne,” Josie looked her up and down as if it weren't the second interaction they were having that day, pausing at her plain shoes and her dull dress. She hid her hands behind her so she couldn't see how she dug her nails into her palms, predicting that this conversation wouldn't be a normal mockery, but something more dangerous “Would it be too much trouble if we talked outside, so we don't have an audience?”.

She frowned, too caught up in her thoughts and feelings to remember that they were in the middle of the hall, the men laughing and hitting each other in front of the spectacle, their eyes fixed on her like hungry dogs craving tears and anguish. She did not find Gilbert among her anxious circles, but she did not dare to look at him; she did not want to encounter his curious gaze or even an expression of embarrassment for what was happening. Why should she care what he thought of her anyway?

If she were naive enough, she might dare to think that Josie was being considerate of her, not wanting to humiliate her in front of so many people and preferring maturity over a moment of fun, feeling tense knowing that it would be a matter that would only benefit her reputation and her small angelic facade. She didn't want others to see the words she could say with a sharp tongue, nor how her mind would crumple when she was angry. Anne could refuse, sit in her seat, and wait for the teacher to return, hoping that she would let her go, but she understood that it would be worse once she found her alone and unprotected, an inevitable encounter that she wanted to face in the least stressful way possible “No, not at all”.

She heard Diana swallow hard behind her as they walked down the hallway, keeping her gaze fixed on Josie's back to resist the urge to glance sideways where all the boys were laughing quietly and whispering things she didn't want to hear. She felt her mouth filled with a bitter taste as her feet brushed against the grass and the midday sun struck her head with intensity, making her dizzy. She adjusted her vision to clarity when she noticed the girls surrounding her in a circle, causing a slight feeling of confinement that tightened her throat, forcing her to breathe through her nose.

I hadn't done anything wrong, nothing. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault.

She blinked several times as she watched Ruby wiping her wet nose, small salty tears falling from her precious, large eyes, being comforted by Jane Andrews, who hugged her shoulders and handed her an embroidered handkerchief. Josie stepped into her line of sight before Anne could keep looking at her, her lips tight with anger and an expression that showed too much enjoyment in a friend's suffering “I suppose you didn't know this either, did you, Anne? You never know anything”.

“I don't know what you're talking about” Anne hated saying that phrase, hated being in that situation, helpless and mute and exposed. She wanted to run away and disappear, and she wanted Josie to feel a quarter of the humiliation and sadness that she was feeling at that moment. She wanted it so much that her heart squeezed when Josie got even closer, pointing at Ruby, who seemed unable to utter a word.

“How can you not see Ruby's feelings that are so pure and obvious?” her voice was almost a growl, her insides twisting in anger at being spoken to in such a way and in the frustration of not being able to be a normal girl who could easily make friends or make unconscious mistakes that would tie her to the people around her “Ruby liked him for years for you to come and look at him that way”.

“I'm not looking at anyone in any way! I don't know what you're talking about,” she shook her head until Diana took her by the arm, a warm and well-intentioned grip that overwhelmed her all the same.

Her voice sounded soft and passive when she wanted to clarify the confusion, confident in remaining as a mediator “Anne didn't know Ruby's intentions because we never told her, and even without knowing, she wasn't plotting anything”.

“It surprises me, Diana, how quick you are to always take the opposite side from where I stand,” she tilted her head, anger radiating through her pores, stretching Anne's patience as she spoke this way about Diana, who only had noble intentions “Poor Ruby not only has to suffer because of your thoughtlessness and lack of consideration, but also for seeing her friend defend this kind of behavior”.

“It's not like that, Josie, and you know it. Anne could never have seen it for herself” her heart buzzed with something new as she watched Diana defend her from her lifelong group of friends before stepping aside and seeing her being treated unfairly.

Josie directed her gaze at her again, looking at her with disdain and with her nose held high, as if she were something tiny and worthless, an absurd and detestable person. She felt her nails were going to break under the intensity of her grip, the bitter taste accumulating in her mouth “Always a poor victim, Shirley. A poor victim who knows nothing and cannot know anything, a light that has no intention of harming anyone, yet you still caused more damage than anyone has in all these years. It's not enough to ruin Prissy's reputation, diminish her worth and yours by speaking of her in such a way and ruining her life, but you also have the audacity to break Ruby's heart as if it were nothing, as if you didn't care”.

Her heart deafened her ears, feeling how the cold wrapped around the tips of her fingers, how the circle grew smaller and smaller, suffocating her and breaking her bones under its pressure. She felt like she couldn't breathe, like she was back in the orphanage and Lloyd was deciding to drag her to the basement to whisper horrible things, making her cry until she had to fight to ask her to stop, feeling as she dug her nails into her bruises with such brutality that Anne screamed and screamed and begged her to stop, to cease because she felt like she was going to die and that she was really right, that she deserved that and all the pain Anne was going to go through and endure and suffer. Josie was right, she was right that she was a cruel and inconsiderate person and had ruined Prissy's life by tarnishing her honor with lies, by not even taking the time to apologize to her when she had made her suffer so much, by not noticing Ruby's wide eyes filled with fascination when Gilbert appeared in her sight and being worried about herself and her paranoia and...

She took a deep breath, Josie watched her with disgust and a firm determination as she said, “Swear that you won't talk to Gilbert again, that you won't even lay your eyes on him, and maybe we can forget this. Under that condition”.

“This doesn't make sense, you don't even know what Ruby wants, Anne didn't do anything, and neither did he!” Diana pleaded with desperation in her voice, her heart feeling a deeper stab as she saw how willing she was to defend her and argue on her behalf when she didn't deserve it, when she wasn't worth such a sacrifice. She wanted to place her hand over her but she couldn't move, paralyzed by the memories of Lloyd “You can't ask her for that because she didn't do anything in the first place”.

“Swear it, Anne. It's the least we deserve after everything you did” she openly ignored her, listening to Diana take a breath full of exasperation.

The voice inside her, a dark, hateful, and horrible voice, told her she was right, something within her resisting lightly, almost non-existent when she insisted with an inaudible voice just to defend her best friend, who stood beside her firm as a soldier “I didn't do it... I didn't want to, I didn't know...”.

Josie let out a small laugh, incredulous at her paralysis, her fear; she was simply pathetic, a young woman who only needed to be surrounded, to have hurtful truths spoken to her, and it was enough to leave her blank, not knowing how to react to the memories of her past, a panic so intense that it left her frozen in place and made her tongue heavy. Her light eyes sank into her like burning iron, melting into her skin and scorching it, embarrassing her and leaving her with no choice but to accept or face the consequences that would be inevitable and unbearable. Anne could hear Ruby's shaky breath as she tried to control her tears, the deathly silence of the other girls who didn't know what to say, uncomfortable with the tension and malice radiating from the stance of their stubborn and patient leader “Don't you know how to speak now?”.

“That's enough, Josie. This is not right and it is not fair” Diana seemed to be reaching her limit and more than ever wanted to find her voice and strength to not leave her alone. Her mouth was full of sand, her feet fixed to the ground as if they were chained, sweat dangerously brushing against her ointment and threatening to nullify its effect, worried that the sour and putrid aroma of stress and fear would reach her nose, carried by the wind.

“There are many things that are unfair, Diana, and what Ruby is feeling right now is one of them. If she has liked him for years, we have the obligation not to get in her way and to focus on someone else, and I am sure that Anne will be happy to find someone who suits her. Gilbert is not one of them, and someone needs to let her know. That someone is me” Josie seemed to be losing patience, raising her chin to hasten her response. It was simple; a slightly tolerable existence, or an absolute destruction that would break her heart and wear down her soul “Swear it, Shirley”.

Anne was exhausted, feeling empty, so empty that she felt unworthy of anything, considering the favor that Josie was granting in light of the sorrow and shame it caused, looking at Gilbert Blythe when Ruby Gillis was around? Absurd. She didn't know what had crossed her mind when she even considered the possibility of sharing her space. Suddenly, she wanted to laugh too, a brief laugh full of bitterness and pain. Naive, innocent.

Anne took Diana's hand, a slight gesture that everything was fine, ignoring the furrowed brow of concern and the slight movement of her friend as she shook her head upon hearing her speak in a monotone and empty voice, feeling as if she were observing the situation through the eyes and bodies of others “I promise to stay away from him, Ruby. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, and I swear it won't happen again. I will stay away from him, I'm sorry”.

“A noble decision, at last,” the emptiness grew even more in the face of her indifference for having exposed herself in such a way, lowering her head and swearing something against her will to be discarded with such brutality. The girls said nothing, looking at each other unsure of how to react to Josie's attitude and Ruby's response, who had finally stopped crying after hearing her promise. Josie had started to walk back to the classroom, brushing her shoulders and looking at her with determination, before sliding her eyes towards Diana with her lips drawn tight in a thin line, an implicit message that would be difficult to decipher.

Diana did not take her eyes off, remaining in place, while the others followed Josie into the school without saying a word. The midday sun burned through her clothes, feeling the sticky heat on her skin and blurring her vision, too overwhelmed by anxiety and stress when she took Diana's hands in hers, a visceral guilt crushing her chest “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Diana. It's my fault that you had to go through this”.

“That's not how it is,” she shook her head, gradually regaining the elegant calm that so characterized her, embracing her by the shoulders with just the right amount of strength to feel at peace “That wasn't right, Anne”.

“You didn't deserve to be cornered like that, nor to be made to swear those things. I promise that I will try to ease the situation”.

“You did more than I could have asked of you, I don't want to get you into more trouble, nor do I want to get involved with your friends. I'm sorry” Diana shook her head, not letting go her hand as they climbed the stairs and paused before entering the hall. The voices of the men filled her ears, who laughed and murmured hurtful phrases without concern, focused on ignoring them and not distinguishing a single word.

“You’re not getting me into trouble, you’re my best friend and I will always defend you, whether it’s right or wrong. When you make a mistake, I'll tell you, but this is not the case; you did nothing, and neither did he! I am sure Josie took advantage of Ruby's tears to make you feel bad, and I don't like witnessing those things. I will talk to the others, and I'm sure they will apologize to you eventually” her tone was so determined that she couldn't help but smile faintly, as if it were the shadow of a real smile, linking her arms to go to their seats. She felt eternally grateful for Diana's presence in her life, a relationship that connected her to the real world and gave a pure and true meaning to the word friendship, which she had fought so hard to find.

“I don't know, Diana” Anne murmured, resting her head on her arms propped up on the desk. Her skin was marked by the pressure of the board, but she ignored it when her blue eyes analyzed her expression “I feel that it would be better for me to stay out of the way for now. I will do everything possible to avoid causing any more trouble or sadness”.

Ruby's face and her anguished cries tightened her heart with guilt when she remembered her, wishing more than ever that she had been more careful with Gilbert's intentions; more than she already had to be. Having an alpha of such magnitude nearby, who could probably sense her identity when no one else could, was enough reason to be horrified and convinced of wanting to escape his grasp, something uncomfortable stretching her nature at the thought of him. About his persona and his changes in attitude towards her, his annoyance and his burdensome presence, and his senses that sharpened when he knew she was near, his unjustified protection and his lack of action regarding the information he had in his hands.

Maybe he was waiting for something, a confirmation of what he had perceived, maybe he wasn’t even aware of the existence of its dynamics or how to perceive it to ensure its existence.

He was a dangerous person she had to keep her distance from to avoid raising more suspicions about her truth, or simply because he was an alpha who enjoyed observing her and confusing her, putting her in an embarrassing situation in front of people they knew and acting as if he were healing her wounds and getting upset at mistreatment as if they were familiar with each other. She was sure that Gilbert was aware of Ruby Gillis’s feelings toward him and the tense encounters she had with Josie Pye, indifferent to the consequences Anne might suffer when he decided to smile and let her win, probably uncomfortable with the second-hand embarrassment when he heard with his finely tuned ears the cruel and honest phrases Josie had shouted outside. A considerate person, clearly; an alpha who didn’t want to reveal her secret to avoid being associated with the torture and punishment she would suffer if the truth came out, but who enjoyed the fun he could provoke in the meantime.

She bit her lips hard, her feelings of humiliation, frustration, and anger swirling in her body like a tornado. She couldn’t find the source of what was growing within her, but she knew that this emptiness was voraciously fed by her conflicting feelings: she felt love and warmth for Diana, who had defended her when she couldn’t find her own voice; she felt anger and disgust for Josie Pye, who decided to corner her and leave her no choice but to accept a false promise and make her feel like a monster, paralyze her in place and mock her, saying such hurtful words that created a chasm in her heart that deceived her mind and made her feel deserving of mistreatment and injustices. But above all, she felt toward Gilbert Blythe; she hated that he put her in places where she had to endure storms and fight against herself to understand him and distrust her own body and instincts. She hated him for protecting her and taking care of her injuries, defending her from Billy Andrews and his friends, only to then treat her with coldness or amusement, looking at her with such intensity that she could feel herself shifting under his gaze, entertained by throwing her into the mouths of the wolves like Josie Pye’s eye and her undivided attention, regardless of Ruby’s feelings or her own in his blatant display before them to unleash chaos. Anne clenched her fists, her mind blinded by the idea that, since she had met him, since he had found her, her life had been nothing but anguish over the power he had over her, the confusion he caused with his presence, and the hatred of everything he generated in her body, her mind, and her surroundings.

She let out a breath through her nose, irrationally when Diana asked before the professor resumed the class, “Are you okay?”.

“Yes, I just wish I could go home,” she answered absently, unable to understand all that she was struggling with herself. She wanted to blame someone, make them responsible for how chaotic her life was becoming; she hated Josie Pye for tormenting her, Billy Andrews for trying to hurt and deceive her, Gilbert Blythe for causing new and ambiguous sensations so deep that she feared herself. And she hated herself, Anne hated herself with a monumental and unstoppable force, hated being so little, being herself, an orphan and an omega and a sin, a scum disguised in a pitiful and sad way that everyone could see. It was only a matter of time before...

A piece of paper fell onto her lap.

She shot her gaze toward the professor, who was busy writing initials with chalk and explaining in a slow and drawn-out voice, before glancing sideways at Diana, noticing her concentration and lack of paper and ink to write a note. It had fallen with speed and force, so it had been thrown from a considerable distance; she weighed the possibilities, nervously intertwining her hands while feeling something rise in her throat, her muscles and stability on the verge of breaking down. She was scared, looking from afar at the note with fear that it would say something hurtful and horrible that would finally break her. She kept biting her lower lip, feeling it moist and swollen under her teeth when another piece of paper fell onto her legs, coming from her right. From the side of the boys.

She sharpened her ears, trying to catch whispers or laughter, but she didn’t perceive anything that indicated it was a joke. She took a deep breath without taking her eyes off the papers until a movement caught her attention. Her gaze slid before she could stop it, looking at the desks, noticing that everyone had open books with their respective blackboards and chalks placed on the table or being held by their hands. Only one place had loose sheets, hand-cut, along with a quill resting on long, slender fingers, delicate but firm.

Gilbert.

She raised her eyes, tensing as she found his gaze on her face, analyzing her as usual. She automatically released her lip from her teeth, unable to ignore how Gilbert’s gaze had dropped to that point, pausing for a few seconds as if he couldn’t help it before regaining his composure. She felt her cheeks burning, but anger and annoyance quickly took the place of whatever had formed in her stomach. She looked at the papers on her lap before refocusing her eyes on him, making sure he was watching her as she took them in her hands and placed them under her desk, where she had a small space to store things. The message was clear: don’t bother me.

She thought she was going to growl audibly when he raised his eyebrows, a faint smile stretching playfully on his lips. She hated him, hated that he thought he could do this to her, in front of Josie and Ruby, risking her breaking her promise and making her life impossible. This was his fault, his fault that her classmates hated her, all his fault, and Anne didn’t have to worry about her manners and good behavior when she decided to ignore him with no pretense. She didn’t care about his feelings, or what he wanted to tell her, she didn’t care about his presence at all.

She tried to focus on the class, anger pumping through her veins as she tried to listen to the professor’s voice and take some relevant notes, settling into her seat thinking that there was only a little time left to go, just a couple more hours until she could...

Another piece of paper fell onto her lap. She grabbed it and placed it under her desk without blinking, feeling something twisting inside her uncontrollably and without pause. She hated him, didn’t care that he had taken care of her at some point for no reason, now he was abusing his knowledge and power with a desire to push her to the limit and test her patience and play with her relationships and reputation without any awareness of the damage he could cause her. She clenched her jaw instantly without wasting time throwing a dark look in his direction, knowing that her annoyance and her body spoke for herself and could not be more evident than she already was. She had to breathe and calm down, beginning to feel the familiar tingling of Josie Pye’s gaze on the back of her neck.

Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone.

There were only a few hours until she could go home, a few hours until she reached the farm and fed the chickens, petted the horses, maybe even be lucky enough to read a book by the fireplace with a sweet tea. She just had to breathe, focus on the class, and endure the eternal passing of the minutes, the burning of Josie’s eyes and Gilbert’s constant and insistent attention, which she was sure would bore him within minutes.

Naive.

She noticed a strange movement out of the corner of her eye, refusing to look away from the professor when she could make out someone approaching stealthily. Her muscles tensed as she breathed through her nose, suffering internally as she distinguished his heavy, honey-like scent forming on her tongue, the panic of knowing that everyone was once again witnessing his intention to play with her, to make her look bad in front of Ruby and her promise when he knew perfectly what it meant, when she was sure he had heard and perceived every word; he couldn’t deceive her.

He placed an apple on her desk, feeling Diana tense like a statue beside her, Anne’s chest rising and falling imperceptibly from the control of her stifled breaths. She didn’t look at him, imagining a small smile forming as he murmured, low, so low she could barely distinguish his words, “I don’t like being ignored, Anne”.

Fury burned within her, within her veins, all her will focusing on ignoring him, on not standing up and shouting in his face that she hated him, that she detested his personality and his attitudes and his lack of consideration and his stupid body radiating warmth and a scent that destabilized her senses and weakened her knees...

Her thoughts stopped when she felt a slight tug on one of her braids.

It was a gentle and short tug that barely moved her head, but enough to make her emotions and thoughts and body move on their own. For a few seconds, everything turned into a frantic blur, something wild and fierce controlling her as she took the blackboard with both hands, standing up at the same time as he did and moving so fast she felt she had lost him when she blinked. Her strength concentrated on her blackboard, hitting Gilbert’s face with such brutality she felt it breaking beneath her pale, cold hands, the sound resonating through the absolute silence and the shocked surprise of all her classmates.

“I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU!”

Terror quickly replaced the anger and frustration, weighing heavily in her stomach, sinking her as she was already choking. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, releasing the blackboard from her stupefaction without feeling the pain when it fell on her foot, blinking wide and scared eyes on the verge of tears for the mistake she had made when Gilbert, without a scratch and with his scent heavier and warmer than ever, looked at her with dark eyes, “You just did it”.

It wasn’t the professor’s gaze or Josie Pye’s, nor Diana’s gasping breaths from disbelief, or her own fate that made her feel she was in trouble. It was Gilbert Blythe standing in front of her, watching her with a smile and a glint that promised nothing but chaos.

Chapter Text

“Shirley!”

A heartbeat. Two.

She had her eyes fixed on his, which had lost their mischievous and light sparkle and were beginning to transform into something heavier, more intense, and darker. The pretty, small smile that had stretched his lips was gone, replaced by a tense jaw and soft cheeks that, in another situation, she might have appreciated more due to their closeness. She could have observed how soft his hair looked, the warmth of his skin, the scent that stirred her heart, but she couldn't.

She was too busy trying to breathe.

“What a horrendous display of savagery and lack of discipline!” she didn’t feel the sharp pain she should have when the professor grabbed her arm, his bony fingers digging into her sensitive skin as he pulled her to the front of the classroom. She blinked with wide eyes and a slow brain, terror filling her at the possibilities she would face when his angry voice filled her ears, “This will not go unnoticed, Shirley! It’s unacceptable!”.

Her classmates’ eyes were all on her, their expressions serious and silent as they tried to hide their surprise at Anne’s explosive reaction. Some smiled discreetly at the pleasure of seeing her punished, others chewed their nails in anxiety and discomfort at having to witness someone being humiliated in such a manner. Anne felt like she was underneath a frozen lake, beating against the solid ice to reach the surface, her thoughts slow and erratic and her ears deaf to the devastating silence around her.

She was going to be expelled. They were going to throw her out without a doubt, they would speak painfully of her, cruel and scornful about how an orphan should never have set foot in the school before infecting it with violence and rumors and lies. They would humiliate her incessantly and vocally before giving her absurd tasks, like cleaning the floor with tiny brushes or trying to dust the windows with dirty water as they did in the orphanage for the smallest mistake. Her knees already knew the familiar pain she was about to face, probably her skin would break open from the friction and weight and stain her clothes with blood, sure that they would hit her without restraint if they saw the wood had a new red and warm hue. She wanted to cry, beg, scream until her throat was torn, calm down and speak rationally, give reasons why she deserved another chance, but she couldn't. She couldn’t feel her tongue, her muscles, or her own head. She felt empty, like something was hanging from her neck and wrists as if a heavy and unbreakable chain was wrapped around her skin, a prisoner of a fate and impulses that would always be the beginning of the end.

“The consequences will be severe, Shirley! You will stand here in front of everyone until the class is over, and you will wait patiently for your punishment” his loud shout affected her slightly, her body reacting by shrinking and becoming smaller, paralyzed in place as her pride took control and forced her to maintain a serious and obedient expression, reluctant to respond.

Phillips took a piece of chalk, beginning to write on the blackboard with such force that her skin bristled in rejection and she had to resist the urge to cover her ears to escape the screeching sound of his writing, something solid forming in her stomach when she could read the phrase clear and large enough for everyone to see it as many times as necessary, a constant and agonizing reminder that made her vision crystallize with indignation and shame.

Anne Shirley has a very bad temper.

“Is that what you learned in the orphanage, Shirley? This will serve as a demonstration that, in this civilized and educated society, we do not tolerate violent and impulsive attitudes,” he spat as if it were poison, pointing at her classmates as if they were worthy students to admire when all they had done since she arrived at the facility was make her life a living hell. She felt her lip quiver “Be quiet and return to your lesson as soon as possible. Blythe, sit down”.

Anne had not noticed Gilbert Blythe standing in the middle of the aisle, an absurd notion given his considerable height and rigid posture, impossible to ignore. A few tears fell from her eyes, escaping against her will when she heard his rough and bitter voice, “It was my fault, sir. I disturbed her”.

She blinked through the tears, struggling against her trembling lip and her hands pressed so tightly that her knuckles were white. If it weren’t for the ointment covering her neck completely, her wrists, and the back of her knees effectively, as well as the multiple layers of clothing, Anne would have been releasing a foul and revolting aroma impossible to bear. She just had to keep her composure enough to avoid releasing the weak and high-pitched sound that tightened her throat, a lament worthy of an omega that under no circumstances could escape her chest “That’s no excuse, Blythe”.

He didn’t respond immediately, the silence weaving the atmosphere with tension and caution, his expression somber as he spoke quietly and insistently, “It was my fault, professor. I interrupted the class solely to bother her”.

“Are you challenging me, Blythe?” his tone had a slight edge, warning him of his sudden display of resistance to his orders. Anne felt the headache throbbing behind her eyes, frowning in confusion at Gilbert’s behavior; was he looking for a reprimand? She wanted to rub her closed eyes until they hurt, but her body was so heavy she felt she could not move more than necessary. Stress bathed the back of her neck in cold sweat “Sit down before you give me reason to take measures against you, Gilbert”.

Anne could feel her heart pounding against her ribs so hard that if she placed a palm over her chest, she would feel the muscle pressing firmly against her skin. She watched as her classmates slowly stopped looking at her to focus their attention on Gilbert, their expressions pale and horrified at the irrationality of his actions. The alpha did not move other than to cross his arms behind his lower back, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt; a posture that denoted nothing but indifference to the order “If this doesn’t warrant a punishment, sir, I don’t know what will”.

The world, for a few seconds, seemed to stop. No one moved, nor dared to blink or breathe. The only thing that broke the spell was a soft laugh from the professor, muttering through his teeth, “Incredible”.

He took a few steps forward with his hands on his hips, studying him with curiosity, the rigidity of his posture showing the fury coursing through his veins, stopping at a considerable distance as if his instincts knew not to risk it. Professor Phillips was a beta, after all, and despite the age difference, his body knew that Gilbert was an alpha who ruled control over his peers in this realm. He responded with a controlled voice, “Go to the blackboard, Blythe. I will make sure your penance meets your expectations”.

Anne couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing.

Gilbert walked casually to the front, standing beside her calmly as if nothing bad was happening, as if he hadn’t provoked the professor to the point of forcing him into a punishment, challenging him in front of all the students with no trace of embarrassment or remorse. Anne felt the terror burning beneath her skin at the idea that her education might be taken away from her by his reaction, an education she had dreamed of her entire life with the hope of having the future she always wanted and escaping her tormenting and demonic past.

She felt terror, but also fury at Gilbert twisting in her stomach; who did he think he was to seek her out and bother her like this, pulling her hair? And now he dared to challenge the professor, terrified that he would find a way to make the explicit display of rebellion her responsibility. He would say, spitting that this was her fault, that her attitudes were spreading like a plague, and that there was no option but to expel her from the school to maintain order and discipline. Disgust scratched at her throat, anxiety choking her and she couldn’t look at Diana, scared that her expression was nothing but disappointment and rejection, and think of her parents, their faces when she would have to tell them...

“I'm sorry,” Gilbert's voice was not a whisper, but it wasn’t loud enough for anyone else but her to hear. His tone was soft, unlike anything she had ever heard before, his apology tangled in his tongue like silk. The professor had resumed the lesson with little enthusiasm, anger still vibrating in his posture “I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry”.

Anne didn’t bother to turn her head to look at him or respond with the frailest of voices, but when she took a deep breath, she could sense the difference in his scent; not less intense, nor with an alternate effect on her body, but there was something bitter in his scent, cold. As if he were... distressed, not by the provocation, but by the emotions he had caused in her, her tears shining on her freckled cheeks and her lower lip still trembling.

She swallowed, her gaze fixed ahead, ignoring him with dedication until Gilbert looked away from her. She could see the tension in his jaw from the corner of her vision, but she couldn’t care less. If Anne was going to be expelled for her little stunt, not only would she beat him with closed fists until exhausted, but she would also ignore him fervently for the rest of her days. If by some miracle the angels illuminated her and the professor showed mercy by giving her another form of punishment, Anne would still ignore him until the end of her days, without any more violence in her path.

She wasn’t going to waste so much energy on him.

The hours passed slowly and torturously, her classmates watching them at every opportunity with confusion, undecided about how to take the situation. Josie Pye lets out small laughs that the professor either ignored or couldn’t hear, the boys nudging each other now and then to point at them and whisper, and Anne dared to look at Diana just once; her best friend was watching her with concern, slightly pale, but smiling faintly when their eyes met. Anne raised her eyebrows, surprised, but quickly understood her message.

You hit Gilbert Blythe with a blackboard. In the head. And you broke it.

She couldn’t laugh, or even smile, but maybe in the future, she would be able to if it meant Diana would be laughing beside her. For now, she was too busy with nausea and sweat, clenching her hands tightly to avoid the urge to move her knee anxiously and be scolded. Her task was to be as unnoticed as possible, to imagine scenarios where her parents would never find out about her mistake and Professor Phillips would disappear from the face of the earth, to wish for a pretty dress like Diana’s and be able to buy a bow and have pretty hairstyles like Ruby’s.

Ruby.

The girl, beautiful as ever, did not hide her complete lack of attention to the professor and his class. Anne thought with little humor that she did Gilbert Blythe a favor by putting him in front of everyone, having the freedom to observe him without having to pretend attention and enjoy each of his features and his mere presence until sighing several times. Every time she glanced at Anne, her face distorted with envy and sadness, wishing it were her in Anne’s place; Ruby would enjoy standing next to him for hours, daring to get a little closer until her insensitive nose could feel him, maybe even reaching out to touch his hair.

Anne would switch places with her in a heartbeat, preoccupied with suffocating from his scent and suffering the consequences of his attention.

“I'll see you all tomorrow at the usual time, I expect punctuality and discipline unlike today. You will be informed of the measures first thing so everyone knows what will happen if you choose to rebel in such a rude and uncivilized manner,” he announced with a pathetic grunt, the students responding with affirmations and farewells before quickly leaving through the only exit, Diana being the only one to look in her direction and smile reassuringly. Anne bit the inside of her cheek with such brutality that she tasted the metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

The classroom emptied within minutes, the laughter, exclamations, and rumors fading away until they were completely evaporated into the silence of the forest and pathways. Anne and Gilbert remained standing, feeling their knees complaining from the constant weight and their muscles protesting after so many hours; her stomach was not only twisting with anxiety or terror, but also with hunger and discomfort at the response she would have to give her parents once she returned to Green Gables.

Mr. Phillips took no hurry in confronting them, watching the door for a few seconds before taking a chair and dragging it down the aisle, placing it in the center of the room. He sat, crossed his legs, and looked at his watch with disinterest before fixing his gaze on them; Anne watched his hands and remembered how she had witnessed the sinful path he had made on Prissy’s skin, making her skin crawl with disgust and taking an imperceptible step back at the mere memory. There was nothing but distaste in his gaze, but all her instincts screamed to keep as much distance as possible between them to focus better. Gilbert, at her side, remained still as a statue, disinterested and expectant of the resolution to leave as soon as possible.

Did Gilbert have family waiting for him? Anne had never thought much about his private life, but her indifference sparked curiosity in her. Didn’t he have a father worried about the reprimand he would receive, or a mother furious about the problems he was facing? Did he have siblings to care for?

“Shirley and Blythe,” the professor sighed, interrupting her train of thought. Anne clenched her hands together “The two highest achievers in the class turning out to be the most disobedient students. What a disappointment and disgust”.

Neither of them responded.

“I suppose I can’t blame you entirely, Gilbert, but I can’t ignore the demonstration you made today” Anne tried her best to hide her desire to frown while Gilbert tensed beside her, as if preparing to respond. Mr. Phillips continued, “I considered various ways to address this situation and concluded that there are few ways to demonstrate the severity of your actions”.

Anne felt she had to say something, apologize, or accept responsibility, so she lowered her head and awaited the verdict.

“I decided that the best punishment is for you to stay after school today and clean the entire building until every corner is spotless and brand new” her heart began to race with adrenaline, relieved that this was the only thing they would be asked to do; she would work hard to make everything shine and the windows crystal clear. Her face drained of color when the professor continued, “And in addition, starting this Friday and until the end of the year, you will have to meet weekly in the Avonlea library to complete extra-curricular tasks”.

What?

“The assignments will be double of what your classmates receive, of course, and you will have to give presentations for me to evaluate. I don’t have time to teach you, so you will have to research on your own, with no help except for the supervision of the librarian, who will kindly fulfill this task” Mr. Phillips smiled wolfishly, satisfied with their expressions of shock and horror “If you do not agree, it will be my pleasure to accompany you to your homes to inform your parents that you will not continue your studies. I do not mind delivering bad news”.

Anne felt paralyzed. She had to spend time alone with Gilbert Blythe. She was forced to do so if she wanted to stay at Avonlea School; they had to work and study together to secure their future. She wanted to dig a hole and hide in it until things sorted themselves out, anger and mortification making her open and close her mouth like a fish, listening to Gilbert speak for the first time, “Is it necessary for this to be done together, professor?”.

She turned to look at him, the desire to shout that it was his fault, his fault for constantly seeking her out, for bothering and provoking her when she had never wanted this. She had never wanted this, and now she had to listen to his question as if, after all, he also didn’t want to be in the same space. Indignation burned through her veins as the professor replied, “What’s the harm in my two top students doing extra work together at home? The challenge will be working together alone. At the slightest demonstration of conflict, complaint from either of you or the librarian, or my assessment that your work is unsatisfactory, we will have to look for another type of resolution until I am satisfied with your discipline and character. This should correct your temper, Shirley, otherwise, I will have to consider whether to continue teaching and keep you in my area of work”.

Her future. Her entire life. Her brain acted before she could analyze it, her body moving closer with determination and her voice firm as she said, “I will comply with whatever you ask, Professor Phillips. Whatever it takes”.

Hate fused with her soul; she hated this implicit plea, hated that her life depended on so little. There was nothing more she could do but accept it, and she hated that. She hated having no other choice but to be embarrassed and humiliated “I will do my best to make up for this incident and give you satisfaction regarding my studies, sir”.

He raised an eyebrow, weighing her response, and finally accepted it with a nod. That was enough; it was enough to strive and have one more chance and rely on the mediocrity of her professor, hoping that after the first lessons, he would tire of wasting time on students who did not suffer from their punishment. Eventually.

Both the professor and she turned their gaze to Gilbert, a silence too long to be natural, frowning at his lack of response. The young man was illuminated by the fading sunlight, his dark hair, his porcelain skin, and his scent intoxicating her senses. She blinked slowly as she observed the arch of his lips and eyebrows, his sharp jawline, and his thick lashes. His black eyes looked at the professor as if studying him, feeling the familiar shiver run down her spine at his presence, stifling and explicit, when he finally spoke, “I have no doubt, professor”.

The older man frowned, displeased with his response and lack of obedience and enthusiasm, merely looking at his watch before standing up. He didn’t bother to push in his chair before pointing to a slender door on the wall next to the blackboard “In that door are the cleaning supplies. I don’t want a single stain, not a speck of dust, nor a dirty fireplace when I arrive first thing in the morning”.

He gathered his belongings and gave them one last look before heading for the exit “Next Tuesday, you’ll have to present the first of your lessons. Tomorrow I will tell you the topic you need to develop; and before you get too excited, Blythe, I will make sure that none of the topics you must develop throughout the year will be related to your university career. It would be too easy otherwise, wouldn’t it?”.

Anne watched out of the corner of her eye as Gilbert clenched his fists so tightly she feared his hand might break.

The professor closed the door without a farewell, the echo of the slam resonating through the classroom bathed in a sepulchral silence, echoing through the vast space between them, echoing through their tense bodies and tumultuous emotions. Anne breathed slowly, her mind trying to process everything that had happened in this eternal day, trying not to panic at being alone with Gilbert Blythe, trying not to be enraged at the thought of being forced to share time and space with him, trying not to break into agonizing, humiliating tears and relieved to know that she wouldn’t be expelled so quickly. She had a chance and she was going to seize it, she was going to take it against all adversities, no matter the cost.

She only had to fulfill it, and that part was the hardest. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy when she turned slightly to face the alpha, who seemed to be trying to control his own emotions, when she connected her gaze with his. Anne instinctively stepped back, anxious about their proximity, watching as his expression hardened into something unknown. She didn’t know what to say or do; she wanted to hit him, she wanted to sob in front of him to make him feel guilty, she wanted to curse him and ask him questions, she wanted to try to understand him and at the same time judge him. Her mind was a giant puzzle and riddle when Gilbert broke the silence.

“I’ll stay to clean. Go home, I’m sure your family will be worried if you don’t get back before it gets dark”.

He didn’t wait for her response before heading to the slender door, opening it and starting to pull out the few cleaning items. A broom, a mop, a small rag, and a bucket; there was nothing else but that and the cold water from the stream, not even a bar of soap to clean the windows. Anne planted her feet on the ground “And what about you?”.

She felt completely detached from her question; she should leave him alone, let him clean the entire school by himself after what had happened, let him take responsibility because it was his fault, but her curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes shifted to his hands, long fingers rolling up the sleeves of his shirt naturally, veins standing out on his skin, muscles flexing with the movement, his arms protesting against the tightness of the shirt. She almost thought she heard him laugh when he answered with a side smile, as if her question had been naïve, innocent “I’ve always been praised greatly for my gestures and chivalry, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything”.

“You suppose well”.

Gilbert took a single step toward her, careful of her needs and her emotions, keeping his distance with a respectful demeanor, analyzing her with attention and breathing steadily, calm and with an intoxicating aroma that invited her to relax as well. She didn’t “Anne, please, go home before it gets dark. I’ll clean everything and the professor will never know you weren’t here with me; I won’t say a word”.

“I can’t risk it,” she shook her head, thinking quickly about the scolding she would receive once she arrived at Green Gables, Matthew’s watchful gaze, and Marilla’s indignant tone. Maybe Jerry would come looking for her to make sure she was okay, but she couldn’t consider that possibility. She didn’t want to imagine the woods once the sun had set either “If the professor decides to come or sends someone and I’m not here, he’ll expel me. I can’t be expelled. I can’t”.

“He won’t do that,” Gilbert resumed his work, placing the items against a wall and running his free hand through his hair “He’s one of the most careless and indifferent people I know; he’ll show up tomorrow, glance at everything for two seconds, and go on with his life. I’d be surprised if he listens to our presentations and doesn’t spend the entire time checking his watch”.

“I’m going to stay,” she shook her head, passing by him to step into the afternoon light. She looked at the horizon, hoping she’d have one more hour of sunlight to get back to Green Gables. If her parents thought she’d been distracted playing with Diana, they knew where to find her: Anne was a girl who carefully kept to her paths and routines, enjoying familiarity and habit when she wandered alone.

She felt Gilbert’s presence behind her, starting to feel anger surpass her fear as she turned to face him “I don’t expect you to understand the reasons I can’t risk it; I don’t think you’re capable”.

She removed the bucket from her grip without touching his skin, walking briskly towards the stream to fill it with cold water. It was about to start freezing soon, and the paths would be covered in snow; for now, she had time to enjoy the dry leaves, mud, and rain during the night. She heard Gilbert following her, wanting to repay him by dumping the bucket over him out of pure spite, but she restrained herself. “Anne, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would escalate like this; it wasn’t my intention”.

“Your apologies don’t matter, Gilbert, because now I’m stuck with this and stuck with you,” the weight of the water stretched her arms uncomfortably, but she didn’t set it down “Now I’m forced to clean, study, and lie more than I already do because of you”.

“I didn’t force you to hit me,” he said, with the sun shining on one side of his face, shadows casting his features on the other side.

Anne felt her blood boil as she started heading into the classroom, murmuring over her shoulder, “Guess what, Gilbert? You deserved it, and I don’t regret it”.

She had to work quickly if she wanted to get back as soon as possible and avoid more contact with her partner, who had not responded with anything more than a sigh as he went inside the school to grab the broom and start sweeping without another word. Anne wanted to bite her nails until they broke, or comb her hair obsessively, but she couldn’t lose focus at that moment; she was sure she could shed all her tears of anger and frustration on her way home.

Right now, she needed to think and act.

She didn’t understand the purpose of the mop while looking at the wooden floor, too uneven to be cleaned in that way without making it damp, dismissing its usefulness and making small observations; Gilbert could sweep and clean the fireplace, while she could clean the windows and take care of the trash and the blackboard. This way, she might have some free time and avoid rushing home out of fear that the sun would leave her before she had enough mental energy to come up with a good excuse for Marilla and Matthew.

A slight pain brushed her chest at the thought of lying to her family, feeling she had no choice. She would eventually find a way to tell the truth, but today she didn’t have the strength to face a discussion and disappointed faces. She took the cloth and dipped it in the bucket, wringing it out before heading to the first window with frozen hands and the small bones of her hands protesting the brutal temperature. Anne naturally ignored the discomfort, careful not to position her wrist under the drips for fear of altering the protective effect of the dry ointment.

“I’m a good team worker, by the way,” Gilbert commented from the other corner, lifting the chairs to sweep under the tables. A clear attempt at negotiating a truce that wasn’t going to work.

“I imagine so,”  she replied ironically, cleaning the second window and resisting the urge to scratch her nose because of the dust. Curiosity began to burn through her anger, as always, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you make that scene to get the teacher to punish you?”.

Gilbert stopped sweeping for a few seconds, as if the question had surprised him, before resuming his work and answering lightly, “I’d never seen him so angry, and I felt guilty. It was my responsibility”.

Anne bit a ‘yes’ between her teeth, feeling her arm muscles stretch to reach the highest corners of the windows on tiptoe. The alpha must have been watching her when he kindly offered, “I can take care of that and the fireplace. I can handle everything, in fact. It’s not safe to return at night. I insist that you return before the sun sets”.

“I’m here because I have to be,” she sighed, wetting the cloth in water before starting on the last window on the right. She felt sweat sticking the dress to her back “I’m here cleaning because, as much as I want to, I have no other option”.

“You can leave now, let me finish this, and forget this part of the punishment. No one will come to check on it”.

“And if they do?” she still didn’t look him in the face, too frustrated to control the volume of her voice “It’s easy not to fear and not commit to things when you’re an alpha and a man, Gilbert. It’s not the same for me, and it never will be; I have no other choice but to prepare for the worst-case scenario, endure it, and fulfill it rather than risk losing it”.

Anne really didn’t expect him to understand. Being an alpha and a man in their society was the easiest and most comfortable position in the hierarchy, the highest in the social chain that was never questioned or denied in any aspect. If Gilbert decided to commit atrocities, question, and disobey, he would receive punishments, but he wouldn’t fear losing his privileges or opportunities because the possibility was nonexistent. No one in their right mind would exert such power over an alpha because it was frowned upon and unthinkable, unlike women who had to struggle to educate themselves and live in societies without major difficulty, not to mention omegas who were hung in squares and homes burned to the ground for their mere existence.

Gilbert, exasperated, observed the shiver that climbed Anne’s spine, offering as a last resort, “If you don’t want to leave, that’s fine, but let me clean. You can sit and wait while I finish. It won’t be long”.

Anne stepped back a few paces, knowing that only the rows of windows on the right-hand side and the fireplace needed to be cleaned by removing the ashes and the burned logs. She was exhausted, and it seemed Gilbert’s guilt had no solution “I’ll take out the trash from the benches, and I can leave the rest to you”.

He nodded as a final response, finishing sweeping and bending down in front of the fireplace to remove the ashes with a small shovel. Anne looked at the benches, picking up white papers, ribbons, and pieces of chalk that could no longer be used. When she reached her own seat and pulled out the crumpled notes Gilbert had thrown onto her lap hours earlier, she hid the evidence so quickly that she felt her ears burning, stowing them in a cloth bag they used as a trash bin before even thinking about what was written on them. She sat in a spot where the fireplace concealed her, sure she didn’t want to look at him any more than necessary while she waited; her cheeks were still flushed as Gilbert spoke again with heavy breathing, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his dust-covered forearm “If you want, I can walk you to…”.

“No,” she cut him off sharply before he could finish the sentence.

“It’s getting dark, and last time…”.

“No,” she didn’t understand what he meant by last time.

“What I’m saying is that I’m finishing up, and it’s starting to get dark” her brain registered the first part of the sentence, grabbing her things in one quick motion, passing by him without even looking in his direction, and opening the door before her feet touched the ground.

The sun blazed on the horizon, disappearing from the sky with its warmth as Anne looked over her shoulder, finding him still sitting on the ground, watching her intently as she asked breathlessly and purely out of courtesy, “Can you take care of tidying everything up when you close?”.

Gilbert took a moment to respond, blinking slowly as he looked at her; the wind blew gently, disheveling her hair and making the strands of free red hair burn under the sunlight, as if fire was surrounding her with beauty and eternity. He swallowed, recovering as he weakly answered, “Yes, of course, but—”.

“Perfect. Goodbye” Anne turned around, walking swiftly towards the depth of the forest, eager to put distance between them and escape having to spend more time with him. She had to make the most of every second of daylight, and when she heard hesitant footsteps behind her that stopped and a low laugh she thought was a product of her imagination, she didn’t dare look back or stop.

“You have,” Anne had never wished so much to have the ability to disappear as she did at that moment, “Five minutes to explain your arrival at this hour, Anne. And it must be quick”.

She felt her eyes might fall from her face at having them so wide open, absorbing the image before her with frantic heartbeats: Marilla with her arms crossed at the door of the house, so angry that she felt smoke might come out of her ears at any moment, and Matthew behind her with a frown that signified nothing more than worry and the need for an explanation to relax and understand. The sky was now turning a pale blue, having arrived at the exact moment when the sun was setting, nerves and cold temperatures freezing her fingers and red nose.

“Of course I can explain,” she said, convincingly and deceitfully. She blinked and swallowed to buy time and find the best words “The teacher asked me to stay longer because he wanted to talk to me about my excellent grades and offered me a project to develop and enhance my studies. I had no choice but to satisfy his conversation and listen to him; you know how I act when someone openly wants to talk to me”.

“Oh, yes. No need to entertain us much,” the comment had an ironic tone that, if she weren’t lying, would have deeply offended her. She let it pass “Doesn’t Mr. Phillips know better than to cite you for the next day rather than detain you until this hour?”.

“Mr. Phillips is a very busy person, driven by his present and scant patience” Anne nodded as she spoke, tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear “I wasn’t the only one. Gilbert Blythe had to wait with me and will be my partner in this arduous task”.

“Ah, Gilbert,” Matthew commented, choosing to ignore all previous information to say with importance, “That young man taking care of just one huge farm. Very notable”.

Very notable, stretching my hair during class to get me into trouble. Brilliant, indeed.

“Next time, you should politely refuse these talks to avoid worrying us or making us wait. Matthew was about to go look for you in this cold. It would have been very, very unfortunate” Marilla stopped blocking the entrance to let her in, observing her shivering with a critical raised eyebrow “The professor will have no choice but to accept and understand it”.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Marilla. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse and had to consider,” she left her hat and scarf hanging, smiling over her shoulder politely “He will need me every Friday in the Avonlea library to work comfortably after school hours. I promised that my education was my highest priority and that I would never put myself in a situation where I would reject it before embracing it tenaciously."

Lying, along with other truths, lessened the heavy guilt weighing on her tongue, allowing her to boldly provide explanations and invent scenarios to quickly resolve doubts. She convinced herself that once she was calmer and the teacher continued with these punishment sessions, she would have no choice but to tell her parents the truth.

For now, she could cling to the idea that this was to protect her education and nothing more “Don't you think these are decisions we should make together before you commit yourself?”.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured quickly, struggling against the lump forming in her throat. Being inside her home and having removed her coats allowed her nature to expand freely, caressing her neck and rubbing her wrists lightly together to relieve the stress. Marilla's expression softened imperceptibly, noting how Matthew headed toward the living room to avoid being a spectator of the scolding “It was inconsiderate and disrespectful of me to ignore your opinions or input on this matter. I can speak with the teacher and refuse it if that’s what you want”.

Please don’t say yes.

“No, no,” Marilla conceded softly, shaking her head before sighing and walking with her to the kitchen “I just want you to discuss these things with us before making hasty decisions. Since it’s your education, we will allow it, but it won’t be the same case with any other topic or on a second occasion, I want to make that clear”.

“Clearer than ever,” Anne nodded fervently “Reject scheduled conversations outside of school hours and discuss these issues with you before committing. It won’t happen again”.

Marilla looked at her curiously, studying her, before letting her go with a sigh “Didn't Diana benefit from these meetings?”.

“Oh, no. Her parents allow her to go to school for mere protocol, but unfortunately, they don’t want her to pursue further studies. They prefer to educate her in matters they consider more important than... these meetings” A lie and a truth. A dangerous balance that could fall on her at any moment.

“I see,” Marilla lifted the lid of a steaming pot, a clear sign of her loss of patience as she gestured with one hand “Go change and freshen up and come down for dinner, Anne. I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary”.

“Yes, ma’am,” she turned on her heels without hesitation, stealing a glance at Matthew in the living room, watching the fire absentmindedly. Anne would have greatly enjoyed being in his thoughts for a few minutes, curious about what crossed his mind that expressed so little and consumed so much.

Someday, she would convince him to talk about himself for more than a minute. For now, she had to hurry to become presentable and make amends to her parents for her poor attitude, an attitude of which they were unaware for the moment. Perhaps she had more things to resolve than she wanted to admit.

She reached her room and wanted to cry just seeing it, arranged in the perfect way that her instincts and the interior of her chest wanted to purr with pleasure. The furniture was in the right places, the objects (like her books, pens, and jars) displayed as they should be, her bed situated against one of the farthest corners from the door. Anne knew that there could be no danger in Green Gables, and that was what made it a magical and idyllic place, but her nature didn’t seem to understand when it twisted in discomfort and anxiety the first few days simply because it was close to the door.

Once she had arranged the bed where it felt good and correct, away from the entrance and partially covered, there were smaller, annoying needs she had to address. She stored belongings that irritated her in drawers, making a superhuman effort to move her tall dresser to a perfect midpoint, taking her time to contemplate where the bedside table would satisfy the itch in the center of her chest and behind her neck with such insistence that it gave her anxiety.

Over time, she had started collecting soft and warm things for her mattress, leaving them on the surface to surround herself with them when going to sleep and find peace, sighing when she could arrange the sheets and pillows in the most beautiful way when lying down. Thus, over the months and years, Anne had created a safe and perfect space for herself; as much as she wished to avoid it, she felt deeply uncomfortable every time Marilla entered her room, subtly hoping she would leave so she could breathe in relief.

It was an irrational thing that escaped reasoning and any explanation, and she remembered the embarrassment and mortification when her parents had succumbed to the curiosity of seeing her take soft and pretty objects up to her room. She recalled the moment when she noticed her parents' presence, coincidentally when she was pressing a pillow to see it crumpled the way she wanted, the right way. She had turned around, swallowing nervously at seeing them in her space, but smiling, thinking it was something normal and common.

It wasn’t.

When her parents had observed her room with wide, dangerously wide eyes and tense postures, she remembered the fragility and exposure she had felt. Her parents had quickly recovered from their astonishment, showing their modest and orderly rooms, which were vastly different from hers and her habits, then explaining that it might be due to her unusual nature. It was so uncommon, so confidential and secret that there was little information about everything they did and their needs, having to resort to the scant legends and whispers about omegas or simple conclusions. Anne was reassured by the explanation of her nature making changes in her room, confident that there was a reason that helped calm and justify her. Still, she had been cautious with Diana’s visits, arranging her bed or convincing her to play outside or in the living room before going up to her room.

Another reason was her scent. Anne diligently used the ointment in the mornings, careful to make it last throughout the day, letting her guard down at night by not replenishing the medication on her skin. She had to treat the jars as precious to avoid regularly seeking them and exposing herself dangerously by carrying them around, managing to make them last, at times, months. This made her room have the faintest and most imperceptible of scents, her scent, which an insensitive nose like Diana's could not detect but still frightened her. She could not deny the pleasant sound rising in her throat every time she lay in bed and felt her own sweet and warm fragrance, longing to live in a world where she never had to hide again.

Anne, as promised, didn’t waste time. She carefully removed her day clothes and bandages, deciding that a simple bath would be enough to keep infections under control, hiding the used fabrics in a place where Marilla wouldn’t find them; she planned to dispose of them in the middle of the forest, far from the possibility of her parents seeing them. She folded her clothes and put on a comfortable white dress to be at home, deciding that her thick socks were enough to withstand the autumn cold. In the bathroom, she washed her hands and face before heading downstairs to the kitchen, starting to place the utensils and food carefully on the table in a passive attempt to converse sweetly.

“How is Rachel? It’s been a while since her last visit,” a laugh emerged from Matthew's throat, controlled as Marilla let out a snort in response and served the food.

“It’s been a while, and that word usage isn’t necessary,” the man raised both eyebrows, questioning her command without her being able to see it “She’s perfectly fine, as always. Looking for a bride for her son and attending endless teas. It won’t be more than a few weeks before she appears here again”.

Anne had a love-hate relationship with Marilla’s friend, Rachel. She was a woman with strong opinions on topics they did not agree on, submissive in some aspects and dominant in others, like rumors and gossip; traditional, to put it another way, contrary to her and her family. Anne didn’t understand how such a structured woman wished to maintain a friendship with an adult single woman and her accidentally adopted daughter. She was sure that if Rachel knew her true nature, she would be the same in spreading the rumor like wildfire, feeling at the same time that she would be the only one arranging carriages to let her escape. There was no middle ground or predictability when it came to her, feeling comfortable enjoying her impulsive visits and superficial conversations.

Matthew greatly enjoyed not having to encounter her under any circumstances, showing no more sign than a pained expression at the idea of her visit, blowing on the soup to cool it. Anne commented, “Her presence is no inconvenience. I would like to greet her if she comes to visit you”.

“If you’re not in one of your lessons at the library, I suppose you’ll be available for a little chat,” the reminder nearly made her choke on her food, hiding behind a napkin over her lips. She urgently wished to change the topic.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me there was a library in Avonlea?” a terrible topic change. Curiosity, as always, made her stumble over her own feet “I thought the Charlottetown library was the closest”.

“To be honest, it’s an old and uncomfortable library. It has few books, few windows, and a lot of dust,” the woman nodded, sipping her water. Anne forced herself to eat before being scolded by her critical eye “You weren’t missing out on anything valuable other than allergies”.

“And the librarian is exasperating,” Matthew confessed as if it were the most important piece of the revelation. Anne bit her lips to keep from laughing.

“You should have told me anyway, dust and poor treatment or not!” the scolding came with a smile and a playful tone, the fatigue and stress of the day dissipating and disappearing when she got home “If the books were in the most inhospitable place on earth, I would still go after them. Even to the Avonlea library”.

“No book is worth facing that lady. None”.

“Matthew!”.

Her laughter could no longer be contained, feeling joy flow through her chest, her full stomach, and her warm mouth from the freshly cooked soup. She looked into her parents’ eyes through her small eyelids from her big smile, ignoring the pain and guilt of lying to them, trying to convince herself that a white lie would be less harmful than the real reason for her future visits to the library.

He stretched out his hand to turn the doorknob at the entrance to his home, blinking slowly as the door opened in front of him without needing to be touched. He wasn't surprised at all, of course; his instincts told him someone was nearby, and he knew that person well enough to recognize them.

“You look like you've spent an eternity cleaning the bathrooms of pirate ships, kid”.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow before responding with irony, “Thanks. You look great too”.

He wanted to enter his house, but the man blocked his way by standing in front of him, forcing him to take a step back. He didn't want to show his irritation explicitly, knowing his weakness would be exploited to the last minute, but his scent and posture weren’t doing a good job of hiding it. Sebastian wrinkled his nose and asked with a slightly furrowed brow, “Are you in trouble?”.

He felt a sideways smile stretching across his lips, something waiting in his chest, patiently.

“You have no idea”.

Chapter Text

When the professor started announcing the punishment in front of all her classmates, Anne wanted nothing more than to laugh out loud. A genuine laugh, the kind that would make her cheeks wet with tears, her chest ache from the lack of air, and her body writhe with uncontrollable mirth. But she couldn’t.

Anne would have greatly enjoyed being able to laugh at her situation, at her naivety in thinking this day would be better than the last, that she would manage to endure it when once again she was tested as a naive, innocent, and foolish girl. Fool for thinking that Mr. Phillips would be a professional and spare her from hurtful and unnecessary comments, fool for believing her classmates would remain silent instead of starting to whisper and laugh at her, fool for even thinking her head could withstand the pressure, hatred, and frustration. She couldn’t laugh, couldn’t cry, couldn’t feel anything other than the blood rising in her face from embarrassment and humiliation, certain that she was becoming a foreign and alien creature due to her red hair and flushed cheeks—a clear sign that she didn’t belong there or anywhere else.

She was alien to the world, to her people, to her environment, and trying to accept it was consuming her soul to unimaginable extents.

When the professor allowed them a short break for lunch, she felt Diana’s warm hand on her shoulder, sensing her sweet and soft voice trying to console or distract her from her chaotic and devastating feelings, but she couldn’t hear it. She could hear Josie Pye’s tinkling laughter, making sharp and offensive comments so her friends could exchange knowing glances, enjoying her suffering and humiliation with little discretion. She couldn’t bear another second, feeling the walls closing in on her as she stood up abruptly, a stone settling in her lungs.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the boys crowding around Gilbert Blythe, among them Billy; it was one of his few appearances since he had threatened her. The episode didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest, with his hands in his pockets and a lazy half-smile on his face as his classmates began to speak loudly, indifferent to whether she could hear them or not.

“My condolences, Gilbert, let’s hope you can endure it and that it goes easy on you!” she didn’t know who it was, but the drama made her press her jaw and hands with anger, longing to respond, to defend herself without being expelled. Her hands were tied, and she could do nothing but listen.

“I can’t imagine how many things she must have from being an orphan,” another one commented, pretending to shiver from the repugnance her presence caused him. She felt like she couldn’t breathe “My parents wouldn’t let me come within five meters of her for fear of catching something.”

She closed her eyes, trying to contain the need to sit on the floor and cover her ears. Her neck prickled when Diana, with cold hands, grabbed her wrist and began to pull her out of the confinement, feeling her heavy and clumsy feet as she struggled to follow her and breathe through her compressed lungs. Gilbert didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t show any expression; through her panic, she couldn’t even perceive his scent. Something was very, very wrong.

Dirty.

Uneducated.

Orphaned.

Weird.

Ugly.

Impure.

“There’s something I’d like to highlight,” hearing Billy’s voice made the nausea claw at her throat, making the cold sweat sticky with terror and disgust “I’m curious to know that she comes from an orphanage; don’t you?”

“Why would that interest me about that nest of rats, Billy?” Charlie asked, confused by the question. Anne could see a genuine smile when he answered, with no shame.

"I feel that she must be less complex than the other girls. After all she has witnessed and had to do, I think she’s easier. I’m sure she cries very little, very little indeed, and I enjoy it a lot when I don’t have to deal with crybabies. I like things simple and quiet”.

The sun hit her face at just the right moment, the cool autumn air wrapping around her like her first breath of oxygen, her lips pale and her legs trembling as she descended the stairs with Diana’s delicate grip on her shoulder. Her breaths were unstable, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms as they walked to the stream, sitting on the ground and drawing her knees to her chest to feel safer, making herself smaller to become imperceptible, invisible.

The words were anchored in her chest, her tongue immobile and her muscles weak in the face of what she had just heard. She couldn’t defend herself because she was walking on a tightrope, where a single wrong step could lead to her expulsion and forever rob her of the chance for a dignified future, her dreams shattered by her inability to tolerate comments not made directly to her face. She had to close her eyes, endure, and try to breathe, but managing to do so was almost as difficult as trying not to vomit after hearing Billy speak about her in such a way after cornering her in the woods.

“Anne, are you okay?” Diana approached, placing a piece of orange on her lap, frowning in confusion at her pale expression “Eat this, please, you’re looking pale.”

Anne froze, opening her mouth to ask if Diana was serious, closing it when she realized why Diana didn’t understand her reaction; she wasn’t paying attention or couldn’t hear over the noise of the others, cursing their dynamics once again for making her more sensitive than usual. She hid her face in her hands, responding in a voice so soft she wasn’t sure if Diana could hear her “It was horrible, Diana. The way he talked about me and the punishment. I’ve rarely felt so degraded.”

Diana couldn’t know what Billy had said or what had happened in the woods. She wanted to protect her, and revealing those situations would only cause bitterness and frustration in her best friend. She promised herself that once they were away from Avonlea and away from him, she would confess everything, down to the smallest detail. For now, she had to distract Anne and try to make her forget, at least for a few hours, the terror that gripped her heart “He’s a terrible person, Anne. You shouldn’t let him dim your light or make you feel bad. You are so much more than him and his attempts to humiliate you.”

Anne blinked slowly when she smelled the strong aroma of the orange, scrunching her nose and removing her hands from her face to see her friend holding it in front of her face, forcing her to eat. A small smile formed on her lips as she took it between her fingers and forced herself to chew, determined not to vomit in front of everyone and draw more attention and embarrassment to herself. She was sure she had endured enough for a lifetime.

“Thank you, Diana. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, hugging her shoulders and breathing in her expensive perfume. Although her legs were still trembling, she was able to better appreciate her surroundings, the damp grass beneath her, the stream singing under her feet, the sun warming and enveloping her cold, sticky skin. She sighed, looking at the paths. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on if he keeps playing these games with me.”

“He’ll get tired,” Diana said, taking something from her side and spreading a small cloth between them with both of their lunches. Anne hadn’t noticed when she had grabbed their things, taking a deep breath at the idea of eating when her stomach was twisting and hardening anxiously inside her abdomen. “There are rumors that he and Prissy are going to get engaged, though there are few. If he marries her, he’ll take over the family business and stop teaching.”

“Prissy wants to get engaged to him?” A shiver ran down her spine, trying to hide her disgust as she began eating pieces of cheese and fresh bread. “I can’t imagine it without feeling like throwing up.”

“Tell me about it,” Diana added, her posture straight and her demeanor elegant and proper, smiling slightly. “That mustache… it’s terrifying, I feel like it has a life of its own.”

“Oh, yes,” Anne felt the joy slowly unravelling the knots in her stomach, easing her frantic heart. “You should have seen him when he spoke to us alone, it seemed to move on its own.”

Instinctively, she looked over her shoulder, meeting a pointed stare from Josie Pye, who decided to ignore her once she focused on her. “Why hasn’t Josie Pye declared war on me after yesterday’s promise? I thought by now she’d want my head on a stake.”

Diana wiped her lips with her handkerchief, arranging her hair behind her shoulders. “Seeing you suffer is much more fruitful for her than seeing you keep a promise, and unfortunately, she doesn’t care much about Ruby’s feelings. She’ll find something over time to torment you with, and continue until she’s exhausted, or decides to change.”

Anne let out a small huff, fixing her eyes on the stream and starting to feel the uncomfortable warmth of the sun beneath the multiple layers of clothing. “How can you be friends with someone knowing they have those attitudes?”.

“Being against her is hell, you know that better than anyone, but being on her side isn’t so bad. She’s nice and supportive when she wants to be, and if she considers you a friend, she makes you feel… appreciated,” her friend explained. “That’s why everyone prefers her as a leader and doesn’t mind giving up their places for her, because she makes them feel good and validated. She knows exactly what you want to hear from yourself, and she’s usually honest about that.”

Anne raised her eyebrows, surprised as she chewed an orange, tearing at the grass with her fingers. The presence of Billy and Professor Phillips made her skin crawl, but she was doing her best to ignore it and try to enjoy, at least for a moment, time with her best friend. “When you put it that way, she really does seem nice.”

“It’s a matter of perspective, but what she’s doing to you, what she says about you, outrages me and takes away all motivation to associate with her. Until she treats you like a human being, with respect and kindness, I won’t miss her company at all.” Anne smiled, feeling the warmth spreading through her chest with shyness at her friend’s declaration, a person who wasn’t afraid to face everything to be with her and maintain their friendship. She rested her head on her knee, opening her mouth to speak when Diana interrupted. “I need us to talk about your study sessions with Gilbert Blythe.”

And just like that, fleeting as a shooting star and as sudden as a lightning strike, Anne felt her heart stop and then resume a frantic rhythm, hiding behind her legs to avoid growling. “I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk about him. Not now, not ever.”

“Gilbert is a gentleman and a very good student,” Diana observed, frowning at the smile forming on her lips, too sincere to mean anything good. “He’s always been very respectful and polite with all of us. More than one person fantasizes about him, I’d dare say.”

“The gentlemen I know don’t pull their classmates’ hair, don’t you think?” Anne began biting her nails nervously. “He’s too alpha for my taste, I don’t understand what they see in him, and I’m suffering immensely having to endure my punishment with him.”

“He was immature in how he treated you, yes, but look at how he took responsibility for his actions afterward, forcing the professor to punish him too. Only a real man would have such a response.” Diana dipped her hands in the stream, masking her expression as she met the cold water. “Others would have pushed you into the mouth of the wolf just to avoid the slightest effort.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I have to suffer a punishment because of him, that I have to study twice as hard and submit to evaluations with a professor who clearly isn’t interested in my learning and education,” frustration began to seep into her tone, an unsuccessful attempt to control her emotions as she spoke again. “I can’t understand his need to bother and provoke me. I don’t know what he wants from me, or why he has to drag me along with him in whatever he’s searching for. I just want to study and finish this stage of my life peacefully, and even the simplest things seem impossible.”

“What I’m getting at,” Diana stood up, extending one of her hands to help her up. She looked towards the inside of the school, noting how everyone was returning to their places to resume classes. “Is that you have to give him a chance to at least form a respectful and pleasant relationship. He’s a good guy and I doubt he’ll make you have a bad time; you just need to start seeing him with different eyes.”

“I doubt I can see him with different eyes, Diana.” Anne took her hand and straightened up, feeling her muscles protest from the effort after being under so much panic and anxiety. “I just want to fulfill the punishment, endure it, and be able to forget all this. I wish for nothing more in the world.”

That day, Friday, Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe had their first study session in the Avonlea library.

What was the worst that could happen?

Anne breathed heavily beneath the multiple layers of clothing, stretching the scarf around her neck to free herself from the oppressive heat that enveloped her skin. It had been unnecessary and completely immature to storm out of class without looking back, all the way to the library to avoid a long walk with Gilbert Blythe, reluctant to share another minute more than necessary with him. The professor had not only set the place and topic they were to address the following week but had also decided on the schedule for them — every Friday they were to go to the library after class to be met by the librarian, Abigail, who would monitor them and report their progress to the professor once their shifts were over. Anne rarely felt so unenthusiastic about being surrounded by books.

She was going to be fine. She was going to be fine because she was smart and diligent, and she was going to discover a new library, and she was going to fulfill what was required to end this cycle in the best way possible. Diana's words echoed in her mind, weighing the idea that perhaps considering Gilbert with less anger would make the punishment more bearable and less exhausting. Maybe she could do that, maybe she could breathe deeply and tolerate it until the necessary moment, for herself and no one else.

Maybe.

“Good afternoon, Anne,” his raspy voice traveled down her back to the tips of her fingers, his shadow covering her due to the height difference, his scent forming thick in her throat.

Or not.

She turned to face him, lifting her head to meet his eyes and taking a barely perceptible step back due to his sudden closeness. His suit, as always, was tailor-made, with dark colors highlighting his deep eyes and silky hair. Unlike her, his breathing was controlled, his movements precise as he approached the door, sliding his gaze over her from head to toe before offering a slight smile. Anne clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he spoke again, the words sliding slowly off his tongue, hypnotically. “The temperatures are too low for you to be outside.”

He didn’t let her reply, opening the door and extending one of his hands with elegance. “After you.”

Anne bit the inside of her cheek, gripping her scarf with her hands before taking a deep breath and approaching the doorway with her heart pounding in her ears. The last time they had been this close was when she had offered to tend to his injuries, his gaze intense and heavy on her movements like a warm, suffocating blanket, moving at an unnatural speed to avoid feeling his heat and scent, jumping away from him once he had closed the door behind them.

“Are you alright?” His brow was slightly furrowed, his hands resting behind his lower back while he continued to watch her. Anne swallowed, feeling her skin pale as he followed the movement of her throat naturally, as if it were automatic.

“I could be better,” she resolved, sighing and looking around, wishing to speak as little as possible.

The library before them was a chaos, with high shelves packed with new and old books, divided by genres, years, and authors. The layout was strange and disorganized, with visibility no more than two meters ahead of them, beginning to feel the nervousness and annoyance bubbling in her chest. Sunlight streamed through windows they couldn’t see, appearing between spaces like magic, with gas lamps on the furniture to light up once night fell.

“It looks more like a labyrinth than a library,” the alpha beside her said, starting to walk in front of her, glancing over his shoulder when Anne didn’t follow. “Do you prefer to wait here?”

I’d rather leave, thank you very much.

“No, we’ll waste more time,” she snorted, moving past him and deciding to lead the way, always turning to the right as she had read once; perhaps this way they would be able to find Abigail, as if she were a mythical being hidden among miles of books, wooden shelves, and gas lamps. “Let’s get this over with as soon as possible.”

Her parents had been wrong in saying that the library had few books; Anne had never seen so many pages in her life, stealing curious glances at the categories, spines, and colors, wishing several times to stop and look at more than one. The dust irritated her eyes and nose, and despite her head’s desire to deny it, her instincts relied on Gilbert’s steady and secure presence behind her, following attentively and trying unsuccessfully to see through the empty spaces.

“Are we sure Abigail exists?” she said, wringing her hands with anxiety as the corridors seemed to lead them to a deep, forgotten, and mystical place. “I feel like we’re going in circles.”

“No,” the certainty in his words made her look at him, raising her eyebrows just as she was about to ask an ironic question. “I can sense that she’s in the same room, but her scent is too faint to tell me where. If we keep going, I might be able to hear her.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, sweat running down her neck as she took a deep breath, smelling nothing but Gilbert’s scent, damp pages, and dirt. “I don’t like being lied to, and even less when I’m dragged into situations like this. The least I expect from you is honesty.”

“I’m not lying,” he replied, a sidelong smile marking his cheek and full lips, a spark of anger showing in his chest at her lightness and the audacity to enjoy such an occasion. “From here I can hear her writing and chewing something, and she moves so slowly that I’m sure she’s an older person.”

She rolled her eyes, wishing she could bang her head against the furniture until she was unconscious. “Could you at least hide your desire to treat me like an idiot? Or at least make your lies, you know, believable?”

“Oh, Anne,” he murmured as they turned left for the first time. His raspy tone almost made her stumble. “I can make my lies very, very believable. But in this case, I’m not lying.”

At the last turn, Anne stopped abruptly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Gilbert made a quick move to avoid colliding with her. Ahead of them, among old shelves and books, was Abigail, sitting behind a desk with what appeared to be the only window in the library. Indeed, she was an older woman, dressed in a neat, dark dress, her white hair tied with a delicate pin and round glasses, not bothering to acknowledge their arrival or even greet them until Anne decided to make the first move.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” she greeted after swallowing, beginning to feel uneasy at her indifference. “We are Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley. We believe our professor has mentioned our study sessions to you?”

“Study sessions are a good alternative to punishments,” her voice sounded as if it had been hoarse from years of smoking weeds, her words hostile without lifting her gaze from her book. “Yes, Mr. Phillips came to me, but I wish to be disturbed as little as possible.”

Anne and Gilbert blinked at the same time, unsure of what to say.

“Oh, no— we don’t mean to bother you at all, we just came to introduce ourselves, so the professor knows we’re fulfilling our agreement,” Anne replied, longing to sit down after what felt like miles of walking.

“You’re the only ones who will come through that door for weeks, and I can hear you perfectly when you open it. There’s no need for announcements,” Anne wrinkled her nose, certain that she couldn’t see the gesture without raising her eyes, something she was sure she wouldn’t do. The smell of pipe was too strong for her taste. “You have a desk on the other side of the library, where I’m sure you will be good children and let me read in peace, am I wrong?”

“No, madam,” Gilbert answered, his expression relaxed and triumphant for having proven his point. It was an older woman reading a book with a pen beside her, chewing what seemed to be almonds. Anne wanted to scream. “In case of doubts, there’s no chance of turning to you, is there?”

“Don’t waste your energy looking for me, because I won’t help you at all. I only offer the place and the silence, nothing more.”

Anne wanted to scratch her forehead, thinking about how no person Mr. Phillips could have chosen was going to be kind or cooperative with them. It shouldn’t matter to her; she was sure she would be able to resolve any academic problem that arose despite taking more time than necessary. Neither a grumpy old lady nor her labyrinth of books was going to prevent her from doing her best to stop walking on a tightrope, even if she had to do it alongside Gilbert Blythe, who didn’t seem the slightest bit frustrated by the devastating prospect ahead of them.

“Well, thank you very much for your reception, madam,” Gilbert decided, not moving from his spot until Anne nodded in farewell, getting lost among the shelves once more without bothering to give a more elaborate goodbye. She felt his steps behind her, starting to complain softly when the confinement became unbearable and she began removing the coats she wore with careless abandon and more force than necessary. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she retorted, draping her heavy clothes over one arm before moving her hands quickly around her neck, a pitiful gust of wind to catch her breath, walking aimlessly with the desire to find the study area. “I’m going to disintegrate before we reach the other side of the library, I’m sure of it. I’ll turn into more dust to cover the rest of the books.”

The sun was slowly abandoning them, listening to Gilbert stretch to grab one of the lanterns for them, lighting it and extending his arm to illuminate the way. Anne fought the urge to thank him, relieved by the subtle increase in visibility despite the narrow passageways and endless rows of books. If she had to be trapped in a library with him, at least she could pretend to ignore his presence and not let his breath on her neck bother her, concentrating solely on avoiding the sudden rush of claustrophobic panic.

“And so?” Gilbert’s voice seemed oddly relaxed, though Anne was almost certain that he hadn’t read a single book on this journey. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so upset with me?”

“Of course,” she muttered, rolling her eyes before lifting her gaze to meet his, despite the awkwardness of their closeness and the way her pulse quickened at his nearness. “I’ve been waiting for this question.”

“Well,” he said in a calm, unperturbed tone, “I’m waiting for your answer. Maybe you can enlighten me on what’s happening between us so that I can solve the problem or at least understand why you’re so irritated.”

She shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest as the scent of his cologne mixed with the musty smell of the library, so different from the fresh, warm breeze of the forest. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that, and I don’t even think it’s possible for you to understand my reasons.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Anne struggled to find the right words, feeling her throat closing up, “your actions have shown me that you’re incapable of seeing beyond what’s directly in front of you. You’re too focused on your own world to realize the impact of your behavior on others.”

Gilbert looked at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, as if her words had caught him off guard. “So, it’s about me not understanding you?”

“Partly,” Anne said, her voice softening despite her frustration. “It’s also about the way you always seem to make everything about yourself, without considering how others might feel.”

He was silent for a moment, as if weighing her words, before responding. “I didn’t realize that I came across that way. I thought I was just being myself.”

“Maybe you should try being more aware of how others perceive you,” Anne replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s not just about being yourself; it’s about being considerate of the people around you.”

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds being their footsteps and the occasional rustling of books. Gilbert finally spoke again, his voice thoughtful. “I suppose I have a lot to learn. Maybe we can both learn something from this experience.”

Anne glanced at him, surprised by his willingness to acknowledge her feelings. “Maybe.”

He offered a small, genuine smile. “Let’s make the most of our time here, then. We might not like each other very much right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to understand each other better.”

Anne considered his words, her anger slowly dissipating as she took in his sincerity. “Alright. I’ll try if you will.”

“Deal,” Gilbert said, his smile widening slightly. “Now, let’s find that study area before we both turn into dust.”

Anne couldn’t help but chuckle, her frustration fading as they continued their search. For the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this ordeal could lead to something positive after all.

Gilbert was beginning to seriously fear for himself.

It had started as a mere illusion, a thought so irrational and embedded in his mind with such intensity that he believed he had lost his sanity, trying to control himself and ignore it, thinking it would last no more than a few minutes.

He had been unable to live peacefully since then, and Gilbert was starting to hate himself.

Gilbert had always been the exemplary man, an honest, companionable, and helpful person; the kind of man that his female peers couldn’t stop talking about when he was around, laughing and joking freely, sometimes revealing secrets seeking advice or simply being close to him for his company. With men, there was not much difference—his colleagues always celebrated his arrival, sat around him, and there was nothing but kindness and attention from them. He was a very grateful person and was aware that such privilege was rare, and he appreciated and enjoyed it as much as possible.

And although he was a young man with a charismatic and warm personality, he knew that nature played its part; he was the alpha with the strongest lineage among his equals, and his demeanor was an unconscious trap that was hard for everyone around him to ignore. His nose was sensitive and selective, but he had learned to tolerate the scents of other alphas and the imperceptible fragrances of betas, and his nature did not interfere with his reasoning and logic because he was in a perfect and exact balance, where everyone had their space, their ways of being and coexisting, an atmosphere he had grown accustomed to throughout his life.

Gilbert had, throughout his existence, had no choice but to cling to logic, reason, and practicality to stay afloat. Emotions sometimes drowned him, leaving him immobile, but he always managed to find a way back to himself, to get up and think. His nature and dynamics were at the back of his mind, something that hovered in his chest with absence and ran through his veins silently, sometimes believing it was a myth and that they were nothing more than absurd and hierarchical beliefs that society repeated out of a ridiculous illusion and airs of grandeur.

Until he met Anne.

He felt that his body and mind no longer belonged to him but to an unknown beast that clawed at his chest and growled through his throat as if it were famished. Horror and unfamiliarity paralyzed his muscles, contemplating the idea of fading away until the sensation disappeared, concerned about how his eyes moved on their own when she was near, how all his senses sharpened to focus on her like a compass. Something was wrong, truly wrong when the only heartbeat he could hear in the room was her own, in her deep, halting, and rapid breaths, in being able to smell the nervous sweat and salty tears and the soap clinging to her clothes, feeling how his anatomy responded and moved without asking for his consent, a devoted and overwhelming unconsciousness that he was sure would end up destroying him.

The answer was more than obvious. Anne Shirley hated him with a passion as devastating as the seven oceans, as the fires that ravaged sacred forests, as the stars that shone above his head during the nights. Gilbert couldn’t blame her; perhaps at first he had tried to be kind, making the first mistake by wanting to distance himself from her, scared by what was growing beneath his skin, providing her with the necessary tools to tend her wounds—he had felt such a deep and primal satisfaction that he had to stop halfway to catch his breath, only to throw all his progress away when he couldn’t help but obsessively watch, letting her win and playing with her, pulling her hair and subjecting her to an unbearable punishment and an unforgettable humiliation.

He probably would never be forgiven, and he could do nothing but grit his teeth and accept it. Or not.

If Gilbert Blythe had once been a polite, respectful, and exemplary young man, he was now an impulsive, observant, and unstable alpha due to his confusion in unexplored lands. Gilbert had never felt this way, as if he were walking on thin ice, with dark eyes waiting for him in the depths of the waters, but he had no choice but to cross the ice in the hope of reaching solid ground or being willing to be swallowed by the abysmal and dangerous creature waiting for his fall. The worst part was not the uncertainty, but the lack of it; he was sure he wanted to be consumed by the growling animal in his chest without thinking about the consequences.

There were no clear reasons for feeling this way because he knew nothing about her. He knew nothing more than the reddish strands escaping from her hair, the constellation of freckles on her cheeks, the ink stains on her hand, her nervous knee movements, and the measured rhythm of her breathing when she was focused—and for some reason, he didn’t need, didn’t want to know more to explain and accept what it caused in him, chaotic and imperfect and inexplicable.

Still, he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud or accept it, horrified to reach such an irrational and uncharacteristic conclusion, settling for the idea that it was just a phase and that his inner self had finally decided to reveal itself through it, without any deep or valuable meaning like the one he was attributing to it. He wanted to pretend that he was fine, that the feelings clouding his head were nothing more than delirium and stress, and that he would smother them until they disappeared, and he could keep them silent and orderly most of the time, except for his small and impulsive slips that caused nothing but rejection and retreat. His beast, thanks to his luck, could tolerate that and let it pass, but there was something that moved his heart and darkened his pupils.

Violence.

Gilbert had never had to resort to violence. His body, his presence spoke for itself, a clear and explicit sign that he was a difficult opponent to defeat, with a too peaceful personality to incite fights and discord. He had his space, his respect and communication, and greatly enjoyed sharing friends, groups, and objects, feeling comfortable and detached from everything around him.

That was until Billy Andrews broke his little bubble, unleashing the chain of his own destruction.

The alpha knew it was wrong, that it was insane and irrational and disgusting, but he remembered the moment he found Billy alone with Anne in the forest, the first moment he set eyes on her and an unknown and brutal voice whispered in his ear.

Mine.

He had never heard that deep and inner voice before, and had never referred to or felt that way toward a person, let alone one he didn’t know at all. He couldn’t silence it and couldn’t ignore it, consumed by a wild rage that coursed through his veins, widened his muscles, and darkened his vision, struggling against the impulse to take Billy’s face in his hands and break his jaw, longing to silence him and make him suffer like he had never wished for anyone before. Gilbert hated violence, hated blood and pain, not only because of his desire to be a doctor but also because of the omega episode recorded behind his pupils drowned in blood and spittle and agony. And yet, the instinctive, primal, and brutal desire overwhelmed and suffocated his rationality, his personality, and his actions, exposed and fragile trying to control himself and not succumb to what made his hands tremble and his jaw clench.

The only thing that stopped him was a horrified expression, blood, mud, and tears marking him, what kind of gentleman and alpha was he if he harmed someone in front of an injured and frightened creature, so precious that he felt his heart destabilize beneath his ribs? Gilbert did not, of course, prioritizing getting him away from her and calming her before giving in to his bloody and lethal cravings, wanting to laugh sweetly at Anne’s first impression—she was a beautiful and delicate creature, and that didn’t make her any less sharp and brave, resulting in a being who didn’t flinch at the slightest tug of hair or tell him he deserved it right to his face.

And while he tried to decipher and erase the foreign feelings he had for Anne with something relative to success, a dark and impossible-to-erase shadow grew behind him, and while he followed her movements and observed her presence with dark eyes and wet lips, there was something that blew at his neck, prickling his skin and pushing him to a bottomless precipice. The violence that dug its nails into his flesh and pressed behind his eyes, that settled in his soul like a heavy and impossible-to-remove ink, where he had no choice but to accept it in a selfish end of not wanting to lose to madness.

He hadn’t wanted to give in so easily, had wanted to fight against the memories of Billy preventing them from leaving, the wounds he had inflicted himself, the sound of his pleas ringing in his ears like a nightmare in constant repetition. Billy Andrews was his lifelong companion, a benchmark among his peers, the eldest son of a noble family; Gilbert thought better of himself before harming him due to his lack of control, deciding that for one single time he could go unnoticed, open to signals indicating otherwise.

“I’m sure he cries little, very little, and I enjoy it a lot when I don’t deal with crybabies. I like simple and quiet things.”

He was a lucky man, very lucky to possess intelligence and be perceptive to the signs presented to him. He greatly valued seizing the opportunities that came his way, and this was no exception.

Maybe he should feel guilt or remorse for doing what he was about to do to a lifelong acquaintance, but the creature that had begun to gain space in his head seemed to silence all his worries. Her complaints had ceased, and the calm that governed him was too quiet to be good, the danger coursing through his body like a sure and secret promise. Anne had left, walking heavily after an exhausting day, not noticing or ignoring Gilbert’s gaze until she was out of sight, heading towards the meeting place that Billy and his friends had agreed upon that day.

They used to go hunting and vandalize everything they found, returning with defenseless animals and pet dogs that had gone out for a stroll. Gilbert did not enjoy killing animals, having much more important and meaningful things to do, knowing as a matter of habit where they would be after their pathetic hunting sessions. It was a small, secluded tavern where Mr. Andrews's tentacles could not reach unless he suspected or cared about his son's wicked outings. They would gather for hours, getting drunk and waiting for the effect to wear off so they could splash on some perfume and go home with innocent eyes and pats on the back.

He observed through the window, breathing rhythmically through the damp chill of autumn, unaffected by it thanks to his high body temperature all year round. He looked at the tables, ignoring the dirty suits of the alcoholics escaping the harsh weather with whisky and wine, and the tight, revealing dresses of the women selling their bodies, until he focused on the only high school boys laughing among themselves. The weather was perfect, their cheeks in their natural color and their eyes and way of speaking fluid enough to know that they were lucid and aware, just as he wanted.

The darkness and shadows had already taken over Avonlea, sliding behind the trees facing the tavern to wait for their exits. He didn't want to look for them or make the meeting seem forced, enjoying the wait and uselessly considering whether he should do what he was about to do, knowing it was a lost cause when he heard him come out.

It was the same voice, the same way of walking and moving as when he found her in the forest, stepping in between them to prevent her from leaving, wanting to position himself over her wounded body, growling directly at her face, her legs stained with blood and an impending terror when he heard his voice speaking about her that day, pale and nauseating.

Gilbert came to light.

He knew Billy well, knowing that by walking a few meters ahead of him, he would see him, catch up to him, and touch his shoulder before saying, “Gilbert, my friend!”

He looked over his shoulder, pretending to be surprised and controlling his strength as he returned the greeting, raising his hand to wave at his friends who were coming behind them “What are you doing here at this hour? One would think that your mother would already be putting you to bed this late”.

He didn't allow satisfaction to invade his face when Billy's smile tilted, hating more than anything when he was treated like the spoiled and immature child he was “The boys and I were at Will's tavern, on the edge of the low area. A difficult place but one that we enjoyed quite a bit.”

Gilbert wanted to laugh remembering the bars he had encountered during his time at sea, thinking that his own cabin with Sebastian was a thousand times more dangerous than that dilapidated shack, but he merely smiled to the side and nodded, “I don't know it, but that area is dangerous, so the customers must be interesting to see”.

“You can come with us whenever you want, you know you're always invited” Adam and Patrick had caught up with them, chatting among themselves and ignoring their conversation. Gilbert didn't miss the opportunity, still smiling and moving a little closer. He did not take his eyes off his face when Billy's body tensed, uncomfortable with his closeness, uselessly catching his explicit and dangerous scent with his nose.

“You know, Billy, I would rather cut off both my hands with a knife than do that”.

Gilbert couldn't force Anne to stop hating him or make her come closer to him, but he could hurt anyone who chose to hurt her first. He could calm the beast that growled beneath his ribs, he could protect it from his place without invading it, and he could unleash the violence that lay thirsty and mad at the tip of his tongue.

Anne could hate him for the rest of her life if she wanted to, and Gilbert wished she would do so without another man making her cry, bleed, or growl in her face.

“What?” Billy's smile didn't leave his face, incredulous at the thought that he was joking until he saw Gilbert's unyielding expression and began to shake his head “What's going on, buddy? Why do you say that?”.

"I'm not your bud, Billy,” he stated, in a calm and clear tone, his friends silent beside him, trying to figure out what was happening “I just want to talk to you about something very, very important”.

“What's your problem?" Gilbert ignored Adam and Patrick's questions, worried about the violent tension that erupted between them until Billy let out a graceless laugh “Does this have to do with that stupid orphan?”.

The pleasure of letting his body move on its own, of allowing the creature to speak through his muscles and growl was such that, on another occasion, he would have closed his eyes to feel it. This time, he limited himself to painfully pushing Billy's back against a tree trunk, gripping his jaw from below with one hand, preventing him from speaking again. "Watch your mouth, Billy, because you won't like what happens when I don't approve of what I hear and lose my patience”.

The two betas accompanying him pretended to help, taking a few steps forward until Gilbert growled low over his shoulder, a clear warning with dark eyes and a stance that signified nothing but pain and loss if they dared to interrupt him. Paralyzed, they watched Billy, who had futilely begun to scratch his forearms and stretch his short arms in an attempt to hurt him; he was strong, no doubt, but not strong enough to confront him “I know you will stay still and listen carefully to what I say, because if there is one thing you value, it is being able to talk and talk without stopping, am I wrong?”.

His threat was not empty; Billy's tongue was between your teeth, and if a little more pressure was applied, he was sure he could cut it under the edge of his canines, the grip just tight enough to prevent him from pulling them back. He stopped fighting, his pupils filled with hatred and violent promises in his head that now mattered less than ever “Do you remember our meeting in the woods, Billy? Do you remember how I found you?”.

“I'm going to be quick with the things I wanted to talk to you about because wasting time on you, honestly, is time I can't get back,” he murmured, feeling how slowly his reasoning slipped from his mind and something whispered that he should tighten his grip more and more “This is what is going to happen, Billy. Perhaps you don't care about what happened in the woods, perhaps the people who know or will find out couldn't care less either, but there's a problem; I do care, and I care more than you think”.

He wanted to twist under his hand, a swift movement until Gilbert applied more pressure. He remained still with a slight whimper of pain “It matters to me more than you think and you don't understand, you don't want to understand what I am capable of if you decide to get close to her, talk about her, or breathe near her. If you dare to take one step further than necessary, if you speak of her again as if she were yours, simple and complacent, if you choose to look at her the way you do, I swear, Billy, that you will wish you had never met me”.

His breath caressed his skin, erratic and fast, thinking that perhaps he wouldn't feel at ease until he hit him and disfigured him. Gilbert had to breathe “What I don't care about is whether, after this, you run home and tell mom and dad what I'm doing. I'm not interested if you tell all our classmates or even the professor what's happening, because no one, no one is going to believe a single word that comes out of your mouth, and that's under the judgment in which I let you leave with your whole tongue”.

Billy groaned in fear beneath him, stretching out his arms to defend himself until Gilbert landed a precise punch to his stomach, causing the air to escape from his lungs and leaving him unable to do anything but breathe. The growl was so intense that I could smell the putrid fear of everyone present when he continued, “If you decide to go against what I say, if you choose to follow her, talk to her, or look at her, I won't be as merciful as I am today. Don't be naive to think that if you don't do as I order or if you can't handle the fear and tell everyone, I won't be able to find you alone and make you regret not having listened to me. It's not a threat, Billy, it's a promise. And I am a man of my word”.

This time, when the alpha regained some strength and fought to free himself, he let him go, watching with dark eyes as silent tears fell down his cheeks. The smell of his panic was one of the best scents he had ever experienced “I think I was quite clear, my friend. You owe me something for letting you go with your fingers intact, but I'm sure you'll be a good boy and I won't have to beat you up at all, will I?”.

“Go to hell, Blythe,” he spat, a considerable distance to run if he decided to chase after him — he could catch up to him anyway “You're sick”.

“It's the second time I've heard that today, who would have thought?” Both times they had been said out of anger, but the first was uttered by lips that were too moist to take offense “Run before I regret it, Billy. You’re not going to wish that I regret it”.

Adam, Patrick, and Billy disappeared, allowing him to enjoy for a few seconds the satisfied silence of the beast that resided within him, beginning to worry about the possessive need to protect someone who was not his.

Chapter Text

Sometimes when she slept and her head overstepped its own boundaries, Anne lost track of time and where she was. 

“Hold still” the familiar growl bristled her skin, her muscles tensing before she could process it, beginning to struggle against the hands that dug into the flesh of her arms and dug their nails into her veins. She felt herself burning, beginning to sob through her lips as her putrid breath brushed her mouth “Did you think that by running far, far away from me I wouldn't be able to find you, wouldn't be able to hurt you? Silly, silly, silly.” 

She tried to breathe through her nose, struggling to inhale through her closed throat and collapsed lungs as she blinked in the darkness, watching Lloyd's body press against hers so hard she feared it would break her ribs into pieces. His knee pressed her stomach right over her diaphragm, digging under her ribs to the point she thought she was going to vomit and die drowning in her own liquid “You're not real.” 

It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Lloyd couldn't be inside her Green Gables room, shrouded in darkness and eyes covered by her thirsty pupils, with her greasy hair covering her dirty face and her weak, diseased teeth; it was a nightmare, a nightmare so physical that she feared her heart would fail at the illusion, beginning to search desperately for signs that would convince her that this wasn't happening. 

She tried to breathe again, failing to let out a choked cry and fighting to concentrate, to focus on the flowers Marilla had so sweetly given her, to appreciate Diana's delicate handwriting in a letter she had written for her birthday, on the stuffed animal Matthew had bought for her when—. 

“Look at me!” she gripped her face between her hands with such brutality that she felt the bones of her face brush beneath her tear-wet skin. Her full black eyes sank into hers clear as day, baring her teeth “You're so stupid that you think this isn't real, that I'm just another one of your nightmares, aren't you? Look at me, Anne, look at me, look at me, look at me.”

Anne was sure that whatever had taken over her head was not human. The unnatural force it exerted could break her bones, dislocate her jaw, rip out her tongue with its bare hands if it wanted to, believing it would drink from her blood and drag her all over her room to make her suffer until the last minute. Lloyd was a beast, but she was human, and she could never have found her, would never have spent her time to come looking for her and waste her energies on her. Lloyd may have marked her life enormously in terror, sadness and agony, but she knew that Anne was nothing but a blurred face in her head. She was nobody, even to a monster like Lloyd. 

She couldn't think of any of it, of anything irrational and instinctive other than surviving, of escaping, struggling to breathe, fighting to be able to free herself from the violent and lethal grip. The words spat out of her mouth as she found her tongue. 

“You're not real” she was able to speak through her pressed mouth, a choked cry as the young woman dug her nails into her flesh and broke her skin, feeling the warm blood sliding down her arm and staining her bed “This isn't real. I'm dreaming, I'm having a nightmare.” 

“Always so naive, always turning your head when reality is upon you, when it's snarling in your face” she watched her violet tongue caress her sharp teeth, stirring uselessly as she dug her fingers even deeper into her open wounds “I’m going to let go when you look at me, Anne. When you really look at me.”  

“You're not real. I'm having a nightmare” she repeated like a mantra, running her face when Lloyd brought hers closer, fighting with all her might when she slid her cold wet tongue down her neck, tasting the previous day's ointment with a gagging moan “T-this isn't real, it's not real, it's not real, it's a nightmare, a nightmare, I'm in Green Gables, I'm home and—”.

Lloyd continued to lick her neck, staining her skin with acidic, putrid saliva that wafted up to her nose as a scent that could only be defined as the coming of death upon her. Her mouth licked her skin, her fingernails dug into her muscles and the pain was beginning to obscure her vision, her face distorted by the screams that came from her throat without her being able to help it. As she sank her teeth into her flesh she thought she would die, that she would lose consciousness and fall surrendered to the worst moment of her life, one that wasn't even real, pounding her chest with her fists and screaming until her vocal cords were on the verge of exploding, her heart on the verge of collapsing from panic and her heartbeat arrhythmic and dangerous. 

The pain in her arms was excruciating, feeling the agony reaching a point impossible to tolerate as the bite increased even more, feeling the muscles give way under her sharp teeth “You're not real, YOU'RE NOT REAL!” 

“Look at me, Anne, look at me!” she took her face again in her hands, her skin hot and wet with her own blood, her eyes empty as that of a fateful, bottomless pit as her body surrendered to her request, screaming and sobbing as she began to speak, the fresh vermilion liquid sliding across her tongue as she said “So much fear to see me, so many screams for a little pain. It doesn't surprise me at all that you ended up here by accident and they stayed with you out of pity. Too bad because they saw your skeletal body and your disfigured face, because they saw how your head is completely straining to be an intelligent person, to speak properly, to make you laugh when you are nothing more than an unwanted and impure child. You weren't wanted by your parents, you weren't wanted by the nuns, you weren't wanted by me, or by your so-called adoptive parents who I'm sure do nothing but talk behind your back about how little you will last in the real world.” 

“You're not real” the emotional pain was beginning to overtake the physical, beginning to confuse the shadows of her room with those of the orphanage basement, where the heat of the boilers and religious chanting enveloped her in horror. 

“Look at me, Anne, because I own the truth, I own your fears, I own your future” the blood trickled down her chin, down her neck, down the white nightgown stained with grease and dust ”So innocent in believing that someone in this world truly wants you and truly loves you, believing that you have a family, that you have a friend, that you have a chance. Believing that you can live a life using your ointment, hiding, when it won't be more than months before they find out what you really are and burn this farm down with you tied to the front.” 

“Stop it” the cold sweat anchored itself to her skin, feeling her barriers crumble and layers of clothing disintegrate, baring her to black eyes and cruel words and realities she didn't want to face “Stop”.

“I'm not lying” she let out a laugh running her hand over Anne’s face, smearing it with blood ”So I'd like to know, what will you do when you get to divine heaven and have to beg for mercy after they find you? I don't want you to get your hopes up and think that you alone will die a painful death, no, of course not. I am sure they will have Marilla decorated like a virgin in the squares, that they will hang her with ropes upside down before cutting her throat, that they will use Matthew in hostile camps until they decide to feed the pigs with no more than a sack of bones and consumed fat. They will have such great regret that I'm sure several lifetimes will feel the guilt and weight of even looking at you.” 

“Shut up. You don't exist, you don't exist because you are rotting in that orphanage, far away from me. Nothing you say is real.”

“I am REAL, Anne! Can't you see me?” she stretched her clothes, desperate to make herself be seen, to make her understand “You can see me for what you are. You are stupid, you are a natural flaw, an abomination in the eyes of God and his angels and his deities and you are hand forged to cause chaos and death and sorrow. All the people you love will die because of you, they will die each and every one of them for having touched you, for having looked upon you. Omega, daughter of the devil, the favorite of lust and hell and dishonesty and cruelty. You are an omega, an impure and flawed human being who has done nothing but cause pain since the beginning of your days when your parents decided to die rather than hold you in their arms.”

“YOU ARE NOT REAL!” her throat burned raw from her screaming, feeling her heartbeat deafen her ears, sweat joining the blood dripping on the floor “SHUT UP, YOU ARE NOT REAL, YOU ARE NOT REAL-!” 

She couldn't scream anymore. Lloyd took in her face, closing her mouth, moving dangerously close to her until she could make out her eyelashes, the hairs of her eyebrows, the sticky consistency of the blood that stained her mouth. Her tone was calm, peaceful, quiet “You don't deserve anything, Anne. You don't deserve this house, you don't deserve those parents, you don't deserve to read, you don't deserve to be in a grim orphanage, you don't deserve to eat, you don't deserve to breathe. The only thing you deserve and the only fate that awaits you is that of a brutal and violent death, cold and slow, where after taking your last breath you will be greeted by demons, by the beasts that create evil and corrode our souls, where you will finally find the place you so long for. Where there will be nothing but agony and silence and an unyielding eternity that will suffocate you until you disintegrate into legends and oblivion.”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. She didn’t want to either. She wanted to disappear, fade into the air, die abruptly, simply cease to exist. “Let me go, please.”

“Of course I’m real, how could I not be? I’m you, only you.”

She opened her eyes, escaping the orphanage basement and Lloyd and the unbearable pressure of his imaginary body against hers. She spun around, falling to the floor with a thud and starting to vomit violently on the wooden floor before she could understand what was happening, what was wrong with her, where she was—

“Anne?!” Marilla’s worried voice sounded in the hallway, inhaling sharply when she saw Anne sick on the floor, pale and sweaty. She approached and reached out, brushing her forehead. “What’s going on…?”

Anne moved before she could help it, crawling away from her and struggling to breathe through her tears and the acidic taste of bile on her tongue. Marilla tried to come closer, but Anne hid her face, her voice hoarse from screams of terror “Don’t come near me, Marilla!”

“What’s wrong?” Marilla closed her eyes as tears continued to fall down Anne’s cheeks, her voice deeply worried and confused when Anne pushed her hand away once more “Anne, what are you feeling? Tell me and I’ll call the doctor.”

“I don’t want any doctor,” she murmured, drawing her knees to her chest and hiding her face behind them while continuing to cry, trying to calm down knowing she was in Green Gables away from Lloyd. “I want to leave.”

“Where do you want to go at this hour? Are you crazy?” Anne started shaking her head, feeling the sobs shake her shoulders and drain the oxygen from her lungs.

“I want to go back to the orphanage and die there, Marilla. I don’t want to go on like this. I don’t want to.”

The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to chill the air and freeze her heart. She knew Marilla was beginning to understand what had happened, responding with a firm and determined tone after a few seconds “You’re not going anywhere, Anne, because I won’t allow it. Not ever. You had another nightmare, and you think whatever it told you is true, don’t you?”.

“What it says is always true, Marilla! It’s only a matter of time before they find me and kill us all because of me, just for my existence!” She pressed her hands against her face, wanting to scream until her vocal cords broke from the strain and pressure, wanting to cry to the point of unbearable dehydration, wishing her head would explode to relieve everyone from the burden of her life “You’re going to die because of me, and you don’t even care, you don’t even see it. I want to go back and rot in that orphanage knowing you’ll have a happy and peaceful life without me, without an aberration, without a monster and a curse and—”

“Enough” She struggled to catch her breath as she heard the resolution in Marilla’s voice, probably tired of dealing with her nightmare sessions and crises that happened when she was deeply stressed or close to a breakdown. “I’m going to get a cold cloth, and I’m going to enjoy the silence when you don’t say another word. And I mean it.”

“Why don’t you want to understand?” Frustration hardened in her chest, expressed through her sharp tongue and salty tears as she watched Marilla leave her room, ignoring her.

She looked out the window where the night was deep and dark, angry at having interrupted Marilla’s sleep cycle because of her own mind, her painful and realistic nightmares to the point of harming herself while asleep. She pulled down the sleeves of her dress to look at the wild marks of her nails on her skin, small drops of warm blood adorning it like a bracelet, running her tongue over her teeth before grimacing at the bitter taste. She tried to stand on her trembling legs when Marilla returned, placing a damp cloth over the vomit on the floor, sitting on her bed as Anne collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily, giving in as she rested her head on one of the woman’s knees, feeling tears roll down her cheeks without stopping. “I’m sorry.”

"I don’t want you to apologize because none of this is your fault." She ran the damp cloth over Anne's wounds, turning it before applying it to her forehead, neck, and shoulders to calm her. Her words could be harsh, but her touch was the warmest Anne had ever experienced. "You’re scared and your mind is playing tricks on you, and I understand that. But it doesn’t mean any of it is real or that it should mean anything."

"It is real and it does mean something." Anne wiped her tears roughly, feeling her lip quiver as she continued speaking. "You are risking your lives for me, and it’s not fair. I don’t want you to live on edge or be afraid of what might happen to you or to me or to the farm. I hate that you have to be so vigilant and careful because of me, because I’m a flaw being hunted, and therefore you have to hide and lie to keep us alive. I never wanted to put this on you, I never wanted to involve you, and now you are as entangled as I am. If anything happens, even the smallest thing, I’ll never forgive myself."

"Your mind and your intelligence are among your most treasured qualities," Marilla murmured calmly, running the cold cloth over a specific spot on her neck that made her shiver. "It’s what has kept you alive until now, what has helped you move forward, escape, and defend yourself. But it’s not just that."

Anne closed her eyes, trying to silence the guilt and fear as Marilla began to stroke her hair, exhaling through her nose. "It’s very, very powerful, and it knows you better than anyone. It’s your best weapon and your shield, but it’s also your worst enemy. It uses your weaknesses and fears against you to manipulate and destroy you, and you need to learn to control it so its edge doesn’t turn against you."

"Sometimes it escapes me," Anne confessed, clenching her fists to hide the trembling. "Sometimes I feel like I can possess it, have it in my hands and exploit it and control it, and before I know it, it slips through my fingers and becomes a shadow that eclipses me and wants to consume me, wanting everything from me until I’m nothing more than a puppet of my fears and insecurities. It’s more than I can tolerate."

"It’s not true," Marilla’s tone was soft, her hands gentle as she touched Anne’s red hair. "You are you and only you, Anne, who can forge and master and undo your own thoughts, impulses, and fears. You have to learn to control it, and if it escapes your grasp, over time it will stop doing so. In the meantime, when you see it overpowering you and making you tremble, you have to be clear about who you are, what you want, and reality. Don’t let the rebellious monster within you do as it pleases, because the roles will always, always be reversed. You’re intelligent, and you’re capable, you just have to learn to see it."

"But I’m scared," the caress stopped for a few seconds at her words, resuming its rhythm after a heartbeat. "I’m so scared, Marilla. I’m terrified of myself, of what I hide, of what could happen to you. I don’t care what they might do if they discover my secret, but what they will do to you for having helped me all this time. I’m scared of carrying this curse in my chest, I’m scared of being condemned to this feeling for the rest of my life, I’m scared of letting it fall on the people I love and not being able to do anything about it. I’m terrified and I don’t know what to do."

"Your mind creates illusions, sets traps, exaggerates the darkness inside you to scare you even more, but that’s not true, Anne. It’s not true because you’re terrified and confused, thinking you’re an abomination, a flaw that needs to be eradicated, a creature that must be hunted," Marilla began to run the damp cloth over her forehead again, stroking her cheeks with it to wipe away her tears. "You are none of what they say you should be. Society, the church – God will understand and forgive me – are greatly mistaken in preaching that you are evil, soulless, and distant from our Lord when you’re just a girl, a girl with freckles and red hair, a girl who uses big words and reads too much for her own good, who enjoys cooking and spending time with the animals on the farm. You are none of what they say you should be, nor are you what your mind wants you to believe. You are a woman, and you are an omega, and you are my daughter. And nothing, and no one, will ever separate Matthew and me from you, never. Nothing will ever convince us otherwise, and so you must stop fearing and start accepting your reality and yourself."

"How am I supposed to accept myself when my whole life everyone has said I should be killed for being what I am?" For the first time, she turned to meet Marilla’s gaze, devastated by her loving and sincere expression.

"Because if you don’t accept yourself, Anne, you will be the one to destroy yourself. You are light and you are darkness, you are your kindness, your generosity and patience, and you are your anger, your hatred, and your fears. You have to accept that you are an omega, that you’re not a monster but a unique rarity with a gift that few have. You not only have us, Green Gables, your intelligence and your love, but also a nature that runs in the blood of your veins, that is part of your soul and vibrates with every beat of your heart. Do you think that your nature, that your inner omega wishes any harm to you or to others?"

"No," she replied, frowning as she thought of the times her dynamic could sense things they couldn’t, such as omens of dangerous situations and a warm and selfless desire to help those around her, to collect things she liked, to purr when she touched her bed. "No, it doesn’t wish harm to me, nor does it harm anyone."

"Then you need to stop seeing it as a separate part of you, as a parasite, when it’s actually you, when it’s an inseparable part of you and your essence. When you start to see it that way, I’m sure your mind will stop torturing you with it, and you’ll begin to understand things as they truly are."

"And what is reality then, Marilla?"

"The reality, Anne, is that if something bad happens, which I’m sure won’t, it won’t be your fault. If not from external evil, from blind and cruel obsessions, from violent and misguided men."

"I don’t want anything bad to happen, I don’t want to be the cause." She shook her head, rubbing her face with her knuckles.

"Nothing bad will happen to us, and it will never be your fault. Besides, I have a strange feeling in my head, in my chest, like a certainty."

She felt her heart beat beneath her chest as she blinked, swallowing before carefully repeating, "A certainty."

"I feel that your nature, that your omega has something more to offer, that there is something we don’t know. I feel that whatever happens, you… you will protect us, even if I don’t know how."

Anne rested her head on Marilla’s knee, closing her eyes again, trying to process a possibility she had never considered. She didn’t know anything about her dynamic and what it might contain. "Of course I will take care of you. You are all I have, you are my whole life."

“That’s all we have, each other, and it always will be. Until God decides otherwise”.

She didn’t know how long she lay on her mother’s lap, lost in the caresses she gave to her hair, blinking slowly as the moonlight illuminated them and the world turned, unaware of her fears and curiosity and the flame, small and weak, burning within her like a fragile light amid her darkness, a promise forming, a star beginning to forge her destiny.

Friday arrived so quickly that it felt like a blink was enough to make the week end, massaging her exhausted muscles as she headed to the library, her breath forming white mist in front of her mouth. She was grateful that her days had been calm after the crisis of the previous weekend, slowly recovering from the nightmare she had endured and trying to silence the vicious voices in her head that wished for her to fall again, impatiently waiting for her defeat.

The cold was becoming increasingly damp and intense, leading her to wear more layers to endure it as much as possible, especially if she wandered until late in the day like today. When she arrived at the library, she wiped her boots on the entrance mat, observing with curiosity the same chaos and silence as the first time she had come; she did not make the same mistake as before, turning to the opposite side to find the study area without complications, leaving her belongings on the chairs before looking around.

Gilbert had not yet arrived or was lost eternally among books and candelabras, giving up his search when she tried to listen for him or catch his scent, failing miserably as she sensed nothing but dampness and abandonment. She observed the myriad of books and pages in front of her, feeling that curiosity and anxiety were greater than her rationality as she huffed and told herself, “I won’t go far, I’ll know how to come back.”

Without taking many steps or losing sight, she began to browse the books in the study area, visualizing geography books about America, Europe, Asia, Africa, and Canada. The lesson they had to prepare for the following week was on mathematics, so this section was neither useful nor particularly interesting to her. She moved to the next section, feeling her head start up like a massive locomotive when she encountered the literature area. Anne knew she was a lost cause as she began to look at the books frantically, starting to lose focus and obligation, consumed by interest enough to forget that she was entering a complex and suffocating labyrinth.

She did not notice it at all, fascinated to see the latest book publications available to her, titles she had never heard of before, reading their first pages with excitement and a smile so wide that she felt the muscles in her cheeks beginning to protest from the tension, wishing she could take each and every one of them home to read more than twice. "The Picture of Dorian Gray," "The Awakening," "The Invisible Man," and "Dracula" glimmered before her like pure gold and diamonds, standing out like a treasure and seducing her to immerse herself in them and forget everything else. She wanted to, she desired it more than anything in the world, biting her nails as she decided which one to take first.

The chosen book was "The Awakening" because the idea of reading a female author was too tempting to ignore any longer. She hugged the book to her chest, getting lost among the shelves and candelabras, starting to explore even further into the vastness and possibilities of the library, moving through genres like history, education, non-fiction, fiction, anatomy, biology...

She stopped abruptly when a semi-empty shelf regarded her with indifference, sliding her eyes towards its category elegantly written like all the others: Genres and Dynamics.

She swallowed, her feet rooted to the ground, fearful of what she might find, biting her lips anxiously. Perhaps she should turn around, go back to the study area, and start on her own if Gilbert did not bother to show up, successfully ignoring the existence of these books which, above all, were within her reach. She didn’t have to read or show interest in these topics publicly because it would attract unnecessary attention and focus on her, but at the same time, no one had entered the Avonlea library during all this time—seemingly ever. She could quickly read the titles and put them back in their place, confident that nothing bad would happen, that she wouldn’t discover anything relevant or incriminating.

It would be fine, nothing dangerous or suspicious at all. She approached with her heart beating in her mouth.

She slid her eyes over the titles, beginning to bite her nails: “Alphas and Betas: “The History of Evolution,” “Dynamics and Society,” “History, Gender, and Religion,” “Alphas and Leadership,” along with a dozen other books that did not capture her interest entirely. She scanned the indexes without finding any mention of omegas, sorting through the pages without discovering anything, as if they did not exist or were not valuable enough to be named. She crouched to look at the books she hadn’t been able to see, feeling an unexpected and familiar disappointment, starting to consider the idea of searching for information in mythological and legendary genres until the last book with a black cover appeared before her with cursive lettering: “God’s Forbidden Fruit.”

She frowned, placing "The Awakening" under her arm to hold it before grabbing the other book, leaning her back against the shelf to examine it more closely, trying to regulate her rapid breathing and the frantic beat of her heart. She traced the cover with her fingers, fearful of deciding to read it, opening it before fear could begin to dominate her. Whatever its words contained was crucial, and she needed to discover it, regardless of whether she could endure it or be consumed by panic in the process.

She tried to control her anxiety, thinking about the possibility that the book might actually be about religion, with no relation to her dynamic or the other genres, until she started reading the first pages. It had no author’s name, no information about its printing or distribution, nor dedications or clarifications; it also lacked indexes, so she had to start reading the chapter titles with her heart pounding at the tips of her fingers from nerves. The first chapters were not revealing at all, quickly skimming through the words while attentively searching for what she was looking for, feeling despair clawing at her throat as she believed she wouldn’t find anything important.

Until she reached Chapter Sixteen.

CHAPTER XVI

OMEGAS

She had to cling to the surrounding wood to steady herself, feeling sweat trickle down her neck as she began to read with stress and clumsiness, her knees trembling beneath her. It was a moment of great significance, an incredibly life-changing revelation at this stage in her life—she had never wanted to seek out information on this subject because she knew she would never be able to find it, fascinated by the lack of data and personal information about those involved in the book and its publication. Perhaps it was the only place where something as basic as its mention could be found, and she was terrified to read it, terrified to be seen with it, but she was also horrified at the thought of having to abandon it rather than read it obsessively in the comfort of her room.

She took a deep breath, accepting that these minutes were probably her only chance to learn more, and she wasn’t going to squander it under any circumstances.

Omegas are the final link in the universal and unique chain of human dynamics. In the following chapters, we will focus not only on their physical characteristics but also on their emotional properties and intellectual aptitudes. As mentioned in previous chapters, these observations consist of generalities subject to exceptions, changes, and errors; this work is a historical, sociological, and biological compilation of humans and their dynamics that is not an absolute and objective truth, as it is tied to a volatile and impulsive human being.

Omegas are the least seen type within our dynamics due to their public and religious persecution, making it impossible to conduct physical and sociological studies, population statistics, and scientific experiments. Thanks to this punishment and relentless hunting over the centuries, the omega population is greatly reduced, if not extinct, forced to hide in order to stay alive or face death and torture due to massive beliefs about their abilities and characteristics.

The information mentioned further will be a subjective and inaccurate compilation from a few experts, doctors, diplomats, and family members who risked their lives to accumulate the little that is known about omegas.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling as though the space was starting to close in on her and dust began to tickle her nose. She buried her fingers in the book, fearful of stepping away from whatever she was about to discover.

Dynamics should be viewed as a chain linked by biological and emotional factors. First are the alphas, possessive, reactive, and territorial; second are the betas, individualistic, indifferent, and neutral; and third and last are the omegas, intelligent, empathetic, and rational.

Omegas, like other dynamics, can be either male or female. There is no precise statistic on the predominant gender, but their physical characteristics are more commonly found in females; physical properties are varied and can be listed through the following observations.

Unlike alphas and betas, omegas have a much weaker and smaller physical build at different stages of life. A healthy omega has a high fertility rate, capable of having multiple offspring throughout their life if they find a partner who satisfies their inner nature. Omegas, like alphas, have sensitive glands on the sides of their necks and wrists. These glands release their own scents that will change based on their mood and are the primary stimulants for omegas when engaging in sexual relationships.

Anne turned away, feeling her cheeks burn at the scandalous information in the book, the heat rising to her ears from what she was learning. She began to nervously bite her lower lip before forcing herself to keep reading.

Each omega has a unique and indistinguishable scent. They tend to vary according to the omega's anatomy, remaining within a fresh or sweet range, unlike alphas, who have heavy and bitter scents. The glands that omegas have are not only excellent emotional communicators and physical stimulants for their bearers but are also made with a type of skin prepared to receive "the bite": a mark that their alpha or destined partner will make with their fangs. Omegas choose their partners based on instinct and, consequently, rationally. The glands are prepared to receive the bite, which is made by sharp fangs that cut the flesh with great pressure and are designed to heal quickly and display the mark for the rest of their lives. This mark is not exclusively physical; the bond forged between the two dynamics can cause—

She blinked in confusion when, suddenly, the book was no longer in her hands. It took just a second for her to slowly lift her gaze to find Gilbert Blythe’s curious expression, holding the book as if it meant nothing, raising his eyebrows as Anne’s face turned pale abruptly. “Good afternoon, Anne. I didn’t know where you were and—”

“Give it back,” her mouth moved before she could process it, approaching him with trembling knees to take the book, hoping it wasn’t too late. Gilbert, of course, was much faster than her, taking it out of her reach in a matter of seconds. “Gilbert. Give it to me, now.”

“I’m surprised by your lack of manners, Anne,” he replied, hiding the book behind him as he analyzed her sweaty posture and horrified expression, knowing she wouldn’t get the book back without suffering first. “I came looking for you thinking you were lost in this labyrinth only to find out you had completely forgotten about me and our lesson.”

“Give me the book, Gilbert!” She knew that reacting explosively and frustratedly only exposed her further, unable to control her emotions as the alpha stepped forward, breathing his content and curious scent. “I’m not playing.”

“Are you reading something you shouldn’t be, Anne?” The young woman clenched her fists at her sides, retreating into the limited space behind her; she was trapped not only by the books and shelves around her but also by the alpha blocking her way. His scent and warmth began to brush against her skin, her nose and senses as she saw him smile slowly. “It’s quite obvious, you know? Hiding deep in the Avonlea library without making a sound to read something you shouldn’t, something that is probably forbidden, hoping not to be found or discovered by anyone.”

“I want my book back, Gilbert.” This time her tone was lower, still expressing her anger through her words as the shelves dug into her skin while she pressed uselessly against them. Gilbert dared to take another step, his voice gravelly and hands quick to keep the book away from her, his dark pupils absorbing her effort with devotion. “You came to find me, and you did. Give me my book and we can go back and start working.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to go back,” he shook his head, his lips wet and the bones of his face defined under the shadows of the candelabras. “I’d like to know what you were reading so secretly before we leave.”

“Why can’t you just return it and, for once, be decent?” She was furious, scared, and embarrassed. She saw how he held the book behind him, marking the page he was reading with one of his fingers to keep his place. “Stealing my book and wanting to read it is incredibly rude and in bad taste. It’s enough that I have to be here because of you, waiting for you, and having to endure your humiliations when I decide to do something with my wasted time.”

“Why would it be rude and in bad taste to read a book available in the public library?” He looked over her, causing her to frown as she began to read the signs around her. “This section, in fact, is quite useful to me; biology, anatomy, chemistry, physics… genres and dynamics.”

The tension erupted before her eyes. Gilbert’s stance became rigid, feeling as if the air stopped between them, observing the pressure in his jaw and the darkness of his pupils as he slid his eyes to her face, licking his lips before speaking in a deep voice. “Anything you want to know, Anne?”

Did he think she wanted to know more about alphas, about him? It was an absurd notion, of course, but it could serve to distract him from the real reason for her curiosity—something inside her told her it was a futile attempt because Gilbert had proven to be intelligent and lively, forced to try it anyway. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“If you don’t want to explain it to me, I’m sure you won’t mind if I read—” he lifted the book, opening it until Anne tried to take it from him, pulling it away from her grasp once more.

“I’m reading about alphas,” she lied through her teeth, clenching her fists wishing she could hit him with them more than ever. “Any problem?”

“And why is it necessary for me not to be able to read it, then? Those types of books always have information handled by the church and its stigmas.” Before she could stop him, Gilbert raised the book above his head, raising his eyebrows as he read the title out loud. “The Forbidden Fruit of God.”

“Enough, Gilbert, give it back!” The embarrassment of standing on tiptoe and uselessly trying to grab it was so great that she was sure she could dig a hole in Green Gables big enough to be her next home for the rest of her life. “Give it back!”

“The glands are prepared to receive the bite, which is made by sharp fangs that cut the flesh with great pressure—” Anne watched, mortified, as Gilbert’s expression went through states of confusion and something undefined as he continued reading for himself.

At that precise moment, Anne could distinguish their position; Anne, cornered between the shelves and his body, pressed against him on tiptoe to reach the book, brushing her chest against his and breathing heavily on his neck. She had never felt his scent so intensely, in a way that dried her mouth and quickened her heartbeat, or so close to his skin to enjoy the warmth and softness of his touch; the minimal and innocent touches sent electricity through her entire body, feeling her legs weak beneath her and something unknown fluttering between her ribs, in her stomach, in her womb.

Gilbert didn’t seem affected in the slightest by the closeness, skimming through the pages with a frown until he reached the beginning of the chapter and read without air. “Omegas.”

The mention of her dynamic hit her with the force of a speeding train, taking the oxygen from her lungs and forcing her to focus her eyes on his expression. She had to hide her surprise and panic, opening her mouth to respond when the alpha spoke again. “I never thought I’d see anything about it, but you found it.”

“It was a coincidence,” she lied, pulling away just enough not to be pressed against him, trying to decide if her anger should be even greater than what she was feeling. Gilbert lowered the book, reading swiftly through the words almost without blinking. “I wasn’t looking for information on… that on purpose.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” he seemed to understand the meaning behind her words: finding a woman reading a book of that kind was incriminating and dangerous, especially if done in secret. “I won’t say a word to anyone. I find it fascinating.”

She blinked, in shock. “Fascinating.”

“Yes,” for the first time since he started reading, he lifted his gaze, studying her before speaking slowly and honestly. “It’s a rare perspective, undoubtedly, but from my position as an alpha and future doctor, it fascinates me and piques my curiosity, despite the little information available.”

“Oh,” she felt as though the entire vocabulary had vanished from her head. “It’s a strange opinion, to say the least.”

“I trust I can tell you without fear of it being shared, right?” Anne hated his ability to be subtle yet dangerous at the same time; a commitment and a threat too formal to be considered one but direct enough not to be ignored.

“Yes, of course. As long as you don’t say anything about the book, of course.” Gilbert finally handed it back to her, brushing her hands under the book’s cover. She moved away from him as if his touch burned. “Still, what you did was very rude, and each day I find you more exasperating than the last.”

Gilbert smiled. He smiled with all his teeth and fangs, with his full lips and soft cheeks, observing with surprise her relaxed and lovely expression. Gilbert was handsome, not just cute or pretty; he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met in her short life, with his defined jaw, thick lashes, and masculine and carefree aura. The mere idea of finding him attractive infuriated her, wanting to rip out her own eyes rather than continue enjoying the view before her, thanks to Anne. Gilbert had smiled so genuinely and openly, making her want to hit him and shout and hide. All because of their stupid natures and his addictive and intoxicating scent. All because of him.

The atmosphere, once again, had taken a radical turn. The silence stretched tense between them, stopping the air and time around them as they looked at each other closely for the first time, unsure of what to say. The height difference was just enough, bordering on uncomfortable with how much she had to stretch her neck to see his eyes, absorbing the shadows dancing on his face, the width of his shoulders, the definition of his relaxed arms at his sides. Gilbert looked at her intensely, having to fight the urge to hide from his gaze that traced her upturned nose, freckles, wet lips, the shape of her eyebrows. The comment came out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I don’t understand what’s so funny.”

“Surprisingly, you have a good sense of humor when it comes to insulting me,” he confessed, the side of his mouth lifting as he ran his hand through his hair, looking down the hallway. “I think it’s time to go back.”

Anne looked at the book in her hands, disappointed to have to leave it behind when Gilbert asked. “Are you taking it with you?”

“No, are you crazy?” she snorted, leaving it in its original place. “The only option is to steal it, and since I moved to Avonlea, I promised never to steal again.”

“Did you have to steal before?” he repeated, incredulous at the idea. The young woman rolled her eyes, bypassing him to return to the study area. “I’m sure no one will take it, so we can read it in the next session.”

“We will?” She shook her head, turning through the maze. “We’re not reading anything together, least of all that!”

Gilbert laughed hoarsely behind her at her scandalous response, sitting on the other side of the table when they reached the study area, stretching his long legs as he took a seat. “Too revealing to handle, Anne?”

The alpha completely confirmed her suspicions; he had no idea Anne was an omega at all. He hadn’t looked at her strangely when he found her with the book, nor had he scolded her or questioned the reason for her lies or her nervous reaction when he took the book from her hands, accepting the topic with naturalness without distrusting her or what his senses couldn’t perceive. The relief was magnificent and blazing, letting out a deep breath as she began to take out her belongings to start the necessary calculations, ignoring his question as she picked up the pen.

However, doubt gnawed at her insides, biting her lower lip and rubbing her forehead with her palm nervously before asking quietly, very quietly. “Can I ask you a question?”

It was one of the few times Gilbert’s expression dropped its guard, a face of genuine surprise and curiosity that made her tremble in place; she would never get used to the intensity of his presence, his attention. “Of course, anything.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone,” he commented, noticing the tension in her muscles as he approached the edge of the table, stretching his back.

“No. What you tell me will be sealed like a tomb,” Anne shouldn’t trust him, she should keep quiet, focus, and distance herself from him. But she couldn’t.

“When you said that… omegas intrigue and fascinate you because you’re an alpha and a future doctor, what do you mean by that?” Asking such an open and vulnerable question was dangerous. She could offend him by repeating it, be frightened by the memory of having said it aloud, or annoy him by being questioned about it. “You know what? Forget it, it’s something that shouldn’t—”

“I’m going to be a doctor, a physician, and when it comes to treating them, all my patients will be just that: patients. The collective and religious beliefs that strip me of that possibility frustrate me, and I wish I had the chance to properly inform myself about all the dynamics that should be treated regardless of what people assume about them,” he interrupted, pushing his hair back with an elegant motion. “And regarding my nature, it’s more… complex.”

“It’s a very intrusive question, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business,” she shook her head, lowering her eyes to her notes until Gilbert drew her attention again.

“No. It’s not disrespectful, it’s just that I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this, and it’s strange,” he observed her, blinking slowly as he noticed the tension in his eyebrows, running his tongue over his teeth before continuing. “My father always instilled in me the rejection of violence and undue persecution, and the few times he spoke about omegas, he did so from a perspective different from what’s preached. I grew up seeing them with different eyes, experienced situations that shaped my opinion, and listened to my nature. To my alpha.”

“Does…?” She swallowed, feeling inept as the words left her lips. “Does it communicate with you?”

“Of course,” he nodded, and the answer wasn’t mocking or unpleasant in response to her question. “Not with words, that’s clear, but it speaks through me, through my rationality, through my body. It doesn’t mean I have to obey it or let it control me, even though there are times when I feel it might, but just listening to what it wants, what it needs. Many would say it’s scandalous, wrong, and wild, but I know my nature desires it in a more raw and irrational way. When I hear about omegas, about what they are, I can’t help but feel it.”

“How do you feel it?” Anne begged, hoping whatever could stop her, would do so at this moment. If she had needles and thread in front of her, she was sure she’d use them desperately.

This question was different from the previous ones. She could see the change in his pupils, as if his alpha came out to observe her, to analyze her curiosity, to express itself more clearly as Gilbert tensed his jaw. He placed a hand on his chest, pressing his palm over his heart. “When I was a child, I witnessed what an omega suffers when discovered. I saw it with my own eyes, and the event was so devastating for me that there were nights I couldn’t sleep, where I felt my alpha was horrified and deeply wounded by what he had seen. I felt the humiliation, the physical wounds, the terror resounding in me like an echo.”

Sweat licked her nape, and suddenly she didn’t understand how they had ended up discussing such a deep and vulnerable issue, exposing himself to her without fear of being judged or hurt. “My father was an alpha too, and when he explained that my feelings, my anxiety, and my anger were normal, I stopped rejecting my inner self and stopped listening to what was said about omegas. Every time my father spoke about what little he had learned about them during his travels, I felt… I feel my alpha listening attentively, as if it were waiting for a part of me, as if there were something that belongs to me that I can never find.”

Anne blinked, unsure of what to reply until Gilbert continued speaking. “I know it sounds horrible to talk about a person that way, as if they were an object, but it’s what my alpha asks of me. When I listened to my father, when I read your book, I feel it, I feel it in my veins and in my heart, and it’s as if my mind, as if my soul knows what it’s made for beyond my professional purpose. I had never heard about a bite before, and yet when I read about it, I felt it was a knowledge I had hidden within me, waiting for me to discover it. I’m not afraid of it at all, quite the opposite; it drives me to improve, to follow that illusion that they are real and that my alpha has a reason to exist, to inhabit within me and make me who I am.”

Anne had never felt so much confusion in her life. Not only because of the duality that Gilbert Blythe presented to her, acting casually and arrogantly, also showing himself as an unwanted protector, a man responsible for his impulsive actions with a brave and independent thought on dangerous and unusual matters, but also because of the crossroads dancing inside her. Anne was angry with Gilbert for his actions and their catastrophic consequences, she was alert to his movements as she witnessed Billy’s reaction that week when he set his eyes on him, but she also felt her omega purring beneath her ribs in his presence, surprised by his honesty, his way of seeing the world, of seeing her even if he didn’t know her true identity. Gilbert Blythe was an enigma that turned out to be more complex, a puzzle that she thought would instill terror and rejection in her instead of fascination and curiosity. She had to put a stop before it was too late, without knowing how or when.

“Did I say too much?” he smiled politely to break the tension, sighing as he looked down at his written pages. “It must be very strange to hear it, especially if you’re not an alpha.”

“For some reason, I feel that other alphas don’t feel the same way you do,” she came out of her trance, swallowing. “I’m an empathetic person and I can understand up to a certain point. However, the bite, the bond, seemed too divine to be real; that some fangs break the flesh of your neck and you don’t bleed to death? Impossible.”

“The mere idea of having a person destined to be with you for the rest of your life is too divine to be real, but my nature is delighted by the possibility, no matter how irrational it seems to me,” he rested his face in one of his hands, looking at her through his lashes. “And they don’t die from bleeding. Apparently, they have more resistant or receptive layers of skin, and the bite is done with just the right amount of force to avoid injuring crucial nerves and veins. An alpha’s saliva is healing on its own, so they don’t even need antibiotics to handle the healing. The human body is a universe unto itself, and an omega’s seems much more magical than I expected.”

Anne was dancing on unstable and unexplored ground, feeling horror at the idea of being marked by someone, yet a warm and moist feeling when thinking about it with curiosity and innocence. The heat rose to her cheeks as she thought about someone’s mouth wanting to lick the sensitive spots on her neck and graze their teeth experimentally, bringing her knees together and wishing she could bury her face behind her books to escape the embarrassment and mortification of her thoughts. She was talking with Gilbert Blythe not only about omegas, who she happened to be, but also about the possibility of having primitive marks on something as explicit and bold as a lady’s neck. She wanted the earth to swallow her and spit her out as the same Anne, rational and annoyed, rather than a curious Anne susceptible to uncomfortable and exasperating emotions.

“Thank you, Anne,” he opened his mouth like a fish, trying to understand the reason for his gratitude. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone other than my father, and it’s nice not to feel judged. I appreciate it very much.”

As the autumn wind sounded through the treetops and the sun left the lands of Avonlea, Anne felt something tremble inside her, slowly collapsing. Gilbert didn’t know that Anne was internally wrestling with whether she wanted to thank him for not seeing her as a monster or curse him for having opened a door she would not be able to close, one that promised something dangerous and uncertain. For what seemed like the first time since they had met, Anne let her guard down, nodding before saying softly, “It’s nothing.”

Chapter Text

Anne regretted her decision when they stood in front of Rachel Lynde’s front door.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured, closing her eyes as Marilla sighed heavily beside her, feeling the tense and nervous presence of Matthew next to her “We shouldn't have come”.

When Rachel Lynde showed up at Green Gables that very morning to invite them to her tenth dance in Avonlea, Anne thought it was the most delightful idea she had ever heard, a plan as magical as her first ball since moving away from the orphanage. Marilla had turned pale at the thought of attending such an intense social event, and Matthew had considered hiding in the woods until the next morning to avoid going, but Anne's will and persistence were even greater. She had jumped with excitement when Rachel extended the invitation, dancing around her mother with joy and euphoria, expressing her acceptance and desire in so many ways that her mother had to silence her with a serious, brief look.

The situation worsened further when she discovered a letter Diana had sent earlier, written in her lovely cursive.

Dear Anne,

I don’t know if you’ve heard about the plan for this Saturday night, though I’d like to believe you’re aware due to Marilla and Rachel Lynde’s close friendship. Still, through this letter, I wanted to give a formal notice and invitation to Mrs. Lynde’s dance at her home (which, by the way, has a lovely ballroom). I’m thrilled at the thought of sharing your first dance together, enjoying dinner, and sneaking drinks with our other friends, who are also invited as far as I know. I hope to see you during the evening, and if, unfortunately, you don’t have permission to go, I await the correspondence indicating so.

With love, Diana.

Anne’s insistence on knowing that Diana would be there had been so strong that her parents had expressed a desire to be deaf. The young girl had spent the entire day doing housework to perfection without complaint, talking about how excited she was to attend, how much she had waited for such a moment, and how beautiful Rachel’s ballroom must be for hosting such a grand dance in her own home. Marilla and Matthew remained silent, counting to ten to keep their composure, beginning to appreciate the little sanity they had left during the afternoon as they watched Anne’s mouth open for the hundredth time.

The acceptance of the invitation had been doubtful and forced, desperate to make Anne stay silent, unused to stepping out of their comfort zone and the quiet of the farm, filled with tension and discomfort since they had boarded the carriage to Rachel Lynde’s home.

For this reason, when Anne turned to look at them with big, regretful eyes, she could see the explicit anger on their faces “After all the insistence today, you have no choice but to go in and dance until your feet hurt, young lady”.

“I’m sorry, I thought…” Matthew interrupted her with a head shake, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers.

“No complaints and no buts, Anne,” he said definitively, forcing her to look at her outfit with anxiety and rejection.

Anne didn’t know what she had been thinking when she desperately insisted on attending the dance, ignoring one small detail; Anne was not prepared for such a delicate and formal occasion. She had done what she could with what little she had, of course, but she knew the difference would be glaring and painful—she had chosen one of her two daily dresses, the French blue one, which highlighted her sky-blue eyes and crimson lips, tying half of her hair and decorating it with a bow, letting the rest fall in reddish waves over her shoulders. Her makeup had been done secretly, using vaseline on her lips and eyelids, applying a light blush on her freckles to try to bring some life to the pallor of her face. She closed her eyes knowing she would be the ugliest girl among her peers, who were surely dressed in silky fabrics and extravagant colors, adorned with matching jewelry and beautiful hairstyles unlike her, who couldn’t wear perfume for fear of altering the formula of her ointment.

She hated herself for not having considered the possibility of such obvious and public humiliation standing next to them, trying to make conversation and have them wrinkle their noses at her outfit, deciding to ignore her not only for being an orphan but also for her mismatch with the event and not being up to the occasion. Anne would rather walk in the dark through the forest, accompanied by autumn’s chill and monstrous shadows, than endure hours of curious and unpleasant stares.

However, there was no turning back now, and when Rachel Lynde opened the door, Anne tried to lift her head as high as possible.

“Oh, I can’t believe it! Pinch me, please, to make sure this is real,” Rachel exclaimed, making exaggerated gestures with her hands to usher them in. She kissed each of their cheeks, laughing maniacally, playfully taking their cheeks between her fingers as if they were children when she murmured, “You’re not allowed to leave for at least the next two hours! I’ll have people keeping an eye on you, I swear”.

“Rachel, there’s no need to exaggerate so much,” Marilla replied, handing over her coat to be taken to another room. Anne and Matthew did the same, beginning to follow the women into the depths of the house as Rachel linked her arm with hers.

“I’ll exaggerate this situation as much as I like, Marilla, because it’s the first time you’ve come to one of my dances in years, and I want to commemorate and make the most of this occasion,” Rachel smiled innocently, turning to fix her eyes on Matthew’s horrified face, stretching her other hand to drag him with them “Come, Matthew, my husband will be delighted to hear about your fall and winter planting, and I’ll be happy not to pay attention”.

When they crossed the threshold of the ballroom, Anne stopped, losing sight of her parents among the crowd of guests in a matter of seconds. The floor was made of beautiful light wood, the walls were covered with delicately painted pictures, and the ceiling was decorated with a crystal chandelier that took her breath away; the cheerful music vibrated through her, through muscles, bones, and soul, and for a moment, she forgot the superficial and trivial difference that made her stomach twist with anxiety and nausea. She heard numerous conversations, laughter, and exclamations, along with the rhythmic movement of dancing bodies at the other end of the room, quick feet and skirts whispering through the air.

All the women had exquisite and elaborate dresses, tall and neat hairstyles, sparkling heavy necklaces, and gold or silver earrings gleaming in their ears. Anne looked at her appearance, simple and insufficient, wishing to find a secluded room to hide until everyone left, biting the inside of her cheek and feeling insecurity form in her throat like a knot tightening her neck and the pit of her stomach. She blinked and, suddenly, felt a body hugging her tightly.

“I knew you’d come, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up until I saw you here with me!” Diana spoke over the music and the crowd, feeling her arms wrap around her shoulders, returning the hug within seconds with the same excitement “How wonderful, Anne! We’re going to have so much fun; I promise.”

Her best friend stepped back from her, taking her hand before they looked at each other. Diana, as always, looked like a princess in a new dress with puffed sleeves, a prominent bow, and her characteristic dark, curious eyes looking at her with joy and affection. Her sweet perfume danced in Anne’s nose, and for a moment, she felt a sharp pang of envy knowing she would never smell like that “Diana, you look beautiful. You´re a true princess!”

“Anne, you look beautiful! That color enhances your beauty in an incredible way,” Diana replied, making Anne smile against her will with her genuine amazement and compliment. Anne sometimes believed there wasn’t a trace of malice in her heart “Come on, I’ll show you the ballroom, and then we can join the other girls!.

“Do they know I’m here?” Anne asked, looking around with fascination and shyness. The paintings were realistic and magical, depicting flowers and landscapes worthy of paradise, trying to recognize the people around her and failing successfully; older men in suits accompanied by smiling women, likely partners and acquaintances of Mr. Lynde, and perhaps locals from nearby towns.

“I told them, and they seemed to be fine with the idea. Dances are so charming that even Josie Pye seems to let her guard down on these occasions,” the very idea of being seen by Josie Pye made her sweat, swallowing hard as Diana gestured toward the food and drink table “Here’s our dinner, and I’ve been waiting for you so we could eat together.”

“That’s so considerate of you, Diana. Thank you,” Anne replied, grabbing a piece of cheese and strawberry before taking two glasses and looking over the fruit juice options “What would you like to drink?”

“Any juice will be fine,” Diana smiled, chewing slowly behind her handkerchief “We’re lucky because the music is really good, so we can dance a lot”.

“I don’t dance very well; I think I’ll just watch from the sidelines like the others,” Anne confessed, offering her glass and wrinkling her nose at the thought of falling in front of everyone.

“None of that, Anne Shirley–Cuthbert,” Diana huffed, shaking her head “It must just be lack of practice, nothing more. I’m sure you’ll dance better than all of us in no time”.

“It doesn’t matter,” Anne decided, enjoying the sweetness of the strawberry as she grabbed another “Where are your parents? Is Minnie May here?”

“It’s fascinating because my parents disappear as soon as we step through the door. My mother tries to stay by his side, but her friends are very insistent, and she usually spends most of the evening with them while my father tries to conduct business,” she rolled her eyes so Anne could see “To him, everything in life is business, business, and business. Minnie May is at home, of course. Her presence would mean chaos all around, and she would be enormously bored”.

“Oh, Matthew and Marilla were dragged by Rachel to another place I don’t want to discover. Rachel must be updating Marilla on everything that’s happened in the last two hours, and her husband must be making a superhuman effort to get Matthew to respond with a long, clear sentence. I think he’ll escape through a window at any moment,” she said, wiping her fingers with a napkin available on the table before linking her arm with Diana’s “Are you satisfied?”.

“Actually, yes,” Diana nodded, starting to guide them through the crowd once again “I’ll take you to the dance floor where everyone is. They’ve been drinking in secret, so they’ll be cheerier than usual.”

“They hate me, Diana. They won’t be happy to see me,” Anne sighed, wishing she could stop and lie so as not to ruin Diana’s night by being rejected or stopping the fun of her friends simply by her presence “Maybe it’s a better idea if I stay here and you come to get me when you get bored of dancing”.

“Nonsense, Shirley,” Diana looked at her seriously without stopping “They’ll have to get used to you and be happy to see you because I won’t allow you to stop attending things you enjoy just to please their prejudices”.

“I’m not pleasing anyone’s prejudice, Diana, I just don’t want to ruin your night with disappointments. It’s not worth it,” Anne sighed, uncomfortable and stopping her walking when Diana tugged on her “Seriously, I don’t see the need to…”

“It’s too late,” Diana smiled, pointing to the dance floor behind her where all her friends had turned to look at her “You don’t have a choice; we’re already here.”

“Great,” Anne muttered under her breath, positioning herself next to Diana and fighting the instinctive need to hide behind her to avoid their hurtful looks “You’re going to pay for this, Barry”.

“Oh, you’ll thank me later,” Diana laughed, heading toward the group of girls who were laughing among themselves and lifting their chins proudly to welcome them “Sorry for the wait; we had to have dinner on the way”.

“Don’t worry, Diana. We haven’t started dancing yet,” Josie Pye smiled, glancing at Anne with her round cheeks and perfect teeth. Her pink dress was clearly made for her, with its princess sleeves and curved lashes “Anne, what a surprise to see you. Did you get the notice on your way to the farm?”.

“No, I was invited this morning,” Anne answered in a moderate tone, trying to produce a genuine smile. “Why?”

“Oh, I was referring to your dress, but I suppose you’ve had it since the orphanage, haven’t you?” Josie responded, looking her up and down as if she were an insect. Anne felt the tips of her ears burn, blinking slowly at her audacity.

“It’s a new dress, Josie, but I appreciate the concern. I’m happy and grateful to be able to wear new clothes,” her tone, no matter how hard she tried, sounded brusque and defensive. She couldn’t help it, especially when Josie was right, trying to ignore the voice in her head repeating how ugly she was and how little she deserved to be at such a sophisticated dance.

“I’m not concerned, Anne, not at all! I’m happy you enjoy a dress like yours. I’d prefer to be dead before wearing it. It must be a matter of taste, right, Ruby?” she glanced over her shoulder seeking Ruby’s approval, who was also wearing a pink dress. Anne thought she had never seen a girl as pretty as Ruby when she looked at her friend with large, innocent eyes, licking her lips to respond.

“I think blue suits you very well, Anne,” Ruby nodded enthusiastically, ignoring Josie Pye’s true intent when she huffed at her response “Gilbert, in fact, looks lovely in blue. I hope he asks me to dance tonight.”

“Is Gilbert wearing a blue suit?” Diana asked, looking around and failing to find him. Anne didn’t even bother to look, hoping not to see him at any point during the night and knowing that her body would sense before she did when he was near.

“I think Gilbert will ask you to dance without a doubt, Ruby. You’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve seen,” Anne complimented, smiling when Ruby’s cheeks turned a light blush and her lips stretched with excitement “If Gilbert can’t see that, he’s a fool”.

“I agree!” Ruby clasped her hands, excited, before murmuring, “This is his chance to start courting, right, Diana?”

“It might be a bit soon, but it’s the perfect opportunity to confirm his attention towards you. It’s a very good chance,” Diana nodded, encouraging Ruby as she turned to her other friends to laugh with pure happiness. Anne wished she could feel something as beautiful and fleeting as that at some point.

“As long as you’re not in the way, Anne,” Josie responded, wrinkling her nose in disgust “It just happens that you’re obstructing them with your presence as if you forgot the promise we made recently. I don’t think it’s necessary to remind you”.

“The promise itself is unnecessary, Josie,” Anne bit the inside of her cheek to try to control her anger “I’m not interested in Gilbert Blythe or anything related to him. I suggest you don’t waste your energy thinking that I desire his attention”.

“I wouldn’t waste anything on such an absurd idea. Gilbert wouldn’t set his eyes on you in any lifetime, I’m sure. I just worry that you might think otherwise,” she shrugged, removing a strand of blonde hair with an elegant, delicate gesture “Poor Ruby’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle any of that.”

“I’m glad to know we’re on the same page,” Anne linked her arm with Diana’s, moving away from her “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like to have a good night”.

“Good luck with that,” Josie replied, irritated, before turning on her heel and getting lost in the crowd. Diana watched her with empathy, caressing her arm with one of her fingers.

“I’m sorry, I thought she would control herself a bit more,” her voice was sweet even over the bustle of the crowd.

“It’s fine, I expected nothing less from her, so I’m okay,” Anne smiled to comfort her, trying to ignore Josie’s appearance and hurtful words to enjoy her first dance with her best friend “Don’t worry.”

“Diana!” Tillie Boulter appeared with a cup in hand next to them, accompanied by Ruby and Jane Andrews. The memory of Billy being in the same place twisted her stomach “We were waiting for you to start dancing. Would you like some?”

She extended the cup to them, observing the dark liquid with a raised eyebrow in curiosity and impulse. Diana, next to her, cleared her throat “Didn’t the father prohibit the consumption of alcohol years ago?”.

“Yes, but he was transferred to Charlottetown. The new priest is much younger and more flexible, and I’m sure he’s here today,” Tillie murmured. The young woman liked her lime green dress very much, a color that highlighted her chocolate curls and her cheeks flushed from the temperature and wine “He must have seen the drinks on the table and hasn’t made a single complaint”.

Anne and Diana looked around, cautious, without spotting any clergy or known adults nearby “Don’t be paranoid. The cup isn’t transparent, so no one knows we’re drinking, and no one will worry about it. Come on.”

“Did you drink, Ruby?” Anne asked, noticing a strange glint in her eyes and a feverish color in her neck.

“I need…” Ruby cleared her throat before continuing, nodding her head “I need courage to dance with Gilbert Blythe.”

Diana and Anne exchanged silent looks before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, joined by the merry laughter of Tillie, Jane, and Ruby. The sticky aroma of wine danced in Anne’s nose, urging her to take the first sip without thinking twice. The liquid was bitter and not at all enjoyable, too warm for the hot and crowded ballroom, but she didn’t let go until she had emptied the glass. She licked her lips with a purple tongue, laughing again as the girls cheered at her impulsiveness, following them to get more glasses.

“They’re back,” one of the boys said, his words dragging out with a sly smile. He was a tall young man with a distinctive hairstyle that suited him, but Anne didn’t know his name, looking at Diana with an indifferent expression “Well, it’s five of you, so I’ll give you two glasses to share among yourselves. We don’t want you stumbling this early.”

“Moody, we’re not going to stumble,” Ruby replied irritably. Moody. Anne had never heard his name or paid attention to his presence before; he seemed like a nice and harmless young man—good at fetching drinks for them and handing them over discreetly instead of making them serve themselves, where they might be seen by their parents. Drinking alcohol was one of the many activities accepted or well-regarded in men but punished in women, who had to settle for less and depend on a man to enjoy the same thing.

“Alright,” Anne nodded, drawing the attention of the girls and the boys when she spoke. It was evident that they were uncomfortable around her, but there was not the same barrier and distance as there had been during class; they watched her with curiosity but didn’t push her away “You can have some of mine”.

“You had a whole glass! Of course, you’ll drink less now,” Jane joked, drinking the first half of the glass Moody handed her. Tillie took the rest, laughing and cheering as it was Ruby and Diana’s turn. Diana made a face of disgust never seen before, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the retching that rose in her throat; Anne had to brace herself on her knees to keep from falling over with laughter, wiping tears from her eyes, feeling the music vibrate through her bones and noticing how the world around her moved in a strange, comical, and magical way.

Were these sensations due to just one glass of wine? How would she feel if she had one more? She couldn’t continue pondering the idea when Diana suddenly grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the dance floor “Let’s go!”.

Tillie, Jane, and Ruby positioned themselves at her sides, and Anne had to straighten up considerably to mask the tickling sensation coursing through her body. Anne watched in fascination as the chandelier above them sparkled, the vibration of footsteps on the floor, and the harmony of the music inviting her to move to its rhythm “Diana, I don’t know how to dance!”

“You have to dance like we did when we acted!” her best friend laughed, positioning her arms behind her lower back like everyone else, leaning slightly forward. Anne watched as the musicians readied their hands to start a new song “Follow us”.

The melody started cheerfully and contagiously, failing to contain her laughter as they began to spin in their places and with their partners across the line. For a few moments, she forgot the vast difference between her and her companions, the people surrounding her—not only the superficial difference in appearance, her plain dress, and fitted sleeves, but the real distinction that divided her from everyone else, placing miles and miles between everything that came near her. For a few moments, she could forget the layers covering her, the ointment that created a protective barrier around her neck and her life, and for a few seconds, she could spin on her own feet and stop worrying about what would become of her, stop fearing that she was walking on a tightrope, enjoying Diana’s company, the bitter taste of wine on her tongue, and the heat licking her neck with sweat.

She linked her arms with her friends, changing places and spinning around, brushing the edges of their skirts and sliding her shoes across the floor. The violin sounded in her ears like a sweet and divine melody, flowing in her veins and making her cheeks ache from the tension; she danced for the first time with a man she didn’t know, almost at the same height, with brown eyes, having to press her palms against his before taking his hand and spinning around once more. Every time she found herself face to face with Diana, she laughed, remembering the times they used to act out their plays and recreate dance scenarios over and over, where Diana had patiently and enthusiastically taught her several classic dance pieces. Anne had never imagined there would be a moment when they could attend a real dance together, in a beautiful hall, with girls who seemed to enjoy her presence instead of hating it.

Eventually, the first song came to an end, and they had to step away due to fatigue and the thirst drying out her throat. Diana approached quickly, smiling “I’m dying of thirst!”.

“Yes, yes, let’s get something to drink, please,” Anne sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead as they headed to the refreshment table “That was so much fun, Diana, it was magical. I never thought we’d be dancing together like this”.

Once at the table, they filled glasses with water, embarrassed to be drinking something different. Anne looked around “Don’t you think I should find my parents to make sure everything is alright?”

“What do you mean?” Diana licked her lips delicately, returning to where everyone was gathered again. Josie Pye hadn’t bothered to come back.

“They’re not used to coming to these kinds of gatherings, and I’m afraid they might want to leave and not find me anywhere,” she bit the inside of her cheek, worried “Maybe I should go look for them and…”

“H-Hello, Anne,” a hesitant and unfamiliar male voice called. Anne turned around and looked slightly up, finding the same boy she had danced with moments ago; he was handsome, with an innocent and kind appearance, brown eyes, and brown hair, with bushy eyebrows and flushed cheeks. Anne felt her own ears burning from the unexpected attention “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier, but I’m Charlie. We’re classmates.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” she shook the hand he offered with embarrassment, uncomfortable and anxious not knowing what to do. The young woman didn’t want to imply anything, of course, but she wasn’t used to receiving any attention at all “Sorry, I don’t remember seeing you before. I’m a bit absent-minded.”

Diana’s eyes burned on her back, hearing the laughter and whispers of the other girls behind her. Was he going to ask her to dance? She was sure the nerves would get the better of her and make her stumble or forget the steps for the next song. She bit the inside of her cheek hard as Charlie smiled timidly “Don’t worry, I’m very quiet. It’s hard to notice me.”

“I spend every free moment I have talking, so I guess we’re opposites,” she smiled gently, making a desperate attempt to ease the tension that lingered between them due to discomfort and unfamiliarity “Not seeing you is my fault and lack of attention, I don’t think it’s hard to see you at all”.

“I came to introduce myself because… I really enjoyed dancing with you, and I’d be honored to formally ask for your hand for this dance,” he stammered, forcing himself to keep his nervous eyes on her face, trying to stay still uselessly “If you’d like, of course”.

Anne remained silent for a few seconds, scrutinizing his face closely as she found it vaguely familiar. It must be a natural thing if they were acquaintances, having seen his face unconsciously, but feeling a pang of uncertainty as doubt arose before her—was Charlie perhaps a friend of Billy’s? She tried to remember each and every face that used to surround Billy with smiles and jokes, failing to place Charlie within that circle. She decided to ignore the questions whispering in her ears, concluding that a dance was harmless and insignificant and that she deserved to have a good time dancing to one more song before her parents came to find her “The pleasure would be mine, Charlie.”

They had to wait for the next song, joining their friends who continued joking and exclaiming among themselves. Anne found her place next to Diana, ignoring how Diana raised her eyebrows with surprise and amusement, directing her attention to Moody as he spoke over everyone “Alright, listen up, listen up!”

“Last drink for everyone. Last and full,” he murmured, subtly carrying it behind him before handing it to a boy she didn’t know either; how many young people could she ignore without purpose? The boy took the cup and, in less than a minute, emptied it, swallowing its contents with a smile at the celebrations around him. Anne couldn’t believe the lack of discretion and the luck they had in not having a single spectator or guardian watching them to report them, allowing them to drink until the last drop “Next!”.

Thus, the round continued, one by one, emptying a glass of wine. When Diana’s turn came, she weakly protested about the disgust but gave in after a little insistence, managing to tolerate the unpleasantness with more elegance. Anne hugged her shoulders, resting her head on one of them, until they handed her the last glass. Afraid of being seen, she quickly drank its contents and felt the warm liquid slide down her throat after a few seconds. Ruby’s cheeks were redder than ever, Jane and Tilly couldn’t stop laughing and lightly hitting each other to catch their breath, and she and Diana linked their arms to go dance.

On the way, Anne felt a slight surge of courage when she spotted the slim figure of Charlie, linking his other arm with hers, laughing as the heat of embarrassment touched the tips of his ears “I hope you’re ready, Charlie, because I want to dance”.

“S–yes, sure,” he stammered, swallowing hard and positioning himself in front of her. Anne thought it was relaxing to find someone shy like him, who seemed to expect her to take the first step and didn’t want to overwhelm her at all, unlike Gilbert Blythe.

Gilbert Blythe and his presence that filled the room with all the oxygen, Gilbert Blythe who made her hair stand on end and took away all her concentration, stability, and patience. Gilbert Blythe who watched her with dark eyes, Gilbert Blythe who followed every action as if he were hunting her, Gilbert Blythe who healed her wounds, Gilbert Blythe who could find her in a maze of books and share secrets with her, trusting that she wouldn’t judge him, Gilbert Blythe who knew about her dynamic and said he found it fascinating.

The second glass of wine felt much more bitter and heavy than the first, forcing her to think of an arrogant, confusing, and complex alpha when what she least wanted at that moment and any other was to think of him. When there was a shy and kind boy in front of her asking for her hand to dance, when her best friend was laughing beside her, when she was at her first dance and her mind decided to wander to him and his memory and the possibilities when she didn’t want to.

Why did her mind want to betray her this way? Why did her thoughts wander down those paths when she knew her own nature was instinctively and animalistically clawing at her ribs? She wanted to bang her head against the wall, she wanted to bang Josie Pye’s head against the wall, she wanted to bang Gilbert Blythe’s head against the wall, and Billy Andrews’ head too, but she would let Gilbert do it for her with a bit more force. Anne decided at that moment that she would never drink wine again.

“Anne,” Diana called, frowning at her sudden detachment from reality, squeezing her hand between hers. “Are you alright?”.

“Yes, the alcohol apparently makes me a bit sleepy,” she lied, smiling to avoid worrying Diana. Her system was clearly affected, blinking and speaking more slowly, feeling the ground beneath her confusing and unsteady. When the music started, she let herself be carried away, watching the first steps before remembering the entire piece, trying to ignore the doubts and confusions that began to play with the pit of her stomach and focusing her eyes on Charlie.

Charlie, despite the tension in his muscles and the nervousness in his lips, turned out to be a good dancer. There was not much difference in height, allowing her to see his face clearly when they had to get close to each other, lightly smelling a masculine perfume and salty sweat due to the high temperature of the hall; he was a beta, without a doubt, with his shyness and caution in every step, making practiced and calculated movements, resting his hand against hers with just the right pressure, sliding his fingers along her lower back with delicacy and respect, laughing awkwardly when Anne accidentally stepped on one of his feet.

“I’m sorry! It’s my first dance and I never got to practice,” she whispered when they were facing each other, concentrating on not stepping on him again. Charlie shook his head, wiping away the worried frown from his face.

“Don’t worry, you’re a very good dancer. I can’t believe this is your first time,” he replied, opening his eyes wide when Anne huffed.

“You’re lying. This is the third time I’ve stepped on you, and I almost fell once,” Anne murmured, positioning herself in his arms one last time. “It might be the fault of the wine, anyway”.

She didn’t hear what Charlie said in a soft voice, blinking slowly as they began to spin in circles, able to see over her partner’s shoulder the people surrounding them. All their acquaintances were dancing with them, laughing or trying to catch their breath, diverting their attention to the people conversing on the edges of the dance floor, watching the dance with interest or boredom, until her eyes found what she was looking for.

Gilbert Blythe. Watching her.

The song stopped just at the moment when Anne’s feet awkwardly tangled with each other, almost falling to the ground with such force that it could have broken her nose. She was lucky to be in Charlie’s arms, who tightened his grip on her and helped her to her feet, breathing heavily on her face “Are you alright, Anne? Are you feeling dizzy?”,

What was wrong with her? Despite having stumbled so violently, she hadn’t stopped holding onto Charlie’s shoulders through his shirt, digging her fingers into his bones as if they would save her from the wave of sensations and uncertainties washing over her; she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Gilbert Blythe’s indifferent face, returning his gaze as if it were a sickly, distorted, and intoxicating reflection. Gilbert was indeed wearing blue, a shade so dark it nearly touched black, with a pristine suit and a bored, indifferent expression where only his eyes gave him away—with pupils that absorbed her with absolute authority, showing interest and curiosity, with the slight curve of his eyebrows and the definition of his jaw.

“Anne, are you okay?” Charlie’s voice reached her like a whisper, as if he were speaking from beneath an ocean, distant and foreign. Anne blinked slowly, breaking the magnetic and powerful gaze that greedily demanded she keep looking, that she not take her attention off the alpha who was several meters away from them “Do you need me to find someone?”.

Anne blinked slowly, suddenly noticing the little distance between them; the omega was clinging to his shoulders as if her life depended on it (maybe it did), Charlie’s hands were holding her back in fear she might lose her balance, and their faces were so close she could see his eyelashes and the hair of his eyebrows. The position was so, so scandalous and embarrassing that Anne jumped away, stumbling slightly before regaining her balance. She would never touch another drop of alcohol in her life.

“Charlie, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling her neck flush red with embarrassment. Charlie’s worried expression made the situation even worse, trying to breathe properly under the intense presence of Gilbert “I’m so embarrassed, did I hurt you?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine, I’m just surprised I caught you at the right moment,” he laughed, stroking the back of her head while continuing to look at her with curiosity “Would you like to refresh yourself and come back later? I’m afraid you might lose your balance again”.

“I…” she murmured, feeling trapped and more than ever wanting to slip away into the sea of people and flee. She looked around for Diana, for anyone who could successfully pull her away from Gilbert, wanting to cry when she couldn’t find anyone familiar “I think if I keep dancing, I’ll be a danger, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine or danced so soon”.

“It’s okay,” he smiled, offering his arm for her to take. Anne hesitated and finally pulled back, raising her palms in confusion.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find Diana and come back with her,” she apologized, standing on tiptoe to try to see her, forcibly ignoring the spot where Gilbert had been standing earlier.

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked, with a frown of concern and hesitation before speaking. “I can accompany you, if you want and—”

“No! No,” she regretted showing her frustration in her tone, but it was too late. She controlled her voice, adjusting her hair as she gave a false smile “It will be easier and quicker for me to find her on my own. I’m fine, it’s just that all this spinning made me trip, that’s all”.

“Oh, okay,” he accepted, nodding delicately and looking around with discomfort “I suppose I’ll see you later”.

“It was a pleasure, Charlie, and I’m sorry!” she said her goodbyes, glancing over her shoulder before diving into the sea of people, feeling the nervousness settle firmly in her stomach when she found Gilbert’s space empty. He was gone, and now she had no idea where he was, with only one certainty: she didn’t want to be found.

It was a maddening and irrational feeling, having to split between her panicked, hot head over something unknown and her nature restlessly churning inside her chest, demanding it. Her reasoning pushed her forward, apologizing and asking for permission to pass, searching with frantic eyes and an overwhelmed nose for her parents or Diana as an anchor. The heat was becoming unbearable, the alcohol had a bitter taste on her tongue, and she felt suffocated among the sweating bodies, forced laughter, and refined fabrics. She struggled to get out of the crowd, trying to control her rapid breathing and unsteady steps as she reached the other side of the hall, desperately searching for Marilla, Matthew, and Diana, failing spectacularly. They seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth, and for some reason, Anne didn’t want to stay in the same place for long.

She exited through the first doorway she found, facing an endless hallway with a few doors decorating it, paintings, and a Persian rug covering the floor. The light from a smaller chandelier illuminated her path as she tried to remember what the main entrance looked like so she could reach it; perhaps if she saw the carriage they had arrived in, she would feel more at ease, knowing her parents were still at the party. She turned right, standing in front of an identical hallway, beginning to feel the alcohol taking over her anxiety and turning it into nausea and cold sweat; she shouldn’t have drunk, she shouldn’t have come, she shouldn’t care at all if Gilbert Blythe was here and was indeed watching her, why did it affect her so much?

She was about to turn around when she felt it. She felt the electricity on her skin, the shadow forming in front of her, the elegant and subtle walk of a panther. Her nose was the last to betray her, feeling his heavy, scorching scent filling her lungs like poison—Gilbert, as always, had found her.

His presence did nothing to help her nausea, turning to face him and raising her head to see him. Now, in front of her, she could see his face more relaxed, more himself, with his eyes studying her and his jaw tight, defining his moist lips and his nose sniffing the warm alcohol that lingered on her tongue “I don’t enjoy being chased, Gilbert”.

“I’m not chasing you, Anne. I’m merely finding you,” he murmured without taking his eyes off her face, his broad shoulders preventing her from looking back due to the closeness, having to admire the fineness of his suit and how good the blue looked on him “Did I ruin the fun?”.

“Yes, as usual,” she replied, tightening her jaw before being fed up with the scant seconds they had been together “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my family or go look at flower paintings before I have to share an empty conversation with you”.

Gilbert positioned himself in front of her, stopping her path. Anger pumped through his veins as he bit the inside of his cheek “Move aside, Gilbert”.

“Has the alcohol made you even more aggressive?” the alpha asked innocently, brushing his hair back “I just wanted to know about your night, why it was ruined.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she growled, wanting to rip the hair from her head. She didn’t want to waste time on this “I’m tired of these games, I’m tired of running into you wherever I go, I’m tired of you looking at me. Move aside and let me go!”

“Anne—” he knew he was going to tease her, deny everything she was saying when one corner of his mouth stretched into a smile, watching in confusion as his smile suddenly disappeared. Within seconds, Gilbert’s expression had completely darkened, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong when he said, “Someone’s coming.”

“What—?” Gilbert looked to the side and approached a door, turning the doorknob and opening it slightly, seeing that the interior was empty and dark. Anne couldn’t react when the alpha took her by both hands, dragging her into the room and closing the door behind them once they were inside.

The darkness was such that Anne couldn’t distinguish when her eyes were open and when they were closed, struggling to make out any shapes in the dimness uselessly. The only real, living, tangible thing was Gilbert’s body in front of her, covering her; Anne grabbed his arms, digging her nails through his shirt and into his skin in revenge, trying to fight the panic that was taking the air from her lungs “Gilbert, you’re crazy. You’re completely crazy. What are you doing? What do you think will happen if we’re found? Let me go.”

“Quiet, Anne,” the alpha replied, breathing in a steady rhythm unlike her frantic breaths. Anne breathed through her nose, inhaling his masculine and devastating scent, noticing how, in the darkness, physical sensations were much stronger than in broad daylight; the warmth of his body reached her like a caress, and even though he wasn’t touching her, Anne could remember the firm touch of his hands on her when he dragged her effortlessly “They can’t see us.”

“What are you talking about? Who are they?” she could hear voices from the hallway, but the tones were common, and their words were muffled by the distance and the thickness of the walls. There were men, several of them, talking and laughing animatedly, unaware of Anne and Gilbert on the other side “Can you hear them?”.

“Billy,” Gilbert replied, and even in the darkness, she could imagine the symmetry of his face, the hardness and definition of his cheekbones and jaw “And his friends”.

“Are you scared of them, and that’s why we have to hide?” Anne huffed, irritated by his imminent fear that wouldn’t let her go “I’ll go out first, and then you’ll follow when they leave”.

“No” Anne frowned, deciding that she would open her mouth and scream until her vocal cords broke if he didn’t let her out “We’ll stay here until they leave. I don’t want them to see you and cause problems”.

“Why would seeing me cause problems? Did you hit your head and lose the few functional neurons you had?” Anne growled, pushing him and starting to flail in the air and in the darkness to find the doorknob “I swear that when I get out of here, I’ll break your head, and this time seriously.”

Her senses were dulled by the alcohol and Gilbert’s close presence, muffling a breath when the alpha took her hand in his and pulled it away from what seemed to be the door; the touch of his skin was warm, warmer than a normal body temperature, hearing him sigh over her face “Anne, please, I need you to listen to me just this once. We’ll leave when they do. I doubt it will be much longer”.

Had his voice always been like this, so slow, hoarse, and smooth? She blinked uselessly, unable to see anything, not even her own nose, silently considering how close they must be — still, one of her hands held onto his jacket in a fist, while the other was trapped inside his. She thought his voice sounded in her ears more heavenly than music, that his tone ran through her body from head to toe as if she were feeling an electric shock, sensing the warmth of his body like ocean waves “My parents must be looking for me, very worried, while I’m being kidnapped”.

Gilbert laughed softly, the vibration of his chest raising her skin. “Am I kidnapping you right now?”.

“The definition of kidnapping is the deprivation of a person’s freedom, meaning me at this moment,” she whispered, letting her head wander for a moment, thinking about what position they were in if she lifted her head a little more, if he would smell the wine with every breath, if sweat had slightly removed her ointment. She couldn’t concentrate, hearing the foreign voices on the other side while being cornered by an alpha who made her nature tremble and her head ache.

She licked her lips, taking a deep breath, allowing herself to close her eyes and enjoy his scent without being seen, trying to define his fragrance — it smelled like a forest, honey, a cozy fire, and natural body oils. It smelled good, so good that Anne let herself stretch a little more, bringing her nose closer to smell more of his scent, closing her hand on the fabric that covered him to not let him go. The masculine voice interrupted her thoughts, as if he could sense what she was doing “When you get out of here, will you tell the commissioner on me?”

“No,” she answered so quickly that she felt heat in her cheeks, mentally scolding herself for the lack of sense in her reply “When I get out, I’m going to hit you and send dogs after you. I don’t want the commissioner to know”.

She could imagine them, Anne against the wall, by the door, and Gilbert by her side, covering her body with his and holding her hand for no reason. His breath fell on her face, and she felt that if she reached out one of her hands, she could touch his chest, brush his shirt; she was suddenly so tired, believing that the alcohol, instead of reducing its effect, increased it when Gilbert Blythe was so close “How much longer will they take?”.

It had probably been just a few minutes, but Anne didn’t understand what the attraction of a meeting in an empty hallway was. The music was great, the food and drinks were exquisite, and there were so many people that the conversation was easy and flowing. Clearing her throat, she asked, “What are they talking about?”.

Gilbert didn’t seem at all bothered by the situation, standing in the darkness holding each other, whispering and receiving threats from her. She could feel the tension radiating from his body more and more, the concentration slipping into the silence “Nothing important. About the new priest who came to Avonlea. He’s caused quite a stir, both negative and positive”.

“Why?” Anne had never heard about the previous priest, who had banned alcohol consumption, nor had she heard about the newcomer. The masses were usually given by a low-profile priest, detached from the system and politics unlike the others; Anne enjoyed listening to him on her early religious journey.

“Many have a lot of affection for Father Robert, who decided to go to Charlottetown to preach on a larger scale, and instead, they brought Father Dixon,” the omega heard him take his time to answer “He’s younger, more relaxed, and much more likable. Most have welcomed him with open arms, but the more powerful and older population is getting used to his presence and studying him a bit more before trusting him”.

“It must be a stressful job,” Anne snorted, deciding that leaving her hand in Gilbert’s grip felt strange, moving away from his touch “They could offer me a fortune, and I’d never bother to earn the approval of those kinds of people”.

“It’s his duty,” Gilbert replied, hearing how he tucked his hands into his pockets, indifferent to the grip Anne had on his forearm “If he found it unfruitful, he could be a farmer, or a priest exclusively for giving masses. But he doesn’t seek that and is proving himself while everyone watches and comments”.

She bit her lips, restless, feeling how the darkness became increasingly oppressive and suffocating “If they keep talking for another second, I’m leaving, whether you like it or not”.

“What's the hurry?” Gilbert replied, and Anne could swear she could hear his cocky grin through his innocent question. She clenched her fists as he continued speaking “You didn't want to tell how I ruined your night, and I'm dying to hear more about it”.

“It's none of your business, Gilbert, I want to leave!” she protested, trying to push past him and reach for the doorknob, losing to the quick reflexes of the alpha who lowered one of her arms again, blocking her passage “I don't care if you want to cross Billy or not, Gilbert! I'm leaving and you can come with me or—!”.

He could no longer shout when the alpha's hand, large and careful, covered his mouth in its entirety. She opened her eyes shockingly, feeling anger and something more dangerous developing in the underbelly of her stomach, confusing her as she tried to remove the hand from her face, still screaming “I'm going to murder you, Gilbert Blythe! I swear...”.

“Be quiet” Gilbert whispered, a tone so low that she stopped fighting to calculate the angle of his face and claw at it until it bled. She really wanted to make him bleed “They stopped talking because they heard you, and I don't wish them to find us like this”.

Anne, naturally, could not answer. She glared at him even though she could see absolutely nothing, thinking that punching his stomach would be useless; Gilbert seemed to be strong, and a punch from her would be nothing more than a rough caress and a straight ticket to losing her head in exasperation. The alpha was right, noting how the conversation had stopped altogether, trusting his senses in the knowledge that they were still there, trying to discern the reason for the noise rather than having left. Anne wanted them to vanish, to disappear off the face of the earth so she could escape away from Gilbert and never have to see his face again.

She blinked, becoming still and silent for the first time in her life, annoyed with the warm pressure of his hand against her mouth, struggling with the joy of smelling his scent, of sensing the tension in his muscles and the gravity in his voice. God, the alcohol was making her hallucinate, confusing her so much that she felt the anger was verging on a strange and alien boundary, becoming something else she didn't want to explore but which also kept growing and growing to a point where she couldn't control it.

“Too bad you don't want to tell me how I ruined everything” Gilbert seized, hearing his voice a little closer, feeling his breath warmer “I must say, the wine smells really good on you”.

Shut up. Anne wanted to snarl, wanted to punch him, to drag him in front of all the guests to humiliate him, but she also wanted him to keep talking, to come closer, to grab her hand again.

“I didn't think I'd see you tonight, but it was a pleasant surprise. I was also surprised to discover what a good dancer you are, despite your lousy dance partner” she heard a strange movement, her eyes widening curiously as she felt a faint touch, fragile as the flutter of a butterfly brush against the hair resting on her shoulder, arranging it carefully. Her heart raced dramatically, swallowing and trying to control her breathing as Gilbert continued to speak “And by way of confession can I just say that I didn't mind ruining your night at all if it meant you stopped dancing in his arms, is that wrong? Is it selfish to think so?”.

Gilbert didn't take his hand out of her mouth, wanting to speak a little more for himself and Anne, engulfed in stupefaction and surprise, kept silent so he wouldn't stop “I honestly don't care if it's selfish or not, I think that's the worst part. I don't care at all”.

She blinked as his free hand ran through the colored strands of her hair, positioning them behind her ear, feeling her heart throb frantically like that of a helpless animal, not out of fear, but out of the desire for more, the yearning of her nature and her reasoning that she needed this, needed him. Gilbert seemed to know this, confident that if she were really scared or uncomfortable she wouldn't hesitate to put yards of distance between them; it was stupid to have that certainty about an alpha, about a man, but for some reason she wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't afraid of this.

“You don’t need to be nervous” Gilbert whispered, listening to the arrhythmic beat of her heart with his sensitive ears, daring to brush his fingers under her jaw, leaving her delicate line tickling “Though I can't deny how much I enjoy  hearing the beat of your heart when I'm near”.

This must have been the fault of the darkness, the alcohol, the closeness of his body and scent, his compliments and deep voice, the delicacy of his caresses that shook the resolve and reasoning beneath her. Her omega, her nature knew she wanted him and desired him from their first meeting, but her personality and wit put barriers and walls between them to prevent it; now, hidden and secluded from the world, so close she felt his fingers caressing the edge of her jaw, Anne decided she could let her guard down, that just for this moment she could give in to her omega's desires, admit the longing of her reasoning, listen to the quickness of her heartbeat to understand its meaning. Gilbert moved the hand covering her mouth not to pull it away entirely, but to cup her face, caress her cheek with one of his thumbs without moving closer, enjoying the warm, soft touch of her skin, settling for her closeness and the satisfying sound of her breathing “Are you scared?”.

She could say yes and Gilbert would pull away, move away from her and never look for her again. She could do that, she could push him away and run away, she could laugh in his face and hurt his feelings, but she did none of those things. Feverish heat tinged her cheeks, something heavy settled in her belly, and she felt her eyelashes flutter as she answered in a whispered “No”.

“I knew you wouldn't” Gilbert murmured, feeling his smile through his words, swallowing as the alpha slid his thumb over her swollen, moist lips, caressing them gently, getting her heart to skip several beats “So good, Anne. So good for me”.

The young woman would have relished the chance to see his expression, to watch his dark eyes, the redness of his lips, his devoted face as he watched her embarrassed and confused reactions. She wanted to lean closer, to lean into the touch of his hand, to keep listening to the compliments and compliments he wanted to whisper in the dark to her, but she stopped abruptly. Ruby. Ruby who waited all night to dance with him, Ruby who smiled in excitement at the thought of Gilbert asking for her hand, Ruby who listened to his affirmation with sparkling eyes. The air around her grew cold, and she turned away from him in a single movement; she couldn't do this. She couldn't do this to Ruby, and then look at her face with naivety even though they weren't friends. It was wrong, and she had to stop it and keep her promise not to break Ruby's fragile heart no matter how much it physically hurt to walk away from him.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she stammered, ignoring the possibility that Billy and the others were waiting outside, grabbing the doorknob and walking out of the room without looking back, plunging into the sea of people trying to forget the brush of his fingers against her lips like a phantom touch.

Chapter Text

Gilbert remained in the darkness, static.

His nose clung desperately to the warm scent of her skin, the soap she used to wash her hair, the wine resting on her tongue, the exquisite aroma of light perspiration after dancing in front of him. His heart pounded with the force of a hammer against his ribs, having to close his eyes and clench his fists tightly to try to calm himself. The growl rising from his chest deafened his ears, low and deep with frustration, with the suffocating exasperation of resisting the desire to go after her. To not take her small wrist in his hand and pull, pull until she was looking at him again with big, angry eyes and decided to hit him in the face one more time even though it was nothing more than a caress. To resist the urge to run after her and see her one more time, to be able to recall the warmth and softness of her skin against his palm, to be able to brush his fingers against her full lips in the dark, to enjoy the warmth of her mouth and the heaving breath and brush the wetness of her tongue against his fingers until she was begging for more.

He was going mad. Losing his mind, falling into a deep dementia, allowing himself to be swept into madness as he growled in the dark and in the void, failing at such a simple task as regaining his control after touching the face of the only woman in the world. Sebastian was right; his nature was beginning to infect him, overpowering his rationality, driving him to do stupid, dangerous, irreversible things. He couldn't feel this way, to feel this way about a girl he'd known for weeks, about a girl who hated him deeply, about a girl he didn't know at all. This was her fault, the fault of her complicated words, her fleeting answers, her hellish temper, her bravery and her empathy and her thoughtfulness. Her small nose, her reddish hair, the sparkle in her eyes and the freckles that dotted her face as if it were a divine universe, a constellation that blinded him and made him lose himself just so he could keep looking at her.

It was crazy, it was pathetic, and it was inevitable.

He had innocently believed that after his conversation with Billy he would calm down, he would stop thinking about her constantly and obsessively, knowing that nothing bad was going to happen, that she was safe. He thought that when he went to school he would enjoy her profile for a few seconds before concentrating on his surroundings, he trusted that in the library he would stop longing to approach her and steal glances in her direction, he wished he didn't think over and over again of her unique expressions, of her unique way of thinking, of the little gestures she had had with him.

Gilbert had been wrong. Profoundly so.

Holding Billy's fragile throat beneath his hands had opened a door he didn't know lay before him, waiting to be opened at the right moment. Gilbert was a rational, educated, intelligent person, who had never had a problem with his nature, an alpha who had never gotten over his mentality, over his prudence and morality until he met Anne. Ever since he had met her all his senses and thoughts were directed towards her, honing his instincts to her presence, following her steps, the smiles she gave to people other than himself, to her slow blinking when she was tired, to the wrinkling of her nose when she didn't understand something or had a different opinion from others. He listened to her breathing attentively, to her heartbeat as if it were celestial music when they were in the library, to the delicacy of her arms and the way she frowned when she was concentrating. It was not only the constant attention that had increased since his episode with Billy, but also the emergence of an unhealthy obsession of thinking of her constantly when she was not around - thinking of her during his arrangements on the farm, imagining her laughter before bed, remembering her face and her warmth when he had to study; feeling anxious and biting his nails to the flesh when they said goodbye and she had to return on her own, trying to ignore how long his days felt when he had to wait for their next meeting.

Gilbert could never admit it because shame and horror at himself petrified him, tensing his jaw with hatred every time he was conscious of his actions, trying to distract himself and failing to do so again and again. He promised to stay away from her but took the book she was reading out of her hands to get a reaction from her, laughed in her face with arrogance and ruined her dance with a good and innocent boy, a boy who didn't see her image every time he closed his eyes, a boy who held her hand carefully as if she was capable of breaking, a boy who blushed under her gaze and stumbled when he spoke because of her unique beauty. And Gilbert had sworn that Anne deserved someone like him, not some irrational, calculating alpha, and that he wasn't going to get in her way under any circumstances. And he had sworn it, he had sworn it when he watched as he grasped her hand, as he rested his grip on her lower back, as Anne smiled softly and danced like a deity in front of him, tempting his sanity and his patience and his dignity with her mere existence. He had sworn as his body spoke for itself, feeling the darkness of his thoughts expressing itself through his pupils, the tension of his muscles, the danger radiating from his skin like poison and for some reason, by some constant and inexplicable chance, Anne could always find him. Anne could always find him and, when she looked at him, she could see through him, as if he were transparent beneath her eyes. As if he had something that no one else had.

Gilbert knew his promise was broken when Anne stumbled, taking a few steps forward on instinct when Charlie managed to catch her in time, holding her carefully in his arms, brushing their faces in an inappropriate and shocking way. Gilbert knew his promise had been broken when the blood boiled inside his system, unable to bear the image and pressing his jaw so hard he felt the bone would crack under the pressure. Gilbert would have to stop getting in Anne's way, he would have to stop bothering her, stop pushing her to her limits again and again, and he would have to enjoy the sight of her with someone good, someone who would give her peace and a good start. But he couldn't and wouldn't, and, frankly, he didn't care about anything but Anne's desire — and her surprised look had spoken a thousand words.

And moments later he was enveloped in darkness, enveloped in the warmth of her skin, in a light sweetness licking his mouth as if it were tangible, in the feel of her hand inside his, in her breaths heaving at his caresses and the fierce beating of her heart, her nature pushing him to come closer, to touch her face, to take her over as if he had any sense, as if he had any right or possibility to do that. Gilbert wanted to rap the wall in front of him until he cracked his knuckles at the thought of the missed opportunity, at the thought of the possibility that he had misread the situation and Anne's signals, if she was frightened of him and didn't know how to react, consenting to something out of fear? If he had gone too far in touching her mouth with his fingers? If he had scared her away from the intensity of his devotion and need?

The growl intensified as did the self-loathing, determining that the next time he laid eyes on her he would apologise —on his knees if necessary— and leave her alone once and for all, accepting her rejection and tolerating the unhappiness in his heart that he could never get close to her or form a decent, friendly relationship in the future. Fed up with his situation, he opened the door with more force than necessary, inspecting the hallway cautiously and making sure there were no witnesses nearby before leaving. The music was suddenly unbearable, and the heat and aromas were going to start causing an unbearable headache if he didn't leave in a matter of minutes. He turned in the hallway, stopping when he found a short girl staring at him with comically large eyes, freckles, and red cheeks from the hot blood pooling in her face. It took him a few seconds to recognise her, too focused on his negative thoughts, until he remembered her name.

“Good evening, Ruby,” he greeted politely, his tone slightly icy and cordial as he nodded his head. To be honest he was completely disinterested in conversing with anyone, let alone a young woman who watched him with a slightly open mouth, blinking slowly as if trying to define whether Gilbert was a real person or an illusion “Are you alright?”.

Ruby closed her mouth, pinning her eyes to the ground and shaking her head before stuttering “Gilbert, I'm... I'm sorry, you surprised me”.

“Surprised you?” he muttered, pocketing his hands and feeling the impatience grow inside his chest. He looked across the hallway at the living room, sliding his eyes across those present in a desperate attempt to find Anne “Why?”.

“I didn't see you all night and I thought you hadn't come” Ruby replied, playing with her hands before smiling sweetly. She was a pretty girl, no doubt about it, with her silky blonde hair, big eyes and soft voice, the owner of a sweet expression; still he couldn't appreciate her beauty at all, he didn't feel affected by her in any way, clearing his throat when Ruby didn't take her gaze from his face “Am I interrupting your departure?”.

“I don't mean to be rude, Ruby, not at all” he replied, smiling and adjusting the buttons on his coat before sighing “It was nice talking to you and I hope another time we can talk some more, but I must be going”.

“Oh” she replied, trying to keep his expression neutral as Ruby's face fell in disappointment, confused by her reaction and wondering if there was something he had never picked up on or was ignoring “That's a shame, I was going to offer you to join us for a dance. It would be a waste for you to leave without having danced to any songs”.

“I really appreciate your concern, Ruby, but I think that will be a promise for next time” he settled, walking past her and nodding his head by way of farewell “Have a good night”.

He turned without waiting for an answer or an expression from her, knowing that the next day the guilt and regret for his lack of attention and gentleness would make him bite his nails until they bled. Now his anxiety and concern were focused on finding Anne before she left exclusively to watch her from afar, wanting to calm the beast that growled in anguish and caged inside his chest at the mere possibility of having frightened her, at the mere thought of having provoked something as unforgivable as fear in her by his presence, by his touch. He let the air out of his nose in frustration when, after minutes, her red hair was nowhere to be found, giving up and walking out the front door into the autumn air.

The cold air brushed against his warm skin, enveloping him and sending shivers down his spine before he got used to the change in temperature, staring with disinterest and indifference at the group of men laughing by the carriages, holding bottles and smoking pipes in the dark of the night. Despite the music and the voices infiltrating through the walls Gilbert could hear them faintly, rolling his eyes as he turned his back to them overhearing their disgusting and superficial conversations about their wives and their mistresses, their turbulent business dealings and unpleasant and unbelievable rumors that were spread out of envy and hatred. It was not long before he approached his horse, untying it from the branch he had chosen for it and climbing with ease and little effort onto its back, leading it calmly into the streets of Avonlea.

Autumn was becoming increasingly harsh, beginning to anticipate the coming of winter through the dampness that cut through layers of clothing and caused aching bones, the sharp wind that cut through dehydrated lips and parched skins. Gilbert was able to organize the farm successfully thanks to Sebastian's collaboration, anticipating difficult weather conditions by selling different products at that time or having high sales rates during the rest of the year that allowed him to live comfortably and safely through the winter. When Gilbert had to move away to pursue his university studies, the farm and home would be in the hands of Sebastian and Mary, knowing that he could trust them with his eyes closed, knowing that he could entrust them with his most precious and delicate things, knowing that they would never let go of his hand. Knowing that his family would never leave him alone.

The walk home was silent, trying to push the memory of Anne and his impending anxiety to the back of his mind, desperate to find something else to think about, desperate to forget about his existence for a few seconds and sink into absolute, divine silence. His senses were alert to his surroundings, walking through devastating darkness were it not for the faint light of the moon illuminating his path, cautious that no one was nearby and listening carefully to his surroundings until he reached his home. The stars danced above his head as he left his horse in the stable, stroking its head lovingly before laying it to rest, reaching his front door and taking a deep breath; he opened the door, careful not to make any noise that might wake the others, slipping inside with the elegance and delicacy of a feline.

The interior was naturally dark, walking towards the stairs automatically and finding it thanks to his physical memory, climbing silently and walking down the corridor without any warning other than his breathing. The only thing that gave him away was his door, which he slowly closed behind him, before approaching his bed and beginning to unbutton his jacket and loosen his tie, suddenly exhausted.

His room was simple, a large, comfortable bed for him, a desk cluttered with books and notes, a modest wardrobe and a window that lit the space during the day and night. On the floor were more books and texts that he had nowhere to keep, having to make do with the unpleasant sight of objects resting haphazardly on the floor, piled up to give him a false sense of order and care. None of his family came very close to his room, repeating that the smell was intolerable and so intense that ‘I feel my blood pressure drop every time I have to knock on your door’ according to Sebastian.

Gilbert was unable to smell his own scent for biological reasons, indifferent and unable to understand Sebastian and Mary's complaints, rolling his eyes every time they joked about it. He put the jacket away in the wardrobe, as well as the shirt and his tie, removing his shoes, socks and trousers, before getting into bed with a sigh, covering his eyes with his forearm and sighing so deeply that he feared someone might have been able to hear him.

Are you scared?

No.

Had Anne lied, or was she simply overwhelmed by the situation when she decided to run away from him? He pressed his jaw hard, hating his insistence, trying to think of something else, anything else that would allow him to sleep and rest in peace, to replace the anxious, empty feeling that weighed on hiss stomach.

So good Anne, so good for me.

He licked his lips as he remembered the wetness of hers as he brushed the flesh with his thumbs, feeling the world tremble beneath him as her warm breath brushed his skin, as he remembered how close her tongue was to his touch as he caressed her gently. Gilbert thought about whether she was really afraid of him, or if she wanted him the way he did, blinded and open-hearted; he allowed himself to dream what it would have been like to come a little closer, to slide his tongue across her lips to taste the wine she was drinking, to leave a delicate kiss on her cheeks, on the edge of her lips, on the throbbing pulse that rested on her neck. Gilbert would greatly enjoy feeling the pressure of her blood under his lips, under his teeth, hearing her breathing and her laughter and her opinions. Gilbert would greatly enjoy having her close, closer, and he could be content to watch her, to be in the same space. That's how lost he was, that's how pathetic he felt, and for some reason he knew there was no way to avoid feeling it, no way to avoid what he wanted irrationally and naturally.

He brought one of his fingernails to his mouth, beginning to bite down as he stared at the moon through his window, accepting that he would spend another night without sleep, another night remembering repeatedly what it felt like to hold Anne in his hands.

Anne fell to the floor as she closed the door behind her.

She leaned her back against the wood, clutching the skirt of her dress in her fists to try to disguise the trembling of her hands, feeling her legs weak beneath her, watching in the dim candlelight as her chest rose and fell rapidly from her heaving breaths and her arrhythmic heart. She brought one of her hands to her chest, feeling the wild throbbing brush against her palm like a caress and a warning, having to close her eyes to organize her thoughts, emotions and memories; every time she closed her eyes she felt Gilbert's touch against her face, his whispers reaching her lips, the heat passing through her clothes. She could see it behind her eyelids as if it was engraved with fire, as if it had permeated her soul and her body.

Her body felt strange, in a revolution against her morality and frivolous rationality, forcing her to shiver every time she recalled what had happened minutes before. In the safety of her room she could allow herself to express her shock freely, wiping the sweat from her hands against the fabric of her dress, concentrating on defining what was wrong with her, with her body — she felt hot, a sticky, insistent, heavy heat on her neck, on her wrists, on her lower belly, on her inner thighs. Anne had never suffered from anything like this outside of her sickly episodes due to her dynamic, where she can remember nothing but pain, emptiness and something akin to fire and flames licking her muscles and burning her insides until she lost consciousness. She was frightened of the sensations that ran through her from head to toe, feeling the panic close her throat and lungs as she believed her impurity and evil was being expressed in this way, torturing her like the sin it was, twisting guilt inside her head for being a woman so unworthy of experiencing something like this with someone who shouldn't have been close to her.

She licked her lips feeling the tears pool in her eyes, frowning as she felt discomfort on her neck, closing her eyes as she brought one of her hands to her skin. The mere touch made something inside her stir in a contrary to painful way, pulling her fingers away from herself so quickly that it felt like the touch had burned her, choking on her own breath at the new and dizzying sensation. She looked down at her fingers with wide eyes, feeling the terror settle in her body at the sight of a warm, shiny liquid resting on them, a liquid she had never seen or suffered from before, different from the thick, matted ointment she used every day and hour of her life. This was different, very different as she ran her thumb through the liquid, feeling an oil-like consistency, reflecting the faint light of the candle in the midst of such darkness.

She bit her lips, trying to remain calm. Perhaps her ointment had changed its texture due to sweat and alcohol, even, because it was the first time she had consumed drinks of that calibre, perhaps she wasn't allowed to drink alcohol as it transformed her protective layer into something completely different? There was only one way to find out. Without touching the dirty hand, she reached for the bottle with her medicine, which rested on his dressing table, confirming that it was a neutral product that, when placed on her skin, nullified any kind of scent her body produced, unable to suffer an alternate effect.

On shaky legs she made her way to her bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress with her blood roaring in her ears, feeling her nerves clench the pit of her stomach violently. She took a deep breath once, taking courage, before bringing her fingers to her nose and inhaling the scent of the oil, feeling the world tremble beneath her. The fragrance hit her face as hard as a slap, unsettling her consciousness for a few minutes until reality settled in front of her like a wall. The oil possessed her scent, her intensified and impossible to ignore scent lubricating her neck, trying to send an obvious message that she felt was going to force her to vomit. She wasn't used to perceiving herself as having been covered in medicine since the beginning of her days as an omega, being surprised every time she could smell her sweet scent without being cloying, fresh, homely — her body had found itself in a situation it had never experienced before, with physical and emotional sensations she had never experienced before, expressing her true intent through the glands of her neck with a shimmering, enticing oil, bathing her in the intensity of her unique, irresistible scent, wanting to draw him in, draw him closer and closer, until he could run his hot tongue over her and taste her. Taste what her body had offered only and exclusively for him.

Nausea clawed at her throat, searching desperately with her eyes for a handkerchief until she found it, wiping her hand brutally, rubbing the cloth against her neck so hard she felt the dry skin burn at the friction, certain that it was reddened and would perhaps bruise the sensitive skin from her roughness. This couldn't be happening. Her body, of all things, couldn't be betraying her like this, couldn't be putting her in such a vulnerable and undignified position. It couldn't do this to her. It couldn't. She threw the handkerchief under her bed, furious, beginning to carelessly remove her dress, not bothering to gather it from the floor before pulling her sleeping dress over her head, wiping the hot tears that streamed down her cheeks with the backs of her hands, hiding under the covers as she sobbed. Frustrated, horrified, angry.

What if Gilbert had sensed the glow of her neck, the insane scent wafting from her skin? What if someone else was able to see it, to feel it? The mere possibility sent shivers of terror down her spine, mortified by the danger of such a vulgar, animalistic expression, trying to control her breathing as she realized how risky it had been not to notice his body's signals. She felt frustration clawing at her chest, making her cry even more and closing her eyes tightly, thinking why her body could not allow her to lower her head for a few seconds, thinking why she had to be in danger at the slightest thing, thinking how she would never be able to project a future in any aspect of being herself. She was always going to have to hide, always going to have to be alert, always going to have to keep her eyes open, ready to lie, to run away, or to be punished, what kind of life was that?

Worry wouldn't let her rest. When Monday came her parents watched her with slight concern, asking if she was okay, nodding without prompting when Anne answered yes. The nausea was so intense that she decided to skip breakfast, walking to school with a light body from lack of sleep and food, feeling an inevitable headache forming inside her by the time she reached the facility. She left her flask of milk in the icy stream, knowing that soon the cold would begin to become more extreme, and the snow would begin to fall, bathing Avonlea in white and turning the water to ice.

The noise and commotion inside the school was so loud that, as she peeled off layers and layers of coats, she had to close her eyes to keep herself upright and steady, feeling a slight regret that she had not at least had a hot tea with sugar. She walked through the chaos with pale skin, ignoring the curious glances of her companions and imagining how poor her appearance must be to attract such scandalous attention; her white skin, her cracked lips, the dark circles under her eyes taking on a purplish hue and a weak, shuffling gait. Diana was chatting with Tillie when she noticed her presence, taking a seat beside her and offering a fragile smile at her best friend's frown “Anne, are you all right?”.

“Good morning, Diana” she greeted, resting her head on her shoulder and closing her eyes. She was mentally exhausted, physically worn out, wishing she'd lied and stayed home to get a couple more hours of sleep or rest “Do I look that bad?”.

“You look particularly pale” Diana replied, bringing her hand up to her forehead to compare their temperatures “And you're freezing”.

“Weird” she observed, looking down at the thick coat she had decided to keep on so she wouldn't feel colder than she felt, as well as her woolen gloves so she wouldn't feel her fingers freezing. Diana, despite being beta, kept her warmth slightly, enjoying resting a small part of her body against her. She would give anything to have a few minutes alone in front of the fireplace, wishing she could abandon the uncomfortable, aching feeling of a constant chill in her bones “Hello, Tillie, how are you?”.

“I'm fine Anne, thank you” the young woman's eyes scanned her face, twisting her mouth as she spoke again “Diana doesn't lie about how you look, are you sure you're feeling alright?”.

“Don't worry” Anne smiled, making a minimal gesture with her hand to play it down. She had to blink slower as she replied, forcing her voice to sound loud and clear “I'm just exhausted, that's all. I should take better care of my sleep”.

“Sleep complications after your dance with Charlie?” Ruby emerged behind Tillie, raising her eyebrows with amusement and an open, genuine smile. Anne couldn't help but laugh softly at her appearance “I couldn't blame you, Anne, he was so sweet to you!”.

“I...” Anne shook her head, instantly regretting it as she felt the world spin before her unnaturally “It was a friendly dance, nothing more. Charlie proved to be a very kind and thoughtful boy, anyway”.

“I wish I could say the same” Ruby snorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest before drawing her eyebrows together sadly, gaining the attention of all the girls as she muttered “I found Gilbert the night of the dance, and even humbled myself by inviting him to join us, and he still turned me down. I didn't even know how to react when he said goodbye”.

Tillie clamped her hands over her mouth, choking back the noisy breath she had taken, as Diana tensed beside her; Anne, for her part, dreaded the possibility of vomiting in front of everyone at Ruby's feet. To her luck she closed her eyes, feeling a cold sweat forming on her palms as Diana asked, incredulously, “Did Gilbert Blythe refuse to dance with you?”.

“He didn't refuse to dance with me, promptly” she clarified, biting her lips as Tillie let out a sound of exasperation, rushing to explain “I asked him if he wanted to join in dancing with us and he said no! In his defense he looked very, very rushed, and didn't seem to be in the mood. It was a stumble in our relationship, but it will be no impediment to my marrying him. I will happily accept his apology and be glad to hear it”.

Anne felt the room had reached such low temperatures that she feared her jaw would begin to shiver from the cold, turning away from Diana to caress the tip of her nose with closed eyes. A shiver ran up her spine, feeling reassurance as Tillie continued the conversation unable to perceive her body's strange reactions “I don't know, Ruby, he's a fool for not seeing your true intentions and not even offering to accompany you on your return”.

“It was a crowded room, Tillie. I'm sure he had his reasons” Anne feared the reason for his attitude was herself. She clenched her fists, embarrassed.

She forced her body to focus, to get rid of the sick feeling melting in her stomach, turning her attention to Diana, who connected her gaze with hers without needing to get her attention “I'm sorry I left so abruptly that night, my parents really wanted to leave and didn't even give me enough time to try to look for you”.

After her secret meeting with Gilbert Anne had walked quickly and awkwardly through the hallway, searching through the people and dancers for a familiar, random face, bumping into Rachel Lynde's back as she forced Matthew and Marilla to taste an imported wine that her husband had uncorked exclusively for them. Her parents, anxious and stressed to leave as soon as possible, hadn't noticed Anne's unhinged expression or listened to her pleas to find Diana, returning home in stunned silence and unable to perceive the nervous grip of Anne, who was wiping her sweaty hands on her dress in a desperate attempt not to break down in a nervous breakdown in front of them. Diana stroked her arm, the comforting and familiar touch easing the discomfort that made her dizzy “Oh, Anne, don't worry. After our dance together my parents came looking for me and insisted I had to introduce myself to hundreds of people, so I wouldn't have been able to find you either”.

“I must say, Diana, I couldn't have dreamed of a better first dance,” Anne encouraged, wrinkling her nose tenderly as her best friend smiled, fighting the longing to open all the windows so she could breathe. In a dissimulation of not forcing herself to speak louder, she leaned in close enough to whisper “I never thought I'd taste alcohol at this age, or ever! It wasn't bad for a first time”.

“I didn't like it so much” Diana confessed, combing her hair with one of her hands absently “It was too bitter and hot. Too heavy”.

“We'd have to go to another dance together! Even though Gilbert didn't ask for my hand it was fun” Ruby spoke, licking her lips as Tillie nodded enthusiastically “Besides I think, if we all go, he'll be less intimidated and we can dance without any problems, don't you think?”.

“Maybe” Tillie gave a weak smile, clearly uninterested in Ruby's repetitive platitude. Anne felt a twinge of guilt, not only at Ruby's genuine interest being discouraged, but also at being the reason Gilbert had turned her down, probably frustrated and furious at finding himself in such a compromising situation with Anne. Something strange twisted in her stomach, drawing a weary sigh from her lips “Dancing was so rewarding, I don't care who I do it with, I just ask for a good band and orchestra all night”.

“That sounds perfect to me” Diana concurred, tapping her shoulder with hers playfully “Moody was an excellent guest, even when it wasn't his event or his family”.

“No doubt. He was very attentive and helpful to us” Ruby nodded, averting an innocent glance behind Anne, intuiting that he was on the other side of the room “I'd never noticed how much he grew over the summer”.

“They all grew over the summer” Diana concurred, glancing slightly over her shoulder to corroborate the tall statures of her classmates “I remember when I was taller than all of them, even taller than Moody”.

“Well, not now” Anne blinked slowly, thinking of the gravity of her actions if she fell asleep sitting up when Ruby spoke “He must be almost as tall as Gilbert, which is a lot. That's a good height for a gentleman”.

The young women were interrupted by an undisciplined slamming of the door, jumping in their seats as the sound echoed in Anne's head like a razor plunging into her brain cells. Ruby and Tillie, without a word, fled to their seats without words of farewell, feeling the irritation and ill-humour grow within her as she heard the shuffling, inelegant footsteps of Mr Phillips. She blinked slowly, feeling her mouth full of cotton wool and her thoughts and instincts blur in front of her, as if she were constantly reaching out for objects that disappeared into the air like a mist.

She watched in boredom as the teacher settled himself at his desk, beginning to rapidly write nonsense on the blackboard, her ears deaf to his words and sensitive to the chilling scrape of the chalk against the material, bristling her skin in a matter of seconds as if there were fingernails scratching her back.

Anne didn't understand what was happening to her body, from the moment she discovered her lubricated neck until now, where she couldn't think in words and couldn't move her limbs at ordinary speed. She had not been able to rest, eat, or wrap herself properly, feeling the cold chewing painfully at her bones and muscles. She was fortunate enough to feel Diana's cautious brush, reading her lips as she asked for the second time, “Are you all right?”.

“I am” Anne didn't know how she answered the question, trying to move her lips in the right way and keeping her voice in a subdued tone “Really”.

Diana didn't seem convinced of her answer, watching her face for a few seconds before nodding and turning her attention to the class without questioning her condition. Anne followed her movements, fearful that the teacher might sense her lack of interest and action, positioning the book in front of her and turning the pages when the others did, licking her lips and balling her hands into fists to avoid showing the trembling in her arms; why was it so cold inside a school, where a fireplace rested alive in its center? Why was she shivering if she was covered by a thick coat and her warm dress dressing her? Why did she feel so dizzy, lost, and why in the midst of her confusion and discomfort was there something insistent growing more and more to the point that it became unbearable?

She frowned, fighting through the cobwebs that enveloped her mind and body, searching for the source and definition of the sensation that followed her everywhere, as if she were staring at the sun and unable to look away from it. She took a deep breath in an attempt not to be overwhelmed, feeling something heavy on her shoulders, digging like a needle into the back of her neck insistently and impossible to escape, feeling it grow as if someone was making a deafening white noise in her ears that would explode her eardrums. She glanced at the professor who had stopped writing and was talking lazily, watched Diana's attentive reading slowly, glanced at the empty windows around her to confirm that there was nothing outside torturing her — Anne rubbed one of her hands against her forehead, diverting her attention lightly to the other side of the room, where there should be nothing important, where she shouldn't expect anything revealing.

Anne was always wrong.

Within her chest Anne could feel a definite, ephemeral emotion as she rested her eyes on Gilbert Blythe. Anger. While she must have looked like a decayed corpse, pale and shivering, with explicit signs of fatigue and poor nutrition, Gilbert looked like a fallen angel with his dark eyes, silky hair, and the sharp bones of his face framed by the shadows of the cloudy Avonlea day. Anne had her scent overridden by the medicine, sensing that her fragrance would be nauseating and faint, exposed, while the scent Gilbert gave off was strong and overpowering. Anne, in that moment when she looked into his eyes and lost herself in the fog of her own head again, felt the second emotion and first need; it seemed that her reasoning had abandoned her completely, leaving her to her dependent and vulnerable and unstable nature. Otherwise there was no explanation or meaning to what crossed her mind.

Gilbert must be warm. Gilbert could keep the cold away from her if he chose to, with his abnormally high body temperatures that could bring her out of this slow, torturous state. She could imagine the heat of his skin breaking through the layers of his suit as he enveloped her in the dark, on the occasions in the library where he amused himself by cornering her as if she were a poor animal, remembering him with such need as if she were an oasis in the middle of a desert. The alpha could take her in his arms, effortlessly, and put her in his lap, caressing her until she stopped trembling, and the dizziness disappeared in the richness of his scent. Suddenly she felt that the only solution to her problems lay in Gilbert Blythe, which was absurd because it could not be possible, but at the same time it seemed to be possible, and it seemed to be the only thing she had in every way.

Were these sensations a punishment from her omega and her body for having deprived herself of the closeness of the alpha, of expressing her rejection so vehemently to herself? If she wasn't in front of everyone she was sure she would have started laughing maniacally at the exasperation and the comical situation she was suffering, wanting to tear every hair out of her head at the same time — it was as if her person was split in two, in a transparent and impulsive Anne, a version of her that existed through her dynamic alongside her heart that needed him so badly she felt lost after being flattered by his lips, while on the other side there was the rational and fearful Anne, fearful of how dangerous it might be to get close, of the guilts she would harbor in her if she dared to follow her instincts for a sweet girl who professed her love for him on a constant basis. Resistance, exasperation and anger still prevailed, because Gilbert could alter her own integrity, but at the same time he could attract her with such intensity that Anne questioned her sanity and her whole life to risk being touched by him once more. To risk getting a little closer.

At another time she would have worried about the length of their gazes, but on this occasion, with her attention devoted exclusively to him, the lack of dissimulation didn't seem so serious. Gilbert didn't seem to mind, either, with his jaw tense and a frown of concern at her appearance and the storm of emotions that expressed themselves in her eyes and in her own personality by not looking away, by not rolling her eyes, by not running away from him. For it was so, Gilbert was seeking and pushing, and Anne was responding and fleeing, and now Anne was not fleeing, not at all, but returning his gaze, his attention with the same intensity. No hesitation, no flinching; how long would they be able to play this little game of cat and mouse; how long would they resist the stares, the fights, the friction; when would it be time for Anne to forget Ruby, and dare to give in, to take the plunge; when would they discover whether this magnetic attraction would bind them symmetrically together, or make them collide like a disaster?

Anne didn't know, and she couldn't figure out how long they were going to pull on the same rope until they dropped, until they met and found out. Her omega and her head couldn't help but think with relief how much it would help to be held by him, to be offered sweet foods and savory morsels, to have him stroke her hair and bring his mouth to the glands of her neck to taste the scent of her body, sweet and moist just for him, feeling a shiver run up her spine shockingly as she remembered the intense sensation she had experienced when she brushed her fingers against her neck, trying not to think how good his teeth would feel against her skin. It was an impossible illusion, of course, because Gilbert was never going to discover her nature and if he did Anne could imagine his expression of horror and disgust. For her life always ended in the same way; either her dynamic was revealed and she ended up with her throat slit, or the revelation was so disgusting that she would be insulted and abandoned in the same instant.

She blinked slowly before looking at him for the last time, wanting a small smile bathed in sadness, who was she kidding? Of course Ruby didn't deserve to be lied to and encouraged to her face by someone who did dishonest things behind her back, but the real reason she was chained to the floor wasn't the emotions of a pretty girl, it was herself. Herself and her dynamic and the dangers and the significance it possessed that would be enough to ruin the life of anyone who could perceive it, where she could never be treated for what she really is, could never express herself through her scent or make the contented, guttural noise that rose from her throat every time she lay in her bed. Anne feared taking the first step not only because of the risk to her own life and those she loved, but also because of the fear of rejection, the fear of looking at the disgusted expression of someone she really wanted, someone she really wanted to get close to and let her guard down and couldn't because she is an abomination and will always be treated as such. The possibility was unimaginable, sighing sadly before focusing her absent gaze on the pages in front of her, watching as the words that in all areas of her life were her driving force and her salvation, now seemed empty and selfish, unable to help her.

Anne could not recover from the nauseating and confusing feeling that surrounded her as the hours passed, stroking her hands compulsively and forcing herself to focus her eyes on the professor in a lousy attempt to look awake. When lunchtime came and she reached for the food she had brought for herself, pretending to move away from the group of girls so as not to disturb them, Ruby, Tillie, Jane and Diana insisted that she sit with them despite the clear distaste written all over Josie Pye's face. Prissy usually disappeared at these times, certain that she was meeting Mr Phillips in a more private place like the time she had seen them, disguising the feeling of disgust that rose in her throat. She settled herself on the floor, making sure her dress covered her perfectly before she began to unwrap her lunch.

“Girls, you're not going to believe this! Remember when...” Jane began to speak beside her, excitedly, and while her companions were paying attention to the story, Anne had lost it halfway through. She felt disjointed at being accepted so unceremoniously, as if the rejection she had suffered all this time was nothing more than a silly mix-up, receiving her with no apologies or regrets. Anne, pitifully, could remember all too well the stinging pain of being excluded and judged, but at the same time she felt happy and safe to be surrounded by women in her vulnerable state, preferring that to being alone and slow away from Diana's watchful gaze.

The omega tensed her jaw as she took the first bite, feeling the fresh vegetables turn dry and gritty inside her mouth, sensing the imminent closing of her stomach in disgust, sighing before taking a fresh gulp of milk to wash away the bitter taste. She tried to chew small pieces of meat, forcing herself to swallow, losing hope that food would be able to bring her back to life when all it did was tighten the knot in the pit of her stomach. Diana stole worried glances in her direction and Anne never bothered to comfort her silent questions, refusing to show any weakness in front of Josie Pye, who would take mere seconds to start hurling hurtful words and rude questions in her direction. Her best friend seemed to understand why Anne didn't so much as crack a smile or utter a word, sighing before focusing on her food and her friends' animated conversations.

Gilbert, to her surprise, had made no attempt to approach or keep watching her as he usually did, yielding space and keeping his distance. Anne could hear the husky laugh from the bottom of his chest, and his low, velvety voice as he participated in the superficial conversations of his companions, glancing over her shoulder slyly to check that he was still there, that he was close by. Anne shouldn't be curious about him, shouldn't be looking for him with her eyes, should be furious about their encounter two nights ago, but in her cold, hunger and nerves she could recognize that the only thing that brought some relief was knowing that she could see him, that she could hear him, that if she concentrated hard enough she could breathe his scent through the putrid odours of the other alphas. Anne hated Gilbert, but the mere proximity and thought of the other alphas made her blanch, wanting to distract herself from the fact that she was surrounded by them with all her might.

The hours passed slowly and torturously, feeling her weak legs tremble beneath her as the professor finally let them go. She walked to fetch the rest of her coats with relief, happy to be able to dress them in the cool evening air, biting the inside of her cheeks as she slipped her hands into the woolen gloves. Diana touched her arm to get her attention, turning to listen, “Anne, are you sure you're all right?”.

“I hope a nap will be enough to bring me back to consciousness” Anne smiled, hopeful that a couple of hours sleep would help escape the sticky, erratic feeling in her head “I'm fine, Diana, I'll be able to make it to Green Gables in one piece”.

“You swear?” Diana's worried expression endeared her, coming over to hug her and wrap her arms around her shoulder. Her best friend returned the embrace, closing her eyes, “Why did you bring a handkerchief?”.

“I had a bit of a sore throat yesterday, and Marilla thinks if I use a silk scarf it will help the pain pass quicker” Anne pulled away, shrugging her shoulders as she told the lie. The real reason was the fault of her dynamic, something even she couldn't define the cause; she adjusted the scarf impulsively, worried that it would look shiny or have her scent coming off her skin “It doesn't make sense, but I didn't have much strength to argue. She meant well and the pain passed”.

The relief of pulling her coats over her was short lived, beginning to shiver from the cold and damp as soon as they descended the stairs, tensing her jaw so as not to hear her teeth clash from the shivering. Most of her companions were leaving, spreading out along different paths until they disappeared one by one, Diana and Anne always returned together until halfway, where they had to detour to reach their respective homes. Anne was about to link arms, as she used to do when they walked, until Diana stopped her, “Will you promise me you'll feel well enough to get to Green Gables without trouble?”.

“What's the matter, you're not coming back with me?” Anne pulled away with a frown, wrapping her arms around her body in an attempt to warm herself. Diana shook her head.

“I have to accompany my parents to see gifts for our family who will be visiting, and it's much more comfortable to go on my own rather than return home” Diana looked at her before grabbing her hand, giving it a small squeeze “But if you're not feeling well I can accompany you or stay with you until you feel better”.

“Oh, Diana” Anne hugged her, resting her head on her shoulder, denying as she began to speak “It's just tiredness, I promise. Tomorrow I'll be here and I'll feel fine, safe and sound”.

“Alright, if you insist” Diana seemed reluctant to let her go, worried about what might happen in such a weak state within the forest, letting out a sigh as she resigned her insistence and offered her little finger to join them “I must go, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”.

“Go, go” Anne waved goodbye, shaking her hand and walking away from her. Diana returned the greeting, beginning to gain distance between the two of them “See you, Diana. Buy nice things!”.

As she began to walk she had to coordinate her movements with effort, taking deep breaths, making sure she didn't step on any fallen branches or puddles that would make her sick within seconds. Anne was able to see some of her companions ahead of her, blinking slowly, noticing how the gap was widening, trying to hide the shivers of cold that ran through her again and again. She knew that, once she reached Green Gables, she was going to plunge into the tub of boiling water, then force herself to eat something sweet and sleep under hundreds of sheets for warmth. The sun had not dared to rise at any time during the day, surrounding the forest with a shadowy, mysterious aura, biting the inside of her cheek to keep alert for strange noises or movements when she sensed a shadow on the periphery of her vision.

Her whole body tensed, turning to find Charlie with his stooped posture and nervous gait. Anne bit her tongue to keep from stuttering as she spoke from the cold, doing her best to smile when the boy came close enough to get a good look at her. She felt guilty that she hadn't even been able to notice his presence throughout the day, hugging herself, “Hi, Charlie, how are you?”.

“Fine, Anne, how are you?” he ran his eyes across her with concern, as did everyone else who had encountered her before he spoke again “Are you feeling alright? You're white”.

“Yeah, I'm fine” Charlie wasn't at fault for asking the question, and she understood that it came from a sincere and genuine place, but she couldn't help but feel the irritation on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to get home and not have to explain her appearance to anyone else “I'm exhausted, that's all”.

“Oh, I hear you. I'm having trouble sleeping too” he noticed the slight tremor in her body with a frown “Are you running a fever?”.

“No, Diana said I'm freezing, so I must be so cold from sleep” Anne explained, shifting anxiously in her place. Charlie seemed a polite and shy young man, a person she would like to approach in a friendly manner at another time; right now she wished to resume her walk and get home as soon as possible.

“Do you walk down this path to come back?”.

“Not really n-no” he shook his head, averting his gaze from Anne's face to dwell on his shoes, embarrassed by the tell-tale heat in his cheeks “I saw you and wanted to come over to tell you that I enjoyed dancing with you the other night, and that I would like to be partners another time. I hope it won't be a bother”.

“Charlie, of course not” Anne grinned, amused by the gesture before reaching out and playfully tapping his arm, releasing the tension in his shoulders “You were an excellent dance partner, and I wouldn't be able to waste the opportunity to have a friend like you under any perspective”.

“Glad to hear it” Charlie nodded, red as a tomato even surrounded by the sloping darkness of the forest, looking at her once more “I'm sorry to stop you when you're so cold, can I walk you home to make sure you don't faint on the way?”.

“And wait for me? No, don't worry. I'm fine, I'm just cold. It's no big deal” the young woman appreciated the concern, but felt her patience gradually waning when Charlie didn't move an inch. A slight feeling of discomfort and caution flared up inside her, doing her best to ignore it because Charlie was a man, yes, but he turned out to be kind and far from threatening “It was nice to see you, anyway. Thanks for coming over”.

“It's really not a problem for me to walk you home” Charlie insisted, taking an imperceptible step closer to her, overwhelming her in her vulnerable and unstable state. Anne felt her own smile lose the strength it had before when she saw his movements “Really. You're very pale and you're trembling, I couldn't have a clear conscience if I let you walk by yourself in the woods”.

“I'm sorry for your conscience, Charlie, but I'm fine and I'm fit to walk on my own. I appreciate your concern, that's very thoughtful of you” she nodded, wanting to snort at the tension in her body; Charlie was a gentleman with good intentions and desires, insisting on accompanying her for her own safety. She had nothing to fear from him, swallowing the discomfort as the boy opened his mouth to say something, being interrupted by her, “I'm not lying”.

“No, I-I know you're not but, I just want to know if...” Anne watched with wide eyes two issues: the first was the slow movement of Charlie moving his hand closer to her face, probably to compare their temperatures, and the second was the familiar movement behind him, among the trees, branches and dry leaves. Anne never thought she would be so grateful for a person like Gilbert appearing uncalled for, but the quietness slightly exhilarated the confusion and slowness that fell in her eyes. The young woman slyly moved out of his reach, rejecting his touch with obviousness but no desire to be rude — Charlie was a nice guy, and he was only concerned about her, still feeling mild anger at his insistence despite her repeated confirmations of her wellbeing “I'm sorry, it was very forward of me. I shouldn't have...”.

“Good afternoon, Charlie” the poor boy turned abruptly, startled by the silent arrival of the alpha who smiled at him with relaxed shoulders and intense scent as usual. Anne felt her posture visibly relax, scolding herself for letting her guard down around Gilbert, watching intently as Charlie let out a sigh of relief when he distinguished the person who had startled him.

The difference between the two was abysmal, not only physically due to Charlie being much thinner and shorter, while Gilbert possessed considerable height and a build befitting a dominant alpha, but also their postures and personalities. While Charlie was a shy and nervous person, with clear good intentions that he did not know how to demonstrate properly, with a soft voice and mixed words, Gilbert was the opposite; even when out in the open air, in a huge and suffocating forest, his presence managed to enclose them and make itself felt, with his heavy aura and his elegant and calculated movements, with actions that were confusing and difficult to decipher. The alpha did not seem annoyed or irritated by his presence, with his calm posture and even a small smile that could be defined as friendly. Charlie was looking at him with wide eyes and Anne couldn't blame him, because thanks to the impending dusk of a grey day, surrounded by absolute nothingness and having been met in the utmost of silence, Gilbert seemed more menacing than ever without even trying.

“Gilbert, hi. Don't worry, you just surprised me” Charlie laughed nervously, instinctively pulling away from the implied awkwardness and alertness of finding himself in his grasp. He looked at Anne, anxious, not knowing how to act when he asked, “How did you find us?”.

“I could hear you talking when I came out of school, since you’re not that far away, and I thought it would be a good idea to stop by and say hello” it was the first time Gilbert had diverted Charlie's attention to her, with a face of false indifference when he saw her shivering with cold incessantly. He ran his tongue in front of his teeth with his mouth closed, smiling again as he repeated, “I hope I didn't interrupt anything”.

“W-what? Interrupting...? No, no” Charlie replied, ignoring how Anne hadn't opened her mouth at any point since Gilbert's arrival. The beta blushed furiously, fidgeting nervously in his spot and shaking his hands “I was offering to escort Anne home because, well, she's not feeling good and I wanted to make sure she got there safely. You didn't interrupt anything”.

“That's funny, Charlie. Seems to be your lucky day” the alpha smiled wider, resting a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder, who struggled not to shrink under his innocent touch “Anne and I take the same path. It won't be necessary for you to accompany her, unless she wishes it, of course”.

Anne bit the inside of her cheek to keep from insulting him, fighting the desire to turn away and disappear, or to get close enough to feel his warmth and stop shivering. It was a losing battle, she thought when Charlie seemed to open his mouth to object and insist that he himself could accompany her. Anne hated more than ever the prospect of a discussion of her return in front of her as if she were a child, putting an end to a fight that hadn't even begun before the nausea worsened “I'm perfectly capable of returning on my own, but if Gilbert walks the same path there will be no choice but to accompany each other”.

“I suppose so, sorry, I don't want to be...” Charlie stammered again, flustered, until Anne interrupted him again. Her discomfort was bringing out the worst in her but, surprisingly, she couldn't worry about it now.

“You're not, Charlie. It's fine. But I'm cold and I want to go,” she smiled falsely to ease the beta's embarrassed expression, who nodded compulsively until Gilbert slapped his shoulder harder than he needed to, smiling a full-lipped, sharp-toothed smile. Charlie froze in place, unsure how to react until the alpha turned away from him, beginning to pace Anne “Have a good day, Charlie”.

“B-bye” he nodded by way of farewell, turning around and getting lost on the opposite side. When Anne stopped hearing his footsteps crunching against the dead leaves she let out a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to her icy forehead. This had to be the longest day of her short life, with endless hours and daily tasks that seemed impossible.

And now, to top it off, he had to walk for quite some time next to the one alpha who seemed to ruin her schemes and her life. She blinked slowly as she turned her head, meeting Gilbert's analytical gaze, studying her “What?”.

The tone was curt and impolite, but she knew the man was used to such treatment from her. Her expression didn't vary an inch ‘Was he bothering you?’

“Who, Charlie?” Anne snorted, feeling the frustration grow in her chest, shaking her head “We're not doing this”.

Gilbert stopped, causing her to stop walking to frown in confusion at his odd attitude. The shivers from the cold temperatures were so intense she was unable to disguise it, hugging her body uselessly as Gilbert spoke with a distinct expression that unsettled the world beneath her feet “Anne, I need to talk to you, and I need you to listen to me”.

Anne blinked at the change in the trajectory of the conversation, cursing her body for being in such a deplorable state and such a weak mind, feeling her stomach ache as the rush of the wind brought Gilbert's scent straight to her face. She spoke as best she could through the clash of her teeth “What is it?”.

Gilbert took steps forward, getting close enough to cover her from the wind behind him, keeping a safe distance so as not to intimidate her. She had to concentrate on the wetness on her feet to distract herself from the heat radiating from his body, from the scent she could taste on her tongue, from his distinct and open expression just so she could see him “I just want to know one thing, and I want you to be honest with me”.

His face seemed made by the angels themselves, banished from heaven to fall before her, to unleash his own hell and be her only saviour. She clenched her hands into fists, trying to cope with the cold and the longing, “I was never dishonest with you”.

She might have lied to Marilla, to Matthew, to Diana, but she had never been able to lie to Gilbert. He could dig into the most negative parts of her personality, her most animal, her most secret self, and shake her worst fears and insecurities. Dressed in an autumn forest, away from the world as she was in that darkened room, Anne never felt so exposed. So transparent. Gilbert's voice sounded soft and husky as he spoke again, licking his lips, “Not even the night of the ball?”.

It took her a while to understand what he meant, breathing through her nose until she could remember. Until she recalled the conversation in her head as if it was happening at that very moment, feeling her body stop shaking in surprise.

Are you scared?

No.

Under his watchful, dark gaze Anne understood that this situation was different from all their previous encounters, their games, their fights, their clashes. Her heart throbbed noisily in her ears and at her fingertips as she knew that before her lay a decision that could change her life in the worst way, where there was no outcome that could be right or expected. Gilbert made her furious, made her hate him with all her might not only because of his arrogant smile, his overbearing way of addressing her and his overwhelming presence with every step he took, but he made her sob with sadness and terror for provoking her animal side, for bringing her secret to light over and over again and reminding her that she could never be a normal person, a happy woman. Gilbert was the reminder of everything she wanted to have but could never take because to touch him would be to sentence her to destruction, to chaos, to death.

And yet, thinking how dangerous it was to be near him, how immoral this situation was, how wrong his closeness was, risking his life, her own, and breaking Ruby's heart along the way, Anne couldn't take her eyes off his. On the deep rise and fall of his chest, on the darkness of his pupils, on the promise of his words. In something she couldn't define but could feel dancing between them, binding them together, forcing her to take the last step into the abyss. Even with the worst possible scenario, even when she knew she should take a breath and walk away, even when she felt she would regret it for the rest of her life, nothing stopped her.

Nothing stopped her when she took a step forward, swallowing her breath as she answered without her voice trembling, “No. Never”.

When his face changed, morphing into something more animal, deeper and more sincere, Anne knew she had no choice. She never had.

Chapter Text

For a few seconds, she felt as if the world had stopped its course.

She felt the wind cease to dance between them, cold and elusive beneath their layers of clothing. She felt as if the hands of the clock had stopped turning, as if the oxygen around her seemed to vanish with the slow, deep rise and fall of her chest. The only thing she could perceive was the throbbing beat of her heart, the intensity of the hot blood running through her veins, the heaviness of her feet planted on the ground, and the fleeting flutter of her thick eyelashes.

There was a tingling at the tips of her fingers, in the loose hair brushing her neck, on her lips, in the dizzying bubbling at the bottom of her stomach, in the goosebumps on the nape of her neck. It took her only a few seconds to recognize the source of this particular sensation, feeling her cheeks flush as she understood the reason. Anne enjoyed this. Her omega, hidden under layers of clothing, ointments, and fears, enjoyed being looked at by Gilbert, while a rational part of herself that didn’t want to admit it reveled in having the alpha’s full attention all to herself. Anne didn’t want to pull away from his dark gaze, from the distant warmth of his skin, from the intoxicating and addictive scent she would experience better if she brought her face a little closer. If she closed her eyes, immersed in the darkness of that night, and stretched her neck just enough, Anne knew her knees would start to tremble beneath her unstable weight as she breathed in his fragrance with the intensity of the oxygen she needed to live.

She wanted to take a deep breath, to pull away, to observe him in silence with a frown and leave without saying goodbye as she had so many times before. She wanted to lie, to say he should leave her alone with hate and annoyance coloring her words. She wanted to press her jaw shut to stop it from trembling and ignore the low temperatures that froze her bones and her resolve to appear stronger than she felt. She wanted to do and say so many things, to show and pretend the opposite of what she felt, to crave everything rational, correct, appropriate—and yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t pull away from him, she couldn’t ignore his magnetic presence whenever they were in the same room, she couldn’t disguise the irrational and inexplicable feeling that suffocated her every time she set her eyes on him. She couldn’t deny the revolution he caused in her body and mind since she had met him, couldn’t deny that there was something binding them together, twisting and tightening, drawing them closer with such brutal and irresistible force that Anne felt like she was going to lose her mind in the process. She felt she was going to lose a battle with herself, with what life had in store for her, filled with pain and fear from her reality, that she was going to lose to the possibility of pursuing and experiencing something she had never imagined she would encounter. Something she had never allowed herself to imagine until this moment.

And now, standing before a dark, empty abyss that seemed to mock her, Anne could also see Gilbert in the shadows. She could see his furrowed brow in worry, could feel the formal and reassuring scent of his skin, could perceive the firm grip of his hands, the delicacy of his touch, the arrogant smile, and his eyes, dark, kind, and devoted. And for a moment, she felt no fear. She felt no panic, no rejection, no embarrassment tightening her abdomen painfully and no anxiety filling her eyes with tears.

She felt nothing but her heart vibrating at the tips of her fingers, in her ears, beneath her ribs when Gilbert stretched out one of his hands, slowly and carefully, mindful not to startle her, until his fingers brushed against one of her cheeks, slowly and warmly. Anne could neither move nor wanted to, blinking in complete silence as the alpha sighed, feeling his warm breath fall upon her pretty face, “Forgive me”.

The alpha’s voice was deep and clear, a confident and familiar tone, causing the young woman to frown in confusion, opening her mouth to respond when he continued speaking, “You’re freezing”.

Anne had never felt this way. She was alone with an alpha in the middle of a deserted forest at dusk, with her body weak and her mind sticky, allowing him to touch her face without fear. Allowing him to come closer, to accept his warmth, to inhale his scent, feeling calm and cared for, secure; being constantly alert and defensive was exhausting, and now, being watched by him, being touched by him, she didn’t have the strength to fight, to pull away. She had no will to deny herself his proximity, the meaning of his apologies, his silky voice, and the brush of his skin. Anne didn’t move, breathing slowly as Gilbert brushed his knuckles against her soft cheek, taking his time to trace her skin before murmuring, “Do you feel alright?”.

The young woman exhaled through her nose, feeling her muscles tremble from the cold, wrapping her arms around her body more tightly to keep what little warmth she had. Her jaw clattered against her teeth as she shook her head slightly, watching as Gilbert withdrew his hand from her face, “I—I want to go home”.

“I know,” the alpha replied, scanning her pale face, her slender body, her dull dress. Anne felt the urge to shield herself from his gaze, clenching her fists to resist the urge, “But you’re freezing. I can’t let you go back in this state”.

The young woman noticed, with wide eyes and feeling her blood flow to her cheeks, as Gilbert removed his coat with his large hands and broad shoulders, taking advantage of her silence and stupefaction to position himself behind her. Anne felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle, her spine stretch as she felt Gilbert’s presence at her back, his voice sounding in her ear like a whisper, feeling her mouth dry in seconds, “Can I give you my coat, Anne?”.

Her first impulse was to shake her head, not moving from her spot, breathing through her nose as she slowly weighed the possibility. Her omega scratched at her chest, thinking of the warmth of the coat, the comforting weight on her shoulders, and above all, the intense scent that would linger on her clothes, soothing her mind, driving away the cold. She murmured through her shivers with weakness, “No, I—I don’t need it”.

Her body was betraying her once more, inviting her to step back, to rest her back and confused head against the breadth of his chest, to hide in his warm neck where she could breathe peacefully, where she would hear the depth of his voice closely and yearnfully. She was forced to close her eyes, rejecting the rational and paranoid voice in her head ordering her to pull away from him, as Gilbert spoke behind her, feeling the warm breath of his words on her neck, in her ear, grateful for the scarf covering the sensitive skin of her neck, “Anne, you’re shivering. I won’t say a word about this if you don’t want me to”.

Anne pressed her jaw, eternally cursing her disobedient body, her wandering mind as she breathed through her mouth, unable to mask the low temperatures causing pain in her bones and desperation to drive away the uncomfortable cold, “I don’t need it, I—I just want you to—”.

Why was she so anxious to drive away the cold, to get warmth? The mere doubt caused a frown on her face, feeling her resistance growing smaller and non-existent against his polite and honest insistence, against the possibility of going home wrapped in his coat, against the testimony of Gilbert Blythe genuinely suffering to see her in agony when there was no reason for her to feel this way, when everything he seemed to do and feel for her made no sense or reason. Her tongue forced her to push once more, “And what about… the scent?”.

Anne felt Gilbert’s tension behind her. Where there had been concern and formality, there was now something darker sliding into his tone, in his slow, predatory breathing as he stated, “My scent”.

“Yes,” the young woman thought how ridiculous she must look having a conversation with her back turned, shivering, with a pale face and violet circles under her eyes, contemplating the gravity of a situation as superficial as wearing someone else’s coat. An alpha’s coat. Gilbert Blythe’s coat. “My—my parents won’t be happy to see me arriving with the coat and the scent of an unknown alpha on me”.

“Anne,” the use of her name silenced her, firm and definitive, biting her tongue to keep from responding, feeling Gilbert’s eyes on her with such intensity she feared facing him, “I’m sure your parents will understand. Just this once, let me take care of you. Just this once, and I won’t mention that this happened if you don’t want me to. Please”.

Anne knew she was fighting a lost battle when his words pierced her chest, traveled through her veins, causing an electric sensation in her omega, in the pit of her stomach, in her sensitive neck. No one had ever wished to care for her throughout her life, and that Gilbert Blythe, an arrogant, attentive, and desired young man, openly declared the desire to protect her from the cold made the ground tremble beneath her. Not only was she terrified by the revelation, but by the internal truth she couldn’t deny; it could have been Charlie, or any other boy, any other alpha, and Anne would never have come so close, Anne would never have felt so pleased to cause something so instinctive and impulsive to the point of being uncontrollable. Anne wanted to cause this in Gilbert Blythe and no one else, and facing that desire only pressed her against the edge of something that could end up piercing her heart. She hadn’t understood the need to wear his clothes until that moment, where the possibility of having his scent stuck to her nose, clinging to her clothes, brushing her wrists made her heart race and her knees weaken beneath her. The declaration was mortifying, embarrassing, and infuriating, but in a weak and delicate state like the one she was in at that moment, exhausted and dizzy, it seemed like a divine revelation. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to say it outright, determined to respond through her teeth, “Fine”.

“Thank you,” Gilbert’s sweet words couldn’t warn her of the chaos caused by sliding his coat over her shoulders.

The warmth enveloped her within seconds, paralyzed as Gilbert carefully took her braids in his hands, gently moving them out from beneath the coat, careful not to pull her hair as he had before. He placed the coat over her shoulders, making sure it fit despite the size difference, walking in front of her without saying a word, brushing his hands against her with the delicacy of a butterfly. Anne didn’t bother to put her arms through the sleeves, letting them hang empty by her sides, watching with wide eyes as the alpha adjusted the coat over her chest, focused on keeping the elusive wind from reaching her. Being aware that Gilbert could hear her frantic and wild heartbeat was terrifying, noticing how the alpha was careful not to touch her improperly or unnecessarily on her chest, resting his hands on her arms when he seemed satisfied with his work “Better?”.

The young woman had lost the ability to speak, feeling the intoxicating and burning scent of the alpha clinging to her, traveling up to her nose, clearing her slow mind and sticky thoughts. Gilbert’s hands were large and warm, feeling the temperature through the layers of clothing along with his firm and careful grip, his eyes fixed on her feet out of fear of raising his gaze before she answered as best as she could, “Can we go now?”.

“Of course,” Gilbert replied, caressing the skin on her covered arms with his thumbs, a touch so light that Anne thought she might have imagined it “After you.”

The alpha moved out of her way, encouraging her to look up, allowing herself to observe him over her shoulder for a few seconds. An addictive, damaging impulse; the alpha had lost the tension in his jaw, between his eyebrows, gazing at her in a primitive, predatory manner, so absorbed that Anne wished she could step back from the intensity of his gaze. She merely returned his look, thinking about the darkness that seemed to envelop his eyes, something that should have seemed absurd, raw, and wild, but only evoked the same animalistic and rational instincts in her. Gilbert was watching her wear his clothes, smell like him, blinking slowly to remember that first moment repeatedly, and Anne knew it. Anne knew Gilbert was there, watching her, but there was someone, something else devouring her with its eyes: his wolf, his alpha, flashing a small, imperceptible smile when he knew the young woman had noticed, too proud and euphoric to hide from her. Anne would have to feel the fury boiling inside her, for his audacity, for his basic and unfounded feelings projected onto her as if she were an object of desire for his nature, incapable of feeling anything more than a destructive attraction and the absolute silence of her rationality, her damaging and closed thoughts, what society and its expectations whispered in her ears.

She broke the union of their gazes by starting to walk, grabbing the edges of the coat with one hand to keep it closed and setting a slower pace than usual when she heard Gilbert’s footsteps following her. The sound of dead leaves crunching beneath them and the mystical whistling of the wind, along with the firm presence of the alpha by her side, his aroma and the warmth of the coat helped sharpen her senses and reflexes, clearing her throat when, in a burst of courage, she asked, “Why are you here? Just to check if I’m lying?”.

Gilbert snorted behind her, reaching her side within a few strides thanks to his long legs. Anne glanced sideways at him, observing his defined face and thick eyelashes as he responded, “I didn’t come to check that. I don’t think of you that way.”

Anne wanted to laugh and tell him the biggest lie of all. The lie of her entire life, of herself, but she only lifted her feet to avoid a raised branch in the mud.

“And then?” She had to stretch her neck to avoid burying her nose in the coat, knowing that if she succumbed to her desires, she would have to either kill Gilbert for witnessing it or end her own life out of embarrassment. She allowed herself to imagine, for a moment, how well the coat would look in her room, hidden among her sheets, under her pillow, marking her bed with its scent. She forced herself to focus on the empty trees, the setting sun, on guessing the distance left to Green Gables and ending the agony of her wandering thoughts.

“I was worried about… having misinterpreted the situation the night of the dance, when you left,” Gilbert confessed, diverting his gaze from the front to look at the profile of her face. He didn’t seem entirely comfortable revealing the true reason for his concern, his need to find her alone, avoiding eye contact and clearing his throat “I was afraid I might have made you uncomfortable or scared with my intentions and ignored it in the process.”

Anne fell silent, thinking about how rude and inconsiderate it had been to leave him in the dark without any warning, pushing him to draw negative and incorrect conclusions. She bit her lips, searching for the right words to reply, “You didn’t scare or discomfort me, Gilbert. It’s a complicated situation, and I simply felt overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to react”.

She watched as Gilbert nodded at the edge of her vision, noticing how he tightened his jaw when Anne continued speaking, feeling her tongue moving before she could process it, “I shouldn’t have left so abruptly, without an explanation; it was inconsiderate of me”.

“It’s my fault,” the alpha shook his head, watching as the muscles in his arm tensed under his shirt when he brought one of his hands to his face, combing his hair. “I shouldn’t have cornered you like that in the first place. It was my mistake from the beginning, and I’m sorry. It would have been entirely reasonable if you had felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave without explaining anything to me”.

Anne opened her mouth to respond, determined to say that wasn’t the case, that she hadn’t felt that way, that she didn’t have reasons to think of Gilbert as someone dangerous or wanting to take advantage of her or force her into something she didn’t want, but the alpha exhaled through his nose and murmured, “It’s not my desire to cage you, to corner you like that and have to weigh the possibility of having caused any negative feelings in you. I seem like a child, despite being a man, and I need to apologize properly”.

This time Gilbert raised his gaze, connecting their eyes as he licked his lips, sliding his gaze over her pale face when he murmured, “I’m sorry, Anne. I’m an alpha, and I’m a gentleman, but I seem devoid of all those characteristics when it comes to you. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my sanity when you’re near”.

Anne thought she was hallucinating. That her ears and brain had distorted his words, his intentions, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks and her heart leap at his revelation. Enveloped in his scent, weak physically and mentally, Anne couldn’t help but notice the sadness in his phrase, the guilt weighing on his brows. She should remain silent, make him feel responsible for a nonexistent terror, and explicitly ask him not to speak to her again, but a girl like Anne was fragile with an alpha like Gilbert Blythe, resolved to reply softly, in a state of denial she couldn’t repress, “You were trying to keep Billy from seeing us, and I understand that; I hate crossing paths with him, and I’m grateful that it was with the intention of avoiding that, even though you didn’t have to”.

The alpha seemed surprised for a few seconds, managing to neutralize his expression as Anne continued speaking. “You didn’t force anything on me, and if you had, it’s not something I would have allowed, neither that night nor ever. I didn’t feel scared or trapped because… because I wanted to be there, and when I didn’t want it that way, I left”.

Anne felt dizzy not only from the unstable feeling of her body but also from the constantly changing and confusing nature of her relationship with Gilbert. Why was she bothering to reassure him, to debunk his assumptions when she wanted the opposite effect? Silence fell between them, biting the inside of her cheek as they walked slowly down the dark and damp path leading to Green Gables, swallowing as Gilbert admitted intimately, “Thank you, Anne. It’s good to know”.

The young woman merely nodded, furious with herself as she began to speak again, “You really scared Charlie.”

Gilbert let out a deep chuckle, returning to his confident and relaxed state, walking with the elegance of a feline as he nodded, “It’s not my fault that he’s such a nervous creature”.

“Don’t call him that,” Anne scolded, feeling strangely relaxed in his company, rubbing one of her hands against her closed eyes to ward off the tiredness “He’s nice, and he’s not a creature. He’s just shy”.

“He mentioned something about you not feeling well,” Gilbert, within seconds, moved closer to her, brushing his shoulders and analyzing her face without trying to hide it “And I must say you look paler than usual. How are you feeling?”.

“I’m fine,” Anne concluded, looking ahead to avoid meeting his intense gaze, feeling exhaustion seep into her voice “I just want to get home and rest”.

“That will help,” Gilbert nodded. Anne took a deep breath, feeling the pleasant aroma of his skin on her as the alpha insisted, “From now on, you’ll need to wear more coats if you don’t want to get sick. Your body doesn’t tolerate such low temperatures”.

“I don’t need a medical evaluation from you, Gilbert. I’m properly dressed,” Anne huffed, pulling Gilbert’s coat tighter around herself. “My body just isn’t cooperating today. I’m cold, I couldn’t eat because the food tasted awful, and my head isn’t as alert as it usually is. I must be tired or hungry, but I’m fine. I’ll be fine”.

“You should eat something sweet before bed,” the alpha observed, falling silent as he lifted a branch so she could pass underneath naturally. It was irritating that he was such an attentive alpha, a born gentleman impossible to ignore or underestimate when she wanted to find faults in him. “It will help you feel more awake and boost your blood pressure”.

“I hope your studies are correct because I want to feel as good as possible to speak in front of Professor Phillips tomorrow,” Anne sighed, finally seeing the Green Gables fence in the distance “Only then can I tolerate his personality without expressing my dislike out loud”.

“If you feel too disgusted by him, you can let me know,” the alpha looked at her, letting a playful smile stretch across his lips “I can glare at him in a horrible way and not face any punishment”.

Anne tried to contain the small smile that formed on her face, rolling her eyes, “The privilege you have is shamelessly displayed in every aspect of life, even in the smallest and most desired things, like showing Professor Phillips that I hate him”.

“He’s an easy person to hate and scare,” Gilbert said, scratching his chin as a mischievous expression crossed his face “You should have seen his face when we were little, newly presented as alphas, and decided it was a good idea to have fights in our free time. A bleeding nose was enough to push him to the brink of fainting, and he was so pale that we feared he would break his own nose falling down the stairs.”

Anne covered her face with one hand, trying to hide the urge to laugh out loud, pulling it away from beneath the coat with wide eyes when she asked, “And did he faint?”.

“Oh, no. But I would have preferred it over hearing him vomit on the other side of the creek,” the alpha raised his eyebrows, running his tongue over his teeth. Anne felt her heart leap several beats at the thought of how sharp they must be, wondering how they would feel closer if she brushed them with the tips of her fingers “I don’t understand how he can be a professor for teenagers when he’s such an easy person to intimidate. He should be thankful that most of us are civilized people who don’t take advantage of his cowardly nature and mediocre professionalism”.

“You might be angrier with him than I thought,” Anne observed, sighing as they reached the edge of Green Gables, turning to face him.

His presence never failed to take the air from her lungs. In the beauty of the shadows accentuating the darkness of his face, the sharpness of his defined bones, the depth of his pupils, the softness of his lips. The shirt fit his body with precision and majesty, probably tailor-made exclusively for him, with the black pants and suspenders dressing him with the elegance worthy of his movements and words. Gilbert seemed reluctant to let her go, not diverting his eyes from her and her figure hidden under his coat when he commented, “Maybe I am angrier, maybe I do despise him more. The day you can’t tolerate his attitude, you can tell me, and I’ll correct it with all the pleasure in the world”.

Anne couldn’t contain the smile at the absurd resolution, tilting her head to one side as she asked, “And how do you plan to correct it, if I may know? You’re so arrogant to think you have any authority over him, Gilbert. Only you could come to that conclusion”.

“You offend me” placed one of his large hands on his chest, frowning with one of his predatory smiles, his eyes studying her heavily before saying goodbye. Anne felt the dryness in her mouth, the cold warning her of the suffering she would face once she had to return the coat while saying goodbye to him “Of course I can correct him. Something as simple as growling in his face is enough to put him in his place, with no intermediaries in the process”.

“Is that your correction plan?” Anne repeated incredulously “I would have thought you'd propose a more elaborate, intellectual, and civilized plan. Instead, you resort to force, instinct, and brutality”.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Gilbert smiled with all his teeth, glancing behind her to appreciate the farm in the distance before shifting his eyes back to her “I prefer to expend my energy and creativity on people who need it. Professor Phillips, unfortunately, is not on that list—I would gladly relinquish my civility just to hear him apologize once in my life”.

“You are certainly an ambitious man,” Anne said, clearing her throat before glancing over her shoulder at her home, shifting nervously in place as she murmured, “I think I should go”.

“You’re right,” Gilbert nodded, keeping his hands in his pockets, remaining where he was, waiting to see what Anne would do first “I apologize for keeping you with my frustrated desire to intimidate the professor; I should write them down on paper instead of tormenting you with them”.

“The intention is mutual. I would like to think of doing it myself, but I sense that he wouldn’t be so gentle with me,” Anne admitted, letting out a small nervous laugh “I’m surprised he hasn’t hit my hands yet. One of your friends’ hands took days to heal; I don’t understand how he could write in that state”.

Anne blinked, and in a matter of seconds, Gilbert was standing very close, leaning slightly to be at the level of her own face. Despite the fresh and intense aroma of the coat she was breathing in, Gilbert’s warm and firm proximity made her bite the inside of her cheek, blinking slowly as the alpha breathed on her face, watching her with thick lashes “I would like to see him try”.

Gilbert closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, causing Anne to open hers wide, pressing her hands against her stomach in a reflex of panic and assumption. Was the ointment starting to lose its effect? Was the scarf she was wearing not doing its job? She swallowed hard, thinking of running away from his nose, pushing him, and scolding him for coming so close in an inappropriate and provocative manner, until she understood with mortification and shame—the alpha was seeing himself in her, and the consequences were glaringly clear when he looked at her again. Black eyes absorbing her with the force of a thousand suns, the eternity of the ocean, the vitality of a soul “There are things I cannot tolerate, and the mere thought of someone as despicable as him laying his hands on you is enough to completely destabilize me. I hope you can forgive my contradictions and my lack of control, even though it is something immoral and wild”.

"I, I don’t—" Anne didn’t even understand what she was trying to say. Her intentions were overwhelming, drowning in the novel sensation of Gilbert expressing concern for her, vocalizing the hatred he felt at the thought of someone harming her. This made no sense and had to be solely the fault of their dynamic and a whim generated by his constant rejection, unable to send the signal to her body with weak knees and a heart racing like a hunted hare. The alpha, noticing that Anne was not afraid and could retreat away from him at any moment, could scream and be heard, and was not being held by him, decided to move dangerously closer, so close that she could feel his nose brushing against one of her cheeks.

Anne closed her eyes slowly, relaxing at his touch. Gilbert had taken care of her, thought her omega happily beneath his chest, warming her with his scent, protecting her from the cold, professing a desire to protect her, rubbing the tip of his nose against her face, breathing in her skin as if he could sense her true scent. His breath was warm against her lips, and his face burned in contrast with her cold face from the low temperatures and lack of sleep and food, wanting to push up on tiptoes to rub her cheeks and sink into his warmth. Anne was breaking social, religious, moral, and personal boundaries; this was the exact opposite of what her paranoid mind repeated over and over every time she set her eyes on him, but now, feeling his caress, his warmth, and his scent, Anne could not resist. She didn’t want to say no. She didn’t want to pull away. She didn’t care about the risks, the effect this could have on her future, or the irrevocable damage she was doing to herself by allowing herself to feel this way, by letting Gilbert come this close when he was the only person who had caused something of this magnitude in her, in her head, in her nature, in her heart. She had never been looked at this way, touched this way, appreciated on levels that seemed to brush against even the most intimate of her nerves and revelation, and the discovery seemed chaotic and irreversible, and Anne wanted to do it. At that moment, she wanted to take one more step, and another, until crashing into a wall or the edge of the abyss.

Gilbert pulled away slightly, just enough to brush their noses when he spoke in a husky voice, a tone so low it sent a shiver up her spine “You can keep my coat if you want. You look so good in it that I couldn’t tell you no”.

Anne felt her face catch fire, losing the air from her lungs and having to consciously close her mouth in astonishment. The alpha was the first to pull back, returning to his normal height and putting a small distance between them, allowing Anne to come out of her daze and start babbling nervously “I—I don’t want your coat, Gilbert. I have enough coats for myself and don’t need your kindness”.

“I really don’t mind. You can keep it without any trouble,” he insisted, not losing his smile as he saw her cheeks flushed from the compliment.

“I don’t want it,” Anne stated, biting the inside of her cheek as she started to take it off. The cold was harsh and swift, making her tense her jaw to avoid starting to shiver immediately, stretching the coat towards Gilbert so he could take it “Thank you for lending it to me, and thank you for not mentioning what just happened for the rest of your life”.

The alpha seemed reluctant to take it back, taking a few seconds to remove it from her hands, gently brushing his fingers against hers in the process. He didn’t bother wearing it, draping it lazily over his shoulder. “Right, this never happened, did it?”.

Anne moved away from him, overwhelmed by his proximity, his words, and intentions, approaching the fence that gave way enough to allow her average-sized body and slender anatomy to pass through. She looked over her shoulder one last time, trying to hold back the shivers starting to crowd her legs and neck, before shrugging and saying goodbye “I don’t know what ‘this’ you’re talking about, Gilbert”.

Anne was fortunate to have parents with a weak sense of smell. She feared hugging them and having them detect the scent of an alpha on her, but they only offered her tea when she mentioned her discomfort, allowing her to go up to her room to rest after finishing it. None of them commented on the strange fragrance on her clothes, if they noticed it, giving her a slight sense of peace and security once she closed the door behind her. Her room was always going to be her stronghold, the most intimate part of her being and personality brought into the physical and earthly realm, undressing on the way to her bed without bothering to put things away; the top of her dress smelled slightly of Gilbert, and with such embarrassment that she promised she would never do it again, she rubbed the fabric of her clothes against her pillow, mattress, and sheets in a poor attempt to leave the scent there as much as possible. Anne sank into her bed, covering herself with everything available to gather warmth, burying her face among the fabrics to chase the fragrance until she fell asleep.

However, worry pursued her into her dreams.

Anne, despite being a dreamy and distracted person, with periods of her life stained by fantasies and darkness in a desperate attempt by her brain to repress the most traumatic memories, remembers and relives the presentation of her dynamic as a living nightmare. Sometimes, during nights she cannot rest, during terror episodes that harden her hands with anxiety or when panic tightens her throat until it chokes her, she thinks, with tears in her eyes, how she managed to survive so long. How she can still be alive, without bruises, without eternal marks on her soul from her mere identity—she was fortunate to have grown up in an orphanage exclusive to girls, having heard throughout her adolescence about the massacre of mixed orphanages, where men and premature alphas showed no mercy to their peers and superiors.

It seemed that divine forces and the God that her community worshipped daily and devoutly had decided that Anne should not die so soon when her circumstances were revealed. Growing up, Anne had never heard of anyone other than alphas and betas, having scarce and unexplored access to information, remaining ignorant of the possibility of a third gender. At the orphanage itself, a small number of peers had presented themselves as alphas, being forced to undertake heavy and undesirable tasks by the institution's staff and the betas, implicitly sensing that their lives were over because they were born into the wrong gender. On the other hand, young betas were educated more rigorously, like young ladies, with the possibility of being adopted by a family as a daughter, instead of risking their lives to be chosen by single men at a scandalous age. Anne knew that the orphanage did not have such facilities and that if the church decided to investigate, the caretakers could face lifelong punishment, learning to view with bitterness how society turned its back on orphaned girls who faced a future filled with misery, illness, and poverty.

So they decided this for them. The population adopted young girls and babies as their own daughters, while teenagers were taken on as household slaves to care for these children. Once they could be seen as adult women with the right hairstyle and makeup, they were married off and matched with traveling men or obscenely rich men who did not want to waste their time on traditional and proper courtship, settling with an orphan who had no choice but marriage or the same death on the streets of Canada due to the impossible chance of achieving a decent life on their own. Many of them accepted the kisses of adult men on their hands with a placid smile, determined to leave the violent rat nest of the orphanage and preferring to have a chance at a cardboard lifestyle and luxuries that would grant fleeting happiness, while others preferred to try their lives on the streets once the orphanage had to turn them out at adulthood. Anne never saw any of them working in the workshops when she looked from outside, or in the markets, or even in the laundries where all the workers came out with bleeding nails and bent spines from endless hours of work; they simply disappeared. They did not return to the orphanage, nor were they visible on the sidewalks; they simply vanished into thin air, each and every one of them, ghosts with nowhere to go, no families to care for them, or money to invest. She wanted to think they had managed to go far away, across the ocean, where in foreign lands they would be welcomed with warmth and opportunity, knowing that the most likely scenario was they faced a much harsher reality in the real world than in their previous life in the orphanage.

Anne, for her part, was always adopted as a house helper and nanny when she was still a child. She could escape into her imagination, play with her stories and characters, enjoy nature and the beauty of everyday life, but reality had forced her to mature and grow up with blows. She had worked in many families and on every occasion, she had hoped to be seen as what she was, a child, until the flame within her began to fade with the passing months—one mistake, a task she didn’t know how to complete, an opportunity where she fell asleep was enough to be thrown out without remorse like a dog, as if she were nothing more than a defective tool.

The families that usually adopted her were numerous and humble, as the privileged sought experienced and adult nannies, possibly transferred from generation to generation or among friendly families within their unreachable societies. Anne, fortunately, learned quickly, and the duty of caring for more than two babies at the same time had become an automatic and natural task; she could keep an eye on one of them while feeding another, clean them swiftly, change them without giving them time to burst into tears that would cause unbearable headaches, keep them content for hours while their parents did not bother to glance their way. The only limiting factor, of course, was her physique—despite lifting them with their respective weight several times a day, Anne remained a slender child due to her poor diet throughout her development, resulting in fragile arms like tree branches, unstable legs, and lack of physical endurance when she had to clean for hours.

Anne hated her fragility and delicacy. She pushed herself to her limits not only out of fear of being replaced by someone else but also out of the possibility of returning to the orphanage and encountering Lloyd again. Lloyd, who enjoyed pushing her, stepping on her fingers, spitting in her face, and pulling her hair so hard that she left with clumps of it effortlessly. Anne naively believed that, at some point, she would be able to defend herself from everything that tormented her, refusing to put down the children when her arms protested in pain, to keep walking when her legs suffered cramps, to carry heavy bags on her shoulders that would not allow her to bend down afterward due to her stubbornness to become stronger and more efficient, irreplaceable.

Parents usually did not pay attention to her or address her at all, limiting themselves to giving her instructions in the mornings, informing her of her turn to bathe with the cold and used water of the rest of the family, or asking her to leave in a glacial and impersonal manner when night fell. Anne, surprisingly, had her own room at the top of the house, as if it were an attic, surrounded by broken and old things, dust, and a thin mattress on the floor; most nights she could not rest due to the desperate cries of the children asking for attention she could not give, as she was strictly forbidden from going downstairs once the moon was in the sky, added to the grunts and sighs of her parents who seemed more than content to ignore them until they grew tired and their vocal cords became irritated.

Anne thought she could stay in this home longer than usual, even becoming a permanent servant once the children grew up. She was a good girl, staying quiet and biting her tongue, cooking carefully, being attentive and performing duties without having to be told what to do, convincing herself that with the passing years she would have more time to write, that she could take some of the few books resting in the living room to her room, that she could educate herself at a basic level once she had more free time. She tried to feel happy sleeping with low temperatures in the winter covered by thin sheets but with her own room, far from Lloyd and the nuns who did nothing but look at her with disgust instead of indifference, wishing to be optimistic by believing that in this house she had a chance to leave, to become someone on her own merit instead of becoming the shadow of a perverse and unknown man.

The illusion, like everything, lasted little.

Anne began to feel it with a slight headache that settled behind her eyes like a migraine, forcing her to close her eyes when there was too much natural light or strong odors like the onion she was cutting to make lunch. She did not show her discomfort, knowing intelligently that she had to present herself as a machine immune to any flaw and pain, performing her tasks more slowly than usual but with the same efficiency as always, capable of fulfilling what was required with her eyes closed. To her surprise, the pain, instead of yielding to being ignored and taking several sips of water to chase it away, persisted as the hours went by and increased in intensity once night fell; Anne did not let the agony show on her face, eating the little her stomach allowed in complete silence in a corner of the room, as she was not allowed to eat at the same table as the rest of the family.

“Young one,” the lady called without raising her voice, gesturing with her hand towards the plates and cutlery in a silent indication that she should clear the table and wash everything before leaving.

Anne swallowed the remaining food in her mouth hurriedly, gathering the things obediently and moving them to the kitchen with distraction and absence. The children began to cry inconsolably, tired from the long day, being expertly ignored by their parents who began to caress their hands on the table without showing any signs of being bothered or affected by their children’s distress. Anne had to close her eyes and breathe deeply to try to control the consuming headache that only worsened with the cries, sinking the dishes into a bucket of water to scrub them and remove the dirt, trying to regain patience and motivating herself with the idea that soon she could rest in her room for a few hours before the sun rose again.

She tried to breathe deeply, filling her lungs with air until a sharp pain, like a punch in her stomach, forced her to double over in pain, causing the plate to fall to the floor in surprise. The ceramic shattered into pieces, flying across the kitchen with a crash, causing both adults to enter the room with furrowed brows and indignation “What are you doing?”.

Anne couldn’t breathe. The agony was so intense that she struggled to inhale oxygen, bent forward in a desperate attempt to escape the stabbing pain clawing at her stomach and darkening the edges of her vision, gripping the wooden table with such force that she felt her nails break under the pressure. All she could emit was a guttural groan, passing her free arm over her torso in an instinctive manner to cover an invisible wound; the master of the house did not take long to reach her, grabbing her by the arm with brutality and turning her to see her face, studying her expression with anger “How dare you be so careless in someone else’s house when we are being so generous in keeping you under our roof?”.

Anne staggered, colliding with the wall behind her as she tried to protect herself, attempting to explain that something was wrong with her, that she had never felt such intense pain and felt she was going to die. She feared losing consciousness, feared looking at her ankles and seeing them covered in blood, feared her throat closing within seconds and dying of asphyxiation. However, none of that happened. Instead, she noticed the pain in her stomach slowly dissipating, as if it were a wave retreating only to come back stronger moments later. Her legs trembled beneath her, causing her to fall to the ground and breathe with such desperation that the nausea clawed at her throat, making a supernatural effort to reply, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I…”

“Of course you don’t know what’s wrong with you,” the man scoffed, making a dismissive gesture toward her and the broken plate on the floor. Surprisingly, his wife had not intervened in the argument, merely watching her with disapproval from the other side of the room. “Pick up what you broke and get out of my sight. I don’t want to hear a single complaint or see you until I decide and require it”.

“Yes, sir,” Anne weakly nodded, carefully standing up, slightly hunched from the discomfort stretching her torso, irrationally keeping one hand over her stomach. She knelt down, starting to gather the pieces of ceramic with trembling hands, noting that the man’s worn boots showed no intention of leaving, ensuring not a single particle of dirt was left.

“This is the only time I’m going to be so lenient with you,” he continued as Anne remained on the ground, kneeling, careful not to cut her skin with the sharp material despite the trembling of her limbs. The room seemed to shrink more and more, as the cold sweat stuck her clothes to her skin and the edges of her vision darkened, perceiving her thoughts and reflexes becoming slow and sticky, confused. “I do not tolerate signs of inefficiency and carelessness, and I do not accept such mediocre and poorly formulated excuses. Be grateful for my patience and this opportunity because I swear it will not be repeated”.

“Yes, sir,” Anne nodded, fearful to meet his eyes, breathing loudly through her nose “Thank you, sir”.

The humiliation burned worse than any pain, feeling her dignity evaporate due to her weak position, her lack of any option to defend herself, and the little she had to settle for to manage a bearable life. Anne wished she could throw the sharp pieces at his face, thinking about which cuts might mark his features, longing to press her own hand against the broken pieces to bleed and stain his kitchen with spots that couldn’t be removed, only gathering the last remaining shards carefully until the man left the room with heavy steps.

However, his wife did not follow him, keeping silent until she decided to speak in a low voice, as if it were a secret “Child”.

Anne lifted her head, daring to look at her face. She was an adult woman with a tired and lived face, but her eyes showed nothing but neutrality and skepticism “Yes, madame?”.

She pressed her lips into a thin line before asking slowly, as if she might regret it halfway through “What hurts?”.

Anne let out a trembling breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her dress, so confused by her curiosity that she almost didn’t answer her question due to her astonishment. She had never been treated as a human being, as a present entity worthy of being asked or even looked at to acknowledge her existence “I don’t want you to worry about me, madame. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. And answering your question, my head hurt persistently throughout the day, but what caused me to make my mistake was a sudden pain in my stomach. It took my breath away”.

The woman gave no response, watching her silently from the doorway with her arms crossed. The babies had not stopped crying throughout the process, being avidly ignored by their father and going unnoticed by their analytical mother, causing Anne’s dizziness to worsen in seconds, forcing her to sit on the floor in a careless and unladylike manner. She rested her head on her hands, closing her eyes and breathing to recover, when she heard the floor creaking under the woman’s feet as she approached her with resistance and care.

Anne lifted her head, eyes squinted and panic closing her lungs at the sudden closeness until the woman crouched next to her, looking at her with a furrowed brow and an unreadable expression. Despite the heartbreaking cries of her children, Anne felt a deathly silence had taken over her room along with the sharp beat of her heart “I think you have to leave”.

The young woman’s eyes widened in terror, feeling herself pale at the idea, frightened at the thought of vomiting in front of her from anxiety as she forced herself to speak “What? N–no, please, please don’t, I can’t go back, no…”

“You have to leave,” the woman interrupted with a frosty tone, indifferent to the tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, to the pleading that was starting to babble “It’s an order”.

“Please, I’ll do whatever you ask, anything, but please don’t ask me to leave. I can try harder, I can be better, please,” she knew she was pathetic, a mess of tears and desperation, feeling on the verge of vomiting and unconsciousness, wiping her tears uselessly as she continued to speak “I just need one more chance and you won’t regret keeping me. I promise I’ll be better, and please, please don’t send me back to the orphanage. Please, I beg you”.

“You don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, looking at her with a frown, keeping a considerable distance from her despite being crouched at the same level. Anne felt a lighter pang in her stomach, covering her body reflexively through her sobs and desperation, looking at her with tears and a furrowed brow until she spoke again “I cannot allow you to stay in my home”.

“W–why not?” Anne asked, shaking her head, feeling her chest rise and fall rapidly and abnormally, watching in horror as the woman tilted her head to the side like a confused dog. Her blood turned to ice.

“You are presenting as an omega,” she stated in a whisper, blinking slowly, looking at her as if she were an object, a lifeless doll “I do not wish to have death sleeping under my roof, waiting for you”.

Chapter Text

Gilbert watched Anne's enraged expression from the edge of his vision.

He couldn't blame her; he too felt the anger twisting his stomach uncomfortably, unconsciously clenching his jaw, suppressing a low growl every time he remembered Mr. Phillips’ face when he had ordered them, unfairly and without explanation, to return the books used in class to the library. They could both politely refuse, of course, but they found they had no choice when the teacher had asked with a cynical smile, as if amused at torturing them to the last minute, “I suppose, then, you agree to fail the lesson?”.

That was how they had ended up in this situation, walking side by side in a silence so tense that it seemed capable of being tangibly felt between them, dirtying their boots with mud due to the faint autumnal drizzles that lashed Avonlea days ago, the thought of the state of the young woman at his side in the cold temperatures and the cold drops falling on the clothes that covered her being unavoidable. He appreciated that she was warmer than in their previous encounters, being able to relax in the knowledge that she was not suffering from the cold, but keeping a frown on his face as he saw the unnatural pallor that painted her pretty face, in the softness of her white lips that seemed indicative of an impending flu, or lack of food or proper care for herself.

“Gilbert” Anne called his name, snapping him out of his trance in a matter of seconds. The alpha stepped closer, not brushing her shoulders, but enough so that he could feel the warmth of her skin from the short distance — Anne was too self-absorbed with herself and her negative thoughts to notice the action, taking a step to the side herself to bump their coats absently “I don't know how much longer I'll be able to put up with his mistreatment and abusive chores. I'm getting sick of this little game he plays with us”.

“His entertainment won't last that long” the alpha said, trying to move as little as possible as he walked so as not to bump into her by accident or in a crude way to scare her away, trying to disguise the absolute and devastating feeling of his nature coursing through his veins at having her so close by Anne's decision, who had done it in such an unconscious and natural way that she seemed to feel safe with him, with his closeness, talking about her feelings, expressing to him that she was exhausted because of someone else. The anger flared, taking a deep breath to control it “And if it keeps up, I can talk to him, or we can turn to Rachel Lynde so she can do something about it”.

“If you talk to him I want to talk to him too” the young woman turned to look at him with determination, meeting her light eyes with his own, forcing him to adjust his grip on the books between his hands so as not to drop them “I have a couple of issues I wish to discuss with him, and if he possesses prejudices towards me that impede his work or his ability to listen to me, I'm sure he can work it out. He has no choice but to accept that I am there, that I am his student, and that I will be until I have to go to university”.

“True” the alpha reasoned, feeling a small smile stretch across his lips at her resolute tone and raised chin “But, knowing him, I feel we will have a better chance with Rachel Lynde voicing our concerns instead. The professor possesses an inexplicable fear and shyness towards people his age and older, and Rachel Lynde appears to be a woman he would not dare question”.

Anne did not answer, beginning to bite her lower lip automatically and averting her gaze from him, in a clear indication of her concern and anxiety. Gilbert couldn't help but ask without thinking twice about the reaction Anne might get from his intrusion, “What's wrong?”.

“Nothing” she released her lip from between her teeth, having to divert his attention from the sheen of her saliva on fleshy skin to concentrate on the young woman's expression, regretting showing her concern so openly as she continued to speak with effort “It's just that... Marilla is a very close friend of Mrs Lynde's, and they are unaware that these meetings are in the wake of a punishment. It was a stupid thing to do, and I know I shouldn't have lied to my own parents, but I felt under a lot of pressure and decided to tell them that these lessons were because of our high averages, not because of our behavior”.

“It's not stupid” the alpha enunciated, brushing her shoulders intentionally and playfully to get her attention, smiling softly when Anne looked up at him with wide eyes “It's a hard thing to tell your parents, and it doesn't take away from the truth of our assignments. You did well”.

“I shouldn't have lied to them,” Anne mused, adjusting the few books Gilbert had bestowed upon her against her chest. The alpha hadn't thought to give her a single book until the young woman, with a lethal glare for being underestimated in something as insignificant as not being able to carry books, had had no choice but to leave a few in her arms in a peaceful attempt to keep his head attached to his body “How did you tell them?”.

Gilbert no longer felt the familiar ache rise in his chest when, on isolated occasions, someone asked about his parents. He had learned to take a deep breath to evade the sadness that pricked his heart, like an instinctive reminder of his loss, and to make a small smile to fill a bottomless void “My parents passed away years ago, so I have no one to communicate my punishments to. An advantage, you might say”.

“Oh, Gilbert” Anne stopped her walk to watch him, regret and mortification brushing her pretty expression, beautiful with her dark freckles, with her upturned nose, with her hair as reddish as the dead leaves that adorned the ground and the campfire that warmed the centre of his home “I'm sorry, I really didn't know—”.

“Don't worry about it” the alpha consoled, shaking his head and resuming his walk so as not to let her continue to get wet under the drizzle. Anne opened her mouth again to apologize, but Gilbert stopped her “Anne, really don't worry. It happened years ago, and I can talk about it calmly. I don't expect everyone to be aware of what happened in my life and not ask questions about it”.

“It was insensitive of me to assume, I'm sorry” Anne commented, beginning to bite the inside of her cheek absently before resuming the anxious pace of walking to get to the library “I know it's hard. It never stops being difficult, despite the years”.

“It's not easy, but I'm not alone” Gilbert explained, visualizing the library in the distance with a sigh “I worked on the high seas for a few years, and that's when I met Sebastian. Since then I've lived with him, his wife Mary and their baby Delphine. They are my family now”.

Anne looked up at him and smiled a genuine, precious smile that made his heart skip several beats and took the air out of his lungs — every encounter, every opportunity he had to watch her, to get close and listen to her played with his reasoning, with his ability to keep his cool and show his self-control by not brushing his fingers gently against her face. Ever since he had discovered the soft warmth of her skin, ever since he had enjoyed being gazed at by her thick lashes, ever since he had touched her moist lips and felt her breath against his, Gilbert believed he had developed an addiction, like that possessed by sailors on the ocean, drinking endless bottles of wine as if their lives depended on it, as if he were a devoted and religious person basing his life, his experiences and learning on a divine identity; maybe the alpha did, but not with a man who owned good and evil, paradise and hell, but with a girl who seemed to enjoy simple things like his warmth, who allowed herself to be touched by him with care, as if she were something that could break under his touch when she knew he would do nothing but cut his hands with his sharp, precise fangs if he dared to hurt her. Gilbert didn't want to do that. He was ready to cut off his own hands if there was the slightest chance of causing anything in her but smiles and sighs. He knew that, and Anne seemed to see it, clearing her throat and blinking slowly as if coming out of a reverie “I'm glad to hear that, Gilbert. They sound like a perfect family to you”.

“They are” the alpha nodded as they reached the entrance to the library, opening the door with one of his arms to let her through first. The library greeted them with its natural heavy, enigmatic and gloomy aura, as if it was a secluded space in the world for them, lost among pages, dust and endless, confusing aisles “Should we hand these over to Mistress Abigail, or can we accommodate them on our own?”.

“I regret to inform you that all this walk around was ordered by the professor not only out of laziness, but also so as not to have to look Madam Abigail in the eye” Anne disguised a shiver that ran up her spine, raising her eyebrows in mystery “When I came to return the book I took back last week I thought the weight of a glance would really be able to kill someone”.

“Well then, we have no choice but to face her” Gilbert sighed, starting to mark the path in front of her, having an excellent memory when it came to locating himself in complicated scenarios like that. Besides, he believed that, if he concentrated hard enough, he would be able to hear her through the sheer density of the silence “I can't promise you that, in some dire situation like this, I won't sacrifice you in order to save myself”.

“So chivalrous” the alpha could imagine how the young woman rolled her eyes at his statement “I can only find similarities to mythological beings like dragons watching over castles or princesses, and I doubt your role is that of a hero willing to defeat them if you would rather sacrifice your companion”.

“You're right” Gilbert smiled arrogantly over one of his shoulders, catching her attention and enjoying her open and surprised expression at being proved right so explicitly “Rather than a hero I would be a villain, or a rather selfish supporting character. I would have no desire to save a princess or free a castle from a beast without getting anything in return”.

“At least you're aware of your individualism” Anne sighed, as if the very idea seemed wearing, making him laugh low at her innocence of being frustrated with such abstract and improbable questions “Anyway, you're wrong”.

“Mm?” Gilbert raised one of his eyebrows curiously, expectant of her explanation as Anne fixed her gaze on him with a raised chin and a superior air that made him smile again “Enlighten me”.

“You would not be the villain, nor the hero, nor a supporting character because, in my eyes, you would be the beast” Anne explained, tilting her head to the side as if studying him, analyzing his reaction when his cocky grin and dark eyes did not alter at the assumption “Only a beast would have senses as developed as you claim to have them”.

“Am I being treated as a liar at this very moment?” Gilbert asked, beginning to feel a slight tug between his shoulder blades from the weight of the books, knowing that in two more turns he would find Madam Abigail's desk “Your theory is terrible, Anne, for then the librarian would have no character to embody. She herself is the dragon that threatens poor citizens like us, like me. I cannot speak for your innocence”.

“Oh, shut up,” Anne snorted next to him, knowing that, if they were hands free, she would have punched him gently on his right shoulder for annoying her. She let out a sigh through her lips as she acknowledged the last stretch to reach her desk, puffing out her chest with air and bravado as she enunciated “Let me do the talking”.

“All right” Gilbert nodded, letting her pass in front of him and enjoying the sight of her small shoulders and thin braids falling down her back delicately “I'll be right behind you ready to run when I raise my voice. You are the hero in this story”.

“I appreciate your courage, Gilbert” Anne murmured without turning to look at him, a wry tone tainting her words “You really are a lot of help”.

The alpha moved a little closer, careful not to accidentally touch her, making sure he could feel her proximity and her warmth; he was never going to stop enjoying the primal sensation of the physical difference between them, in how he had to lean slightly over one of her shoulders to whisper in her ear, in how he could see her skin bristle as it came into contact with the warm air of his breath, in how he could hear her faint, rapid heartbeat at his nearness, at his presence. He wanted to close his eyes and take a deep breath, enjoy it as if it were inside him, enjoy the notion that this was only for him, that it was his and no one else's, forcing himself to speak so as not to lose control of time and of himself.

He found no strength to pull away, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths in a futile attempt to sense any kind of fragrance on her skin, on her clothes; he could never sense more than the foreign scent of burning wood or a home-cooked meal, feeling an animalistic, erratic despair express itself in him at not being able to sense something of Anne's own. All the betas possessed an imperceptible scent, like Diana's expensive perfume, Ruby's cloying smell of expensive dresses, Josie Pye's strange fruity fragrance as she consumed them throughout the year, while Anne was characterized by the total absence of a scent - simply clean and empty. He had no choice but to enjoy the tensing of her muscles in surprise, feeling a primal, dangerous satisfaction boil from deep in his chest as he watched her prefer not to pull away from him, expectant of his next move, or enjoying the sensation as he himself was doing. Gilbert couldn't help wanting to play with her reactions, releasing the air from his nose to fall on her, frowning at the scarf that covered her neck days ago, which he had learned to loathe in a shameful way as he could no longer see her skin in secret as he used to. He greatly enjoyed the softness and gentleness of her throat, the agonizing thought of how her pulse would beat beneath his touch if he pressed hard enough, how he could feel her tremble if he brought his mouth a little closer to the spot he desired like a sin or forbidden fruit.

However, Gilbert was a gentleman and knew his limits, stepping back with a small smile of contentment as he saw the young woman still, so obedient that he thought how serious the situation would be if he left the books on the floor and dragged her into the vastness of the library to have her all to himself. Anne noticed his remoteness, turning slightly to look at him with wide eyes and a pink tinge tingeing her cheeks, angry and embarrassed at his boldness and her reaction when the alpha spoke in a deeper voice than usual “You have a duty to perform, Anne”.

“Of course I remember” she snorted, emerging from her hiding place without first muttering under her breath “I don't need you to reiterate it to me”.

Gilbert followed her instantly, swallowing with difficulty when he found Mistress Abigail sitting behind her desk reading loose pages, as if she were a spirit whose sole purpose was to be in the library, enjoying one of the few spaces with natural light, absorbed in silence and solitude as her singular sources of enjoyment and vitality. The alpha sometimes felt sorry for her, thinking how lonely she must feel hidden among so many books until he found himself compelled to see her, confirming an assumption he tried to make up: Mistress Abigail really did seem to hate human contact or any hint that revealed she was not alone in this world, swallowing harshly as she raised her black eyes to look at them with annoyance.

“You, again,” the lady commented, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Anne in front of her as if it were a punishment. Gilbert stifled a grin that he knew would be frowned upon not only by the librarian, but also by Anne, who would be ready to drag him by his hair “What do you want now, child?”.

The alpha could imagine the diplomatic smile she must have been flashing as Anne pointed behind her, stepping to the side so the woman could see Gilbert holding an abysmal amount of books, almost brushing his chin, an unbearable weight for most but him, who had to endure an uncomfortable pull on his back muscles “We came to return the books removed by Professor Philips for today's class”.

The librarian made no more than a guttural noise, clearly bored by the interruption, before settling her glasses on the bridge of her nose and glancing at them indifferently “I see the professor has servants now”.

“Oh, no” Gilbert could assure the nervous twitch Anne must have been trying to control, sensing the anger resurface in her again as he saw her shoulders tense at the memory “I wouldn't call it that”.

“Don't worry, it's none of my business either” the librarian dismissed, turning her attention back to Gilbert with raised eyebrows as she looked at the books. The alpha noticed she was counting, swiftly and imperceptibly, before bothering to look him in the eye “It won't be inconvenient for you to order the books yourself, young man, am I right?”.

“It won't be an inconvenience” Gilbert replied, polite and trained to please with a genuine smile and soft voice with the ease of a breath, releasing the air through his nose “I would appreciate it if you could show me the way and the right shelf, to save you the trouble further up front of relocating them”.

“Of course” the lady grunted, resting her hands on the table as an aid to standing up, surprising both Anne and Gilbert by the oddity of the situation — they had never seen her more than on rare occasions, always sitting behind the desk and motionless, showing off her height for the first time and her modest dress as she walked among them ignorant of the younger ones’ reactions “What would be the point otherwise?”.

Her surly personality didn't seem to improve even standing where the blood could flow more easily through her limbs, walking past Gilbert with a serious and annoyed expression before she began to lead them down the aisles. She was short, shorter than Anne, and her hair was tied back simply and neatly on top of her head, allowing Gilbert to observe her fingers to confirm the theory that she was not married. Most married women had no work of any kind, obliged to raise their children or to be a nice, quiet decoration in their husbands' houses; Gilbert had never shared the thought, enjoying the fine line of a warm, familiar companionship and stay, such as Sebastian and Mary possessed, a perfect balance between freedom, work and family, unlike the inordinate and abusive confinement of the men to their wives in most Avonlea families.

His father had always been a nice man, merely reserved over the years, but structured differently from his acquaintances. He had not bothered to remarry, even though it was expected that men and alphas like him would seek out a new wife after the loss of the old one, teaching him to be respectful not only of others, regardless of their genders and the prejudices people held against them, but also of himself. Gilbert could become very critical of his abilities and knowledge, of his very nature that seemed to get the better of him as a child; anger was often uncontrollable, and the realization that he was unable to control himself made his emotions even worse. John would sit with him, patiently and empathetically holding his small hands in his, breathing deeply until he felt the anger as an uncomfortable, disguisable sensation in the pit of his stomach, feeling the guilt close his throat at every turn. It was a characteristic of alphas, who possessed more hormonal and therefore emotional changes than betas, sheltered in a society that encouraged rather than diminished this sense of superiority and powerlessness; intense and uncontrollable emotions instead of being seen as wrong or worth controlling were perceived as a show of power, a demonstration of the strength of a role that had arisen to lead and dominate. Instead of feeling disgusted or firm in the face of a violent and unwarranted display by an alpha who was unable to control his emotions, most betas were in awe and the rest of the alphas, if not intimidated by an imminent threat, merely bowed their heads in silent submission and surrender.

Gilbert couldn't deny the number of times he had fantasized about not being an alpha. Of being a simple beta, without periods of rut that increased his violence and chained him to hell for days, of not having feelings that seemed bestial and unbecoming of his personality, of having to be aware of things that no one else could perceive through his senses, of not being affected by events that were invisible to everyone else. And in turn he wished to treasure it with the same pride and affection that his father had taught him, trying to see his nature in a less harmful light, more as a gift than a punishment; the prejudices they held against them made him a step higher than the others, even though he did not agree with that at all, and he had a free path to become whoever he wanted to be without any obstacles in the way. The betas had to work harder to be seen, perhaps, while the omegas (if they existed at all, despite the hunts and murders) did not even have the right to move freely, to make decisions, to study, to live their own lives. It took only a few seconds for Gilbert to look at the scenarios around him to know that he was a fortunate person, and that he should not be driven by his negative emotions other than to take charge of owning and mastering them — he wanted his dynamic to be a part of him, not a condition that would be responsible for destroying him.

He looked over his shoulder to find Anne's glowing eyes on him, secretly watching him. The same instinct, primal and deep, settled in his chest like a searing, capricious flame, determined to consume him whole if he didn't do something about it, and how could he feel guilty if the creature was watching him like that? Secretly stealing glances as if he might not be able to perceive them, curious as to what she was thinking, her distracted expression, silent as she wished it could receive the same attention as her abstract ideas and memories. Gilbert could look at her, knew she was real, and that she was there, with fate always taking care to cross them again and again, to collide and brush against each other like planets wandering through an infinite, dark, empty universe.

He tensed his jaw, pulling his eyes away from her to fix them on Madame Abigail, who had stopped her walk to point to a shelf with a slender, bony finger “All the books belong in that section, boy”.

“Thank you for taking the trouble to guide us” Gilbert replied automatically, setting the pile of books on the floor carefully to straighten up and stretch his back slyly “I'll tidy up in a matter of minutes and we'll leave so you can get on with your work”.

“As you wish” she replied, determined to leave as soon as possible as she began to walk away from them the way they had come “Close the door behind you as you leave”.

The lady left without giving any kind of farewell, simply disappearing down the corridor they had come, being absorbed by the dim light of the remaining day and the books neatly placed in their sectors. Gilbert clasped his hands behind his back, pulling them back to flex his muscles before looking at the pile of books at his feet and starting to say “Anne, you may leave, if you wish—”.

“No” Anne interrupted, setting down the books she was carrying in her hands placed on the shelf to look at him seriously “If you made me come all this way and have to face the dragon, I will at the very least see to it that I sort each and every one of these books by hand”.

         The alpha knew an argument would be in vain, resting his hands on his hips before sighing and running his fingers through his hair “Well, I guess if there's two of us we can get it done quicker”.

         She took a good amount between her hands to place them, enjoying the comfortable silence that had formed between them as they busied themselves with placing the books where they belonged, slyly glancing at Anne's profile each time she stretched a little further to reach the shelf, quietly enjoying the view and her company “Will the dragon be the ultimate nickname for a poor lady?”.

         “He called us servants” Anne snorted, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Gilbert knew how closed and stifling the library could become, frowning with concern as the young woman continued to speak “Doesn't sound like a poor lady to me”.

         “How wicked you can be when you want to, Anne” the alpha teased, setting the last of the books down before turning to watch her, resting his body against the bookshelf in a natural, relaxed manner, looking her over from head to toe without any disguise “Who knew such a pretty face could hold so much cruelty?”.

         “I'm not cruel” Anne denied, ignoring the compliment as she wiped her palms on the skirt of her dress. Gilbert reckoned most colors should look good on her, but the blue took care to bring out the oceanic hue of her eyes, the reddish color of her hair; it was a pity that the pink hue of her lips when she decided to bite them couldn't be appreciated in their debilitating pallor “I only assign characters in the story we were discussing on the way in. The librarian, as you mentioned, seems to be perfect for the role of dungeon protector beast and nothing more than that”.

         “It's fine, I can let it go” he sighed, slipping one of his hands inside his pockets to observe her more seriously than before “I brought something for you”.

         He enjoyed the raw, surprised expression on Anne's face, who suddenly shy and confused clasped her hands together in front of her, tilting her head slightly to the side curiously “For me?”.

         “Yes” he replied, feeling nerves twist his stomach as he held out the cloth—wrapped parcel and delicate bow, allowing the young woman to look at it carefully before eyeing it suspiciously “Take it, it's for you”.

         She took the package, studying it with her eyes and hands as she returned her attention to it “It's not a joke, is it? I'd like to think that inside it doesn't rest the corpse of a frog or a mouse”.

         “What kind of jokes are those? Of course not” the alpha laughed, pointing to the package with one of his hands to encourage her curiosity and urges “Open it, Anne”.

         The young woman brought the package to her nose, sniffing it before stroking the small bow with her fingertips, undoing it cautiously until she could see the contents of it with raised eyebrows; fresh biscuits rested in her hands, encouraging herself to take it between one of her hands and sniff them again with satisfaction as she looked back up at him, unable to conceal the surprise “You brought this for me”.

         “I believe your low pressure is due to a lack of sugars,” the alpha explained, taking a step towards her to take one of the biscuits from her hands without blatantly asking if he had permission to eat them. Anne raised an eyebrow, confused as to the reason for the treat, until Gilbert continued speaking “In addition to your dizziness, your weakness, among other things you must be feeling that I am unable to perceive; Mary heard what was happening to you and decided it would be a nice gesture to prepare food to make you feel better”.

         “Oh” Anne looked away from the food, sensing her blush despite the shadows, enjoying the surprise of such a magnitude that she had erased her defensive and attentive expression to something softer and more unnoticeable, tilting her head so that he could observe her more closely “That's very kind of you, but it wasn't necessary. I didn't even have the pleasure of meeting her”.

         “Don't worry about that” the alpha comforted, shaking his head to play it down “Mary greatly enjoys helping others through her many abilities, including a delicious way of cooking. She's sure, as am I, that it will help you feel better”.

         “You talk about me like I'm an old woman” Anne snorted, still maintaining an embarrassed temperature in her cheeks, taking one of the biscuits between her hands shyly and hesitantly. The alpha couldn't keep silent.

         “They're honey and oatmeal” he explained, chewing the first bite of the stolen biscuit as he waited patiently for the young woman to do the same “I hope you're not allergic to any of that”.

         Anne didn't answer, bringing the biscuit to her nose once more before watching him, taking the first bite of food with hesitation and slight resistance; Gilbert could note the exact moment the flavors mingled in her mouth and melted on her tongue as the young woman closed her eyes and made a small sound of satisfaction with her throat. The alpha swallowed audibly, sure that Anne wasn't paying attention to his reactions at all, expectantly as she opened her eyes again and fixed them on him “I've never tasted anything so good”.

         “Don't get excited” the alpha smiled, finishing eating his own biscuit when Anne took a bite again “Just because I allowed these biscuits to get to you doesn't mean it'll happen again”.

         “You always talk about everything being yours” Anne rolled her eyes, grabbing for more food as she forgot the earlier insecure shyness that deprived her of enjoying the sweetness of the honey “Is there anything that isn't?”.

         Yes. The voice inside him growled, ignoring it entirely as he gestured with his head to the gift resting in his hands “I just handed over a very precious treasure to heal you”.

         “A self-proclaimed physician since its beginning” the young woman commented, smiling slightly before lowering her gaze, as if weighing up the words she wanted to use until she cleared her throat “Thank you, Gilbert. To you and Mary, it really wasn't necessary”.

         “It's nothing” the alpha replied, feeling panicked at the absolute warmth that began to release in his chest, accentuating the dangerous and capricious inner voice that kept repeating the same thing over and over again. He took a deep breath before speaking again “I can bring them back for our study sessions, but I don't think the division will be at all equal”.

         “I don't mind” Anne replied, licking her lips before shrugging disinterestedly “I'm going to steal them from you before you can eat them”.

         “I thought you didn't do that since you left the orphanage” Gilbert frowned in mock indignation, effortlessly leaving the rest of the food for Anne to enjoy on her own “As well as a thief you're a liar?”.

         “I can make an exception” she lifted one of the biscuits in her hand before taking a bite, tilting her head to the side and looking at him silently when the alpha didn't answer, blinking slowly, until she suddenly muttered “Why are you doing this?”.

         The alpha frowned in confusion, retreating back to his previous relaxed, natural pose against the books, surprisingly comfortable to find himself in a dark, dank library watching someone else eat as if he had no better activities to pursue “Do what?”.

         “Why...?” Anne averted her gaze to the side, watching the embarrassment and insecurity at her doubts reflect in her delicate face, in the faltering of her words “Why do you care about me?”.

         He opened his mouth to make a false and hurried explanation, unable to define the real reason why he had this kind of gesture with her, this kind of concern, attention and obsession that he couldn't seem to escape from, but she interrupted him by approaching him with determination “Don't tell me you act this way with everyone because it's not true. I've seen you”.

From this angle, he allowed himself to wander, he could see her freckles, her eyelashes, the cupid's bow of her lips; if he took a deep breath he would be able to smell the honey-sweet scent of her breath, feel the faint warmth of her skin as he reached out and stroked her hand through the dense fabrics of her dress and coats. Gilbert wanted to concentrate, to speak from a rational and cowardly and convenient side, but the unruly area of his head, his powerful and absolute nature ringing in his ears would not allow him to resist, would not allow him to resist and lie and hide. His mouth spoke before he could think twice “You were looking at me”.

         The statement was not accompanied by a mocking or arrogant tone, but by a desire to repeat it, to take it in, to make it real. Anne seemed to perceive it this way, too, because she did not frown in annoyance or take a step backwards to run away from him. It was strange to find himself in a situation where Anne was the one who approached, who sought answers and cornered him, when Gilbert was usually the one who took such actions. He felt exposed, out of place, and he hated the feeling of not being in control, of feeling like prey instead of a wolf. Anne swallowed, blinking before muttering vaguely, “Maybe”.

         “You don't have to lie to me, Anne” he replied, deciding he could move closer, leaning in with his back still against the books and with a small girl standing in the aisle in front of him, of all places in a library, curious as to why he cared about her. The beast inside him smiled softly, almost moaning with pleasure at being given such a divine, special gift; the young girl looking at him with gentle eyes, her attention devoted to him entirely, drawing closer as if she couldn't resist the warmth of his skin, the safety of his nearness. Slowly he was beginning to enjoy her questions, her positions, the little game that lay before him as a perfect opportunity that would be able to culminate in the chase that made his heart beat with electricity and hot blood “Do you want to know the truth?”.

         He was losing his mind, he knew it. The strings that bound his decency, logic and morals were beginning to tremble beneath the claws that tugged at him, the sharp fangs that tore at him, the fierce snarl that silenced his doubts and his worries. Silence, that sounded good. It sounded so good to ignore it all and surrender, surrender to desire, surrender to the natural movement of his body and his nature without restraint, without fear — Anne seemed to sense a change, intrigued by what was happening, being such a good girl to stay close to him without moving a muscle despite the slight tension in her shoulders at the darkness in his pupils. She really was perfect, with her moist lips and delicate braids and her eyes curious and surprised at his question, considering the right words as she spoke slowly, so slowly it seemed to be a whispered “Yes”.

         “I'm going to ask you again” the alpha murmured, breathing slowly through his nose, enjoying the ecstasy of the balanced combination of his reasoning and his alpha controlling him with gracefulness “And I want you to think about the consequences first, Anne, can you do that for me?”.

         Of course she was going to be able to. He wanted to smile fully, showing his sharp teeth without fear that he could scare her; it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, ignoring the shiver in warning of the sadness it would cause to see her scared because of him. Gilbert would hate that, she would not be able to forgive him, or he would do his best to replace the fear with something much sweeter — he was going to take great care of Anne, no doubt, he was the only one who could take care of her, if Anne would let him. If Anne could take one more step and let herself be seen by him, if she would allow him to remove the scarf around her pretty neck to lick her throat, the alpha would not let her be cold, or hungry, or distressed; he would push it all away without any complaint or effort. That was what he was made for, after all.

         The young woman, of course, had taken his warning with care, eyeing him cautiously as she weighed his husky words, his predatory stance, his scent so heavy that it quickened her heart to a delicious and unique rhythm. Gilbert thought he'd be able to pick her out in a room full of warm hearts, could reach her with eyes closed, as if the pumping of her blood were divine music tattooed on his body and instincts. He slid his eyes over the scarf, over her shoulders, over her hands that still delicately held the food he had brought as a gift, enjoying the silence and the waiting; Gilbert enjoyed waiting, considered his patience a great virtue, more so when he had to do so in front of a beautiful, warm creature who didn't seem sure whether to fear him or come closer.

         Anne licked her lips, aware that the alpha could sense the quickening of her heartbeat and perhaps the slight, unsteady trembling of her knees as, unable to find her voice in the intensity of his gaze and scent, she nodded her head. Gilbert wanted to close his eyes and throw his head back to take a deep breath, refusing to lose the beautiful sight of the girl so desperately wanting to know how he felt about her that she struggled not to run away from him, ignoring her reasoning and her instincts that should be crying out that they should get away, that they should hide from him. Gilbert didn't want that, wasn't going to allow it, letting the air out of his nose as he stretched his hand towards her head, sliding his warm, stiff touch along the soft skin of her nape, smiling slightly when Anne shivered under his caress, keeping her feet planted on the ground like the beautiful girl she was. His voice came out husky, clear and deep as he spoke again, slowly letting go of what little internal resistance lay within him “I like you, Anne”.

         The words, in another situation, might have sounded weak, empty and insignificant, but Gilbert knew how they had left his mouth; he knew it must have looked dangerous with the shadows of the library defining his face, with his height looming over her with determination, with his heavy scent clouding her head, with his dark, bottomless eyes taking in her every little movement. He noted with a small smile as Anne stifled a breath, hearing her heart skim a heartbeat too hectic for his liking, making a sound of denial with his tongue, a tsk that was followed by husky, slurred words in a natural way to calm her “No, no”.

         Without moving away from the light brush of one of his hands over the nape of her neck, he reached out with the remaining hand, resting it on her chest, careful not to touch anything Anne would not have allowed. He could feel the frantic beating of her heart brushing against his palm, through flesh, muscle and bone, forcing him to look at her calmly “You have nothing to fear”.

         He exerted a slight pressure that forced Anne to release the air she was holding, inhaling it again when Gilbert released his pressure. Slowly her heart, still possessing a nervous beat like the fluttering of a hummingbird, abandoned the unnatural speed to regain a rhythmic pulse, causing the alpha to slowly smile “Very good”.

         “You like me” Anne stammered, hearing her heart race again, unable to help but look at her seriously when Anne ignored him and continued speaking “You're not... you're not lying to me”.

         “Of course not” the alpha murmured, trying to think through the primal satisfaction of touching her, of feeling her warmth through her clothes, of being able to caress the softness of the skin on the back of her neck that the scarf didn't quite cover “I'm not capable of lying to you”.

         “What do you mean you're not?” she asked, gently denying in his grip, but not pulling away from him. His eyes darkened a little more, his scent becoming denser in the enclosed space “You lied to me before, you can do it now”.

         “I can't lie to you, Anne” the alpha murmured, moving the hand resting on her chest away to bring it to her face, keeping his touch close to her so that she could resist — when the young woman made no movement or expression of refusal, he moved to caress one of her cheeks with the rough knuckles of his fingers. The contrast was abysmal and, at the same time, complementary. He had to suppress a sigh of pleasure as he explained, with patience and acceptance, “You can see when I lie, and you can see when I tell the truth. You can see me”.

         Gilbert watched as Anne leaned against his hand, closing her eyes to enjoy the warmth of his skin, taking an imperceptible step closer to her body, causing the world to tremble beneath his feet and his mouth to go dry at the devastating sensation of needing to be close, of wanting to touch her, of longing to be able to look at her for as long as he wished. Yet when Anne began to shake her head and turn away from him, away from the touch of his hands, he felt that his heart had stopped beating and resumed an anxious, broken rhythm; why did she keep rejecting him? Why did she turn away from him when he was opening his heart to her, when he was ready to give it all? He frowned as Anne drew in a shaky breath, still shaking her head until she finally focused her eyes on him, feeling the blood in his veins freeze as he could make out the wet, sad gleam in her eyes “I can't, Gilbert. I can't”.

         Anne was on the verge of tears, sad and frightened, perhaps, and he felt his muscles twitch before he could define the next step he should take — he took her face in his hands, forcing her to focus on him, looking at her with concern and rawness and a determination that gave no room for escape or lying “Anne, what's wrong? What's wrong?”.

         “I can't, Gilbert, I can't do this” Anne continued to deny, still in his hands, taking his arms in a firm grip that seemed desperate not to be let go, not to pull away from him. The alpha felt like he was going mad at her anguish, at her fear that he couldn't see and sense, feeling something heavy settle in his chest as he noticed a salty tear fall “I can't explain it to you, but I know it's dangerous, and I know I don't want to...”.

         “Tell me, Anne” his words came out spoken through his teeth, careful not to clench her face from the heavy anger that coursed through his body with the same force of an ocean, of wildfires, of something superior and unnatural that pinned his feet to the ground and radiated a growl from his chest with such ferocity that Anne widened her eyes in exaggeration when she heard it “Tell me, and I'm going to help you. I swear”.

         Anne let the tears fall freely, sinking him further into a sense of despair that was pushing him even further into an uncharted, out of control state that he thought himself incapable of getting out of. The young woman breathed hot against his face, pressed between his body and one of the shelves, trying to control her crying “You don't understand, Gilbert. You can't do anything about this, you or anyone else”.

         The alpha wiped away the salty tears with his thumbs carefully, keeping a growl so low that it seemed to be a vibration rather than a growl. Anne trembled with fear and helplessness beneath his hands, making him stagger once and for all into a state he could no longer resist, taking Anne by her shoulders to pull her close to his broad chest and wrap his arms around her, embracing her warmly and securely; Anne tensed beneath his grip, nervous and hesitant at the new position, until she surrendered into his touch and sank into his chest, feeling her breaths heaving against his shirt “Breathe, Anne. Breathe with me”.

Gilbert inflated his chest slowly until Anne, after agitated breaths, was able to inflate it in the same way, releasing it as he did several times until she felt calmer with the silent tears still falling from her eyes. He rested his chin on her head, sliding his heavy, warm hands down her back, concentrating on the slender muscles, on the softness of her hair as he carefully combed it. He sought her face gently, cupping it with one of his hands so he could look at her; he stifled the growl that formed menacingly in his chest at her flushed nose and wet eyes, stroking her cheek and blinking slowly “You're not going to tell me today, but someday you're going to”.

         In a different context, where Anne was looking at him from a distance with a raised chin and quick responses perhaps the young woman would have been offended, replying that she was never going to tell him, and who did he think he was to make such an assumption about her. Now, fragile in his arms, resting her face in one of his hands and watching him as if she wished she could speak, as if she could reveal what was tormenting her, the warning seemed to make her feel accompanied and heard, murmuring sadly, “I'll never be able to do it”.

         The alpha tensed his jaw, brushing his knuckles against her smooth, damp skin, deciding that it wasn't worth arguing about a topic that, at this point, would get them nowhere. He replied, still stroking her, and in a voice careful not to exalt her “We'll talk about it, okay?”.

         Anne looked ready to argue, opening her mouth to refuse, until she decided to pull back and close her eyes tightly “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted that way. I let all the biscuits fall on the floor”.

         “Don't worry” the alpha nodded, still holding her in his arms, taking a deep breath to concentrate on her warmth, on the redness of her face from crying “I can bring more”.

“Gilbert” Anne sighed, shaking her head, allowing the alpha to hold her face carefully “You don't need to bring any more. I just threw them away, I'm not worthy of Mary's cooking”.

         “I'll think about it” the alpha lied, sliding his eyes down her face, lingering on her lips without any disguise. Anne, still nervous and agitated for a reason she could not reveal, stood still under his gaze with irritated eyes and bated breath. She listened to the arrhythmic throbbing as he spoke slowly, carefully “Can you do me a favor, Anne?”.

         Gilbert had no control or guilt over the beast roaring inside him, clawing at his chest in desperation and anguish at seeing her frightened and sad, pushing him to do something to calm her, to make her understand that she needn't fear anything if she allowed the alpha to be by her side. Gilbert wanted to take care of her, and he wasn't doing a good job if he could watch her cry in absolute silence and do nothing about it, stroking her face gently as Anne muttered under her breath, “What kind of favour?”.

         The alpha moved closer, moved so close that their noses brushed as they had in their previous encounter, tightening his arms around her as his hot breath caressed her lips, connecting his eyes with hers honestly and carefully “I want you to be still for a few minutes for me”.

         Anne, blinking slowly at his gaze, feeling the tension in her muscles under his arms, didn't bother to answer in the affirmative or negative, still and silent, too dejected or embarrassed to say yes aloud, allowing that the alpha could do so without granting explicit permission. Gilbert sighed against her skin, feeling his reasoning and nature collapse within him as he moved even closer to her face, brushing the tip of his nose against hers, intimate and slow, sliding it to her cheek; the purpose of his request was so obvious that, if he thought about it, he knew his cheeks would flush red with embarrassment, but he couldn't care less. The need to leave his scent lightly on her skin, a firm, confident fragrance surrounding her senses to soothe and distract her, wishing from the most primal and irrational side of his thoughts that he could bite her skin lightly to leave a hard-to-ignore mark on her body — the desire to comfort her, to drive away everything that would make her cry and settle her fears, to wrap her in warmth and enclose her was greater than any natural and common procedure, like walking away from her and saying goodbye on the footpaths so that she could leave instead of marking her with his scent. He couldn't tell if the process would be more reassuring to Anne, who had dropped her eyelids to surrender to the sensation, tilting her head to the side for better access, or to the alpha, who was holding back a deep, possessive growl at the idea that she was worried, so scared she was afraid to engage him and share the reason with him. 

         Anne was breathing slowly in his arms, letting him mark her as if despite her panic she couldn't resist his nearness, seeking the reassurance only he could give her, daring to brush her cheek against his with no desire to shoo her away, watching her intently when Anne blinked slowly and through thick lashes “Gilbert”.

         And so, with the pretty girl calling his name quietly in his arms, the alpha decided that sooner or later, no matter what or who (the very idea tinged his vision red) he was going to discover the reason for her distress and, when he did, there would be no force capable of stopping him.

Chapter Text

“Gilbert” Anne murmured into his chest, feeling the heavy tears burn in her eyes, sinking her face further into the delicate fabric of his shirt.

She felt a choking pressure in her throat and chest, struggling to breathe through the unbearable weight settling in her lungs and heart, closing her eyes tightly to try to regain control over herself — she didn't understand what was wrong with her, with her body and her mind, with her actions and her conflicting feelings that instead of helping her were pushing her over and over again, forcing her to stumble over her own feet and bringing her closer to a precipice from which she would not be able to climb out once she fell into it. Confusion and panic clouded her reasoning and her determination, knowing that turning away from the alpha and running away from him as she had done so many times before was the best option to protect them from something chaotic and inevitable, to prevent a situation that would leave hell at their feet and burn the ground they walked on; but finding herself this way, surrounded by his firm and strong arms, feeling his warm and caring hands caressing her spine, the scent of his skin and nature enveloping her like a sinful and wrong and safe paradise, as if it was the first place in the world that was made for her, as if she had found the first hand—carved body to hold her, to breathe slowly over the crown of her head as if he was able to perceive her natural fragrance, as if he really knew who she truly was.

Anne didn't understand how she had ended up in his arms, how she had felt something so deep and negative and putrid for him from the depths of her heart upon meeting him, knowing it was uncontrollable fear as she could discern the power he possessed in her omega, in her body and in her head, wanting to escape from his fingers every time he took a step closer, every time she allowed herself to fantasize about the possibility of closing her eyes and enjoying his warmth and raspy voice, only to be devoured by devastating and absolute feelings that took her little heart in their hands and squeezed it with brutality. She would never have thought she would be within meters of someone as dangerous as Gilbert, wary of the effects his presence had on her, feeling her walls slowly crumbling at every little action; his indecipherable gazes, the alpha's explicit and selfless care for her, making sure she felt good, warm, full, listening to her attentively, careful of her boundaries and curious about her interests, her stories, her moods. She shouldn't be talking to him, shouldn't be looking at him the way she used to, shouldn't be thinking about his scent and his closeness, shouldn't be asking aloud what he thought of her and letting him touch her head and her chest, nor should she cry in front of him in a panic knowing that he liked her (as if that were possible) and even less should she hug him, clinging to him as if he were the oxygen her lungs needed — and yet, even though she shouldn't, she couldn't let go of him, she wouldn't and couldn't get away from him. For the first time in her life not only her head seemed to be peaceful and quiet, but also her nature, which seemed to force her tense muscles to relax and take a deep breath.

She came out of hiding, lifting her chin instinctively and automatically, her eyes remaining closed as the alpha brought the tip of his nose to one of her cheeks, marking it with a faint trace of his scent once more; the act was so intimate, unconscious and primal that Anne felt the small voice in her head whispering in her ears with pleasure, forcing her to melt into his arms as if her body was made of a liquid, compliant material for, what seemed to be, the only man in the world.

Alpha, alpha, I've been waiting for you. Always, forever.

Her hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt like a reflex, overwhelmed by the sensation of his nose caressing the soft skin of her face, pressing her quivering body against Gilbert's defined muscles; the physical difference was not only summed up in the height gap, which she was learning to enjoy, but in the solid, lithe definition of the alpha's body, being extremely careful with his light touches towards her, as if he might be able to break her with the touch of his hand. His fingers delicately caressed her back, sliding down her spine, plunged in silent concern for the terror he could not discern, anxious not to know the reason for her crying and anguish — Anne knew she had to pull away from him, push him by the shoulders and lie for fear of all the possibilities that could happen if she gave in to him, to his eyes, to her instincts, but she allowed herself to close her eyes and let him continue to leave his fragrance on her like a sweet and merciful lie to herself. She tried in vain to fight the faint voice singing in her head, yearning to ignore the unfamiliar, warm sensation that settled deep in her belly, tangling her breath and filling her mouth with saliva.

Gilbert's breath fell over her face heavily as he pulled away slightly to watch her with widened pupils, still stroking her back in a rhythmic, soothing motion, opening her eyes heavily and long lashes to stare at him in confusion and fear from the emotions that closed her throat, that turned her palms sweaty at the foreign sensation in her belly and inner thighs, feeling fragile and exposed to him and his gaze. The alpha was the first to break the silence, reaching up with one of his hands to tuck her messy hair from being hugged into his chest, positioning it behind her ear before stroking her cheek with his thumb; the caress caused a shiver to run up her spine, feeling the shame tense her shoulders as the alpha murmured, “You got dirty”.

Oh. Sweeping mortification heated her cheeks, thinking of the possibilities of what the word dirt could mean, resting her hands against his chest instantly to pull away from him and hide from his analytical eyes when Gilbert, with disturbing speed, grabbed both her wrists with a single hand before shaking his head, sketching a patient and genuine smile that made her frown, stirring uncomfortably in place when the alpha spoke again “May I?”.

May I what? Anne frowned her brow even more, making a weak tug of her hands to free herself, thinking about the position she was in: tears drying on her cheeks, hair in disarray, her back brushing against one of the pieces of furniture attached to the wall and in front of her an alpha hovering over her effortlessly, enveloping her with his body and his scent and hindering her feelings and thoughts. She opened her mouth to protest, stretching out her hands uselessly once more, caught in the alpha's iron-yet-delicate grip as she watched his face closely, noticing that his eyes were not looking into hers, but his lips wet and swollen from crying. Oh, in her stupefaction she could find nothing but calling his name “Gilbert”.

“It won't take long,” the alpha explained, absently stroking the sensitive skin of her wrists covered by the multiple layers of fabric of her dress; otherwise, she was sure her knees would have trembled violently under the weight of her body. She blinked slowly as the young man continued to speak, mortified and surprised, “Just...”.

When the man moved his hand, bringing his fingers to her swollen lips, Anne reacted with wide eyes and the instinctive response not to move without a second thought. The physical response of her nature irritated her deeply, believing how primal the impulse to freeze or run was, unable to resist anyway her senses taking control of her body to fix her in position, breathing fast in his grip, following every expression on his face with a curious gaze, sensing his heavy presence and his overpowering scent filling her lungs and drowning in it. Gilbert, who still seemed stricken by her distress without being able to tell why, seemed silently desperate to soothe her, to touch her as much as possible, reluctant to part from her and tensing his jaw in disgust at her discomfort, looking for excuses not to let go so that he could caress her until Anne reached her limit. The young woman felt her heart beating nervously in her fingertips, in the pulse of her neck hidden behind the handkerchief wrapped around her throat, in her ears as Gilbert carefully, dark—eyed, brushed his thumb under her lips, wiping her chin.

By this point Anne dared to guess that the dirt must have been scant or non-existent, probably an imperceptible remnant of the sweet biscuits Gilbert had brought for her, crumbs that could only be seen by his sharp gaze or a scarcely believable lie that had worked to perfection. Anne released the air she was holding through her lips, knowing that her breath was coming into dangerous contact with the finger resting on her chin, feeling her legs dig into the floor, her grip intensifying further on his shirt, fearful that he would pull away from her and fearful that he was holding her, feeling a voice frail and distant from her logic shouting what she should do, what was safe, right and predictable. Now, lost in dark and suffocating corridors of a closed and empty library, surrounded by pages, chandeliers and secrets, Anne didn't want to do what she should, didn't want to burst into tears at her terror and cowardice, didn't want to ignore the nature that vibrated in her chest and pulsed in her veins  — this time, just this once where the world around her seemed to stop and cease to exist, Anne silenced the voice that put chains on her wrists and ankles, the voice that kept her in the cold and lonely darkness. This time Anne was going to do what she really wanted, as far as her limits would stretch, feeling her legs tremble slightly as Gilbert, without removing his touch from her face, watched with the sharp bones of his face and the shadows defined in his eyes the sudden stillness of the girl in front of him, dropping her shoulders and gently moving towards his touch, a silent, sinful, intimate permission. A secret between them. The first of many, nature purred in her head.

         The alpha, as expected, did not abandon his gentleness in touching her despite the darkness in his pupils, the tension in his body that expressed promise and danger, the warning of his scent that should terrify her, overwhelm her with its intensity, but did nothing but weaken her legs and fill her mouth with saliva. Gilbert couldn't find out she was an omega, she wouldn't have to keep approaching him like this and her parents were probably waiting for her with angry concern furrowing their brows, but when the alpha tentatively slid his thumb against her lower lip, Anne felt that none of that was important. None of it was important enough to keep her from his large hand caressing her face, from the front of his body pressing against hers firmly, from his masculine scent dancing in front of her nose as if he were tasting her; her insides protested whimsically, wanting to make a guttural moan from the back of her throat, resisting it out of a desire to retain some semblance of dignity and head, settling for the tentative brush of his thumb against her mouth when Gilbert spoke in a low voice, a deep, raspy tone “Don't you think it's cruel to do this to me?”.

         Anne swallowed, blinking slowly at his question as Gilbert explored the hand resting on her back through the slender muscles of her spine, up to her shoulder blades and finally positioning a gentle grip over the scarf and her nape; he couldn't disguise his distaste for the garment, frowning slightly as the young woman decided to answer his question “Do what?”.

         “Not tell me what scares you” the alpha replied, ignoring Anne's tension at the mention of the subject to lift her chin with one of his fingers to study her “Not tell me how I can help you”.

         The omega held still under his gaze, allowing the alpha to observe her as if she were a jewel, a treasure he was appreciating with wonder, stroking the back of her neck on the fabric, keeping his face at that level to stare at her for as long as he saw fit. Gilbert's movements were defined and precise, as if he knew instinctively how to hold her, what words to say to keep her calm and docile in his hands, with his dominant stance and intimidating stature over her, still expressing his concern for her, a mere reminder that Anne seemed to hold the greater power between the two of them “I'm not cruel, Gilbert”.

         “I know” the alpha murmured, smiling slightly as he slid his finger along the edge of her teeth, not coming across as invasive or unwanted; Anne, not thinking of her own actions, opened her mouth even wider to enjoy his touch. The alpha made a pleased noise from deep in her throat and chest, similar to a growl, but without sounding threatening “How could a creature as pretty as you be cruel?”.

         Gilbert, without any warning, pressed the grip he possessed on the back of her neck, knocking the air from her lungs in surprise and the overwhelming, pleasurable chaos that coursed through her body despite being touched lightly and superficially, licking her lips obediently when Gilbert withdrew his finger from her mouth, breathing heavily on her face as he continued to speak, mesmerised “Tell me, Anne”.

Anne raised her eyebrows curiously, reluctant to answer aloud when the alpha granted a slight squeeze, a small warning of his displeasure when he shook his head, not taking his eyes off her for a second “I want you to use your words”.

         Anne swallowed, in a desperate attempt to control the unusual amount of saliva in her mouth, feeling the shame and outrage run heavy through her veins, at the same time fighting the same unfamiliar, unmitigated heat that settled in her belly, on her wrists, on her neck, on the inside of her thighs. She found no strength to protest or tease him, escaping the uncomfortable anxiety rising in her chest at the possibility of being rejected by him “Yes?”.

         “Very well” the alpha smiled, pleased, still stroking the back of her neck gently, releasing air through his nose before tilting his head to the side to study her better, watching her with dilated pupils and a heavy voice. Anne thought about protesting or laughing at him, knowing it wouldn't be a good idea to test his position when he was looking at her like prey “I want you to listen to me carefully, Anne, and I know you will answer truthfully, am I wrong?”.

         Anne shook her head slowly, feeling her heart quicken its pace as she noticed the silence that had stretched between them for not answering properly. She cleared her throat before answering, “No. I try to be as honest as possible most of the time”.

         The alpha, with his free hand, slid his touch across her shoulders, without being invasive, as if to undo the impending tension in her posture and relax her watchful eyes. Anne knew better than to worry, for if anything was wrong or out of place Gilbert would be able to sense it with his ears or his nose, certain that Madame Abigail must be sitting naively in her place, unaware that they were in the same space, shielded by hundreds of books and accumulated dust. No one, in their many long study sessions, had appeared in or around the library, trying to lessen the anxiety of being encountered by an improbable and non-existent being; the only thing that could be perceived was Gilbert's scent, intense and enveloping everything around them as an implicit and instinctive warning that they did not want to be disturbed, believing that the librarian's weak beta nose must be even more dysfunctional due to her advanced age. She was content to allow Gilbert, holding her by the nape of her neck and caressing her shoulders delicately, to express himself freely in husky voice and complicit smiles, obediently waiting for her to listen.

         “I don't want to scare you” the alpha confessed, looking at her predatorily, pulling his hand away from her shoulders before sighing and stroking her chin addictively, as if letting go of her touch physically hurt him “But I can't keep quiet, I can't pretend anymore what I feel, what I want”.

         Anne watched him with wide eyes, feeling her rational, panicked conscience scream that she should get away from him, that she shouldn't listen to him anymore, that sooner or later she was going to end up dead and it would be unfair to allow him to feel anything for her when she knew none of that would be possible, but still she took a deep breath, breathed in his scent and stilled under his hand as the alpha frowned, expressing frustration through his words, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as Gilbert brought his face close to hers, bringing it so close that he could rest his forehead against hers, breathing on her mouth, devouring her with his gaze without waiting for any response as he continued to speak low and dangerous “I'm tired of pretending that I don't care to have you near, that I don't wish to touch you, that I don't long to look at you. And it consumes me, Anne, it consumes me not being able to get close, it consumes me having to look away, it consumes me seeing you cry and not being able to do anything about it. It drags me into madness in a way you wouldn't be able to understand, it burns me”.

         “Gilbert...” she felt all the extensive vocabulary that lay in her mind and on her tongue vanish before her eyes, holding the man's shirt tightly in reflex at his devastating and hungry confession, feeling the biscuits crumble under her boots as she dropped them during her crying.

         “I never felt this way,” the alpha murmured, closing his eyes in front of hers, not separating their foreheads, as if the mere awareness of his feelings was painful and unavoidable, “I never felt this way, and I don't know what else to do to push it away, to stop feeling it, to stop wanting you like you're all I need. It's not just my head, Anne, it's my heart, and it's my nature. My instincts won't let me think of anything other than you, other than your movements, other than the stupid scarf that covers your throat as if you could hide from me”.

         Anne felt her heart beating wildly inside her ribs, ringing in her ears, vibrating in her fingertips, breathing agitatedly through her nose as Gilbert opened his eyes to look at her with something indecipherable and absolute, feeling the walls he built to protect himself fall apart around him “I don't expect you to understand, Anne, and I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings. I only need one thing. Just one thing”.

         This was the moment she had been waiting for. She knew it in her bones, in the devastating silence that fell over them despite their heaving breaths and arrhythmic hearts, in the shadows that covered the alpha's face and in the slight trembling of her hands as she knew she had to make one of the most important and dangerous decisions, knowing she had to choose in a matter of seconds, knowing that any decision would have no turning back and would scar her soul forever. She took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar, safe fragrance, as if he was made for her, in the warmth that soaked her body in protection and comfort, in his dark, patient, naked eyes, baring his feelings, thoughts and weaknesses in front of her, as if he were placing a dagger in her hand and exposing his chest so that she could stab him if she chose to. Gilbert was putting a choice in front of her not out of selfishness, but out of the simple and devastating realization that he could not and would no longer endure the feeling that was destroying him in body and head, and he was greatly mistaken in supposing that Anne could not understand it; the omega felt pieces of her heart bleed out at every occasion that she had to turn away from him, that she had to ignore her wants and needs for fear of what might happen, at the physical repercussions of refusing again and again what her omega asked of her, clawing at her chest, on her knees, tying her throat in an unbearable knot.

         A heartbeat passed, two, when Gilbert spoke again carefully, as if afraid to break the fragile glass box that hovered above them “Let me take care of you, Anne”.

         Anne felt like she couldn't breathe, that no matter how hard she tried to inhale the oxygen, the scorching scent of his skin, connecting her pleading eyes with his, pressing her fists to gather strength to pull away from him, beginning to shake her head with her voice whispering in her ears over and over again.

         You're going to kill him, he's going to die because of you, get away, let him go, let him....

         “I'm scared” she whispered so low she feared the alpha hadn't been able to hear her, shaking her head and finally gently nudging Gilbert, who didn't move an inch, pressing his forehead against hers as he blinked at her changing expression. In the darkness and silence, with his jaw tense, his gaze dark, his scent suddenly dangerous, a warning that bristled her skin and stopped her heart from the strength and tension in her shoulders, in the determination of his words when he responded.

         “You won't have to be afraid anymore” the weakness of his confession, the rawness of his despair at exposing his feelings in front of her had disappeared, replaced by a lethal coldness, a promise that chilled the blood in her veins. He brushed his nose against hers as he murmured, quietly, “You're going to have me”.

         Anne trembled in his arms, releasing the air through her lips and closing her eyes, struggling with the reasoning exclaiming in her head and the instinct clawing inside her, knowing she must listen to one thing, knowing she must do one thing only, feeling her soul split at the thought that maybe, if she allowed the alpha to be in her life he could take her away from all that, protect her from societies and churches that wished to hunt them down, from Ruby's innocent face plunged in anguish at Gilbert's disinterest, in her parents' deep disapproval if they felt the dominant trace of his scent on her skin — she opened her eyes, parted her lips in denial, gathering the strength to step back and let it all go, taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, slowly, feeling her heart on the verge of bursting as she looked at the shape of his eyebrows, his bushy eyelashes, the masculine arch of his nose, the delicacy of his cheeks. Anne was going to walk away, she was going to turn and walk away, she was going to say no and never look over her shoulder again. She was going to do it, she was going to... “I can't”.

         She let a sigh pass, ignoring the alarms in her head, the guilt and terror weighing on her chest, before she stretched her neck and positioned herself on her tiptoes to join her lips with his.

         Her heart was pounding so violently in her head that she feared it would stop at any moment, feeling an impending dizziness shake her body from nervousness and panic, paralyzed in place and sensing the blood leaving her face. A few seconds passed, neither of them making any kind of movement, until Anne made a small push against the alpha's chest to pull away, horrified that she had made a mistake when Gilbert growled against her lips.

         The growl was ragged and deep, bristling her skin and replacing the panic with something much heavier and warmer, emitting a faint sound from the back of her throat as the alpha held the back of her neck, pulling her head back for better access, pushing her against the bookshelf and books to own her entirely. His lips felt hot and wet as the young man reciprocated her kiss, feeling the vibration on her skin from the steady growl, parting her lips with his tongue to lick her mouth hungrily and possessively, using his free hand to rest it on her throat in a definitive and commanding manner. His scent had become sweet and addictive, inviting her to open her mouth a little wider, to clench her hands in his shirt uselessly, to spread her legs imperceptibly apart beneath the multiple layers of her dress so Gilbert could come closer, so he could sink into her and keep kissing her as if his life depended on it, unable to contain the threatening growl and satisfied to finally be able to touch her like this. She felt like her body no longer belonged to her, but to something animalistic and pleasurable that controlled her movements and her thoughts, trying to reciprocate Gilbert's kiss that left nothing in its wake; the alpha's lips slid viciously across her mouth, bucking his hips against hers impulsively and holding her in place with the firm grip he kept on her throat.

         Anne could do nothing but receive what Gilbert was giving her, opening her mouth for his tongue to lick inside, parting her legs so that the young man could press himself against her, feeling her knees tremble at the overwhelming and constant sensations of the heat in her lower belly, at the sensitivity of the skin of her inner thighs and wrists, hearing the omega inside her head sigh deliriously, more, more, more, more.

         Gilbert couldn't tear himself away from her, licking her lips and leaning down to bite her lower lip gently, nipping the flesh between his sharp teeth and getting Anne to let out a moan as pleasure brushed against pain, unable to move as the alpha bit her lips, positioning one of his hands over her face to squeeze her cheeks, pinning her in place. All that could be discerned in the empty library, besides the dusty pages and the maze of furniture, were her heaving breaths, the alpha's menacing growl and the frantic humming of her heart, crumpling his shirt between her hands in a desperate attempt to stand upright from the intensity of her emotions.

         The alpha parted from her slowly, allowing his hot breath to fall over her mouth, gazing down at her with dark eyes, drinking in the heaving rise of her chest, the innocence of her gaze, the swell of her lips. Anne trembled beneath his touch, overcome by what had just happened and the consequences it might provoke, listening intently as Gilbert spoke in a deep voice “Look at you, Anne”.

         The young woman couldn't respond other than a brittle sound from her throat, pressing her knees together as she felt helpless and exposed beneath his gaze, allowing the alpha to tilt her face to the side, exposing her jaw and throat carefully “So good for me and I didn't have to say a single word”.

“You look beautiful this way” a shiver ran up her spine as Gilbert spoke again, feeling the alpha move the hand holding the back of her neck away to nuzzle her neck, sliding his touch over the scarf and her shoulder, caressing her delicately. His chest rose and fell deeply, still clutching her face and beginning to brush his thumb against her cheek in an attempt to calm the arrhythmic heart beneath her ribs “It's a pity that only I can see you”.

Gilbert moved slowly closer, beginning to brush his nose against her cheek, against the edge of her jaw, enjoying the shivers of the omega beneath his touch. Anne bit her tongue as the alpha took her earlobe between his teeth, growling deeply at the sensation, sliding her nose down the length of his throat, nuzzling his face in appreciation as Anne stretched her neck to give him better access. The scarf still covered her neck and Gilbert made no attempt to remove it, sensing the importance Anne attached to it, letting out a sigh when the alpha pressed his lips to scant exposed skin, shivering from head to toe as the young man continued to lightly kiss all he could encompass; amidst the heat that licked at her insides, losing her reasoning slowly with each touch, Anne felt the alpha leave delicate kisses on her throat not only with the desire to taste her, but also to

mark her more effectively knowing that her scent would be more impregnated with his lips. Anne took a deep breath, feeling her body become docile and relaxed in his grip, resting her weight against his body and the hand that held her face, finding herself in a state of peace, relaxation and comfort she had never been in before. Being so carefully marked by Gilbert made her feel protected, knowing that his scent would be with her for hours on end as a constant reminder of his presence, as if he was orbiting around her even though he wasn't physically near her.

         But now he was. Now he was touching her, breathing in her ear and causing her skin to bristle in response, burning everything in his path, weakening her legs and inviting her to melt into his arms, breathing through her lips when the alpha decided he was satisfied with the scent reflecting off her body; the growling had now reduced to a low rumble, consisting only of the vibrating sensation against her palms as they were pressed against his chest, feeling the sound against her jaw as Gilbert silently settled his mouth in that area, grazing his teeth and sliding one of his hands to her waist possessively and impatiently as he murmured her name again “Anne”.

         “Tell me” she replied huskily from lack of use, tilting her face towards his as the alpha continued to kiss her face, her jaw, her cheeks, her eyelids with warm wet lips. Anne felt the muscles flex beneath her grip as Gilbert pulled away slightly to look at her once more.

         “I hate to say this,” the alpha shook his head, sensing him stifle a frustrated growl from deep in his chest, breathing deeply of his dominant scent. One of his hands caressed one of her cheeks while the other brushed an absent thumb against her hip bone, as if apologizing “But we have to go”.

         Alpha, no, no, no, no.

         She didn't want to leave, why would she want to do that? She was protected from the cold in his arms, away from any malevolent gazes and alphas with unpleasant smells that caused headaches surrounded by Gilbert's scent and the attention of his dark gaze, following her with adoration and care, inviting her to give herself to his hands, his mouth and his sharp teeth that ran over her with care. Anne watched him with long lashes and wide eyes, willing herself to hide the devastating sense of disappointment that formed in her bones, knowing she had failed miserably as the alpha frowned and kissed the corner of her lips tenderly, “I'm sorry, baby, but your parents must be worried about you. I do not wish you to be punished because of me”.

         Gilbert didn't let her answer, not separating his lips from hers to continue kissing her warmly and sweetly, breathing in the scent of her skin and closing his eyes to enjoy her closeness. Anne pulled away slightly, brushing their noses as she murmured defeatedly, “Okay, Marilla must be fuming by now. She's a lost case”.

         The alpha smiled against her skin, leaving one last kiss on her lips before pulling her into his arms, wrapping his arms around her back and sinking his face into her shoulders to sigh “I could go talk to her and be charming. I'm sure she'll forget the reason for her anger after having a little chat with me”.

Anne, still on shaky knees and submerged in a paradisiacal state and oblivious to reality and her futures, had the awareness to roll her eyes in annoyance and settle further into his chest, listening to the loud rhythmic beating of his heart.

         Gilbert snorted into her shoulder, straightening up with his trademark lopsided, cocky grin, tilting his head to the side and sliding his hand to place it on her chin, caressing her lips suddenly and causing her cheeks to heat up in a matter of seconds. She gathered her legs together, shy, when the alpha spoke with a deep voice and a precious smile “Don't you think me charming?”.

Chapter Text

Gilbert knew something was wrong with him.

         The signs, though subtle, were impossible to ignore. He knew it from the first moment when, after he had shared his first kiss with Anne in the silence and secrecy of the library, an unnatural chill came over his body as she left without saying goodbye, without explanation, without looking back when she parted from him. He can perfectly remember the fog that plunged his surroundings into a gloomy and uncomfortable scenario, pressing his jaw hard as he felt the unexpected and uncontrollable pain settling in his chest, in his head, squeezing his lungs as if he couldn't breathe through the rejection and the unpleasant, angry surprise that coursed through the blood in his veins. There was something heavy and lethal residing inside his body, creeping into his thoughts and poisoning his reasoning and his senses with determination and slowness, breathing through his nose heavily as he decided to leave after not being able to see her figure in the density of the mist and the autumn chill.

         The alpha forced himself not to think of her, of the glint in her eyes as she pushed herself towards him to brush her lips against his, moist, unsure and warm, sending electricity through his anatomy as if his body had discovered a new function to perform, feeling the heat envelop him addictively and pushing reason and logic to the back of his head, growling ferociously as he took her in his hands. Gilbert possessed an excellent memory, but he knew that the touch of her body was something he would be able to remember even on his deathbed; the shy warmth of her skin beneath the multiple layers of clothing that protected her from the cold, the inaudible sighs that escaped her lips addictively, her submission unbefitting her swift and feisty character, feeling something warm and sticky lodge in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her and the sweetness of her mouth, the fragility of her body under his hands, the softness of the skin of her neck as he caressed the tenderness of her muscles with his lips. He thought, in a few seconds of lucidity, that he could feel the sweet taste of honey on her tongue, fearing what he would be able to do to keep consuming her, to keep devouring her until there was nothing of Anne that had not been reached by him, growling from deep in his chest without restraint, caressing her back, her face, fixing her in place as if terrified that at any moment she might disappear from his grasp.

         His illusion, of course, was short lived. So short that he found himself walking in a dark, cold forest, eyes dark with anger and confusion and the empty hands of a girl who rolled her eyes when he opened his mouth or enjoyed hitting him when he spoke too much. Now, in the darkness of the stable behind his home, submerged in the cold temperatures and the rhythmic breathing of the few horses he had afforded himself the luxury of buying, Gilbert allowed himself to close his eyes and listen to the exhausted beating of his heart beneath his ribs.

         He swallowed, beginning to feel the negative emotions clinging to his limbs viciously, climbing up his chest and hardening his stomach and heart with their venom, wanting to breathe through the suffocating chokehold of his reality. Sometimes, at times like this, Gilbert wished he could grab a briefcase and head for the center of the ocean, where there was nothing but a deafening wind messing up his hair, the constant unsteady motion of the waves beneath his feet, the eternity of blue and water in front of him as if he were frozen in time and could breathe for the first time in his life. He stroked his knuckles absently, pondering the idea of leaving it all behind him, of devoting himself to writing detailed letters to his family and managing the business and imports in different parts of the country, working tirelessly and perhaps one day making enough money to study medicine in a city far, far away from Avonlea. Perhaps the sun would do his pale skin good, help him to grow his muscles and stimulate his brain as much as possible, nostalgically remembering the variety of cultures, languages and foods he had discovered during his months at sea, sleeping under the stars and away from the noise of civilization, harboring a different world, finding himself in the salt, the sand, the fights with his mates that made the hairs on his arms bristle with adrenaline, in the tears that streamed down his cheeks when everyone slept, in the steely resolve that settled in his soul as he assisted a woman deliver her first baby, overcoming his dynamic and his gender and his expectations. Gilbert was so much more than he ever imagined he could be, thirsty to discover how far he could go, determined to push his own limits again and again.

         Yet was he going to recognize the moment when he had to stop? He tensed his jaw, feeling frustration and an anguish impossible to explain furrow his brow, watching the sky close above him, the cold biting at the bare skin of his ankles from the stretched position of his legs. When the alpha had met Anne he would never have thought of the possibility that his life would distort and turn repeatedly, dragging him down in the process and locking him into a corner from which he had no chance of escape — what she was causing in him, in his person, his head, his nature, was something that overtook him at every turn, fearful that she was stealing and destroying parts of him with every action she took with no compunction to contemplate or hurt him. Gilbert had never been so consumed by the feeling that, for the first time in his life, he didn't have to run anywhere but there, holding her and breathing the warmth of her skin like oxygen, feeling that he had found his place in the world, feeling that he would never again feel the suffocation of the everyday and the desire to discover something else, even if it was the most wonderful landscapes and the most rewarding experiences, he knew deep in his chest that he could not find himself less interested if he could continue to lose himself in her. Perhaps for that reason, as they left the library and the cold enveloped them, beating the freezing air against their faces, Anne had remembered that she didn't want him, that she didn't long for him the way he did. Perhaps for that reason, when she left without looking back or explaining, the alpha felt he was coming to the end of the intense and torturous and inexplicable journey he had been on since he had met her.

         He tried to ignore the caution that bristled his skin, the nausea that played in his stomach as he thought of the reality he didn't want to see —Anne didn't reciprocate any of his feelings, determined to reject him again and again, fighting the alpha that growled inside him as he weighed the possibility of letting her go, of walking away from her once and for all, of ignoring her as if she were just another girl in the pile who caused nothing in him. Terror, however, whispered in his ears as he doubted his feelings, wondering if all human beings felt the same way when they decided their efforts would be in vain; did they too feel the pulse of his heart racing uncontrollably as a warning, the sweating in his palms, the wrong feeling that ran through his body like a premonition? The alpha closed his eyes tightly, longing for the warning that coursed through his muscles, his body, an unmistakable warning that he was about to make a grave, grave mistake, to disappear.

         He wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation, the absurdity of what he was being right now, at the irrational person he had become, worrying about how to act when Anne was the only one who could decide, the only one who had a choice. He licked his lips, remembering the tears that had fallen down her cheeks at her statement, her rushed words, her desperate breathing and panic tightening in her throat, feeling the terror and anger take over him in a matter of seconds, his emotions and nature growling inside his chest at the fear of the girl in front of him, pressing his jaw and touching her gently to comfort her. He tried to stifle the lethal resolve that lodged inside him at the thought of the possibilities that caused Anne so much fear, wary that the ideas would drive him mad, wanting to keep some of his decency and sanity and hope that she might one day reveal it to him, perhaps her parents would not allow her to be courted? Or did she simply not want him in the same way and felt too much guilt at rejecting him?

         Or, perhaps, there was someone else waiting for her approval. Someone who had been quicker, more passive, sweeter, and had received her yes, had received her warmth, the delicate touch of her fingers. The possessive anger that coursed through his veins was such that, when someone tapped his shoulder in the middle of the darkness to get his attention, Gilbert roared from deep within his chest aggressively and animalistically, adjusting his vision to the figure beside him with fierceness and menace.

         Beside him, bathed in moonlight, stood Sebastian with hands raised in surrender and eyes too large for his face. The alpha ceased the ragged noise to the rack, rising to his feet in a matter of seconds with embarrassment heating his cheeks as he began to mutter apologies “Sebastian, I'm so sorry. I didn't hear you and I thought…”.

“Have you lost your mind, growling at me like that?” the man snorted, moving closer to him to push him by one of his shoulders, frowning deeply as he continued to speak for himself, pulling away from him again “What would have happened if I came with Delphine and you were busy growling at her like a dog, scaring her off?”.

         “Don't be absurd” the alpha tensed his jaw, imagining his scent was pungent and uncomfortable, noting how his friend kept a good distance from him and held his nose in rejection “You know I would never be able to do that to her, not even by accident”.

         “You mean this was on purpose” he replied, waving his hand between them for emphasis. Gilbert struggled not to roll his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose impatiently “You can distinguish my daughter's scent, but not mine, which you live with all the time? Your thoughtlessness is insulting”.

         “It's not my fault Delphine smells like baby and peaches” Gilbert replied, letting a small arrogant smile stretch across his lips, feeling the anguish seem to shrink at the prospect of annoying Sebastian for as long as possible when the man let out a disbelieving sigh “How do you expect me to tell you apart if you smell like hay, Sebastian?”.

         “That's because you can't smell yourself. You're disgusting” he commented, still holding his nose, sliding his eyes over his figure with disgust and curiosity as the alpha raised one of his eyebrows indifferently “What's wrong with you, that you smell so bad and nearly took my arm off when I came looking for you innocently?”.

         “Everything's fine” he lied, glancing over his shoulder to peer into one of the windows of his home, catching a glimpse of Mary holding Delphine naturally and belonging “I just wanted to practice my patience before I saw you again. I suppose the time I take will never be enough”.

         His friend rolled his eyes, removing the hand covering his face once Gilbert began to relax as the minutes passed; embarrassment burned in the pit of his stomach at the thought of his situation, sure that his scent was sour and unpleasant as he found himself lost in thought, turning into something strong and unbearable when he mistakenly believed he was in danger from the fright and his vulnerability. He reached over to bump one of his shoulders in a friendly way, snorting when Sebastian playfully nudged him away from him “I hope the scent of Mary's dinner is able to cover up your doggy scent”.

         He released his breath through his nose, enjoying the brush of the grass against his dirty boots, knowing he should brush them and pray they would be dry by the next morning. Just thinking that in a few hours he would have to see Anne again, beautiful with her hair combed and her lips pale from lack of rest, escaping his gaze and attention at every possible opportunity as if nothing had happened, Gilbert felt an uncomfortable twist inside him, sadness settling in his chest like a stone impossible to remove. Sebastian, at his side, sensed with his unresponsive nose the change, frowning slightly “What's wrong, Gilbert?”.

         “It's nothing” the alpha didn't bother to look up from his feet, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair, shy and reluctant to expose the real reason for his lousy mood “It's just passing issues I'm trying to sort out”.

         “Is it to do with the girl you told us about?” Sebastian asked as they climbed the few stairs leading up to the entrance of his home, resting his hand on the doorknob, but not turning it to give him a chance to speak if he wished. Gilbert gave a weak, forced smile, feeling too exhausted to explain situations that even he was unable to decipher.

         “Don't worry,” the younger man assured, nodding his head to encourage him to open the door and be greeted by the familiar warmth of his home, “I'm capable of figuring it out and getting through it myself”.

         “I don't doubt it, kid” Sebastian smiled, pushing the door carefully for fear that Delphine would find herself crawling near the door, opening it fully when he could observe his daughter being hugged by her mother “You know you can count on us for any trouble, right?”.

         “I know, Sebastian, and I appreciate it very much” the alpha nodded, removing his shoes to leave them outside so as not to soil the inside with the wet mud that clung to the soles. He took a deep breath, feeling the warm, savory scent of food fill his lungs and tantalize his stomach, closing the door behind him with relief and desperation to distract himself with something positive and familiar rather than his destructive, ambiguous thoughts. The warmth of the fireplace enveloped him automatically, forcing him to hang his coat by the entrance so as not to start sweating, looking at Delphine's wooden toys strewn across the floor with affection, unable to contain a big grin as the baby began to crawl towards them with enthusiasm and speed for her small limbs.

         The alpha chuckled hoarsely as Delphine walked past her father with utter indifference, as if he were a piece of furniture instead of her dad, crawling towards him with a toothless grin and her dark hair combed back on top of her head. Gilbert could be sure, without any doubt or insecurity, that the most beautiful girl in the world lived under his roof; her laughter filled his ears sweetly as he lifted her into the air, taking her by her armpits firmly, turning her gently to amuse her and not make her dizzy, filling her cheeks full of little kisses that made her stir in his hands from the tickling — she possessed thick, soft clothes to protect her from the cold though she was near the fire all the hours of the day, her nails neatly trimmed by him thanks to his steady pulse, her belly full from the constant meals her parents cut for her over the week. Gilbert could content that his niece was a very, very happy child, so spoiled that he sensed that her whimsical personality would become a problem as she began to grow into a sly, comical child, knowing deep inside him that there was nothing she could do that would bring out any negative feelings on his part “Hello, beautiful, did you miss me?”.

         “You're starting to become a problem, Gilbert” Mary commented from the kitchen, catching his attention and snapping him out of his trance abruptly, hugging Delphine against him and holding her familiarly and comfortingly, sighing contentedly as the girl snuggled into his chest and arms. Sebastian and Mary were betas, rolling their eyes each time their daughter instinctively sought out Gilbert's warm body due to it possessing a high temperature in comparison, finding herself calm with her little nose pressed against his shirt, breathing in his soothing, sweet scent just for her “She wants to go upstairs every few minutes thinking you’re there, and I feel like when she learns to talk I'll have no choice but to leave her with you so I don't lose my mind”.

         Gilbert snorted in mock indignation, feeling pride and affection roar inside his chest, stroking her back with one of his hands, used to his palm being able to cover the entirety of her spine “Do you hear how your mother talks about you, Delph? They're just jealous that you prefer me over them, but don't worry, anyone would”.

         He didn't need to look up to know that Sebastian had shaken his head in disbelief as he set the table for dinner. The alpha felt a small twinge of guilt that he wasn't cooperating after he'd been out most of the day, threatening to put the baby down to help them, stopping when she let out a whimper in protest, an imminent threat of heartbroken crying if he dared to put her down. His face contracted in doubt, determining to put Delphine down single-handedly and approach the kitchen, when Mary rushed in to say, “Don't worry, Gilbert! You're more useful holding her and keeping her from crying, so sit down”.

         “Yes, ma'am” the alpha replied with a small smile, sensing that her daughter's crying was the last thing she wanted to hear at this time of night. Gilbert took a seat, biting the inside of his lip uncomfortably as Sebastian continued to locate the cutlery and plates, twisting his mouth “I really can—”.

         “No, Gilbert. Don't you dare move” Sebastian threatened, watching as his daughter rested with paced breathing against the alpha's shoulder, content with his warm skin and the familiar scent of his neck “Maybe, if we're lucky, she'll be able to fall asleep like this”.

         “Has she eaten yet?” the alpha wrapped her protectively, brushing his nose through her hair and enjoying the scent of talc and fruit that clung to her clothing. He frowned slightly, worried for a few seconds that she would go to sleep on an empty stomach, until her father nodded.

         “Of course she's already eaten. She eats more than you and I combined” Sebastian commented, taking a seat across from him with tiredness and a soft, consistent expression since his daughter had been born “We are very fortunate that the farm is up and running and we can feed her properly”.

         “You both do a very good job” the alpha acknowledged, accustomed to the slight tickle the baby's breathing caused on the sensitive skin of his neck, his arms accustomed to her comforting weight and the soothing beat of her heart against his “It's all to your credit, of course”.

         “Don't be absurd, kid” Mary replied, setting the pot of steaming food down in the center of the table, positioning it with gloves so as not to burn her hands. She removed the apron she wore so as not to stain one of her dresses, her hair tied back on the top of her head and an exhausted but happy expression on her face as she took a seat next to her husband, scratching her forehead “This is all thanks to you, you know that”.

         “We talked about this, Mary” Gilbert shifted uncomfortably in his seat, annoyed that they were constantly thanking him for the chance to live at home and work on the farm he had inherited from his father, when the ones who had brought the business up and brought life and happiness to his home had been them, the success was as much his as theirs. He brushed his cheek against Delphine's head, quiet, “You made this possible, and we are a family. There's nothing to be thankful for”.

         Sebastian and Mary smiled, a silent thanks and acceptance, ladling the food onto plates with familiarity, causing Gilbert's stomach to growl and his mouth to fill with saliva. Mary watched her daughter, threatening to stand up to support her and allow Gilbert to eat in peace, stopping when the alpha raised his free hand and shook his head “Don't worry, I can eat just fine this way”.

         Gilbert wasn't lying, enjoying the baby's closeness after a long and intense day, poking at the seasonal vegetables with his fork, proud and skilled at using both hands. Years ago, when he had decided to study medicine, he had worked several hours a day to practice his left-handed motor skills, becoming ambidextrous sooner than expected; the doctor who had cared for his father during the last years of his life, who had become his instructor and first mentor after his death, had congratulated him on his determination and had taught him to suture with both hands in the first few lessons.

         Delphine was unfazed by the imperceptible movement of his body as he moved his free arm, nor his chewing carefully brushing her head; she felt the baby's saliva stain his shirt, indifferent to the dirt as her parents talked in their everyday manner about the day's work and the news Mary had heard the day before when she visited South Avonlea, where she had previously lived. Gilbert ate absently, concentrating on not disturbing the baby as he satiated his hunger, until a heavy silence fell between them when Mary fixed her eyes on him with intensity and a playful expression that froze his blood “Aren't you going to say anything?”.

         “It's exquisite, Mary, as always” he complimented the food sincerely, swallowing the mouthful that rested in his mouth, thinking he had passed the test until he observed Sebastian's face holding back a wicked grin “It really is delicious”.

         “You're not going to say anything” Mary sighed, raising her eyebrows in surprise and looking at her husband to nod incredulously “You were right. Apparently we're not worthy of knowing”.

         “What are you talking about?” Gilbert set the cutlery down on the table, cautious not to make a scandalous noise, before looking at the couple in front of him with skepticism and care. As a defense mechanism, anxious to know what was going on, he covered Delphine's back with one of his hands as if that might shield him from their curious and amused eyes on his figure “Am I missing something?”.

         “I'd like to think not, but your silence makes me doubt” the woman smiled, bringing the glass of water to her lips before narrowing her eyes to analyze him better. Gilbert feared the direction of the conversation, tensing whole when Sebastian tilted his head to the side with an expression of enjoyment that set off all the alarms in his head.

         “We're not doing this,” the alpha bit out, making a feeble attempt to face Mary knowing it was a losing battle. If Anne was a strong willed and determined woman, Mary could be nothing more than an equal to her; with a charming smile and the perfect words to lead you into the trap she had neatly made, stripping the information and feelings from inside people before they could notice what was going on. Gilbert had been lousy at dodging her interrogations, innocently opening himself up to her to leave an arsenal of data in her hands that he would have preferred remained in the secrecy of his head; Sebastian loved that about her and the alpha couldn't blame him, believing that if the information was in his favor rather than against him, he too would love that ability dearly. However, he was not sitting on his side, but across from her, watching with sweat running down the back of his neck as the woman set the glass down on the table before crossing her legs beneath her helplessly, as if she were a poor lady rather than the true terror she could become “I'm serious, Mary. I'm not going to say anything about it”.

         “I won’t listen to you, then,” she concluded, combing the escaping hair out of her coiffure in a disinterested and elegant manner. Sebastian, at her side, stifled a smart smile “I know all I want to know if you don't want to talk about it”.

         “That makes no sense” the alpha snorted, wishing he could hide at the top of the stairs to escape her inquisitive gaze as if he were a child who'd just committed a prank rather than a responsible, mature adult “How are you going to know what happened if I don't say anything about it?”.

         “Because if you don't want to utter a word about your encounter with that young lady, it's enough to assume that it wasn't as you would have wished” Mary shrugged, disguising her curiosity as Gilbert's shoulders tensed at her words “Don't worry, Gilbert, perhaps you should accept the idea that not just anyone would prefer you and that's fine. She misses a great opportunity by not seeing the man you are”.

         “This is ridiculous” he tried to hide the slight pain that shot through his chest like a dagger, reluctant to show himself hurt by a comment that clearly wanted to pull the necessary strings to get details of what happened “You can't come to that conclusion when I didn't enunciate any words”.

         “You're not denying it” the woman insisted, resting her chin on one of her hands, her gaze bright as a clear premonition that the alpha was heading for his doom in a matter of minutes. Fear began to settle in his stomach, a sliver of hope that he could flee this conversation with his dignity intact.

         “Just because I'm not denying it doesn't mean I'm confirming it, Mary. I thought you'd be more astute than this” he regretted the comment the moment it left his mouth, shifting uncomfortably in place as all trace of playfulness disappeared from the woman's face, being replaced by a determined and sinister expression that forced him to begin shaking his head nervously, letting out a shaky laugh “You know I didn't mean that, we all know that—”.

         “Tell me” Mary began, sketching a sweet smile that he had to restrain the urge to pull his chair back to gain more distance. Delphine settled into his arms, as if she herself could feel the discomfort of her gaze, wanting to hide from it even in her dreams. The alpha took a deep breath through his nose, waiting for the “Did she accept the biscuits, or did she not even bother to take them?” blow.

         The alpha, in a desperate plea for help, looked at Sebastian with a raw, jovial expression wishing he was able to dissolve the inevitable, noting how the older man yearned just as much if not more intensely to know what had happened as he smiled, nodding his head in encouragement. Gilbert ran his hand over his face, wary of shaking Delphine, as he felt a groan rise in his throat “This is deeply insensitive, forcing me to speak when I don't want to”.

         “Gilbert, we know you well enough to know that you want to talk about this, but you don't know how to” the woman resolved, stretching her tired back as she stretched her arms over her. The alpha spread his fingers apart, allowing only one of his eyes to be seen through the large hand covering his face “That's what we're here for, to listen to you and encourage you to talk. I'm sure it couldn't have been that terrible”.

         “It was” Gilbert sighed, defeated, before repeating in a low, helpless voice, causing them both to empathize and let a soft gesture to fall across their features “It really was terrible”.

         “Tell us and we'll decide if it was bad or not” Sebastian spoke for the first time, rising to bring a basket of fruit to cut up with a clean knife, ready to hand out dessert as the alpha felt his stomach turn over and over again from the feeling of mortification “You know how honest we are, you can trust us not to sweeten up our words”.

“Believe me, the possibility didn't even cross my mind” the alpha growled, accepting with surrender the cut apple with his palm open, chewing half of the fruit in one bite. Mary waited silently, impatiently, until the alpha decided he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, gathering his strength to mutter as casually as possible the facts that made his heart beat fast again “I confessed how I felt, she rejected me for a reason she refused to tell me but which seems to overtake her, kissed me, and then left as if nothing had happened, without any kind of explanation”.

         It had to be mentioned that Mary kept the same analytical and empathetic expression, helping to keep him from feeling like an impending failure, unlike Sebastian who had stopped chewing to stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Delphine, sensing the tension that had formed in the kitchen from her dreams, let out a small whimpering sound that was drowned out by the alpha's gentle, warm touch on her back, which invited her to sleep once more, escaping the few basic worries a baby could possess — not being hungry, not being sleepy, not being cold. Gilbert feared that the cold that covered his body and hardened his chest would not be able to leave even with the passing of the seasons, blaming the alpha that resided tirelessly beneath his ribs, eager for answers, exalted to go find her and sink into her as if the possibility existed, as if it could resolve and cure everything between them, an animalistic and irrational idea that forced him to tense his jaw and feel the disappointment and sadness go down his throat. The woman noticed his suddenly downcast expression, waving her hands to downplay the matter, getting the alpha to frown curiously “You're so dramatic, Gilbert, are all alphas like you?”.

         “I don't know” Gilbert replied, with tense shoulders and heavy scent that made both adults swallow, surprised by his reaction and the direction of the conversation. Sebastian finished swallowing, pushing the rest of the food in front of him as he felt his stomach and appetite for something sweet had abruptly shut down “I did not speak to any alphas on these topics, and do not wish to do so in the near future”.

         “If you want my opinion, I don't think it's terrible at all” the woman smiled weakly, wanting to motivate him and having the opposite effect as she noticed how the alpha sank further into place, stroking the baby's back absently and automatically “She probably remembered the reason she rejected you and panicked. It's only natural”.

         Gilbert did nothing but sigh, relaxing the tension in his shoulders and running his hand over his face “I'm being strange, aren't I?”.

         “Maybe” Sebastian chipped in, his voice low and shy, as if he was afraid of interrupting Mary's thoughts beside him. The alpha bit his lip nervously, listening intently when he spoke again “You shouldn’t think it was your fault if Anne explained that she can't be with you because of something greater than herself, I'd take it as a comfort”.

         “I don't want a consolation, Sebastian” the alpha explained, settling his legs as he felt the desire to want to walk around the room to calm the feeling of confinement “I want to know what's going on. I'm tired of walking in the dark when it comes to her, when I think I could walk away, she comes back and drags me, and when I do the same Anne seems to want it too. It's so confusing it breaks my head”.

         Mary, sensing his distress, stood up to stand behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders for a little squeeze; she could be terrifying when she wanted to be, but she didn't fail to possess her warm, empathetic energy, making him feel accompanied with the gesture “Oh, Gilbert, don't be distressed. Time is wise, and it will put everything in its place when you least expect it”.

         “I know, I just...” the alpha twisted his gesture, sighing, as he muttered in a low, exposed voice “It's confusing, and I don't understand how I'm supposed to act most of the time. I don't understand what she wants, I don't understand her actions, and I don't understand myself. It's hard with my nature driving me crazy every second, like it's trying to communicate something to me that I can't translate”.

         “We can't help you with that” Sebastian spoke, with fatherly eyes that he had acquired since Delphine's birth and had learned to enjoy immensely even though he was his friend “But we can always accompany you, Gilbert. Both Mary and I believe that, if it is meant to be, it will happen, no matter what the circumstances are and the passage of time between. You just have to be patient and wise to see and understand it”.

“Anyway, I want to know what's important” Mary murmured, squeezing his shoulder and snapping his attention, craning his neck so he could see her. The woman raised her eyebrows, suddenly serious “Did she accept the food?”.

         Gilbert couldn't hold back the smile, a strange warmth taking over his chest at the memory, an alien feeling amidst the undefined, uncomfortable sensation that lingered in his body and mind as a constant reminder of her rejection. Mary couldn't help but smile, too, when the alpha replied in a husky voice, “Of course she did”.

         “Good to know” the woman nodded, giving his shoulder a final squeeze.

         Now resting Delphine gently in her cradle, leaning over her so as not to shake her, Gilbert felt the exhaustion fall over him with brutality. As usual he made sure she was comfortable, removing the rag dolls for fear she might choke on them, breathing rhythmically as he stroked her hair absently, lost in thought; the transition from Mary's pregnancy until now had not been easy, having to adjust to the terrifying idea that they were going to welcome a baby into their lives — the possibility did not frighten him out of a dislike of infants, clearly, but to the irrational panic of everything bad that could happen. He had been through too many losses in his life, had seen too many injuries, too many accidents, had read too many medical texts to be aware of everything that could happen to a being as helpless as a newborn baby. Sebastian and Mary, being first-time parents, rolled their eyes at his every attitude because of the irrationality and intensity that shrouded his worries and actions during the first months.

         Gilbert could not feel guilty. He was an alpha, and had learned to master it most of the time to work together rather than be forced, feeling lost when Mary's belly had grown to undisguised levels; Gilbert looked like a watchdog, making sure the fences around the farm were fixed (as if that would be able to prevent any impending evil), accompanying her to the center of Avonlea and to her former home when Sebastian couldn't make it, trying to keep himself a decent person when everyone he knew was watching him with frowns and eyes curious about the unborn child. The alpha always had to clench his jaw, careful not to release the deep growl that resided in his chest at the silent, envious curiosity of the people around him, feeling it in his nature to bare his teeth at the non-existent possibility that they might harm Mary or the baby; the ridiculousness of his reactions always managed to make his cheeks flush pink once they were in the safety of his home, able to think clearly for the first time, ashamed of himself.

         Thankfully Sebastian and Mary weren't uncomfortable or encroached upon with Gilbert's worries, being able to relax most of the time because the alpha was taking care of everything, visiting shops with baby clothes on his way home, building a cot in the stable with Sebastian's help, cleaning the room they'd set aside for her with the tiny help of Mary, who snorted with annoyance when the alpha asked her to rest but did it anyway. The alpha had hoped that, once the baby was born, he would be able to rest from his instincts demanding that he make sure she was well and protected, feeling his pressure drop as he learned over the days that his nature had worsened rather than improved.

         Every time Delphine cried Gilbert was the first to stand up, knowing that he would not be able to fix anything at such an early stage in her life, dependent solely on her mother and watching her father with a curious expression, having to walk around the house quietly to lessen the urgent feeling that resided inside him to no avail. Once Sebastian had seen him, laughing so hard at how stupid he was, and Gilbert had no choice but to push him away when the baby started crying more because of him — they made an excellent balance between a patient and dedicated mother, a responsible and relaxed father, and a boy with absurd and anxious yearnings to do the best homework he could.

         Over the months his alpha had begun to get used to the idea that Delphine was fine, and that there was nothing that could harm her, but his instincts still insisted, making sure the vegetables they cooked were clean and in good condition, making an almost liquid puree when they had to feed her, tasting beforehand so as not to burn her mouth. He would clean the house neatly, fearful of splinters on the floor that might hurt her palms or choke on them, taking her for walks around the farm in his arms, showing her each of the animals at a safe distance, unconsciously following her around the house when she had learned to crawl. Her parents took advantage of his excessive attention and concern to try to make up for the few hours of sleep, allowing the alpha to play and laugh with her, learning to read her needs and expressions over time, giving long monologues and reading books so that she could start talking as soon as possible.

         He wasn't always a good boy, of course. Once Delphine was ill, flying with fever, and the doctor who had come to attend her kept poking her arms for the right spot, causing the baby to cry out in pain and bewilderment from fever and confusion; Gilbert, exhausted and worried, had no better idea than to growl in his face and utter in a low voice, ‘Careful’ The grunt had caused nothing but shakiness in the doctor, who reflexively pulled his hand away from Delphine, watching Mary and Sebastian with wide eyes and an implied plea for help from the alpha who watched him with dilated pupils and tense posture, clouding his senses with his aggressiveness. Gilbert didn't need to be chased away as he watched the expression of his friends, equally as tired as he was, just walking towards the stable so he wouldn't have to listen to the baby's cries and the rapid beating of her heart.

         Despite his concern and his animalistic, irrational longings, Gilbert would not change a thing. He knew it as if it were the certainty that the sun would light up his face the next day, as if the ocean was rocking beneath him, sighing contentedly as he stroked Delphine's cheek one last time before going up to his room.                                      

         “Anne,” Marilla's voice sounded distant in the back of her head, as if she was deep in a well, removed from the reality and the world that kept pushing her underwater again and again. Her knees burned from wiping the floor with wet hands and cold fingers, her skin red from the irritation of the constant rubbing of the dirty cloth against her skin.

         She let out a small cry, turning abruptly to visualize her mother standing in front of her with her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed, and her cheeks flushed with physical exertion, letting out a sigh as Anne opened her mouth to explain her thoughtlessness and distraction “Marilla, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know where my head is these days”.

         Her mother shook her head, removing the apron covering her dress in silence, sliding her eyes over her figure lying on the floor with her hair disheveled and her lips dry from biting them, tensing her jaw “How long do you intend to lose your head, child?”.

         “It's not intentional, Marilla, you know that” Anne complained, letting go of the cloth and standing up with great effort, feeling her legs stretch painfully having spent so long kneeling. Her mother merely raised a skeptical eyebrow “I have many, many things to think about, I can't control it”.

         “I hope you learn to control it quickly because we have to go” Marilla enunciated, observing her appearance analytically and disapprovingly, causing Anne to frown, looking at her body instinctively “And if you plan to attend church dressed like that, I regret to inform you that you will not make it across the threshold”.

         Anne wrinkled her nose, noticing how her feet were clad only in thin stockings, her apron stained with dust and dirt from carelessly removing vegetables from the garden, decorated by a giant dress that did nothing but cover her curves and the shape of her body, crowned with her tousled hair, her red cheeks and her lips cracked by the constant bites of her anxious teeth. Marilla was pitifully right, hurting her pride deeply as she was aware of how unpleasant she must look, raising her gaze with an air of defeat that caused her mother to snort, “Get dressed up enough to look like a presentable person, but I don't want to hear anything about your vanity and appearance in the process”.

         “Easy to say when you don't have hair like mine, Marilla” she protested, frustrated at the lack of understanding and the impending irritation that came with being rushed, majestically ignoring her mother's indifferent expression as she removed the apron to leave it in her hands, knowing they should wash them in the buckets outside to dry as soon as possible. Her intelligent face made a small smile, a warning that meant disaster and a journey filled with the complex sentences and monologue conversations she had grown accustomed to hearing “I'll be ready and waiting for you in the stable before you know it, I promise”.

         She hurried up the stairs, unable to define the words spoken by Marilla behind her, probably daring her to keep her word knowing she wouldn't be able to. Anne closed the door with determination once she reached her room, breathing shakily against the wall, resting her hand against her wild heart singing under her ribs violently - she stared out of her window, her eyes worried and oceanic, the countryside stretching out before her like a divine and painful lie that the land was empty except for her family, a world where she didn't have to worry about her education, about society and the rules that surrounded her, about the future so fearful that it bared its teeth with bestiality trying to force her to bend and drop to her knees.

         For most of her life she had longed to know the world, to devour it through her eyes, through her books, through its history and its people, learning as she discovered it that cruelty seemed to inhabit every corner of the planet, wishing in its most vulnerable states to shield and hide from it rather than face it. She longed to hide in the density of the forest, surrounded by the whispering winds and the sunlight playing through the dry branches of the trees rather than stand and expose herself under the dozens of gazes waiting to defenestrate her; Anne knew it was unlike her personality to hide from the troubles that threatened her, understanding that she had no choice but to lift her chin and take a deep breath, owning her mistakes and looking them in the eye.

         Anne had made a mistake, a big mistake.

         She should not have been guided by the animalistic longings of her body, nor in the irrational desires of her mind that had decided to push her on her tiptoes, stretch her thin neck and close her eyes to kiss Gilbert Blythe for the first time, despite the voices screaming in her ears with terror and rejection, despite the fact that her conscience was trying to save her from an imminent and devastating fate. She covered her hot face with her hands, feeling the blood paint her cheeks with shame, panic and something unknown that she was afraid to define; several days had passed since that encounter, remembering naturally and helplessly the alpha's hands, warm and rough, caressing her back, her waist, her face, the sticky breath of his mouth against her throat and cheek when he decided to mark her with his scent, licking her lips and mouth hungrily and possessively, growling as he locked her in place as if he feared she might run away from him at any moment. Anne had never felt this way before, looking as if she were the only woman in the world, as if the only fire she could bestow was that of her body, her anatomy vibrating with life and heat beneath his hands and sighs, feeling the glory and pleasure brush against her inner thighs, her wrists, her lower belly as if her body and nerves were contracting in a pleasurable and insane way, forcing her to close her eyes and bite her tongue in a feeble attempt to forget him.

         Anne was no stranger to hating herself, but she was discovering unthinkable limits since that encounter — firstly, by her selfishness in kissing him knowing she could never grant him what Gilbert desired of her, endangering him and risking her integrity and identity for the mere whim of kissing the warmth of his lips, of breathing his scent more closely, falling into reality as the cool evening blizzard had hit her face with brutality, waking her from her deep reverie. She had felt her skin go pale and her knees shake as she understood the gravity of her actions, the stupidity of her decisions, as the alpha walked beside her imposingly and silently in his respectful habit of not forcing her to speak or approach him when she did not wish to do so, content to simply be able to accompany her and ensure that she made it home in one piece; he did not expect, of course, that Anne, in panic and regret, would leave without a word and without looking behind her so as not to have to deal with the memory of Gilbert Blythe's confused and hurt expression.

         The hatred came not only from the momentum of her actions that could mean a radical and dangerous change in her life, but also from the responses of her body and mind to the memory of the alpha around her. Anne was a distracted, imaginative and romantic person, and sharing her first kiss with Gilbert only worsened her situation to a critical point, where she found herself sighing at the memory of his hands, watching with her eyes closed as his lips parted to lick her, wiping her hands against her dresses constantly from the sweat on her palms every time she could feel his husky voice brush against her ear like a forbidden promise, having to hold onto the edges of tables to keep from walking on unsteady, shaky legs. Anne felt guilt and fear, so much so that she retched several times a day from the anxiety and panic that twisted her stomach as she understood the gravity of the events, breaking delicate dishes by accident as she trembled uncontrollably at the thought of worst-case scenarios, feeling her eyes fill with inexplicable tears when Marilla justly decided to scold her to be more careful.

         Her days had been spent that way, in a paranoid limbo, martyring herself to everything bad that could happen, to what a lousy person she was for considering her own feelings before Gilbert's. She'd been so deluded to consider her feelings before his own, in how deluded she had been to believe she was worthy of a simple, innocent moment of happiness when she would never be able to share such a deep, intimate connection without a veil covering the dangerous reality beneath it, in the time bomb that was ticking away on her skin and in her anatomy, a mere roulette of luck that needed no more than a small mistake to explode in her face. As if the feelings of anguish and guilt were not enough, Anne was constantly betrayed by her body in stolen seconds during the day, in nights where she was sheltered in her nest, enveloped by her own scent and a faint fragrance of the alpha who had decided to brush his lips over the pulse of her neck; there, where she seemed shielded and hidden from the outside world and the gods who sought to judge her, Anne felt the heat swirling in her cheeks, the moisture in her mouth, the uncomfortable itch that ran through her body as if a flame were licking at her exposed skin, a dangerous reminder of what it had been like to toy with death and hell for a few minutes, surrounded by dusty books, by Gilbert's broad back, by the vibration of his growls against her lips. On multiple occasions she believed, with closed lungs and a scream of horror on the tip of her tongue, that her abnormal and sickly episodes where she had to lock herself in her room for days to be contained and not expose her identity had suddenly taken hold of her, being able to regain her sanity when the strange sensation receded as she found herself in a panic.

         Such episodes were undoubtedly the worst she had ever experienced because of her dynamic. She had to stay locked in her room where she could do nothing but cry inconsolably from the fever that was splitting her head in two, bathing her in cold and sweat, writhing on herself from the agony that overtook her whole body and stomach, lying on the floor in terror and shame as hot liquid poured from between her legs and stained her inner thighs, feeling the touch of her hands burning with invitation as she tried futilely to wipe it away with trembling, frightened hands, her neck burning with sensitivity, her scent clinging mercilessly to all nearby surfaces as a result of the ointment's limits, unable to cover up the sweet, insane fragrance her anatomy gave off to attract the attention of any being who might soothe her. Her consciousness seemed to cloud, becoming irrational and desperate to escape the pain, sobbing and repeating delirious prayers, hiding under the bed to find a false sense of security from non-existent threats, unable to remember everything that happened during those days, consumed by the fever and sickness that her dynamic demanded every three months in a cyclical and exacting manner; her parents were respectful of her process, leaving food and water on her doorstep, relieving Jerry of his chores and enforcing a strict regimen of no visits to Green Gables until Anne was completely clean. Anne had formed a credible alibi for her weekly disappearances every three months, claiming that Anne had to visit the orphanage where she had been raised for pedagogical duties with the younger children, little cycles of reading and grammar that the nuns had grudgingly allowed; no one asked excessive questions, nor bothered to make a thorough enquiry, and she could descend into madness confident that the world around her would not collapse in her absence, blindly trusting in her parents' care.

         However, at times like this when she was combing her hair into delicate braids, Anne wished she could lie so she wouldn't have to appear, hide under the bed, close her eyes and surrender to unconsciousness so she could run away from the inevitable, from the painful, from what filled her heart and soul with euphoria, anguish, unknowing. Anne had to see Gilbert Blythe again.

         It would be idealistic to think that Anne, after the mistake she had made, could forget the alpha and not have to cross paths with him again, as if he were a ghost from the past rather than a real person who lurked in every area of her life like a divine sign of the physical proof of temptation. It wasn't the first time they'd had to see each other since the disastrous encounter, of course, but that didn't mean it was any less serious or agonising; the whole week had consisted of Anne sitting in her place, eyes fixed on the teacher or her desk, spine stretched painfully and her body smelling of soap and neutrality, having rubbed her skin to the point of irritation to make sure the alpha's heavy, overpowering scent didn't continue to anchor itself to her clothes like a warning, making an unimaginable effort not to look in his direction, not to take a deep breath of his fragrance, not to try to decipher the words coming out of his mouth through the intense bustle of people.

         To her surprise, with feelings she couldn't define whether they were relief or pain, Gilbert had made no effort at all to reach her; he had merely watched her from his place with dark, intense eyes, projecting a scent heavy and menacing and alluring and impossible to ignore — what she could imagine from her vast fantasy and Ruby's comments that made her stomach twist in disgust, his stretched legs, his defined jaw, his dark hair outlining the masculine bones of his face. Anne concentrated on sitting with her back always to him, certain that she would not be able to bear to look him in the eye after what had happened, fiddling with her food out of nervousness and listening absently to the conversations of her companions around her, being able to conceal her attention when Ruby expressed her incessant romance with Gilbert, blushing at his masculine appearance and manner when surrounded by his friends, always being the center of attention and the only one who seemed to provide the necessary validation to feed their egos, laughing quietly at their crude remarks and providing intelligent commentary for his undeniable study habits and enviable wisdom. Anne thought, mired in negative feelings she didn't want to acknowledge when Ruby talked about him, that she didn't seem to see or understand him the way she did; Anne could appreciate his beauty, his dynamic and perfect balance with his masculinity as Ruby recognized, but she could also see his intelligence, his constancy, his empathy and consideration for people who did not possess his same privilege, careful to allow everyone to own their spaces despite his intimidating hierarchy and the implicit power he held in his hands, the delicacy of his words and actions without losing his sense of humor or the respect he had earned from all his peers. 

         At the end of the day she had realized, with feelings of anguish and defeat, that she would not be able to attend the study session with Gilbert Blythe alone, even more so considering that it would be in the library, where on the last occasion they had met she could remember (perfectly, if anyone dared to ask) the softness of his tongue against hers, running over her as if it were made of sugar. Guilt gnawed at her soul, imagining the scenario where the alpha waited for hours with worry at not seeing her arrive, stubbornly deciding she had to put together a believable scenario to a sane and common end of taking distance before causing a catastrophe, standing in front of Professor Phillips the day before with nerves licking at the back of her neck from cold sweat and deep breaths to calm her nervous heart.

         She had no reason to be uneasy, she remembered, when the professor looked up with boredom and indifference, a reaction akin to watching an insect rather than a person. The familiar fury that coursed through her body whenever she had to interact with him pumped through her veins, squeezing lightly at the written pages resting in her hands angrily, blinking slowly as the older man snorted in irritation, settling his feet on the table with haughtiness and displeasure. Anne bit the inside of her cheek with loathing “What do you need, Shirley?”.

“I came to tell you that my father is ill” lie, lie, lie. Boldness compelled her to keep speaking, relishing the fire of righteousness that dwelt within her as her voice came out firm and authoritative, not bothering to ask if she had permission or not, spreading the delicately done, legible pages out to lay them on his desk unceremoniously. The professor raised an eyebrow, further fuelling her anger rather than scaring her, speaking again with a raised chin and a resolute tone that left no room for discussion “I will not be able to attend my study session tomorrow due to my obligation to look after him and help my mother. I am giving you my part of the lesson so that you can analyze it and consequently hand it over to Gilbert Blythe so that he can do the rest of it in a coherent manner”.

         The professor didn't bother to lift the pages, staring at them indifferently and sliding a bored glance at her as if weighing the possibilities of annoying her or rejecting her request without any kind of explanation, not realizing that she was holding her breath tensely until the man nodded imperceptibly, mustering a strength of will and kindness unbecoming his personality to accept the lie. Anne felt the guilt melt away in a matter of seconds, knowing that the alpha would also be grateful not to have to be alone with her after his pathetic and cowardly reaction, believing it was the best and healthiest thing for both, a space between them that she hoped would last through time.

         It was an absurd idea, of course — Anne knew her fate was sealed when, cheeks flushed from the layers of clothing covering her and anxiety pumping her heart, she sat between her parents to attend weekly church, certain that there would be no escape from finding the alpha in the crowd no matter how much she wished to hide in the eternity of the forest. In an attempt to calm herself down, taking possession of a mechanism peculiar to her personality and a habit that uniquely characterized her, Anne could not stop playing with her hands and talking loudly to the point of exhaustion; most people would prefer to be submerged in silence, being consumed by fear and nerves, while the young woman tried to expel them through her wide vocabulary and endless topics of conversation to distract herself.

         Her parents had learned to tolerate and, at times, enjoy it through years of daily monologues so confusing that they could only raise their eyebrows in surprise. A glance between them was enough to determine that Anne was anxious for some reason they did not wish to probe, content to sit in silence and answer in short, unpromising sentences until they visualized the chapel in the distance. Anne swallowed, mentally reviewing the capacity of her salve, the scarf around her neck and the coats that dressed her densely, wishing to calm the irrational thoughts that her fragrance might be perceived, knowing from the depths of her soul that there was no way such a fateful scenario could happen.

         Anne greeted the few people who knew his parents with a low voice and a small smile, bowing her head politely and trying not to show her nervousness or the impulsive and constant biting of her teeth against the inside of her cheek. Other people's scents wrapped around her nose in an overwhelming and uncomfortable way, sensing the inevitable onset of a headache behind her eyes, unconsciously and humiliatingly retreating behind Matthew and Marilla, wanting to roll her eyes at the senselessness of her actions — she was constantly reminded of her intense personality, an absent-minded wit and a quick tongue, hating from the depths of her being when her nature seemed to bind chains around her ankles, forcing her to behave in a fragile and unbecoming manner, protecting herself from non-existent threats, suffering from issues worthy of living in society. It was incomprehensible why her body seemed to reject in an obvious and undisguised way the solid and putrid fragrances of any alpha, twisting her lips when they greeted politely at a considerable distance, being able to let out the air she was holding when they finally moved away from them. To her enormous reassurance Gilbert didn't seem to be in the same place, allowing herself to ponder the fantastic likelihood that the alpha would, after all, have no business crossing paths with her for another day.

         “Are you all right, Anne?” Marilla asked with a skeptical and controlled expression, careful not to show the root of her real concern, knowing that there were curious eyes and witty lips everywhere.

“I feel perfectly fine” the young woman lied, smiling genuinely and linking their arms together as she watched her face with sincerity and an honest desire not to cause them concern “A slight headache, nothing more”.

         “We can go back if you require it” Matthew spoke slowly, just so she could hear him, his gaze gentle and a frown expressing nothing but affection. Anne shook her head, reaching up to leave a kiss on his cheek as a thank you.

         “That won't be necessary” Anne replied, sensing everyone beginning to enter the chapel to start the ceremony, taking Matthew by the coat with her free hand “Let's go in before we run out of room”.

         Anne took a seat next to her parents, energetically greeting her best friend with a smile when she could see her in the distance, gesturing that they could talk later before they had to go their separate ways until the next day. She wiped the sweat from her brow, removing one of the layers of clothing as she felt the confinement envelop her, concentrating on the comforting company of her family rather than the headache, the sickening aromas and the uncomfortably close heat of the chapel; those present lapsed into silence as the new priest took his place, unable to watch him with attention or curiosity for the choking sensations that forced her to stir in her seat, clearing her throat in an attempt to collect herself and pay attention to the ceremony. Matthew and Marilla, to their good fortune, didn't seem to notice her restless movements, the sweat trickling down the back of her neck, the heavy rise and fall of her chest until Anne, consumed by the constant prayers, the suffocating warmth, the foreign fragrances clinging to her skin like a plague, twisting her stomach and stinging under her skin, decided she couldn't stand another second cooped up.

         She didn't know how much time had passed since the beginning of the ceremony, but she knew she wouldn't be able to endure the entire mass without fading in the process. She didn't have time to make elaborate explanations, reaching up Marilla's sleeve to whisper in her ear as best she could, “I have to go out for some air, I'll be back soon”.

         She waited for no affirmation or permission before standing up and, not bothering to feel embarrassed or rude about the interruption, walked towards the exit accompanied by whispers and frowns in rejection of her impulsive action. Anne was completely unaffected, closing the door behind her with pale lips, shivering at the abrupt brush of the icy wind against her damp skin, focused on feeling the world steady beneath her feet and a head that wasn't busy spinning on itself. She covered her eyes, descending the stairs and turning her body towards the lake that lay a few feet from the church, when she heard a conversation being unexpectedly terminated by her appearance. Anne, like the curious and reckless person she was, instinctively turned in on herself before she could weigh the gravity of her actions, feeling regret and mortification settle at the base of her stomach when it was too late.

         And there stood Gilbert Blythe, watching her with an indecipherable expression and his familiar scent being carried on the wind, enveloping her, accompanied by a couple and a baby. A man looking at her with wide, surprised eyes, mouth slightly open as if frightened, and a woman with a sly little smile that sent a shiver down her spine in danger and warning mode — Sebastian and Mary, holding a baby who seemed to be daring herself to put the entirety of her fist in her mouth, looking at her curiously, but ultimately deciding that she was not such an interesting specimen to hold her attention. Her body tensed automatically, audibly swallowing and filling her chest with oxygen, feeling the world spin and shiver beneath her more intensely in the presence of the one person in the world she never wanted to meet again: Gilbert Blythe, with his silky hair being tousled by the cold autumn wind, the dark suit dressing his body gracefully and beautifully, the harmony of his face, the gentleness of his eyes. Anne, along with the undeniable tension and awkward silence that had formed between the family and herself, determined that the best option was to turn away, desperate to regain her breath and stability, longing for her discomfort to be visible in her pale, sweaty face and her wandering steps as she made her way to the lake as an excuse for her lousy character and manners.

         She heard whispers behind her, doing her best to ignore them as she wandered into the woods surrounding the lake, lifting her dress slightly so as not to stain it with mud and plants, breathing through her mouth to calm the wild heart pounding in her ears, the blood throbbing in her fingertips at the nerves, the fear, the adrenaline. She wanted to get rid of the guilt unwinding in the back of her throat, remembering Mary's sweet gesture of cooking for her, trying to convince herself that another time she would be able to make up for the disastrous first encounter and replace it with something sweeter and more pleasant. Maybe she could bake for her, yes, that sounded good — he could bake a humid, hearty cake, with cream, strawberries, she could...

         “Anne” her name came from his lips firmly, making itself heard through the screams of her thoughts, forcing her to close her eyes and cover her face with her hands, willing herself to be kidnapped by the lake, swallowed by the earth. It was not in her plans to face Gilbert while the ceremony was happening, away from any witnesses, meeting him as her head seemed to burn beneath her skull painfully, feeling the sticky sweat under her clothes and not bothering to look at him, turning her back to him “I know what you're doing, and it's really not necessary”.

         “Gilbert” Anne replied cowardly as she turned with effort and feeling that no distance between them would be able to diminish what the alpha was causing in her; he could have spent a whole week watching her, not bothering to approach or converse with her, giving her space and acting like a normal person, feeling everything she thought she had built up crumble before her eyes without resistance. Frustration formed a lump in her throat, releasing the air through her nose in anger at Gilbert, at herself, her nature, society, her situation “What do you think I am trying to do?”.

         “You're ignoring me” his voice did not falter, and his expression did not alter his composed, indifferent features. His family seemed to have decided to give them space, unusual in the face of the custom of having a chaperone at male-female encounters, feeling panic churn her stomach as the alpha took a step towards her, his jaw tensing as Anne reflexively took one backwards “You're avoiding me, and you've made that quite clear to me already. There's no need to run from me like I'm a pest”.

         “You don't understand” Anne shook her head, scratching her neck under the scarf that clothed her nervously, regretting her action when the sensitive skin protested against her nails, unable to show an expression of pain as she continued to speak “You don't understand, and I can't do anything about it. I was impulsive, and I'm sorry”.

         “This is your way of apologising” the alpha repeated, disbelieving, quirking a sharp-toothed smile and shaking his head, feeling the heavy scent of his body reach out to her like a punch “You're absolutely right, Anne, I don't understand”.

         “What do you expect from me, Gilbert?” Anne sighed, feeling the frustration rise in her throat, choking her, pressing her fists to her sides with the words building up on her tongue, knowing she could never enunciate them “I can't give you what you want from me, I'll never be able to”.

         “You don't know what I want” his indifferent expression changed for the first time, anger showing through his frown, his intoxicating fragrance enveloping her like a haze, confusing her, racing her heart erratically “You don't have any idea what I want from you”.

         She opened her eyes slightly in surprise, taking a few seconds to compose herself, knitting her brows together and feeling the air seem to escape her grasp “No, I don't, but I know I won't be enough. I know I can't do it”.

         Gilbert's face changed, the anger morphing into something more raw, deeper, helpless. Anne brought her hands to her chest, in a feeble attempt to cover and protect herself from the flippant, resentful feeling that coursed through her veins, feeling the hatred harden her heart as the alpha approached her carefully, as if she were a frightened animal, his voice soft and clear reaching her ears “It doesn't have to be like this, Anne. You don't have to be alone and tolerate everything on your own. I can help you”.

         Anne, this time, didn't back away, listening to the chanting inside the church, the wind lifting the dry leaves around her, the icy water of the lake reflecting the grey sky, losing herself in the alpha's pleading gaze. Anne couldn't understand it, feeling the pain building and forcing her to close her eyes, feeling the fear and confusion consume her whole — why her? Why, given the choice of any of the beautiful women around him, would he choose her? Why did he keep searching for her, plunging daggers into her exposed wounds, corrupting her soul? She didn't understand how a kiss, small touches and constant glances could affect her so much, could change her life in a matter of a few months, how turning away from him and rejecting him seemed to tear a piece out of her, out of her soul, out of her body. Her anatomy seemed to react to the stress, to deciding that both her omega and her rationality seemed denied to choose, twisting inside her like a poison, feeling the nausea clawing at the back of her throat. She couldn't do this “Please stop”.

         She didn't startle when the alpha brought one of his hands to her face, cupping her cheek, unable to contain the desire to lean her face against his touch, feeling how the slightest touch of his warmth could chase away the most brutal of winters. She opened her eyes with effort, through the dizziness and inexplicable pain, connecting her gaze with his, feeling the air stagnate in her lungs at the sight of him close, the world shrinking to him, to his presence “What is it that keeps you from me, Anne? What is it that scares you?”.

         “I can't tell you” she felt the terror numbing her hands, her feet. The cold seemed to have taken over her body “I can never tell you, Gilbert, and you don't deserve that. There's nothing you can do to solve it”.

         Despite the cold temperatures shivering her limbs, the agony pulsing through her veins, the pain splitting her head in two, Anne could sense the radical change; the darkness in his pupils, the determination in his gaze, the firmness in the defined bones of his face when, in a low, dangerous voice, making her skin crawl and paralyzing her heart, murmured with chilling calmness “There is nothing I won't be able to do for you, Anne. Nothing”.

         “You're lying” Anne broke away from his touch, stroking her forehead as if that would chase away the pain pulsing behind her eyes. The alpha didn't move from his spot “What's this all about, Gilbert? Why do you want me when you can have anyone? Why me?”.

         The alpha seemed to shut down again, the tension in his jaw and his frown marking his face, releasing air through his nose trying to remain calm “It's hard to explain”.

         “Hard to explain” Anne smiled without any hint of humor, deciding she didn't have the strength to keep up this kind of conversation “I guess we're on the same page”.

         She tried to walk past him, determined to leave him and sit next to her parents with her breath hitching and the world trembling beneath her feet, when Gilbert stopped her by taking her arm gently enough not to hurt her, and just firmly enough to hold her in place. Anne watched him with bated breath, her hair tousled by the wind that enveloped them, swallowing audibly, waiting unresisting for Gilbert to speak “Anne—”.

         “No” the young woman interrupted, removing her arm from his grip, shaking her head “It's not going to happen. That's enough”.

         “Tell me” the alpha spoke, looking at her with sincerity and brutality, licking his full lips and sinking his eyes into hers, roaming her draped neck, her braids undone “Tell me it was a mistake, and that you want nothing to do with me from now on. Tell me, and I won't insist again, I won't get in your way again. Tell me, and I will”.  

         “This is unfair, Gilbert” the omega exclaimed, feeling the anxiety prickle under her skin “I have no choice, I can't choose, I have no other way”.

         “Yes you do” the alpha took her hands in his, enveloping her with his size, bathing her in warmth. Anne weighed the idea of biting her tongue until it was cut in two “I can help you, keep your secret, protect you. I can swear it’ll die with me, Anne”.

         She removed her hands, backing away “How can I trust you? You're crazy, Gilbert, if you think I'm going to give in. You're wrong, deeply wrong”.

         Silence fell over them, being able to hear only the fierce beating of her heart, her nature churning in her stomach, clawing at her chest in desperation, her body beginning to shiver from the cold, feeling like she was going to fade away before she could answer, before she could decide. Anne, from the depths of her soul, knew what she wanted, but she knew, too, what she had to do “Say it”.

         “What?”.

“Say it” he approached her, imposing with his height, with defiance in his words, in his addictive scent and the warmth that emanated from his skin. Anne, in a few seconds of confusion, imagined what it would feel like to sink into his chest for a few minutes instead of being forced to make a complex decision “Tell me it was a mistake. Tell me you didn't mean to kiss me, that you didn't want to, that you regret it, and I won't come near you like this again, you won't ever have to speak to me”.

         “Why are you doing this?” Anne growled, pushing one of her hands against his shoulders, unable to explain her anger any other way, gritting her teeth “I'm not going to—”.

         “Tell me, Anne” he muttered low, stepping even closer, watching with dark eyes as the young woman remained anchored to her spot, looking up at him with cheeks tinged pink with anger, craning her neck in a delicate way so she could see him properly. Anne felt her stomach turn as the alpha leaned in, feeling his hot breath on her face, on her mouth, the scent of his nature and his skin enveloping her in an absolute, possessive way. Her resolve wavered beneath her, noting how the anger didn't seem to linger at the shift in energy between them, the tension and the forbidden dancing between them like a sinful invitation “I don't need you to reveal your secret to me now, I can settle for the pleasure of having you close, but I want to hear you. I want you to use your words. Tell me you don't want me, that you regret kissing me, and I'll leave. Tell me”.

         “You don't want to hear my secret” she repeated, stupefied, averting her gaze to his full, moist lips. Something undefined contracted pleasantly in the pit of her stomach, taking her breath away.

         “I can wait, if it means I can have you,” the alpha confessed, reaching up with one of his hands to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Anne couldn't disguise the shiver that ran up her spine “I'm waiting now, waiting to hear you”.

         Anne couldn't answer, breathing deeply. Pupils absorbed her in a matter of seconds, watching the movement of her chest, of her draped neck, of her parted lips. His hand slid down her throat, tilting her head to the side, shifting, dangerous, hungry “Tell me, Anne, do you regret kissing me?”.

Chapter Text

Anne felt danger brushing against the sensitive skin of her nape and her neck like a lethal whisper, a subtle warning that she was dancing on the edge of an abyss, staring into the ocean’s eternity right in its eyes, clearly perceiving how it returned her gaze with coldness. Fear sometimes paralyzed her, filling her eyes with tears and her mouth with saliva while nausea clawed at her throat, quickening her heart to an unnatural and risky rhythm, moistening the palms of her hands and forming an unbearable knot in her stomach that made it hard to breathe.

However, fear seemed to have a different effect when it came to this, when it came to him. Fear felt like a snake sliding over her sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, quickening her breath and anchoring something heavy and indefinable in the pit of her stomach, inviting her to close her eyes, to silence the voice in her head that was the cause of her panic, to lick her dry lips to moisten them and breathe deeply in the aroma that enveloped her like an unbeatable and addictive poison—Anne prided herself on knowing she was an intelligent and clever girl, having few complications in defining the origin of this distinctive, foreign, and scorching fear, able to state the reason in seconds without hesitation.

Anne wasn’t afraid of Gilbert Blythe, nor of his company, his dark and curious gaze, his comforting warmth, his deep laughter, and his quick words; rather, she feared the endless possibilities that could occur from just looking at him, from allowing herself to breathe near him, from leaning toward his touch — Anne’s terror didn’t stem from his presence, but from the chaos and disaster that could mean getting close, from the poisonous voices in her head that only pushed her down to the ground repeatedly, from the justified panic of being the cause of an unhappy, frustrating, and dangerous life due to her impure and scandalous dynamic. Anne wasn’t afraid of Gilbert, and that was the problem. Gilbert seemed to be the only person capable of seeing her for who she truly was, even without knowing it, becoming a protector seemingly able to chase away her fears and hold her heart in his hands with tenderness.

Anne simply didn’t want to ruin it.

But how could she not, when he looked at her this way despite being a pale and sweaty creature, who had done nothing but grunt and tried to push him away with feigned indifference? How could she distance herself from him when he carefully took her hands, trying to protect her from the cold, and firmly asking her to admit her feelings for him? How could she turn away and leave him when he had only observed her with raw and exposed eyes, begging for permission to protect her, willing to accompany her even when he knew it meant great danger? How could her heart and soul tolerate such tearing by rejecting him for his own good?

She couldn’t move. Her head still throbbed painfully behind her eyes (though she felt that Gilbert’s scent had chased away part of the agony), the chants and the clear voice of the priest sounded in her ears distantly, faint beneath the erratic sounds of her breathing, the rustle of her boots against the dry leaves. Winter would arrive soon, Christmas with it, and Anne didn’t want to say goodbye, she didn’t want to distance herself from him; why did it have to be so hard? Why did he choose her, why couldn’t she be a normal girl? She tried to breathe deeply, attempted to open her mouth, to say the words she needed to say, the words that would save her life, that would pull him away from her troubles, from the danger that clung to her shoulders like a divine promise of brutal death, of punishment from angels for her existence. The antithesis of God, of his standards, of the people around her. Lust, lust again and again shining on her skin when they had been enclosed in darkness, lust when he had slid his wet lips along her neck, lust when she could feel his scent in her bed and could do nothing but close her eyes and sigh at the memory.

Tell me, Anne, do you regret kissing me?

She just had to say it, she just had to answer.

Stay away, stay away, I’m not what you expect, I’ll never be able to be. I’m simply a ticking time bomb until they discover me and decide to hang me in the town square, with torches and cries of agreement.

She could still feel the trace of warmth his hand had left on her skin when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a vivid sign that it was real, that she was alive, that this moment was hers. Gilbert, patient as always, waited silently, absorbing the emotions passing over her face like distinct and confusing tales, gliding his eyes over her pale cheeks, over her slightly parted lips, over the scarf he hated wrapped around her throat as if hiding something from him. She didn’t understand how she ended up with her back against a tree, which mercilessly jabbed into her sheltered skin, tensing against him as if it could form a shield between her and the decision waiting in front of her feet with no escape; the alpha remained close enough to breathe in his scent and warmth, to see his lashes, the edge of his jaw, the width of his shoulders. It must have been an instinctive response to maintain a distance that was not disrespectful of her space, but a closeness that allowed him to look at her and touch her if he wished, sure that in the event someone came along, he could hide her with his own body to avoid inviting the creation of hurtful and false rumors. Now, however, breathing erratically and clenching her fists at her sides, Anne couldn’t worry about the outside world. She already had enough with her own.

“Gilbert…” she stammered, feeling the question resonate in her head over and over like a pray, starting to shake her head reflexively when she opened her mouth again “I…”.

She fixed her gaze on his face, noticing the imperceptible movement of his brows, the tension of his jaw, the hope in his eyes. Her thumping heart squeezed beneath her ribs, exerting so much force in her hands that she feared she would cut her palms with her nails, scared that the scant air residing in her lungs might escape her body. She closed her eyes, releasing the breath she had been holding, struggling to concentrate when she felt the alpha’s hand take hers gently, as if afraid to hurt her, gliding the rough touch of his fingers over her white knuckles, forcing her to unconsciously relax her fists, melting under the innocent and warm caress, understanding that Gilbert could sense her stress, uncomfortable with her nervous state and giving in to his instincts to comfort her even when he didn’t know what tormented her head “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Anne, that’s why I want to listen to you. I want to know what you truly want, and I want you to talk to me.”

The pain that pierced her chest stopped her heart for a few seconds, having to bite the inside of her cheek to distract herself, wishing everything were different, that everything was easier “I’m not afraid of you, Gilbert.”

Even when her head screamed that she should lie, that she should say hurtful things to push him away, Anne felt her body would fall apart at just saying it. She couldn’t bear the expression of pain and confusion, the probable disgust that would show on his face if she said she was afraid of him, that she didn’t want him near, that she longed to be left alone. She swallowed audibly when the alpha smiled slightly, still stroking her knuckles, feeling her heart break when he looked at her warmly “I just long to know what you want, what you need. I want to know what I can do, Anne.”

The wind passed around them, whistling through the dry branches, sending a violent shiver up her spine. The alpha, in a reflexive act, merely slid his hand down one of her arms, sharing the warmth of his palms, until he brushed her face once more, cupping her cheek naturally, as if made to protect her from the cold. His words resonated deep within her being, opening wounds in raw flesh when Anne felt her throat close in desperation—she wanted to give in, wanted to open her mouth and reveal it and hide in his arms, wanted to talk about what she had never been able to say even with her parents, wanted to have a confidant in the world, one who could share the burden of her secret and protect her not just from the outside world, but from herself too. Sadness thickened at the bottom of her chest, stones settling deep in her heart as she softly spoke, tilting her face toward his touch “I wish I could explain it to you, Gilbert, but it’s better not to. It’s best for both of us, for you.”

“Anne,” the alpha murmured, yielding to his wishes and taking her face in both hands, breaking the distance between them by brushing his warm body against hers, shielding her from autumn and the real world and all her fears, forcing her to stretch her neck gently to keep looking into his eyes, stretching her cold hands to wrap them in the rich fabric of his dark coat, feeling her lip tremble from the intensity of her emotions and the desperation that drowned her beneath a dark and endless sea. The alpha seemed to be the only firm thing in the world, an anchor to cling to with her life, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing warmly over her face, unable to pull his eyes away from her pupils when his husky voice enveloped her like an ancestral melody “Tell me you regret it, and I will leave, I won’t come looking for you again. Say it, Anne, and I will stay away.”

The omega wrinkled his clothes further as she pressed her hands together, an instinctive rejection of the proposal, breathing sharply through her nose as the alpha blinked slowly, drinking in her expression until, slowly, the desperate, pleading posture of his body changed into something more determined, certain, a warning that could not go unnoticed. Anne noticed the change in the darkness of his eyes, his searing scent, the feel of his hands burning her porcelain skin as he enunciated clearly and intoxicatingly, “Or don't, and I'll stay until you decide you don't want me to. You can say no, and I'll stay with you against this thing that terrifies you, I don't care what it is”.

         He can´t be serious, she thought as she shook her head but kept her face in his hands, feeling her body vibrate beneath his at his closeness, at his words, at the confidence that came out of him, his steely personality and gorgeous beauty and the potential protector he had proven himself to be. Gilbert wasn't lying, never had been, and her anatomy seemed to know it as all the pain that had overwhelmed her moments before began to fade in its entirety, increasing frustration and confusion about what was wrong with herself, her body and her nature. She licked her lips, her feelings overtaking her and opening her mouth even though she wasn't ready to give the answer she should give, that she was obliged to grant “Gilbert, please…”.

         “Don’t say it, and we can deal with this slowly” the alpha offered again, listening to the hope slip into the breaks of his prayer, attentive to the darkness in his eyes, the desire in his hands, the undeniable presence of a man who had done nothing but listen to her, watch her, follow her. A devout man who seemed willing to tolerate a foreign and dangerous secret so that he could hold her close, so that he could hold her hand.

         “You can't help me. No one can” she whispered, distressed, sensing faintly how the alpha had begun to stroke his thumbs against her soft cheeks to soothe her, drowning herself in the heavy scent of his skin to calm her heart.

         “Tell me, Anne,” his words rolled off his tongue patiently, never ceasing to comfort her, mindful of her forlorn expression and her naked eyes like a stormy ocean. Inside the church stood her family and friends, oblivious to what was happening a few feet away, oblivious to the fact that Anne felt the world shaking and shattering beneath her endlessly. For a few brief seconds she could hear the church singing clearly, enjoy the cold that was beginning to leave her body, the soothing feeling of being free of any physical pain after so many hours of nausea and shivering. She had to say it, she had to say it before the needle of the clock kept turning, before it was too late, before she put everything at risk for him. For this, for her, as if she was worthy of a chance, as if she was worthy of even thinking about it. Gilbert did nothing but caress her, looking at her with dark eyes that seemed to be just for her, with his masculine stance and his careful but firm words, a promise that was not to be made clear, a sentence that would be enough to push her into the void “Or you don’t say anything, and I will be yours until you decide you do not wish to have me”.

         Anne blinked, stupefied, feeling something foreign and strange moving inside her, travelling through her veins to the tips of her toes, vibrating in her limbs, in her ears, buzzing in her chest and in her head, as if something had finally been triggered. She didn't look away from his gaze, breathing abruptly, as she parted her lips — she had to say it, she had to enunciate it so they could get on with their lives and leave this behind as a slip, as the one memory where she had allowed herself to fantasize about a life she would never be able to experience. She had to, she had to say the words and turn around and leave him heartbroken, she had to, she had to....

         She slid her gaze from his eyes, diverting it to his masculine nose, the defined bones of his cheekbones, his dark hair, his moist, pink lips inches from hers, who was she kidding? Anne hadn't known heat until she had been touched by his hands for the first time, Anne hadn't known electricity until she had been seen by his eyes, Anne hadn't known the feeling of protection and something giddy and insane taking over her skin and body until she had met him.

Who was she kidding, thinking she would be able to stay away from him, to go back to the cold and the sickness and the loneliness? How could she lie to herself that she could stay away from him when all she could think about was his warmth, his voice, his scent? What kind of God would be so cruel to put someone like him in her life, then dare to take him away from her? Her heart pounded furiously in her veins as she stared at his face in absolute silence, fighting her body and mind to say the words, to let fear and reason win, until she knew she wouldn't be able to do it, couldn't, wouldn't want to. Anne didn't want to walk away from him, she didn't want to lie to him, and even though she knew she was making a terrible decision, the sense of calm and happiness that swelled in her chest was enough to distract her. She didn't want to run away; she didn't want to do it again.

         There was no need for silence, or a gesture of defeat when it came to him, when it came to resting her face in his hands, brushing against his body, being watched by his dark eyes and paced breathing. She did not want to escape, and it seemed that, for a few seconds, nothing seemed to matter around them — not the ceremony that was being performed a few feet away from them, not the people who might discover them, not the dangerous step she was taking. Gilbert seemed to understand that, fixing his gaze on her, tightening his grip on her face, and Anne had no room in her soul to feel fear or regret, no room to fight the electrifying, hot sensation that coursed through her chest, through her veins, through her head. The alpha opened his eyes slightly in surprise, trying to process the fleeting emotions that travelled across her face, until the tension in his jaw unraveled into something more definite and riskier, leaning in to seal the distance between them once and for all.

         Anne didn't have to measure her actions or think through her movements, as if her body and nature knew exactly what to do, sighing audibly when the alpha caressed her lips with his. One of his hands stayed on her face, holding her cheek, while the other travelled to the back of her neck to pull her to him with determination; Anne thought, in crippling insanity, that she would never be able to describe or match a sensation like this. The feel of his big hands pulling her close to him, caressing her warmly and carefully, growling from deep in his chest and against her lips, pinning her in place as if to make sure she was real, that she wasn't going to disappear in his arms, while she could do nothing but receive his warmth and caresses and feel her legs tremble under her unsteady weight. Something delicious coursed through her muscles, forcing her to close her eyes and part her lips even more, feeling Gilbert's sharp teeth graze her lower lip gently, feeling her heartbeat turn to a sweet, rhythmic melody, being able to melt in his arms as the alpha pressed against her. She could think of nothing but him, of his hypnotic scent and the sensation of his tongue brushing against hers in a dance that weakened her muscles and deafened her reality, she could do nothing but breathe against his mouth, part her lips and reciprocate with inexperienced skill what Gilbert was causing in her.

         Anne clenched her hands in his coat, taking a deep breath as the alpha parted slightly, cupping her chin with one hand while still holding the nape of her neck, tilting her head up carefully to kiss the corner of her lips, the edge of her jaw, her cheeks; he was a man who seemed to hunger for her skin, for her closeness, unable to hide the interest and desire that coursed through his veins when he could hold her in his arms, sighing and allowing him better access. The young woman feared to open her eyes and face the dangerous reality of doing this hidden from everyone, to be doing it mere feet from a sacred ceremony to perform something impure and sinful and wrong, even though her body and mind had never felt so at peace and in sync as this moment, allowing the heat of his mouth and teeth to run over her delicate skin, growling from deep in his chest with satisfaction, touching her as if she were made of porcelain but determined to leave a mark on her. Anne batted her eyelashes as the alpha nipped lightly at her jaw, feeling an involuntary, small smile stretch across her glossy, kiss-swollen lips “Gilbert, no”.

“What's wrong?” the alpha asked, pulling away slightly to observe her. Anne turned her head to look at him, feeling an inevitable shiver run up her spine; the closeness seemed to heighten the difference in height and with it his features. She had never been able to appreciate him like this, in this state, and the revelation was chaotic and tantalizing, with his black hair disheveled by the wind, the defined bones of his face shadowed by the cloudy autumn sky, his full lips a reddish hue from the contact and, most importantly, his gaze. His dark eyes, watching her with an inexplicable sensation that prickled her skin and caused contrary responses in herself, as if something she had to fear was watching her and instead of having the desire to run, she possessed the longing to bare her neck for him. It was an animalistic and absurd thought that only caused, to her embarrassment, her cheeks to turn a shy pink “Don't you look pretty like this?”.

         Of course the alpha wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tease her about her unwarranted shyness, forcing her to look at him with a hot face as he smiled sideways, arrogantly, bringing one of his hands up to her mouth to caress his thumb against her lips gently. His caresses were no impediment to Anne's speech, trying to ignore the sensation of her tongue brushing against his thumb, looking at him almost defiantly as the alpha swallowed audibly “I don't consider myself a beautiful person. No one does”.

         Something different crossed his face, a sensation that furrowed his brow slightly and made him tense his jaw, feeling the pulse in her neck quicken at his displeasure when Gilbert shook his head, sliding his hand down her throat, resting on the handkerchief that gingerly dressed her neck. His tone was silky and slow and clear, so deep that Anne feared her body would move of its own accord to brush her face against his “You really are capable of lying to me looking into my eyes, Anne”.

         “That's not true—” she couldn't finish her sentence, letting out a small sound of surprise when the alpha squeezed her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her again. Anne struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to give in to the hot, sticky feeling from low in her belly, from inside her body; when she had to pull away her nature inside her moaned with contempt, hating her for pulling away from what seemed like the only place in the world “Gilbert, we can't be doing this here. It's dangerous”.

         “What's dangerous?” he muttered under his breath, brushing the tip of his nose against her cheek until Anne nudged him slightly, minimal force being enough for the alpha to give in to her personal space.

         “We can't be doing this behind everyone's back, they might get to see us” the young woman sighed, feeling the regret develop in the pit of her stomach as reality and coldness began to envelop her again “Getting caught is something I really don't need right now”.

         The discontent was obvious in Gilbert, disguising it fluidly as he quirked a small smile to stroke Anne's arms with warmth and care, feeling her features relax instinctively as he felt her caresses “No one can see us. I can assure you”.

         “Do I look okay?” Anne asked, fixing the tiny wrinkles in her skirt by running her hands over it, biting her lips nervously as her head worked at a hundred miles an hour “Do I smell... weird?”.

The alpha let out a snort, as if offended by her question, tilting his head to the side slightly as he observed her slowly and in detail. Anne shifted uncomfortably in her place as she opened her mouth again “You look beautiful, and about your rare scent…”.

         Gilbert wasted no time in moving closer, taking a deep breath before brushing his face against hers, nuzzling the tip of his nose against her cheek, the edge of her jaw, feeling a shiver bristle her skin as his warm skin danced over her face, the closeness of his full, moist lips mere inches from her, so close she could imagine them — her heart pounded fiercely beneath her ribs, unable to contain the inevitable fluttering of her eyelashes as she willed her eyes to close at his proximity, clenching her hands into fists as the alpha seemed completely unaffected by her body's silent but obvious reaction. This time he wasn't holding her, sensing her stretching her spine and neck so that the man could get as close as possible, to feel him for as long as they had available, struggling to keep still beneath the slight tickle of his breath and ghostly caress, afraid to start shivering for no apparent reason when the alpha continued his path until he reached her ear, brushing his nose against her earlobe, sliding it down slightly, where she was sure he would be able to feel her pulse, the scant skin her scarf didn't cover revealing itself to him as a forbidden temptation, a temptation willing to drag him down to the lowest reaches of the underworld just to have her.

         “Will your heart always beat this way when I am near?” his words, low and whispery, made her close her eyes tightly, feeling the sweat dampen her palms, her legs clenching together instinctively. She stifled a breath, sensing her heart begin to beat even faster, tensing whole when the alpha released a hot breath on the sensitive skin of her neck, as if he was sighing at her reaction “It sounds lovely”.

         “Gilbert” saying his name this way was absurd, and undignified and ridiculous, but her head couldn't seem to formulate any other sentence and any other thought than that. Him, him and his intoxicating scent around her, him and his breathing and his caresses and his low, husky voice flattering her as if she were pretty, as if she deserved it, as if he could see her for who she really was and not be frightened of her.

         “You say my name in such a pretty way, too,” the alpha murmured, ignoring her, bringing his nose closer to smell her leisurely, feeling the slight negation of his head from the movement against her skin, aware of the silent torture of not feeling his hands, which were clasped behind his back securely; he seemed confident that all he wanted her to feel were his words, his nose, his mouth. Anne couldn't find the strength or the words to complain, paralyzed beneath his charms and his presence, listening intently, “I could listen to you for days on end”.

         Anne's heart leapt, releasing the breath she was holding and opening her mouth to answer anything, anything at all, until a different sensation forced her eyes abruptly open — Gilbert's lips, warm and moist, leaving a kiss on her throat gently and surely, letting her know his intentions, his desires, listening for a few seconds to the rasping sound at the bottom of his chest at the contact. Anne thought perhaps she should feel intimidated, invaded, but her only reaction was to relax her shoulders, her body, to stretch her neck further so he could see her better, so he could kiss her more, biting the inside of her cheek as the alpha kissed the sensitive skin over her pulse, enjoying the nervous, subtle fluttering of her blood “I shouldn't keep you out when it's so cold, should I?”.

         “No... I'm not cold,” she stammered, slipped into a trance that blinded her reasoning, consumed by pleasure and something primal and submissive that compelled her to lick her lips and watch him from the corner of her eye, fearful that she might chase him away with sudden movements. She could feel his smile against her throat, nuzzling the tip of his nose against her neck one last time before he broke away and looked down at her with dark eyes and a possessive countenance. Anne could only swallow audibly in response.

Gilbert reached out one of his hands to cradle her face, cupping one of her cheeks, as if unable to keep away from her despite it being mere inches — Anne melted instinctively into his touch, motivated by his heat, watching him with glazed eyes, puffy lips and flushed face. The alpha couldn't contain the low growl that emerged from his chest at the image, absorbed by her beauty, leaning down to kiss the corners of her mouth, her jaw, slow and wet, enjoying immensely the impending relaxation of her muscles at his caresses. When he pulled away once more, a small sideways smile graced his face “I'm not allowed to leave”.

         “What do you mean?” Anne replied, embarrassed, knowing exactly what he meant, noticing how she didn't want to pull away from him, how she was silently inviting him to keep touching her, to cling to her even more. Gilbert rolled his eyes, still smiling, amused by the obviousness. Anne bit her lips before continuing to speak, “I'm doing absolutely nothing. You can leave whenever you wish”.

         “Must be a figment of my imagination, then” he murmured, stroking his thumb against the smooth skin of her face, licking his lips as he asked, “How do I look?”.

         What was she supposed to answer such a vulnerable question? Of course his question did not possess the same degree of seriousness as hers when she asked it, but the answers that formulated in her head were absurd, ridiculous and, worst of all, true. She blinked slowly, looking at him, lingering on every detail as if it was the first time she was allowed to see him — the width of his shoulders, the musculature of his arms visible despite the coats, the defined veins of his large hands, his ruddy lips and dark eyes and his warmth and his scent worthy of a mortal and divine fantasy, like an illusion made to direct her to a hell that wouldn't be able to bother her if it only meant she could still feel his mouth on her, hear his voice. Heat rose to her cheeks, forced to clear her throat to chase away her embarrassment as her head began to speak for itself.

         Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. I miss you, I miss you now and whenever you're not around. You look good, extremely good, so good that every night, before I go to sleep, I allow myself to imagine you with me, looking at me, breathing on me, growling against my mouth, biting me, inviting me to—.

         “Anne,” he called, frowning slightly at her silence and embarrassment, taking her by the arms gently to comfort her and convey calm. The embarrassment was even worse, imagining her own face and wide eyes looking up at him at a simple question, opening her mouth to answer when the alpha shook his head, downplaying it “It's not important, I didn't mean to—”.

         “You look good” Anne replied abruptly, biting the inside of his cheek when Gilbert couldn't disguise the smug smile that stretched across his lips, turning her shyness into irritation when she snorted “Modesty isn't one of your qualities, is it?”.

         The alpha was about to reply when the unmistakable noise of the church door rang in their ears, exalting them, unable to process how in a matter of seconds Gilbert had moved to her side, effectively and naturally covering her from view. Even though they were away from the exit and the path, shielded by dry trees and the lakeshore, Anne couldn't help but feel her heart quicken its beat in warning, shooting a hand towards the suit that had his back to her as a futile defensive reflex. They both remained deathly silent, believing herself able to brush the nervousness and tension of the two in the air with her fingertips, keeping her eyes open and her breathing quiet so that she could listen carefully to what was going on around her — from the hurried pace of the footsteps and the small number of them, the omega could deduce that it was a single young person, who without stopping slowly walked away from the church and them without bothering to acknowledge their presences, standing rigid and silent against the hardness of the tree until Gilbert, with his irrational and strange senses, seemed to relax the tension in his shoulders to look at her with a more serious countenance than usual “It's safer for you to go in first, and I'll follow behind you in a few minutes or I'll wait out here. No one's seen me yet”.

“I don't even know how long it was” surprise and fear began to creep down her system, feeling that the false alarm of being discovered had passed, leaving in its place sweaty hands and the desire to swallow saliva too many times to be natural. She began to bite the inside of her cheek nervously, looking for any rational excuse to be able to calm the undeniable panic that was beginning to take hold of her “Matthew and Marilla would have come looking for me, wouldn't they?”.

         The seriousness on his face seemed to relax as he heard the undisguised concern in her tone, turning to face her and, in a matter of a blink, leaned in to leave a light kiss at the corner of her lips. His formal scent, akin to forest, fire and honey, caressed her for a few seconds until it came back to haunt her voice “Go, Anne. They're waiting for you”.

         The young woman nodded, breaking away from him and walking with some difficulty from the density of the forest, audibly stepping on the dry leaves as the wind rattled around her, feeling the cold seem to take hold of her like a shadow; before returning to the path, where she could be seen and perceived, Anne turned in on herself so that she could see him once more. So that she could see him with his relaxed posture, leaning against the log, with his hands in his pockets and a coat too thin for such low temperatures and, above all, the intensity of his dark eyes following her every step, as if he wanted to hunt her, as if he was looking for her at every opportunity he was able to listen to the frantic beating of her heart.

         “Gilbert?” saying his name this way was not right, looking at him this way was not right, feeling her skin bristle from head to toe as she watched him straighten to his natural height not right, wanting to be closer to him was not right. She shouldn't want him this way, she shouldn't look at him this way, she shouldn't seek him this way. She shouldn't. She shouldn't.

         “Yes?” Anne swallowed hard at the patience in his voice, feeling the words slipping out of her.

         When will I ever see you again? How will I know when it's time to let you go? How can I be so selfish as to get you into a deadly game with me, where no one can win?

         “I'm sorry,” she shook her head, closing her eyes slightly before turning and heading for the church door. Gilbert, behind her with a grim and confused expression, did nothing more than nod his head slightly. He knew better to let her go than to pursue her.

         Anne, like the cowardly person she could sometimes be, did not look over her shoulder again.

Chapter Text

Anne felt it as she entered, as she took a deep breath, as she took her first step.

         The surprise was so brutal and unexpected that she stopped frozen in her walk, her eyes shooting naturally and undisguisedly to the source of the overwhelming scent that stung beneath her skin, pressing her hands into fists, digging her nails into the flesh of her palms. Diana, unaware of what was happening, collided with her head-on, sending her stumbling noisily and spinning around in an awkward, embarrassed manner. Her best friend looked at her with confusion and a slight frown, speaking in a soft voice as she muttered “What's wrong?”.

         The blood rushed to her cheeks so quickly that the world shook beneath her feet. All her companions had begun to speak softly, their eyes fixed on them, feeling uncomfortable to be the focus of such burdensome opinions, reaching out abruptly to take her friend's hand, leading her to their seats with her gaze fixed on her feet. Her tongue was numb, and she felt as if her legs were going to give out beneath her until she dropped into her chair, sinking her face beneath the scarf that wrapped her neck densely, breathing through her mouth as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did.

         “Anne” Diana whispered, tucking her hair behind her shoulder, looking down at her with a worried expression and sliding her gaze down her ruddy face quickly “Are you feeling all right?”.

         “Yes! Yes, I'm sorry, I almost tripped you” Anne replied, waving her hands in front of her to generate emphasis on her lie. The smile she flashed was so nervous that her best friend had no response other than to widen her eyes in disbelief “The heat from the fireplace is sometimes stifling, nothing more. I was surprised”.

         “Oh,” Diana replied, staring at the heat source with raised eyebrows, thinking quickly how to fix it, typical of her pure and sweet and selfless personality. Anne could cry just thinking of the little gestures she had to make her feel as comfortable as possible “Do you wish the boys would build a lower fire?”.

         “Diana” the omega smiled genuinely, taking one of her cold hands between her icy ones to caress her knuckles with one of her thumbs reassuringly. Her friend dropped her shoulders naturally, listening to her, “Don't worry, I'm fine. It was just the temperature change”.

         Diana nodded, pleased with the explanation and the tone of her voice, turning with a small smile when Tillie called her name rows back, beginning to listen intently to the excited conversations of the young women, laughing quietly at a wry comment from Jane that sparked a monologue from Josie Pye that Anne didn't bother to listen to. Anne still kept her nose hidden behind the scarf, which smelled of the burnt firewood, the hot tea Marilla had made for her hours ago, the faint scent of the now-dried flowers that decorated the centerpiece; she blinked slowly, feeling her heart beating beneath her skin, thinking how to satisfy the dangerous intrigue that forced her body to obey, to turn, to breathe.

         Anne tried to beat the panic in her head, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she was on the verge of cutting flesh with her teeth, her reasoning taking over from her worry in a matter of seconds. It had been part of her imagination, hadn't it? Only her fantasies could create something so intense, so unbelievable and insane that it made her stop in her tracks and turn her head in despair. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real, it just wasn't....

         She had to prove it. She had to make sure it was her head playing with her, testing its limits, blurring the line between reality and fantasy and paradise. She didn't give herself time to hesitate, to give in to her cowardice and breathe through her lips once more, exposing her face and consequently breathing deeply through her nose without weighing the likely consequences that would mean.

The mundane, coarse aromas did not manifest themselves in her senses, in her brain; there was no need. Her head turned on its own, chasing her nose, her lips slightly parted and her ears deaf to the outside world. Nothing else seemed to matter, or her body seemed to speak for her — she had no control of her own anatomy, of her irrational thoughts, of her knees crashing together from the force of bringing them together as a reflex of vulnerability, swallowing so heavily that she feared the people around her would have been able to sense it. Nothing mattered, though. Nothing mattered but Gilbert's heavy scent, which never failed to take the oxygen out of her lungs, but this time it had a different, addictive, lethal characteristic; she breathed in once more, feeling her mouth moistening automatically, bringing her hands to her lap, crumpling the clothes that clad her legs.

         The world seemed to cease to exist, where everyone around her was talking loudly, laughing and frowning, while she was absorbed by something unnatural and divine and inexplicable. She felt the intense taste on her tongue, fighting the desire to close her eyes, to let out the high-pitched noise that wanted to rise in her throat, her mind trying to define the aromas that tinged her vision with colors — the heavy, hot fragrance of his masculinity, overwhelming and so overpowering at the same time that Anne had the urge to stand on unsteady legs to sink her nose into his neck, wanting to feel the scent of mint, firewood, fresh air that would expand her lungs with satisfaction permeate her skin. Gilbert smelled different. His scent was still there, intoxicating and impossible to ignore, with a different intensity that stung at the back of her throat every time she breathed it in, brushing against her inner thighs as if an invisible hand was caressing her with every breath.

         The alpha, however, had a neutral appearance that made it difficult to see the slight differences in his posture. He was leaning against one of the benches, looking indifferently at his companions, his shirt folded over his forearms despite the imminent arrival of winter, his jaw tense in discomfort and breathing through his nose heavily. Anne licked her lips, fighting with all her might the urge to keep looking at him, knowing she had little time until her attitude would be considered rude and strange, her eyes widening imperceptibly as the alpha slowly slid his gaze towards her. Anne's response was obvious and inevitable, putting more pressure on her fists, stretching her spine and blinking slowly as Gilbert fixed his eyes on her presence — his scent, as if it were possible, intensified as if he could reach out to her, as if he wanted to touch her somehow; her heart burned beneath her skin as the alpha, pupils dark and shoulders stiff with tension, swallowed and licked his teeth without opening his mouth, able to feel his tongue move against his cheek in an elegant and natural way. She didn't have to think about it much longer before she knew what was happening, felt what was happening.

         Gilbert was close to his rut.

         The revelation unsettled her, feeling suddenly fearful beneath his gaze, afraid that the alpha might sense the erratic beating of her heart despite the bustle around them. Hundreds of questions swirled in her head, biting her tongue hard as she was unable to order her thoughts, unable to tear her eyes away from his as if petrified by him, by his company, by his scent and his beauty and his simple posture that made her soul tremble. She breathed through her nose, innocent of how the gesture should look for a young alpha in the early stages of madness, understanding her mistake when Gilbert tensed his jaw with enough pressure to be worrisome.

Anne was not innocent about rut, not only because of her own heats, but also because of unfortunate situations she had had to witness to understand the gravity and seriousness that a rutting alpha signified. She had been a very fortunate young woman, not having traumatic episodes in any of those encounters other than unpleasant growls and absurd irrationality that did not amount to physicality, along with the irresistible urge to cover her face and get as far away as possible despite being in a clearly vulnerable state. She had read some news about it, heard horrible rumours where, plunged in a violent and frenzied fog, they kidnapped victims who had the misfortune to cross the path of animal men, occasions where energy and lack of satiety made them consume their women even in states of unconsciousness, unconcerned about the wellbeing of their partners or of strangers they had decided to take against their will. Fights between alphas were commonplace, of course, with many of them deciding to beat each other so bloody that it was not uncommon to find the bodies of young men abandoned on the footpaths, their faces disfigured and a putrid scent worthy of a recent and intense rut.

         Anne could not disguise the shudder that scratched her spine, confused whether the reason came from fear, from the depth of his gaze, from the contradictory implication of sensing the proximity of his rut and not knowing how to feel about it, unable to move out of an implicit desire to wait for Gilbert to make the first move.

         Was it common to attend classes, to expose himself to the public when he was close to a rut? Was no one affected by the intensity of his scent? She watched him in detail, knowing that few would be able to distinguish the slight change in his tense muscles, in his rigid posture, in his expression almost annoyed by the noise and the foreign scents, keeping his calm and rationality above the surface, causing more doubt within her, why did he prefer to put himself at risk in this way?

         It will be alright. Everything will be fine, it always was. It's a simple change in her scent, nothing more. Nothing she can't tolerate. Nothing she couldn't deal with. Perfect, in fact.

         Anne didn't understand what was wrong with her.

         The sweating of her palms had become annoying, unbearable in fact, having to wipe them against her lap every few minutes, feeling the paranoia growing inside her chest like a parasite. She touched his forehead, thinking that perhaps her temperature had risen for no apparent reason, being greeted by her cold, pale skin in response. The professor's voice echoed inside her head, a distant and foreign reality to her anatomy and thoughts, failing again and again to concentrate when she tried, beginning to bite her lips so obsessively that when she felt the metallic taste of her blood staining her tongue she was not at all surprised, running her tongue over the wound absently.

         It was a matter of hours before Anne understood the reason.

         All her senses, her attention and her body, were attuned to those of the alpha across the room. She would never be able to get used to Gilbert's commanding presence, even from yards away, sensing his existence like a magnetic field around her, drawing her in like a sinful lure; yet now that she could breathe deeply of his addictive, heavy, tantalizing scent, feeling him brush her lips, the delicate skin of her wrist and neck, Anne felt herself slowly losing her mind. She had silently asked her best friend if she could open the window, receiving a horrified look at the cold temperatures, biting her tongue and understanding that she had to endure it for as long as possible. She had to force herself not to watch out of the corner of her eye at his movements, the way he stretched his legs out in front of him, sensing the thickness of his thighs, the gracefulness of his movements as he settled his hips, the tension in his jaw from the discomfort of his body and the boredom of the class, the dark pupils watching her at every opportunity as if he was able to sense her attention and her curiosity.

         Her head was beginning to play cruelly at every chance she closed her eyes and breathed. The image of Gilbert sitting close to her was kept alive like a flame, being able to imagine the warmth of his skin if she dared to run her fingers across it, touch his forearm and entwine his fingers, his raspy voice laughing at her or asking everyday questions with concern, enjoying the primal feeling of being looked at by him, of being able to stay close no matter how dangerous it was, no matter how bad it was. She tried to distract herself every time she remembered the wet feel of his lips, the depth of his growls and the vibration of his chest against her hands, the delicacy of his touch, the devotion of his intentions. She had to blink several times to bring herself back to reality, feeling the guilt pass fleetingly through her heart for her selfishness not only with Gilbert for her lies, but with Ruby, who sat behind her and allowed herself to let out hopeful sighs throughout the class. The mere idea that she was able to take in his scent in the same way she did forced her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, confused by the nagging sensation that weighed in the pit of her stomach like an impure, impending reminder.

         As the sun climbed towards the centre of the sky, marking midday, Anne waited for no indication to stand up and excuse herself to Diana in a hurried and embarrassed manner “I need to get some air, don't wait for me to start eating!”.

         “Anne—” it was rude of her not to wait for her best friend to finish the sentence, turning on her feet and heading outside without looking over her shoulder, holding her breath as she passed Gilbert. She walked towards the icy stream on weak knees, dropping onto the bank before plunging her hands into the water, feeling shivers run through the entirety of her body from the cold and the change in temperature, still aware that the water could not brush her wrists because of the ointment that invisibly covered them.

         She brought her wet hands to her face, pressing her jaw together so as not to shiver from the cold, breathing deeply in the cool, frigid autumn air, feeling her head clear effectively and tuning her body to reality rather than her sickly fantasies. She returned to the warmth of the classroom, quiet, wiping the droplets trickling down her chin carefully, wiping her damp hands on her skirt when Charlie's shy voice interrupted her path, smiling an unconvincing smile as she looked into his eyes “Anne, h-hello. I can finally find you free”.

         “I'm always free” Anne smiled, tucking the hair that was escaping from her braid behind her ears. Charlie grimaced oddly, and Anne felt her smile cool slightly.

         “Well, not always, you know...” her partner wanted to explain, slowly noticing how his cheeks tinged with heat and he began to tangle with his own tongue. Anne looked for the first logical explanation to help him, shaking her head in amusement as she tried to understand.

         “You mean because of Diana?” she nudged him playfully by the shoulder, trying to relax his nervous attitude, feeling that she had made it even worse when he turned a red colour too bright to be healthy. She cleared her throat, trying her best to make the conversation as un-awkward as possible “She really enjoys talking to everyone, more so if we're together! Don't be shy to approach if I'm with her, she's always happy to talk to you”.

         “Oh, no, I don't mean her, I mean...” he scratched the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable, slumping his shoulders and appearing to have an internal struggle that managed to make Anne frown, feeling she had lost all trace of his train of thought as he snorted, irritated with himself “It's not important, s-sorry, I always over talk and...”.

         “Anne!” Ruby interrupted, moving delicately towards her and taking her arm with absolute confidence, grinning from ear to ear. Her companion wasn't a bad person by any means, but the omega knew her joy couldn't translate in any other way than mischief, playing with her stomach knowing it wasn't a good thing, but dangerous “Come, let's play something new!”.

         Anne opened her mouth to protest or ask what was going on, her eyes widening as Ruby looked at Charlie with slight confusion before smiling and grabbing his arm quickly, not giving him time to react or refuse, looking up at him with big, bright eyes as she exclaimed “Come on, Charlie! I'm sure you'll love the game”.

Her feet moved of their own accord, laughing quietly as her shy companion's heart seemed to stop for a few seconds, covering her mouth with her free hand so as not to be rude, watching the round on the floor with disinterest until Josie Pye turned her attention to her like an expectant viper. Anne dug her feet into the floor.

         “What a surprise, Shirley” she murmured, smiling with her perfect teeth and silky hair falling down her shoulders, arranging her legs to sit on them on the floor, neat and perfect as usual. Anne had a few seconds to observe the round, noting how the girls were seated and separated by the boys, not having to bother to look closely to know in her bones that Gilbert was still sitting in his place, probably reading with disinterest “Who'd have thought you'd have the guts?”.

         “What are you talking about?” she replied, frowning looking up at Diana from her spot, mute and with an indecipherable expression as the boys around her laughed quietly, as if there was a private joke she knew nothing about and which, honestly, didn't seem to be funny at all.

         Ruby had taken a seat, biting her lips and sending an expectant glance over to where Gilbert stood, making room as Charlie sat obediently, unable to bear the weight of Josie Pye's pointed attention. Anne couldn't blame him, swallowing as she stopped smiling and her eyes seemed to see right through her, muttering with little patience, “Sit down”.

         Anne didn't know what she was doing as she sat on the floor, watching Diana with silent hesitation and a mild warning for the little game they were about to play. It must not have been innocent and harmless if Josie had insisted her participation, feeling her heart begin to beat nervously under her ribs as reality began to surround her again, drowning her with the scorching scent of Gilbert close to her, the unpleasant fragrances of her teasing companions, the anxiety of being close to Josie and not knowing what she was up to. Anne tried to breathe as she watched with wide eyes as her companion set a glass bottle down in the middle of the round, lying down, swallowing thickly as the other girls let out nervous, singsong giggles, the boys clearing their throats and trying to conceal an emotion that bordered on the pathetic. Anne twisted her mouth, noticing with surprise how Diana dodged her gaze, interested and involved with what was about to happen. Anne had to concentrate to take a deep breath.

         “The game is simple” Josie explained, connecting her gaze with the others’ before leaning back on her knees and stretching her hand towards the bottle, touching it “The bottle spins, and the people who are pointed at must kiss each other. Easy”.

         What?

         “It has to be boy and girl, girl and boy, of course” Josie clarified, as if any other possibility could be considered a crime “We're well settled, so we can get started”.

         “I—” Anne started to speak, trying to stand up when Ruby gently took her arm to hold her in place, smiling innocently as if making out with her classmates was a fun activity to do while waiting for the teacher to return. She was about to smile politely to reject her when Josie's voice rang in her ears, venomous and defiant.

         “What's wrong, Anne, did you kiss too many girls at the orphanage to play with us?” the feeling of hatred and shame spread in the pit of her stomach slowly, tightening her muscles and turning her blood to anger and disgust. She felt her skin tinge a sickly white as she watched her delicate expression, too pretty to be the bearer of so much evil.

         “Josie, don't say that!” Ruby interrupted, biting her tongue as her best friend looked at her disapprovingly, not failing to stretch Anne's arm with her own, “Anne, don't go. If you leave one of the boys must go”.

         “I—I, actually...” Charlie spoke, shy and low, looking at Billy with eyes as big as a deer about to be hunted when a low, inoffensive growl from Billy silenced him, sentencing that no amount of complaining or denial was going to be accepted. Anne felt nauseous as she painfully braced her knees on the ground, feeling like a caged animal as Josie pointed to the bottle in the center of the round. Nothing around her seemed to exist, unable to concentrate on Gilbert's enveloping scent due to the panic that was beginning to clench her heart in its claws, seizing her lungs, moistening her palms.

“Diana, you start,” Josie encouraged, glaring at her insistently until her best friend swallowed audibly and moved warily towards the bottle. She took it, swirling it with perhaps less force than necessary, until within seconds it pointed at Moody. The young man didn't know how to react, glancing to his sides as if he might flee, until he had no choice but to face Diana, taking the first step by standing up. The air was thick with tension as her best friend approached, hesitant and wide-eyed, until in the middle of the dead silence she spoke softly and gently.

         “Morning, Moody” she murmured, nodding her head as if it were a chance meeting on the main avenue rather than sharing a first kiss.

         “Good morning, Diana” Moody replied, stirring nervously in his place, while the other classmates around them kept their eyes fixed on them nervously, biting their lips, breathing slowly and expectantly at what was about to happen.

         Perhaps Diana's pleading eyes for escape from the situation spurred him to slowly move closer, sensing how her best friend stretched her head, jumping slightly in place as he broke the distance, landing a fleeting kiss on her lips, too fast to be felt, almost brutish for the speed he exerted. The boys burst into the round, howling and clapping, while the girls laughed in delight at the spectacle; Anne was able to smile slightly through her nerves when she noticed a genuine smile from her best friend, returning to her place calmly and looking up at her with sparkling eyes, almost communicating telepathically, overcoming the crowd.

         “Ruby, spin the bottle” Josie encouraged, grinning uncontrollably as the young girl, red from head to toe, stretched to spin the bottle biting her lips compulsively, looking hopefully in the direction of Gilbert, who was probably still concentrating on his reading rather than engaging in awkward and forced games. Anne had begun to fantasize how serious it would be to stand up and walk away, ignoring the protests and insults, when the bottle pointed at Billy. Ruby made a funny, displeased expression with her lips, getting Anne to laugh quietly at her rejection.

         “Maybe you should turn it again” Josie protested, gesturing with her hands, clearly in denial with the bottle's natural decision, looking on with a frown when Billy didn't utter a word against it. Ruby blinked sad eyes, speaking in a sweet voice.

         “Are we sure no one else wants to play?” the question was so obvious that Anne felt a dagger in her stomach, a lump in her throat so thick she couldn't swallow. It was absurd to feel this way when the alpha had no commitment to her whatsoever, beginning to bite the inside of her cheek nervously and uncomfortably when Billy didn't move a muscle in her direction, and Ruby did nothing but look sadly at her friend.

         “No one else wants to play, and we need to hurry before Professor Phillip comes back” one of Billy's friends insisted, nudging him by the shoulder to give him courage “So stand up so we can continue”.

         Billy snorted, standing up and ignoring Josie Pye's murderous, indecipherable stare, stretching one of his hands out towards Ruby to do the same. The poor girl didn't know what to do, tinged pale and reddish at the same time, opening her mouth like a fish's, watching Billy and Josie debating what to do until her friend couldn't take it anymore “This is stupid. It wasn't clear who she was pointing at, so Ruby will have to spin the bottle again”.

         “That's not true” Billy's friend muttered, making a confused expression that bordered on mocking, getting Anne's eyes to widen slightly at the way he was treating Josie, who didn't waste a single second in turning to glare at him with hatred “It was pretty clear the bottle was pointing at Billy”.

         Anne averted her gaze to Billy and Ruby, feeling a shiver run up her spine at the alpha's unpleasant presence. His posture, even relaxed, looked domineering and threatening, looming over her as if predicting her desire to escape, oblivious to Ruby's cowering posture on herself, avoiding eye contact and his closeness. She didn't hear Josie's unfriendly response in the back of her head as she stood up, unable to bear the awkwardness of the situation for the poor excuse of a game, digging her feet into the ground as she muttered, “Ruby, if you don't want to play with him that's fine. There's no pressure”.

Ruby fixed her eyes on her, noting the warmth of her cheeks and the twinkle in her eyes, stepping back decisively when Billy let out a low, low laugh, devoid of grace, mired in mock disbelief as he tilted his head to the side to look at her. Anne restrained the impulse to take a step back “Will there ever be a day when you learn to keep your mouth shut, orphan?”.

         “I'm not talking to you” the answer left her lips before she could think of the consequences, feeling her heart pounding with anger and the silence falling heavy between them as the rest of the conversations died to the tension of the unexpected encounter.

         “Let me guess,” Billy continued to speak, turning around to direct his body towards her. His scent remained light in comparison to Gilbert's overpowering, intense aroma, but it had no less effect on her — nausea clawed at her throat, erupted cold sweat on the back of her neck, breathing through her lips without breaking her gaze from his eyes. She wasn't a coward, she wasn't afraid, she didn't have to run away “How many people did you kiss to want to ruin the fun for the rest of us?”.

         “This isn't about me, it's about Ruby's consent and—” Anne muttered, shaking her head and frowning at the ridiculousness of his proposition, feeling her palms damp with nerves. All eyes now seemed to be on her, analyzing her as if they could see through her, through her impurity, through the demon that dwelt within her soul and held her heart and contoured her body and her thoughts as she saw it. All eyes seemed to be on her memories, on Lloyd's brutal hands stretching her hair, flicking her nose, pinning her to the floor and licking her neck, taking all her dignity with her, everything... “It's her choice to kiss you or not. She doesn't have to do it in the name of a game”.

         Anne saw the change from controlled irritation to a deeper, more animalistic anger taking place on his face. Her companions were still sitting, staring at them, and Anne was afraid to look away from Billy as if he were a wild beast, who might attack her the second she turned her attention away from him and his putrid scent. Her body had no better reaction than to widen her stance, stretching her shoulders, keeping her feet flat on the ground, her chin up; he didn't have to be aware of the cold sweat covering her lower back when Billy spoke again, looking for a reaction from her “Did she say no to me, Anne? I bet that all the people who've touched you, none of them expected you to say yes, am I wrong?”.

         “Did you hear her say yes, Billy?” she ignored the question, feeling a dagger digging into the center of her stomach, as if he was able to see the marks on her skin, the hardness covering her scars, the black ink sinking into her bones. He let out a snort, like an angry bull, inviting her to avert her gaze to Ruby, who was pale as a sheet without knowing the exact reason; being beta she possessed a less sensitive nose, but was able to perceive the scents on a lesser level, being able to be affected by them anyway. Billy's malevolent, heavy scent was probably drying her throat, struggling to concentrate when Anne asked, “Ruby, do you want to play with him?”.

         Ruby looked on the verge of being sick, breathing through her mouth and keeping a small distance from the alpha who didn't bother to look at her, too furious with Anne to take his eyes off her. Her friend slowly shook her head, biting her lower lip anxiously as she decided to raise her soft, unsteady voice “M—maybe we shouldn't force anyone to play if they don't want to”.

         “This is your fault, Shirley” his ill-intentioned comment went unnoticed as her male and female companions began to debate about it. Anne suddenly felt vulnerable, being ignored by a room full of people, as if she was alone with Billy, where he could say whatever he wished, and no one would witness his malice “Ruining everyone else's fun because you've had your fill”.

         “You're right, I've had enough” Anne sighed, taking a step back, exhausted. The headache from the putrid scent of his anger was looming, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible when she saw Ruby being comforted by Jane, while Josie sat beside her with a disgruntled expression on her indecipherable face. Diana was just getting to her feet to join her when Billy stopped her, grabbing her arm firmly.

Anne felt nausea rise in her throat as she remembered her encounter in the forest, how vulnerable and helpless she felt, having to walk around with a stone in her pocket for weeks for fear of finding him again. For fear of being found. It was absurd, to think she had any kind of power or possibility when Billy, with a simple grip on her arm, possessed the physical ability to drag her away and beat her as if she were a rag doll. Surprise and panic gripped her, not knowing how to react as his hand clung to hers, digging his nails into her flesh in a reflexive act of causing her pain to let go. Diana, eyes wide in fear and prying without a second thought, grabbed her other arm to pull her close, exclaiming loudly enough to get the attention of those who were distracted “Billy! What are you doing?”.

         Billy didn't take his dark eyes from her face, however, feeling his fingers sink into the sensitive skin of her arm, clenching her jaw tightly at the sharp pain of his pressure. She breathed through her nose, trying to remain calm as Diana continued to speak, blinking slowly as the alpha spoke “I'm getting fed up with your attitude and insolence, Shirley, don't you remember the deal we had?”.

         “There's nothing between you and me” Anne spoke in a more unsteady tone than desired, feeling her expression warp in agony as Billy forced her even closer, feeling her legs weaken beneath her from panic and stress. Her throat seemed to close at the imminent threat of defying an alpha, her nature begging to obey, to withdraw from his attention and anger, failing considerably in the face of the strength of her character and her instincts to preserve herself in the most rational way possible “Let me go”.

         “Or what?” he challenged, shaking her arm slightly in proof, causing her eyes to well up with tears at the brutality of his touch. All around her, perhaps her other companions, had stood up, trying to do something about it, backing away as a low, menacing growl from Billy pushed them away; an instinctive promise that they were going to regret it if they did anything about it “Or what, Anne?”.

         She didn't want to let a single tear fall, or let out a single whimper of pain, pressing her jaw so hard and trying so insistently to free her arm, knowing it wouldn't be possible until he decided to let go. In her head, engulfed by fury, helplessness, anger coursing through her veins, disgust weighing on her stomach, her nature doing its best to remain calm, Anne had no better idea than to look him straight in the eye, firm and defiant, muttering clearly, “You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to obey you”.

         “You will have to learn many things if you wish to remain here,” he muttered low, not letting go of her. Anne thought about the possibility of snarling in his face, kicking him, starting to scream in a delirious manner, freeing her other arm from Diana's desperate grip and trying to claw at his eyes. Anne thought she heard the voice of one of his companions behind Billy, but neither of them seemed to hear him “And the first of them will be to keep quiet”.

         “Let me go” she whispered through her teeth, feeling the pain was unbearable, blinking fast to fight back the tears, taking deep breaths to keep from letting out a sob, unable to control herself when she said, “You're hurting me”.

         “Will you learn to shut your mouth?” he tugged at her once more, making her trip over her own feet, nearly colliding with his chest as she regained her stability once more. Diana seemed to be sobbing beside her, in anguish at the display of violence while the other girls were pale with horror. Anne tore her eyes away from his to watch her arm being brutally squeezed, fearful of the bruising that was to adorn it later, struggling once more with breaking free.

         “It hurts” she confessed, knowing the tears could not be dispelled, hating herself for not tolerating it, for not being able to fight it, for not being able to do anything about it. She felt weak and vulnerable and hatred corroded her veins, tainted her soul and her goodness, exposing her in front of everyone as if she were nothing, humiliating her like an animal, letting out a whimper of agony as his fingertips seemed to brush against her bones, digging into her like needles. Her fate seemed to be to fight for what she believed was right, to stand up for those she believed needed it, to stand her ground only to be punished for it, to be persecuted, to be beaten as if she was worthless. Her best friend was the only one holding onto her, futilely trying to reason with Billy as Anne breathed through her mouth not knowing what to do, not knowing how to free herself from him and his poisonous scent and his hurtful words “Let go of me, or I swear—”.

         Diana caressed one of her shoulders, bringing her hands to her face to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks as she didn't know what to do to push him away. It was in a matter of seconds that, suddenly, the girls took multiple steps backwards into a far corner as Moody tried to touch him, cowering in on himself as Billy snarled in her face with ferocity and lack of rationality, territorial and aggressive; even her best friend, in a response purely of instinct, had taken a step backwards with her eyes wide in terror. Anne felt she couldn't breathe through the alpha's dense scent, anger bristling her skin and pain making her dizzy with such intensity she felt the nausea shake the ground, stretching her arm out once more and letting out a low moan of agony as Billy dug his fingers in harder “Say it”.

         “I swear to God, Billy, if you don't let go of me right now—” she began to speak, overwhelmed and still feeling the anger vibrating in the frantic beat of her heart, letting out another whimper as she heard the low throb of his chest, furious at her lack of submission and surrender, frustrated that he couldn't assert himself over her even through threats and pain, angry at the fear of others but her own. Anne was about to tug on her arm for the tenth time when, suddenly, her back collided with the firmness of another's chest.

For a few seconds she pushed her body away in nervousness and terror, until her other senses seemed to follow her nose and skin. The warmth that enveloped her was strangely familiar, surrounding her with the same calmness as the sunlight at midday, the spring breeze when she decided to walk barefoot through Green Gables, running from the chickens when they wanted to nip at her ankles; the body leaning against her relaxed her muscles instantly, like a remedy, feeling her shoulders slump and a whimper catch in her throat, biting her lower lip so as not to show the pain radiating from her arm. Worst of all, of course, came with her nose, feeling Gilbert Blythe's scent so close to her that she feared she would lose the strength of her legs, the spicy fragrance of heat caressing her neck, her wrists, a heaviness worthy of an anger she had never sensed, and a tinge she had not been able to distinguish until now: possessiveness. Possessiveness that bristled her skin and shot her attention towards him, like a magnet and eyes wide in surprise and an instinctive adoration she couldn't stop even in front of so many onlookers, breathing his scent deeply, the protection of his presence melting into her body, into her soul, into her nature.

It didn't take the alpha opening his mouth for Billy to let go of her arm, as if her skin suddenly burned, taking a step back as he understood the magnitude of the situation, his eyes widening slightly at Gilbert's feral expression. The alpha regarded him with black eyes, the energy heavy and dark and his scent so intense that Anne had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from making any strange noises, freezing in place as Gilbert diverted his attention to her, her omega's instinctive response in looking harmless and disguising the desire for his comfort and touch. Anne couldn't think as she should, sliding her eyes across his pupils, the definition of his bones, the warmth of his skin and the strength of his hands, trying to ignore the absurd chanting of her head in shameful, unnatural relief at his alpha presence, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts....

His expression, of course, expressed nothing but concern and regret as he looked at her. The alpha approached her, oblivious to all onlookers, taking her by the chin and lifting her upwards, inspecting her face carefully as he noticed the few tears staining her cheeks, the redness of her nose, the exaggerated swelling of her lips from biting them in a desperate attempt to endure the pain. She felt as, beneath his gaze, her reasoning began to abandon her, yielding instead to contrary emotions that began to choke her, frightening her not only out of the stupid relief she felt at his nearness, but out of the panic of not understanding what was happening to herself. The alpha understood, within seconds, the change in her breathing, her eyes crystallizing, her lips trembling, hugging her arm against herself, sinking her shoulders, as if to make herself tiny, to go unnoticed, to disappear; he didn't continue to touch her, releasing the air through his nose before speaking for the first time “Anne, do you need to leave?”.

The deep, husky voice bristled her skin, noticing how everyone around her shared confused looks, holding herself in place for fear of invoking unwanted attention from the alpha, feeling a tight knot form in her stomach as she looked at Ruby, who, for the first time, seemed to be looking at her with different eyes. She began to nod her head, not letting go of her arm, as if it could fall apart if she didn't hold it in her own hands “Y-yes, I need to, I should...”.

“Come on,” the alpha murmured, slow, sure, real. Anne felt the confusion of her reaction, of the emotions coursing through her from head to toe, of her body's animal response to get as far away from Billy as possible as she approached the door, trying not to be consumed by the fear and embarrassment of the morbid and surprised attention of her partners, especially that of Josie Pye who, since Billy had decided to start pulling on her, hadn't moved a muscle.

Gilbert uttered no more words, following her closely, not looking at any of his classmates. He closed the door behind him, keeping a safe distance as Anne tried to breathe with the cold air cutting into her skin, moving closer to the stream and squatting down, feeling like her heart was going to break her ribs. Shame, fear and regret gripped her lungs, fixing her gaze on the water for fear of looking over her shoulder and noticing how everyone was watching them from the window, judging her, Ruby deeply confused and hurt by Gilbert's reaction, Billy making hurtful comments with Josie Pye listening intently. And to Diana, who must have been surprised at the closeness after lying for so long, after not confessing that she'd had her first kiss, that she wasn't who she said she was, that she deserved to be punched in the face for lies and betrayal and danger and....

“Anne” the alpha spoke, startling her, turning her head in his direction as he crouched down beside her, looking at her with dark pupils and a soft tone so as not to startle her “Breathe”.

Anne blinked hard, averting her gaze and trying to breathe through her nose, agitated, regretting it the moment Gilbert's scent hit her in the face so hard she almost dropped; the fragrance was more intense because of his closeness and concern, drying her mouth, feeling the taste of mint on her tongue, the warmth of a campfire, the freshness of pine in autumn “I—I can't”.

“I can—” he began to mutter, moving closer to her to take her by the shoulders decisively when Anne shook her head energetically, getting him to stop with a frown.

“They're watching us” she spoke, fixing her gaze on the stream and letting out a sigh, feeling guilt fill her eyes with tears “Ruby and Diana must hate me. I don't know how I'm going to look them in the eye”.

“Anne” the alpha repeated, hypnotic and reassuring, unable to contain the urge to rest his hand warmly and reassuringly on her shoulder, encouraging her to look over her shoulder “They're talking to each other, so don't worry about anyone else. I need you to breathe, and slowly”.

“I can't” the omega replied, breathing through her clothes, feeling her skin suddenly sensitive and thirsty for his closeness, his warmth, his scent and his mouth and his words, struggling to focus and gain control of herself “I was wrong. Diana must be deeply confused and I'm tired of lying to her and keeping things from her, while Ruby, Ruby...”.

The alpha seemed to have had enough of her mild moment of panic, sliding his hand down her back to the point where she had to mute in surprise, feeling dizzy from his presence, his spicy scent occupying her head, the silky touch of his hands, blinking as the alpha spoke slowly, clearly “Don't be afraid. You're a good girl and I'm sure they can appreciate it too, they'll understand whatever happened between you as time goes on”.

“You really think so?” it was pathetic to seek approval so desperately, eager to feel relief, to ignore the hot sensation of conscience whispering in her head, beating her over the head for her lies, for her selfishness, for the devastating desire to keep the few precious friendships she had made for the first time in her life. Gilbert seemed to be a mature and observant person, trying to breathe through her nose as he knew he was right; Diana was her soulmate and she couldn't lose her friendship because of her fear of revealing her secrets, because of the confused purpose of wanting to protect things she couldn't control “I have to fix this as soon as possible. I don't want to hurt anyone”.

“Of course you don’t” the alpha murmured, sensing how the scent seemed to draw her closer and closer to him, to his warmth in the middle of a cold autumn afternoon. She slid her gaze down his face, admiring the ability to have moist lips even in such low temperatures, a pale hue that would look sickly on anyone but on him it looked akin to a fallen angel, hovering over the earth and casually stroking her back “Does it hurt much?”.

“Oh, my arm?” Anne replied, swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth absurdly. She felt her cheeks tinge pink at her incorrect thoughts, blaming it solely on the alpha's intense scent and deceptive touch, looking down at the arm she was still holding in her hands “Yeah, but I think it's fine. I'm going to be fine”.

“I'm sorry” Gilbert murmured in a voice so low it could be likened to a lullaby, fighting the urge to close her eyes to enjoy the deep sound of his tone, the warmth of his nearness, the scent that seemed to intoxicate her with each passing second “Can I see it?”.

Anne seemed to think about it for a few seconds, beginning to bite her lower lip nervously until she nodded. The alpha reached out to her, taking the arm she was holding gently, large hands and warm skin undoing the button around her wrist, folding the sleeve carefully to inspect the skin carefully and objectively, politely ignoring the change in speed of her breathing and the bristling skin at his touch. He brushed his thumb affectionately against her arm, blinking slowly as he brought his lips closer, leaving a light, polite kiss on her wrist, making her dizzy with his possessive, angry scent despite the contrast of his calm, protective attitude — she blinked as the alpha looked at her through the density of his lashes, pupils so dark she felt absorbed by them “I promise it won't happen again”.

“It's not your fault, Gilbert” Anne denied, her tone low and unable to look him in the eye, allowing her arm to rest in the safe touch of his hands. She could feel the alpha's intense gaze studying her face, cheeks wet with tears, nose red from crying, lips swollen from biting them; if she could smell her scent she would smell a sour, unsettling aroma “Billy shouldn't...”.

“It won't happen again” the tension in his jaw appeared at the mention of his name, stretching his hand to the crook of her arm, stroking it over the sleeves, brushing his knuckles against her jaw, sliding the heaviness of his gaze down her neck draped with an indecipherable expression. Anne, in a natural, instinctive response, dropped her shoulders, fluttering her eyelashes at his touch, noticing Gilbert's deep breath, as if able to take in his naturally sweet scent “He shouldn't even be able to look at you”.

Anne fought back a smile, trying to ignore the pleasant feeling expanding in the pit of her stomach, wanting to keep the tension and anger out of her voice “I consider that a difficult aspiration to fulfil”.

“Impossible, in particular cases” the alpha continued, sliding his fingers down her religiously draped neck, caressing her shoulders, unable to stop touching her despite how dangerous it could become to be found by the professor or to be looked at by her peers; Anne knew that Gilbert was mindful of foreign gazes, perhaps making a mistake in blindly trusting his judgement, finding herself surrendering to the possibility of pulling away. The alpha sighed, changing his tone as he spoke again “Is this the only time he has done this?”.

“Billy?” she watched him, concerned, turning away from facing the stream and instead facing him head on. They were still on the ground, and the alpha had decided to keep her hand between his, stroking her knuckles absently and steadily. Anne frowned at his disgruntled expression, his intense scent, the tightness of his jaw, biting the inside of her cheek until Gilbert nodded “When you found us in the forest and this time were the only times he came near me”.

His fingers slid down her wrist, caressing the soft skin, distracting her completely from the focus of the situation; her body possessed sectors with more sensitive skin such as her wrists, her neck, the inside of her thighs, holding her breath in surprise as his fingers caressed her. The sensation was electric, accompanied by his spicy scent, the possessiveness emanating from him like waves, his black eyes as he spoke “I don't want you to be afraid, or worried about him”.

“He doesn't scare me” Anne thought, relaxing under his caresses, but being aware of the darkness that enveloped him like a shadow “I just... I don't know what he's capable of doing. I don't understand what's going on in his head”.

“He's not capable of doing anything” the alpha replied, bringing her hands to his mouth again, kissing the back of it, devoted and sincere, looking into her eyes, as if he were making a promise she had to remember clearly. His voice sounded husky, as if he was on the verge of growling angrily at the very thought, “I won't allow it. I will break his hands if he chooses to bring them near you”.

Perhaps the rut was really having a feverish effect and, consequently, on her as well. He seemed slower with his usually sharp reflexes, speaking slowly and deeply, unable to contain the desire to touch her and, above all, the animal violence that emanated from him like a warning. He stroked her gently, as if she were capable of breaking, watching her arm obsessively as if she were badly wounded, but Anne saw the brutality painting his features, the bloody fantasies going on behind his eyes “It's all right, Gilbert. I don't need you to look after me, I'm...”.

“I know what you are” the alpha murmured, smiling slightly at the memory and its challenge, looking her slowly, into her eyes, her nose small, her cheeks plump, her lips parted, deciding the sight was too tempting to distract himself with anything else “I hope you know how to forgive me, Anne. I should have been more attentive and I should have…”.

“It's not your fault” the omega whispered, smiling slowly to convince him, stroking his hand lightly in response, twisting her mouth when the alpha didn't seem satisfied with her answer “It's not your responsibility what others decide to do”.

The alpha stroked her arm without exerting pressure, waiting for some natural reaction from the pain, breathing slowly when Anne allowed him to touch her without giving any kind of response that caused concern “It was the last time, Anne. I promise, and I'm sorry”.

“It's okay, alpha” she replied absently, lost in the steady touch of his arm, his intense scent wrapping around her like a blanket, silencing the outside world, her worries, the pain. Gilbert stopped his caresses suddenly, startled, snapping her out of his reverie as she looked into his eyes “Shall we go?”.

“No” he replied, sensing the change in his expression as he stood up, offering a hand to help her stand. Anne took it, noticing the darkness in his eyes as he looked around, into the room through the window, stretching his neck, sporting his dark hair, silky to the touch; Anne thought, breathing in his scent so closely, what it would be like to sink her nose into his neck, bristling from head to toe at the mere thought.

“You smell different” Anne mumbled, confused with herself through the poor filter of her thoughts, saying the first thing that popped into her head. Gilbert turned his head towards her quickly, looking at her with slightly widened eyes “You smell good. Better”.

Gilbert couldn't be doing this to her. To her, to her who had never been cruel, dismissive, tempting like he was being right now; looking down at her from his height, with full lips and defined jaw and his big hands resting at his sides when he could be caressing her with them, with broad shoulders he could be touching at that very moment, with his slow, lovely voice that could be whispering pretty things she wanted to hear in her ear and....

She swallowed, ignoring the alarms of the radical change in the effect the scent had on her, enjoying his attention and his surprise as she studied his face, convincing herself it would be too obvious to stretch her neck for him, to release the low rumble of her pathetic, need-covered throat, taking a slow, deep breath when the alpha spoke in a velvety voice, alluring and unique “You can come closer, if you wish”.

Gilbert didn't know what she wanted, or maybe he did, but he wanted to play with her because he enjoyed watching her suffer. She tried to be reasonable, trying to remind herself that she had suffered an episode of violence, that all her classmates had witnessed it, and that, in addition, she had gone out with an alpha with whom she spent study days alone because she had beaten him up; an alpha who was the eternal crush of one of her classmates, an alpha with whom she had shared her first kiss and had decided to hide from her best friend, an alpha with whom they were spending too much time alone to mean any good, running the risk of being caught by their classmates, by their teacher, for putting him at risk by relating to him and hiding a small detail of being part of a dynamic socially and religiously hunted like the plague.

Nothing seemed to matter at that moment. She trusted him, trusted that there were no dangers around her, trusted his judgement, trusted her body as she took a step forward, leaning closer, batting her eyelashes and feeling a shiver run down her spine at the closeness, at the intense, lustful scent melting in her mouth; she was inches from his neck, having to stretch her own to reach for him, but the alpha's dark gaze seemed more of a warning than an invitation, fixing her in place as he seemed to read her intentions. The husky voice reached her ears like a song “Careful, sweetheart”.

“Did I do something wrong?” her omega seemed to speak and act for her, biting her tongue as the alpha pressed her face into his hands in a way that on another occasion would have infuriated her greatly while now she felt her legs tremble under his weight.

“On the contrary” the alpha spoke, stroking her jaw, her lips, with dark eyes, smiling slowly, as if he couldn't control himself. He brought his face close to hers, making a pleased guttural noise as Anne obediently stayed in place, sighing audibly as he kissed the corners of her lips slowly; his warm, moist lips brushed her gently, forcing her eyes closed and making him feel the rapid beating of her heart beneath his grip “You're too good for me”.

Despite the impending arrival of winter and the hostile people around her, Anne felt she might be able to melt under his touch.

Chapter Text

Anne sighed, relaxing her arms as she laid the book on her chest, craning her neck to look behind her at the living flames of the fireplace. It was night, able to read by the intense, shifting light of the fire, enduring the damp, uncomfortable feeling of the heat, wiping the sweat from her forehead and her neck with the back of her hand. She could relax about the ointment because only her parents were nearby, not having to worry about leaving her scent on the carpet because of how weakened it was; it would not last more than a few hours where only a sensitive, trained nose would be able to pick it up. Her head was beginning to ache from the oppressive temperatures of the fireplace, along with her intense day of reading, where the verses had been responsible for transporting her to a world of war and magic — she had not been able to take her eyes off the pages for hours, keeping company with Marilla while she embroidered and Matthew who had decided to sleep in the armchair accompanied by a familiar silence. She bit her fingertips when an idea came into her head, making a great effort to hold on to the memory and not give in to her desire to write on the unblemished pages of the novel that had managed to steal all her attention.

            At the end of it all Anne needed this, this relaxation, this escape. The last few days had been intense, where she had been plunged into anxiety and nervousness as a consequence of her own actions; the encounters with Gilbert were enough to unsettle her, tripping over her own feet, hypnotized by things that did nothing but betray her and drag her into a place that she would not be able to return to, that would consume her whole. After the little conversation they had had by the stream, Anne had to put on her best face to enter the classroom, obeying the alpha's scowl when he had murmured that he was hearing noises similar to Professor Phillips' hurried footsteps, encouraging her to return to class and reassuring her with a light caress on her hand when he saw her pale gesture of concern.

            Ruby, noticing his presence, merely averted her bright eyes to Gilbert, tensing her body in a natural response that twisted her stomach into something unfamiliar she couldn't define. The way she looked at him, as if he was the only thing she could see, the only thing that mattered, aroused a feeling that shamed her deeply. Instead of feeling guilt for what she was doing behind everyone's back, of feeling horror at being so close to a man who had never courted her, of fighting nausea for lying in front of her face about the man she thought she wanted, Anne was unable to feel anything but irritation and mild anger at her adoration, wanting to bang her own head against the edge of the table until she bled from the ridiculousness of her feelings, repeating to herself that she was the problem, that she was the one who had acted in a demeaning and dishonest manner, that she was the monster instead of Ruby, who had been nothing but sweet and honest with her feelings and her devotion.

            Being aware of what was going on inside her, being aware of her actions, only increased the knot in her stomach, swallowing with her mouth dry in disgust. Anne was being selfish, selfish in clinging to someone who for the first time seemed to see her with his own eyes, who didn't care about her past, about the secrets she was hiding, about her fearful and therefore aggressive personality in the face of conflicting desires to protect herself and to protect him from everything that came with relating to her in this way; she was selfish not to feel guilt at enjoying being the center of his attention, at receiving his caresses with as much need as if she needed him to breathe, at being drawn to him and feeling safe as if he were a part of her body that she didn't know she was looking for. Anne was not able to feel guilt for all she had done, but instead there was instead the iron weight of the decision that she did not want to let him go, not for Ruby's sake. She didn't want her selfishness to speak for her but, seeing how her companion looked at him, she could feel nothing but her nature making a low rumble deep in her chest in annoyance, a warning that was hard to ignore.

She let out a shuddering breath, the intensity of her conflicting emotions pressing on her lungs, feeling her skin bristle as she noticed Gilbert's heavy gaze upon her. The idea, after initially terrifying, had become comforting. He was always looking at her, and his silent but steady company calmed the nerves pumping through her veins. On another occasion she might have dared to look over her shoulder, searched the darkness of his eyes for confirmation, merely fixing her attention on Diana in panic, terrified that her best friend was furious at the scene that had occurred minutes before.

            To her surprise and her relief Diana had done nothing but move closer to her, hugging her so tightly that she felt like she was going to burst into tears at the feel of her touch. Anne hugged her back, sinking her nose into her neck, murmuring softly just so she could hear, frantic and careless “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Diana, I promise I'll tell you everything, I promise I'll...”.

            “Anne, Anne” she replied, low, so that the others couldn't make out her words, her voice sweet and calm “Are you all right, are you hurt?”

            “I'm fine, Diana. G-Gilbert—” she shook her head at the mention of the alpha, feeling desperation climb up her throat from the fear of losing her, of making things right “I—I can explain everything, Diana, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...”.

            “There's nothing to be sorry for, Anne” she breathed, stroking her head, allowing her eyes to fill with tears from the guilt of having lied to her. She could see out of the corner of her eye how Gilbert had taken a seat, his posture natural and relaxed, betraying the overbearing, suffocating feeling of his presence. Diana kept stroking her hair, pulling her hand away as the professor entered the room with the usual expression of annoyance and irritation “We'll talk later, okay?”.

            The conversation, after they left, had not been instantaneous. They had both silently agreed that they should move far enough away to make sure no one could hear them, reaching the common boundary point they had before they stopped and looked into each other's eyes. Anne felt like her heart was going to escape her chest from the force of her heartbeat, taking Diana’s hands in hers instinctively, the affection warming her chest as she knew how familiar it felt to touch her “I don't know how to begin”.

            Her palms were clammy, refusing to let her go for fear that the weight of her decisions would really take dimension now that she could see and hear her quietly. She breathed hard, straining to find the right words, to be clear and direct and promise that she would never again lie and hide something as important as this (knowing there was something infinitely worse she could never reveal to her), taking courage to lift her head and stop in her tracks. Diana was smiling, genuinely, toothy, as if the situation were a comedy play rather than a tragedy “Why... why are you smiling?”.

            “I was right,” Diana replied, as if it were a fact, still smiling. Anne couldn't swallow in surprise, still holding her hands as her best friend let out a laugh, blushing “You like Gilbert Blythe!”.

            “W—what? No!” she said, feeling her cheeks burn as she let go of her hands, wiping her sweaty hands against her dress in embarrassment. Instead of fear a mortification settled in her chest, beginning to open and close her mouth like a fish before covering her face with her own hands “Of course not!”.

            “Anne!” Diana exclaimed, letting out a sing-songy laugh as she continued to speak, not bothering to remove her hands from her face so she could watch her “I can't believe it, I was right!”.

            “You are not!” Anne shook her head energetically, opening her fingers just so one of her eyes could watch her warily, frowning at the smile that lingered on her face still “I don't know... I don't know how to feel about it, so the answer is no!”.

            Diana didn't answer, moving closer to hug her for the second time that day, resting her chin on her shoulder. They were the same height, finding it incredibly comfortable to hug her, never wasting the opportunity to show her love for her best friend, wrapping her arms around her waist and closing her eyes as an inexplicable emotion washed over her from head to toe, knocking the air out of her “Diana, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I should have told you before, I should have told you everything, I shouldn't have kept anything from you. I'm the worst friend in the world, and I'm sorry. I'm going to be better, I'm going to answer every question you have with all the honesty in the universe, I promise”.

“Oh, Anne” she murmured, still holding her close, feeling the familiar, relaxed rhythm of her breathing against her like an anchor, fighting back tears of relief at knowing she was with her “Is he good to you?”.

            The question surprised her, biting her lips as she felt her cheeks moisten, guilt and regret for not being honest breaking her heart, how could she risk losing a person so transparent, so good, so loyal? She tightened her arms even tighter around her, the answer escaping her before she could think of what she wanted to say, “Yes, Diana. He is. Sometimes it's hard to believe”.

            “There's nothing else that matters, then” she pulled away from her slightly, noticing her crying with bright eyes, smiling to comfort her, stroking her shoulders to let her know she was there, that she wasn't going anywhere “But if you hide something like this one more time I promise I'll never take part in any of your plays again, Anne Shirley”.

            The wet laugh that escaped her might have been considered embarrassing if the relief that came over her hadn't been overwhelming and absolute, wiping away her tears quickly before hugging her again, shaking her head “I'm sorry, Diana. I'm not going to do it again, I was scared, but it was a mistake not to trust you with this. You're the one, Diana, you always will be”.

            “It's all right” she replied in her soft, sweet voice, the epitome of calm and compassion, smelling of exported perfumes and heavy, clean clothes “Except for the fact that you need to start talking, and fast before my parents start getting annoyed at my tardiness”.

            “No, Diana” Anne broke off taking her hands and pleading with her eyes before looking at the sky, noting the position of the sun, announcing that it would start to get dark at any moment with alarming speed “I don't want to get you in trouble, and I don't want you walking around in the dark. Tomorrow I'm going to tell you all about it, but please don't argue with me on this”.

            Diana was not happy with the decision, frowning and taking a very deep breath before relenting and agreeing that they should each leave, dismissing with a threatening gesture about the obligation to attend the next day and confess their darkest secrets. Anne, now lying in front of the fireplace with the book resting on her chest can't help but smile, shielding her eyes with her arm at the stupefied memory on her face when Anne revealed that she had shared her first kiss with Gilbert Blythe, daring to tap her on the shoulder for hiding it, listening to the story with open mouths and eyes shining in fascination, laughing loudly when Anne finished and Diana asked obscene questions that made her friend blush from head to toe, feeling the saliva pool in her mouth in a shameful and improper manner.

            Gilbert, to her disappointment, had not returned to class. It had been three days where she had anxiously awaited his return, feeling her heart squeeze knowing she would not see him that day when she arrived at the classroom and he was not there, deeply envying his punctuality and his responsibility with all aspects of his life. Concern for his wellbeing forced her to bite the tips of her fingers, pausing when she could feel the blood trickling down her tongue, finding it difficult to concentrate and listen to Professor Phillips' long, boring lessons, Josie Pye's murderous stares and the sad, heavy air that surrounded Ruby. She had tried to talk to her on multiple occasions, even in casual conversation so as not to scare her off, receiving nothing but sad eyes and a shrug of her shoulders on each attempt, catching her rejection clearly. The memory made her sigh, rolling onto her side on the carpet to fix her eyes on the floor absently.

            There was something, too, that kept bothering her. Billy Andrews, after the little display of violence he had made, had not reappeared. Perhaps he was busy helping his father with the business, as Jane had so often arrogantly remarked, or he had gone hunting with his friends and family as she had heard them arrange on other occasions, yet neither explanation seemed to satisfy the uneasy feeling that stirred within her. As if something was about to happen or was happening behind her back, the shadows biting at her ankles, waiting for the exact moment when she would stumble to catch her and tear her apart. She had surprised herself by coming to the realization that she felt calmer with him close by, face to face, rather than in his absence; his absence gave way to her paranoid and experienced imagination, feeling her hands sweat at the thought that Billy might be plotting something, waiting for the perfect moment. She began to bite her fingers, thinking about the moment she had confessed to Gilbert that she was not afraid of him, but now, with his absence vibrating within her like the rattle of a deadly snake, Anne feels the lie resting on her tongue.

I won't allow it. I will break his hands if he chooses to bring them near you.

She felt a shiver running up her spine, frowning at the decision that colored his eyes, his words, while she couldn't shake the feeling of doubt growing inside her. She didn't want to depend on anyone, especially not on an alpha, even though her nature twisted inside her in disagreement at the memory of Gilbert caressing her, watching her with black eyes and speaking in a deep, even voice. She had to be prepared, ready, and not kneel before the fear that seemed to choke her when it came to Billy Andrews, trusting in the worst-case scenario instead of Gilbert's promises, no matter how sincere they seemed to be. Because now that Anne can relive the moment behind her eyelids, the alpha seems like a man of promises, keeping his word with such fierceness that uncertainty began to run through her veins, breathing through the ghostly hands sliding down her back, the warmth of his lips kissing her hand, the dangerous transparency of his pupils analyzing her face, her neck, as if he wanted to remove the scarf she had worn religiously since they first met.

Anne blinked slowly, allowing her mind to drift a little deeper into her thoughts for a few more minutes, letting the confession ring clearly in her head. Gilbert Blythe sometimes looked like someone… dangerous. She bit one of her fingers with excessive force, quickly pulling it from her mouth to examine the wound before placing it back in her mouth, wiping away the blood, focusing on the fire and analyzing the flames once more before asking herself, was Gilbert Blythe someone dangerous, someone she should fear? The first response was a clear and automatic no, without any doubts, quickly recalling everything she knew about the alpha; an honest, responsible, and hardworking person, one of the best students in class, deeply cultured from having worked on the ocean and maintaining the family business with the help of his best friend, whom he unconditionally supported by inviting them into his home without any inconvenience. With her... with her he used to be careful, not enough to make her feel inferior to him, but with just enough delicacy to warm her heart, to take her breath away. He looked at her in a different way, with a worrying frequency, an observant and detail-oriented nature regarding her habits, her mood, her tastes, listening to her for hours, so in tune with her that Anne feared the whole act was a complete lie.

However, on the rare occasions when she could look at him without Gilbert being aware of her attention, Anne noticed strange things that none of her peers possessed. The slight tension in his jaw and shoulders, the perfect relaxed posture that, under anyone's gaze, seemed natural, but to her appeared feigned; his dominant presence and, above all, his cold and calculated tranquility, precise to the millimeter, a constant brutality in comparison to his violent and explosive peers. There was something surrounding him, something she couldn't distinguish, but she knew it was chasing him wherever he went, a silent and dark reminder that kept her on the edge of her seat, tense and expectant, holding her breath every time she saw him interact, friendly and generous, clenching her fists when he slid his eyes toward her and saw his black pupils, the faint edge of warning that everyone could naturally acknowledge, ignoring it like the very beat of a heart.

Anne was aware; she could see it as clearly as day, but to her horror and surprise, she felt no fear at all. Instead, an unfamiliar feeling of security took hold of her without asking for permission, with such certainty that she would be able to feel it with her eyes closed and her ears deaf.

Not knowing what to do with that information, she could do nothing but breathe, clutch her hands to her chest, and wait. Wait.

Anne felt like she was going to vomit on her own feet at that very moment. She exhaled through her mouth, cursing the moment when her parents allowed her to carry out such an absurd, bold, and embarrassing idea. She hated herself for thinking she had the ability to do it without dying in the process, biting her lip hard out of regret for having knocked on the door without taking the time to consider the great mistake she was about to make, swallowing hard to fight against the nausea rising in her throat, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, glancing over her shoulder convincing herself that if she ran fast enough, she might not be seen, she just had to…

The door swung open abruptly and, behind it, stood Gilbert Blythe.

Anne held the package in her hands so tightly that she was on the verge of breaking it, her knuckles turning white, when her body understood what was in front of her eyes. Dressed in loose clothing, unlike the tailored suits he used to wear, one could notice the strength of his muscles beneath the thin fabric, the warmth of his skin, the beauty he could possess despite appearing carefree and relaxed. His dark hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it without stopping, his lips a reddish hue, his skin smooth, and broad shoulders. What took the air from her lungs, however, was not the surprise of seeing him again after days, but the aroma that caressed her face like a heavenly sign that it was real; the spicy, incredible, and hypnotic fragrance of the alpha recovering from his rut, settling in her mouth, inviting her to close her eyes and breathe deeply, ready to melt for him with nothing more needed than his gaze.

For a few brief seconds, a tense silence formed between them in an almost unbreakable way. Gilbert, with one hand still on the door, frozen in place, watched her with slightly open eyes, his lips parted in surprise and elegance, the lively rise and fall of his chest, absorbing the image of Anne in front of him holding something in her arms while she stood still in front of him. The young woman was doing her best to breathe through her nose, fighting the urge to nervously fidget beneath his eyes, against the almost animalistic need to lean in a little closer and brush the tip of her nose against the exposed beginning of his collarbones, certain that the mere touch of his body would be enough to shield her from the harshest cold of all; they both looked at each other with wide pupils, attentive and analyzing every detail, too careful with one another to risk breaking the fine but dangerous atmosphere that was beginning to weave itself between them, too precious to waste, too fragile to pull at forcefully. Her heart raced wildly as she blinked slowly, feeling the knot in her stomach threatening to take the air from her lungs, opening her mouth without even knowing what she wanted to say when the alpha regained control. It was impossible to mistake him, the edge of his crooked smile, the predatory and dark attention of his eyes, the abrupt change in his scent that wrapped around her with such intensity that she felt she was going to faint in a matter of seconds, biting the inside of her cheek to focus on the pain instead of the unnatural sensations his presence caused in her.

“Anne” the use of her name would never fail to send a shiver up her spine, bristling at the depth of his voice, the delicacy of his words, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon”.

“Oh,” she replied, feeling her heart sink, holding her breath as she understood the choice of his words — she shouldn’t have come, she shouldn’t have dared to show up at his door without consulting him beforehand, she shouldn’t have let herself be carried away by her impulsiveness and the shameful, inexplicable desire to see him. She glanced over her shoulder before turning her eyes back to him, starting to stammer in such a pathetic way that she was sure she would cry at the memory hours later “I'm sorry, you're right. I didn't want to...”.

“Anne, no,” the alpha shook his head, letting out a playful smile that made the tips of her ears blush with shyness, stiff as she felt his gaze scrutinizing the way she was dressed without any shame “It's very sweet of you to come see me. I was starting to worry about the possibility of your forgetfulness”.

This time she couldn't help but roll her eyes, instinctively pulling what she was carrying closer to her body “I could never forget your arrogance, Gilbert Blythe”.

The usual autumn blizzard enveloped them, an imminent warning of winter's arrival in less than a few weeks, causing Anne to clench her jaw and curse the bad habit of not wearing more layers, hating her body's unmistakable response to the cold, hunching her shoulders to shield her dressed neck, and bringing her legs together to keep warm. Gilbert noticed it, swallowing audibly as all expression of grace and lightness left his face “Please, come in”.

“I don't know if I should,” Anne denied, feeling the cordial need to refuse to appear like a prudent and polite girl, while she could imagine behind her eyelids how it would feel to take his hands in contrast to the low temperatures “I just wanted to bring a thank you gift for Mary, and an apology for my terrible behavior during our first meeting. I hope you can accept it”.

“Of course,” the alpha nodded, ignoring what she held in her hands and focusing on her body tense from the cold, exhaling through his nose as he took the food with certainty, unable to react when she saw Gilbert take several steps back into his house, holding the gift with one hand before extending his free hand toward her, inviting her in. Anne looked at him with wide eyes, hesitant and with her feet planted in place “She can only accept it if you give it to her, and unfortunately, she is not used to this cold. It should be delivered in front of the fireplace”.

“Are you sure?” Anne responded, unsure, raising one of her hands to compulsively bite it before realizing that she was not alone and that biting her fingers until they bled would not be considered very healthy, hiding them behind her lower back “Perhaps it may not be appropriate, and they might prefer...”.

“Come here” Gilbert seemed unable to let her hesitate for another moment, reaching his free hand toward her, carefully wrapping his arm around her shoulders and inviting her to come in, closing the door behind them and watching her reaction closely, able to discern that she was neither nervous nor scared for reasons that might concern him. He caressed her shoulders as a habit, trembling beneath the size of his hands and the contrast of their body temperatures, his scent relaxing her from head to toe while simultaneously putting her instincts on edge, confused between the instinctive urge to run from him and the desire to lean against his chest “You will never learn to dress properly for the weather, will you?”

“I feel perfectly fine,” she lied, rubbing her gloved hands together, waiting for permission to explore the living room of his home when the alpha laughed softly, sending shivers down her spine as she felt one of his hands starting to unravel the scarf that covered her “What are you doing?”.

“Helping you to not catch a cold,” he explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, having left the package in the table next to the door, decorated with candles and dried flowers. Anne found no strength within her to continue protesting, but she also did not express a desire to help him, looking at him defiantly through her eyelashes as the alpha removed the scarf “I will start charging for medical consultations at any moment. Wanted to let you know”.

“Will you?” Anne was baffled, incredulous, before she began to take off her gloves and look at the unpleasant paleness of her hands, her bitten and unkempt fingers. The idea of covering them again was tempting, breathing through her nose as she resisted the urge to hide them, stowing the gloves in the pocket of her coat. She raised her gaze again, making her best effort to ignore Gilbert's inscrutable expression, fixed on her since she had arrived “And how am I supposed to pay you?”.

“Don't worry,” the alpha murmured, coming out of his reverie and positioning himself behind her at a respectful distance, close enough to feel tense in his presence, unsure how to react when he took the coat by the shoulders, beginning to slide it down her arms carefully, his words caressing her with temptation, feeling the vibration of his voice behind her like a sin “There may be exceptions, occasionally”.

For a few seconds, she couldn't concentrate on anything other than the delicate slide of her clothing, removing it from her arms, letting his breath fall fully onto the sensitive skin of her neck despite being covered with a fine and delicate scarf, careful of the glands of her body that had begun to betray her since she had met him, wrapping her arms around her waist to disguise the shiver that ran down her back. For some reason, the alpha didn't manage to move, as if her reaction had surprised him, holding the coat in his hands, allowing her to feel the pleasant warmth radiating from his body, unaware of the maddening strength of his scent; while days ago it seemed like a vibrant, intense fragrance, now it appeared to have a deeper, more subdued tone. The masculine scent of his closeness invited her to close her eyes, to want to turn around and move closer to his neck as she had dreamed of doing during cold nights, restless from nightmares, hiding under the sheets. Despite trusting his words, they seemed to be the only people in the grandeur of his home, unable to avoid the rapid beating of her heart at the thought of being alone with him, as if she wished it to be endless and, at the same time, the mere idea of being at his mercy quickened her breath as if she were the prey of an unknown animal, a beast lurking in the shadows, or in the comfortable light of day, unafraid to hide from him.

“Gilbert” Anne could not explain the need to state his name, without looking in front of her, consumed by the overwhelming feeling of his closeness, of his attention. The alpha did not respond to her call, remaining still behind her, not attempting to move closer or further away, waiting for her reaction. Her heart buzzed in her ears when she looked over her shoulder, above her, slightly widening her eyes upon encountering the voracity of his pupils, the elegance of his jawline, the transparent and devoted expression, emptying the air from her lungs, turning her hands into fists, exposed.

“I missed you,” the alpha murmured in a raspy, calm voice; his movements were slow and predictable, allowing her the option to pull away if she didn't want him close, letting out a long sigh of relief through his nose when he was finally able to touch her. The caress surprised her, melting beneath his touch nonetheless, watching him closely as he positioned his free hand on her neck, sliding his thumb over the sweet skin beneath her ear, licking his lips imperceptibly before saying, “You look even more beautiful than I could remember”.

Anne hadn't stopped looking at him over her shoulder, knowing that this was going to change in a matter of seconds. His words resonated in her head like a prayer, sacred words that seeped into her blood and chest like a language she had never heard until now. Slowly she turned, still being touched by him, tilting her head towards the warmth of his hand when he let it rest on her cheek, wanting to purr at his touch, breathing slowly and calmly, opening her mouth to respond beneath his attentive black eyes until an external sound interrupted the flow of her thoughts.

Something was approaching them, and quickly.

Her body moved on its own, without considering the absurdity of her actions, before jumping in place and, as if her logic and reasoning had shut down, ended up behind Gilbert on the side closest to the door, fearing she might throw up her heart at the thought of being caught in such an inappropriate situation. She stared ahead of her for a few seconds, taking time to realize that there was no one else with them in the living room, until her senses forced her to slide her gaze down, raising her eyebrows in surprise when she found the reason; Delphine, sitting there, looking at her with curiosity but also with boredom, as if she had to start performing tricks to be worthy of her attention. The nervous laughter climbed up her chest uncontrollably, smiling with relief as she covered her face with one of her hands, refusing to acknowledge Gilbert's mocking expression “A little spy, isn't it?”.

“Well,” the alpha nodded, leaning down to take her in his arms with familiarity, as if it were a habit to hold her instead of leaving her on the ground, shrugging with feigned innocence “We really enjoy scaring Sebastian and Mary; she gets better every day”.

Anne smiled slowly, keeping her distance but approaching gently so as not to frighten her, offering one of her fingers when the baby reached out her hands towards her curiously, blinking with wide eyes at the unfamiliar person who was speaking with the alpha “When she grows up, you will regret having taught her that. You will be her next victim”.

Delphine seemed to find her expression amusing, smiling without teeth, as if she could understand what Anne was saying, squeezing her finger between her sticky hands. Gilbert let out a huff, refusing to entertain the possibility, watching them with an indescribable look before leaning down to speak to the girl, brushing against her sides to grab her attention and tickle her “Delphine would never do that to me, right? I am the favorite uncle, the only one”.

“Oh, Delphine,” Anne murmured, adopting an exaggerated tone to make clear the comedic undertone of her comment, looking at her with feigned compassion as the alpha frowned in irritation at the uncertainty of her words “I’m so sorry for what lies ahead for you”.

“Don't listen to her” Gilbert protested, looking at her with indignation and pulling the baby away from her, holding her against his chest and stroking her thick, dark hair, covering almost the entirety of her back with his hand, positioning her head on his shoulder, accustomed to how the baby's body molded to him thanks to his warmth and the protective, familiar scent of his skin “Anne knows nothing. She’s the second-best student, after all, but a loser in the end. You just have to listen to me”.

“That's a low blow, Gilbert,” she replied, crossing her arms and doing her best to manage the irresistible feeling that formed in her chest at the sight of the alpha with his niece “You would be lost without me, do you really think I don't notice how you look at my writings in the library every time I turn around?”.

The alpha looked at her with a smile that was too arrogant to mean anything good, dramatically covering Delphine's ears as if she had uttered a blasphemy before murmuring, “If my grades drop, it's solely your fault, Anne. Maybe you should start changing your tactics and distract me more to take my place”.

Delphine was in absolute contentment, curled up against his chest, being held in a firm and comfortable way, slowly starting to blink thanks to the hand covering one of her ears, at ease with the company of their voices and their relaxed postures. Anne leaned in close enough to have to stretch her neck to look at him, defiantly, trying to hold back the urge to laugh while feeling her competitiveness coursing through her veins “I'm going to take your place without any distractions. I don't need them at all”.

The alpha made a sound of doubt from the depths of his throat, brushing his nose against Delphine's head in an automatic and absent manner, almost unaware of the sweetness of his movement before responding, “I doubt it. I don't like to lose”.

“Maybe you should start getting familiar with the idea, with the feeling” Anne observed, batting her eyelashes naturally, leaning in closer due to the lack of coats over her, biting her tongue to refrain from saying anything about it, “I wouldn't want to see you cry, Gilbert”.

“Well,” a mysterious female voice murmured behind her, causing her to turn abruptly, her eyes wide with exaggeration and surprise, holding her breath, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks so quickly that she feared she might collapse to the ground “This is definitely new”.

Mary seemed amused by the oddity of the situation, looking at them with an eyebrow raised in curiosity and a small smile gracing her lips, studying them with her hands on her hips. Her outfit showed that she was working on household chores, probably in the garden if the dirt staining her apron could be taken as a sign, relaxing her shoulders as she looked at Delphine, relaxed in Gilbert's arms “I was starting to worry about the possibility of her being in the stable, but I see that I have nothing to worry about”.

Anne took her first steps, refusing to let Gilbert speak for her, her heart buzzing in her ears as she reached out one of her hands towards the woman, trying to recreate a genuine and calm smile as she focused her attention on her, open and curious “Mary, unfortunately, I did not have the pleasure of introducing myself properly at our previous meeting. I hope you can forgive my terrible manners; it's a real pleasure to meet you”.

Her face lit up with pleasure, maintaining a relaxed and composed expression, ignoring the hand between them to lean in and hug her gently and with unexpected affection. Anne felt her body tense, unsure of how to react for a few seconds, before smiling against her shoulder and gently returning the embrace; she smelled like a mother, she could distinguish, the warm and slightly sweet scent reminiscent of cinnamon, her hands soft as they touched her “It's a pleasure to meet you too, Anne! There's nothing to apologize for, so don't waste your time on that. Tell me, did Gilbert offer you something to drink?”.

“Uh,” Gilbert murmured behind them, frozen as both interrupted the embrace to look at him seriously, raising their eyebrows when the alpha shielded the baby from their gazes, as if they were directed at her. His desire to defend himself was clear, searching for the right words to speak again, “I, in fact, was going to...”.

In his defense, the alpha seemed genuinely embarrassed, revealing for the first time a facet of himself that was unknown; with slumped shoulders, gently holding Delphine in his arms, defenseless against their gazes and the judging scrutiny of the mocking silence in the air, struggling to suppress the urge to laugh when comparing him to the dark and immaculate demeanor he usually carried. Anne took pity on him, for the first time in her life, directing her attention to Mary before shaking her head “He had no time for anything, Mary, Delphine stole all his attention the moment he welcomed me”.

“I can't argue against that” Mary nodded, noticing how the baby began to recognize her voice and straightened up in Gilbert's arms, stretching her arms to be lifted by her. She didn't keep her waiting, embracing her and looking at her with her head tilted to one side “None of us could have guessed how much whimsy could accumulate in the body of a little girl”.

She turned her body to walk towards the kitchen when she saw the food resting on the entry table, watching it with intrigue. Anne spoke before Mary could voice the question, taking it and bringing it closer so she could see it “I cooked this for you as an apology for our first meeting, and as a thank you for the day you baked cookies when you heard I was sick. I've never tried anything as delicious as your food, so I made the attempt to get as close as possible”.

“Oh, Anne, there was no need,” she smiled, removing the cloth that covered it and instantly catching the scent of strawberry that brushed against her nose, gesturing with her head to go to the kitchen. Anne politely followed behind her, wanting to intrude as little as possible, almost completely forgetting Gilbert's presence in her desire to make a good impression and surprise her, thinking very optimistically about her developing culinary skills, “Bash is going to dance when he sees it”.

“Yes?” she asked almost nervously, bringing her hands together and subtly stroking them to ease the tension. Mary left the pie in the center of the table, used to holding her daughter with one arm and working with the other. “Mary, let me…”.

“No, none of that,” the alpha interrupted her this time, getting close enough to catch her attention, but keeping a considerable distance as he looked at her gently, maintaining the softness of his gestures and the warmth of his voice “May I offer you some tea?”.

“Thank you, Gilbert” Anne nodded, watching almost in desperation as both of them worked in the kitchen, squirming in her place with discomfort “I really can…”.

“Don't worry, Anne” Mary smiled, leaving Delphine in a wooden chair that ensured she stayed in place, untying her apron to hang it on one of the available hooks by a back door that she assumed led to the vastness of the yard. She started to grab the tablecloths with ease, separating the cutlery and plates to savor her creation “Just make sure Delphine doesn't try to escape”.

“The hardest task of all” Gilbert murmured from the other side, placing the kettle on high heat to make the tea. He stretched with little effort to reach the cups, forcing her to look away so as not to blush at the fine fabric that clung to the width of her back “You blink, and she’s gone. I don't know where she got that from”.

“Yes, I would like to know too” Mary scoffed with amusement, irritated by his false innocence, causing Anne to smile slowly at her sense of humor. Delphine stretched one of her hands towards her braids, gripping her hair tightly and pulling with confidence, unaware of the pain that she could cause.

Anne was used to it, almost immune to what a child could do to her, having taken care of so many of them while still being one herself. Anne smiled at Mary to wipe the look of discontent off her face, holding the baby's hand between hers, stroking the inside of her wrist until the tickles made her pull away, trying to fit her whole fist into her mouth while laughing mischievously, “I bet none of the boys will want to mess with you if you have that much strength!”.

Delphine couldn't stop smiling, batting her long eyelashes at her, suddenly enchanted by her attention, with her striking and unique hair, her light eyes looking at her with nothing but respect and tenderness. Anne could not contain the desire to stroke her cheek with one of her fingers when Gilbert spoke softly just a few meters away from them, a tone far removed from any kind of amusement, “No one would dare”.

“I don't know if you were able to sense it yet, Anne” Mary murmured, arranging the things on the table and glancing at the cake once more with something akin to pride. Anne felt her cheeks warm as she continued speaking, “But Gilbert has an overprotective uncle complex that will turn his hair green in a few years. Bash and I understood that there was nothing left but to resign ourselves to her daring and curious personality”.

“I would like to say that she will be a calm and shy girl,” the young woman replied, concealing the expression of pain as Delphine took one of her fingers in her mouth, biting down firmly, assessing her reaction “But it's something better. I bet her personality will take her wherever she wants to go”.

“I enjoy thinking about that too,” her mother smiled, with bright eyes filled with pure and infinite love, wiping her hands against the hem of her dress before biting her lower lip in disbelief “The meantime, however, will be a nightmare. The day she learns to walk by herself will be an illustrated work of horror”.

“That would be funny, Mary, if the chances of her learning to run before she learns to walk weren't so likely,” Gilbert murmured, starting to pour the boiling water into the cups, placing them on the table carefully, searching the cabinets for what he needed to add the tea “Where is Bash?”.

“I’m home!” Sebastian exclaimed upon entering, wiping the sweat from his forehead, unaware of Anne's presence, fixing his eyes on the cake in the center of the table and then looking around with an almost comical satisfaction “Oh, I can't believe it. It can't be, did you...?”.

He approached Mary with outstretched arms, clearly intending to kiss her, when his wife raised a hand to stop him. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe, making it clear that he was too dirty to approach her, shaking her head and smiling softly as she replied, “No, it wasn't me. Anne did it”.

“Anne,” Sebastian repeated, incredulous, causing her to tense rigidly in her seat, anticipating what he was about to say when the man let out a genuine laugh. Anne could see out of the corner of her eye how Gilbert's expression began to turn cautious as his best friend continued speaking, “Sure, yeah, as if Gilbert could have convinced her to...”.

His words died in the air when, with an expression akin to having seen a corpse, he understood that Anne was truly present, sitting in front of him. Delphine continued to chew on her finger, but the tense breathing of the alpha beside her captured all her attention, trying not to let out a laugh that would certainly be considered in poor taste as Mary discreetly passed a hand over her face to hide her smile. Her voice sounded slightly strangled when she murmured, “Anne was kind enough to come and greet us and bring a strawberry and cream pie for us to share. We were waiting for you”.

“Hello, Sebastian,” she smiled, genuinely, unsure whether to stand up or stay in her place, oblivious to how Delphine began to stretch her fingers experimentally. The alpha took a seat beside her, not stopping to look at his friend with sharp eyes in reprimand, inviting him to try to make her feel better as soon as possible “I hope the cake meets your expectations. I started practicing a few months ago, but Marilla still corrects me from time to time”.

“A—Anne, of course it will” obediently, he sat down next to his wife, strategically ignoring Gilbert's silent gaze, fixing his eyes on his daughter and the food, alternating it with little disguise, “Is she bothering you?”.

“Not at all,” the young woman assured, looking at her and smiling when she returned the gesture, her sweet, curious eyes studying her face “I'm used to kids. I worked with them for many years”.

The revelation slipped from her lips like a light, calm statement, understanding the weight of her disclosure when she received no response, turning her head to meet the surprised expressions of the family. The recovery, however, was swift, and she felt no offense when Sebastian spoke again “I can see that you are a kind girl, and I'm sure Delphine can feel it too. She is very calm”.

Anne was able to murmur a quiet thank you before Mary stood up with a knife in hand, starting to cut the cake with precision and patiently serving each of them. No matter how hard she tried to hide her embarrassment, her cheeks burned as hot as the steaming tea in front of her during all the compliments, shifting uncomfortably but happy not to have been a disappointment, laughing when Mary and Sebastian placed Delphine between them, noticing with indifference how she spread cream and strawberry across the entirety of her face and part of her body. Gilbert, as always, was brilliant, laughing softly at his family's antics, listening attentively when she spoke with enthusiasm, sincerely complimenting her food, and devouring her with his eyes every time she had to wipe the remaining cream from her lips. Anne struggled to keep her eyes fixed on anything but him, feeling shivers run down her spine every time she heard the depth of his voice, the elegance of his movements as he approached her and brushed against her hands, the exquisite fragrance of his scent merging with the warmth of his home, and the sweetness of strawberry on the tip of her tongue.

They talked for hours, allowing her to speak about her family, her education, her plans after finishing school, and how much she dreamed of being a teacher for children who hadn't had opportunities like hers, listening with admiration to the stories of Mary and Sebastian, surprised at how, despite all the adversities they continued to face, they had formed such a beautiful family like theirs. The alpha never failed to surprise her, taking her breath away as he delved deeper into his goal of becoming a doctor, to research and be able to save the lives of people far from wealth and big cities, successfully managing, along with his friends, the farm that his father had left him to allow him to continue living in peace and pursue the aspiration of a university education. By the time none of them could breathe from the amount of sweets and tea consumed, Delphine began to feel irritated by the sticky sensation on her body, despite their best efforts to clean her with a damp cloth, breaking the bubble in which Anne had been living to notice the dim light of day; the sun was beginning to set, and her parents were about to start worrying about her well-being, eternally grateful to have been given permission to visit Gilbert's house without the need for a chaperone, trusting her word that the alpha lived with a noble and trustworthy family, not wanting to make the mistake of betraying the trust they had placed in her.

“Gilbert,” Anne called after looking out the window, noticing with relief how the alpha had stood up to look at her with understanding. “I must leave before it starts to get dark. My parents are waiting for me”.

“I'm going with you,” he assured, running his hand through his hair and surveying the living room before starting to walk “Wait a second, okay? I won't be long”.

Anne helped Mary to clean up while Sebastian entertained Delphine, who was on the verge of tears, engaging in small conversations that warmed her heart with their fluency and understanding, laughing as she dried the wet dishes, turning her attention to Sebastian when Gilbert returned, adjusting a coat over his shoulders “Gilbert, you should show her the stable before she leaves. We have the friendliest horses in Avonlea, Anne”.

“Bash, don’t pressure her,” the alpha warned, not bothering to look at her reaction, raising his eyebrows in surprise when Anne let out a sound of excitement, catching his attention off guard.

“I would love to!” she exclaimed, leaving the cloth neatly folded in the kitchen, listening to Marilla's tired voice repeating for the tenth time that she couldn't just leave things carelessly at the back of her mind. She looked at the alpha with pleading eyes, licking her lips as she spoke, “I would love to see the stable, Gilbert. I promise I won't take up your time more than necessary”.

“No... there's no problem. You can stay as long as you want,” he replied, with a captivated expression, clearing his throat as Sebastian's eyes seemed on the verge of falling from his face. His expression, however, changed radically when he looked at his friend, as if he were issuing a threat just by using his eyes “Anything left to say before Anne says goodbye, Sebastian?”.

“No, nothing. Nothing” he replied quickly, stretching out one of his hands to take hers. He lightly kissed her knuckles, polite and cordial, smiling when the alpha let out an irritated huff at the gesture “Just be careful with one of them; he likes to bite when you pet his hair. Gilbert will know which one I'm talking about”.

“Oh” Anne nodded, smiling as Sebastian turned around to take Delphine in his arms effortlessly “Thank you very much for welcoming me into your home, Sebastian. It was a pleasure”.

“You are invited whenever you wish, Anne. The pleasure was ours,” Sebastian shook one of Delphine's hands in farewell, kissing Mary on the head as the woman passed by his side, letting her go and allowing her to gently embrace Anne.

“Anne, please don't take long to come back again” the woman murmured, breaking the embrace and speaking with a genuine smile on her face, “You can invite Matthew and Marilla, of course. I am sure they are as charming as you, and if you are Marilla's apprentice, I can't imagine how good her desserts must be. You are obliged to delight us on another occasion”.

“It would be an honor” Anne replied, feeling a warm and joyful sensation radiating in her chest, biting the inside of her cheek before answering, “I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed the food, Mary. Marilla will be very happy to hear it, and I will try to convince them as soon as possible to accept the invitation”.

“I'm not going to hold you back any longer,” she sighed, listening to her baby's cries coming from upstairs, knowing she had to go help “Be careful, and try to come back before it gets dark. It is said that there are wild animals roaming the forests”.

“Don't worry, Mary” Gilbert consoled, tightening the laces of his shoes firmly before smiling sideways, arrogant and self-assured. Anne suppressed the urge to roll her eyes “We won't take long”.

After a few brief goodbyes, mortification took hold of her body as she was wrapped up by Gilbert, swallowing hard when the alpha closed her coat and adjusted her scarf, watching closely as he effectively put gloves on her hands. He opened the door once he felt satisfied that she wouldn't suffer from the cold. To her little surprise, he was wearing nothing more than the loose shirt with which she had received him, a thick coat left unbuttoned, almost unnecessary due to the high natural temperatures of his body after such recent rut; Anne had hundreds of doubts dancing in her head, wanting to learn if he felt the same as she did, if the hell was the same, if she should leave her home to experience it in a more isolated place, if he sometimes feared what he was capable of doing just as she did. More intense questions began to arise, battling against the impulsiveness of voicing them aloud as she silently followed him to the barn, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. Did he think of her the way Anne did before falling asleep? Did he resist his desires, or did he prefer to succumb to them, like Anne so hated to do, feeling dirty and unworthy? Did he prefer to chase away the pain and, instead, share it with someone else?

The thoughts twisted her stomach with such violence that she feared she would vomit in a matter of seconds, focusing on breathing through her nose when the alpha noticed the change in her breathing, in the arrhythmic beating of her heart, stopping his walk a few meters from the stable to look at her with attention and care “Anne, do you want us to go back? Sebastian doesn't know what he's talking about, we don't have to...".

“No, no” Anne shook her head, not wanting to lose the harmful battle with her mind, forcing herself to regain control and banish her fears, her anxieties, and her insecurities to focus on him. In the present. In his devoted expression, his soft words, his genuine concern, in his addictive scent, striving to lie, “I'm fine. I feel like I might have consumed too much sugar”.

“Don't worry,” he murmured, unable to tolerate the small distance between them to drape his arm over her shoulder, pulling her firmly closer to him, feeling her body mold to his and to his warmth. A shiver ran down her spine, ignoring the malevolent voices of her conscience as she melted against him, trusting in the protective and possessive gaze that bore into her when he spoke slowly, “I’m not going to let you fall”.

The stable was similar to Green Gables’s, watching the horses in the dim sunlight, laughing when the alpha announced ridiculous names and strange traits. One of them knew how to walk backwards, the other had an inexplicable fear of the fat cats in the barn, one had hit Gilbert with such force when he was a child that it was the first time he had seen his father scared; one of the horses greatly enjoyed being petted on the snout, letting out a laugh when it tried to bite the alpha after brushing its hand against its mane. Despite Gilbert encouraging her to touch it, Anne refused, wrinkling her nose as she recalled how fiercely Belle had bitten her once when she couldn't recognize her, causing Gilbert to laugh mockingly as he expressed it.

“There is no horse as soft as this one,” the alpha smiled, scratching its nose and pointing at it when it let out a guttural sound of approval. Anne bit the inside of her cheek, looking with wide eyes as Gilbert reached out his free hand towards her, his pupils dilated in her presence, feeling her heart resume a frantic rhythm at the sight of the inexplicable sensation taking over his face “It doesn't bite if you touch it like this”.

Anne exhaled through her nose, allowing her hand to rest in his, ignoring the absurd difference in temperature and size as the alpha placed her hand against the horse's skin. The animal leaned even more into her touch, urging her to pet it and stealing a slow smile from her lips as she visibly relaxed at the prospect of being bitten by it, blinking slowly as she sensed Gilbert approaching her, brushing his nose against her head, a comfortable position given the height difference between them, absentmindedly and gently stroking her shoulder “Thank you for today. I had an amazing day after a long time thanks to you”.

The words melted in her chest, pulling her hand away from the horse to turn and face him, having to stretch her neck to look at him, murmuring softly, as if he were the only person in the world, “Your family is precious, Gilbert. I am happy to have been welcomed in that way”.

The alpha stretched out one of his hands to brush a knuckle against her cheek, batting her eyelashes at the sensation, taking a step forward unconsciously, unable to contain the desire to be as close to him as possible. Anne would never find the right words to uncover what vibrated between them with energy, like something ancestral and obvious and irresistible, being aware of the dim light of the sun leaving them, of the solitude that enveloped them like a security and a secret promise that only they could share, sensing the radical change in their souls, in their bodies, as if time stood still, as if they were the only souls in the world. Anne didn't have to open her eyes to know it, to perceive the darkness of his pupils, the heaviness of his scent, the warmth of his body. Anne tilted her face toward the warmth of his hand, feeling her heart thrum in her ears from the nerves, from the certainty, from the terror of knowing that what was happening between them was not something fleeting, but something intertwined in their destinies, like a story already written that she had once taken the time to read but now needed to live again to remember it.

“Anne” Gilbert called, simply wanting to taste her name on his tongue, watching her with dark eyes, daring to tuck her rebellious hair behind her ear, brushing the tip of his fingers against the sensitive spot beneath her ear, breathing deeply as Anne shivered under his touch, “Can I kiss you?”.

The question took the breath from her lungs, taking just a few seconds to understand what was happening, feeling betrayed by her body when, instead of answering, she stretched up on her toes to cling to his shoulders and meet him halfway. The world seemed to move around her in a magical and chaotic way when the alpha moved her just enough for her to feel she could lean against something solid, too preoccupied with the sensation of his warm mouth to bother with something as mundane as opening her eyes. Electricity seemed to run through her limbs, prickling her skin, flashes behind her eyelids, trembling when the alpha growled at the wet touch of her tongue.

Her body seemed to move on its own, erasing any sign of awareness or responsibility from her brain, too occupied in the divine sensation of running her hands through his hair, caressing his neck, pressing herself closer to him despite there being no physically possible way to achieve it. Her head seemed to spin not only from the lack of air and the erratic beating of her heart, but also from everything it meant to be close to him, to be touched by him — his deep, masculine scent enveloping her securely, feeling him in every breath she took, on the tip of her tongue, shielding her from the outside world and allowing her to forget everything, to escape from it all. His large, warm hands pinned her in place, cornering her against the barn wall without hurting her with his strength, holding her face and caressing her lower back to bring her closer, to stroke her and keep her content beneath him; the sound that emanated from deep within his chest, instead of intimidating her and tightening her stomach, only made her sigh in pleasure, feeling her nature purring behind her ribs, stretching her neck a little more, parting her lips, clutching the front of his shirt as if it were the only real and stable thing in the whirlwind of her life.

Anne never believed that a kiss could feel like this. The intensity made her knees tremble, feeling the erratic pulse of her blood at the sensitive spot of her neck, sensing the change and revolution in every part of her body, her mind, her soul. The heat melted within her despite the low temperatures; the softness of his lips caressing hers was enough to forget the passage of time, her worries, the fear, and his body covering her from any witness pushed her to the brink of madness, wanting to melt into him, wanting to follow the instinctive commands of her anatomy and her mind suffocated in lust as she tried to return the kiss, trying to respond to his caresses despite knowing that nothing would feel as good as this, nothing would be as right, as destined. The noises around them, along with their heavy breaths and the low growl from his chests, indicated that they were completely alone, isolated from the world, unable to ignore the demand from their minds to say more, more, more.

She had completely lost her sense of time, unconcerned about whether the moon revolved over her head again and again, indifferent to the passing of years, of lives, as if it meant she could continue beneath his hands, breathing in his scent as if it were the only thing that could save her from the fateful destiny she knew awaited her. When Gilbert slightly pulled away from her to take a breath, Anne felt that she would be able to sob if he didn't keep touching her.

“Anne,” the alpha spoke, breathlessly, sliding his wet mouth along her jaw, carefully pinching the skin between his teeth, letting out a louder growl when he heard the delicate sound she made in surprise at his bite. One of his hands remained fixed on her lower back, crumpling the dress that covered her, while the other had slipped into her hair, caressing her nape and having the power to position her face as he wished; Anne slowly opened her eyes when the alpha did not move again, waiting for him to respond, “We can't... we can't go on”.

The sentence broke her heart, doing something she should have never allowed; a sharp sound of complaint, too animalistic for her taste, feeling her cheeks burn as the alpha let out a breath in agony, as if the mere idea of stopping took a part of his soul away “Please, don't do this to me”.

Anne slid her eyes toward his, her eyelids slightly drooping from the overwhelming sensations coursing through her from head to toe, holding her breath as she noticed the hunger and focus in his expression, devoted, looking at her as if she were the only beam of light in a world shrouded in cold and darkness. The omega remained still in his arms, with no intention of distancing herself from him, leaning against his hands as the alpha shook his head, tortured “You’re going to kill me if you keep looking at me like that”.

“Gilbert” Anne didn’t know why she was apologizing, but at that moment his omega seemed to have taken control of her body, of her mouth, wanting to do everything possible to keep kissing him, kissing him until she faded away from lack of oxygen. Nothing seemed to matter more than that, than having him close, than having his attention; a small gesture of concern crossed her face, as if the anguish of being separated from him were devastating “Alpha...”.

It seemed like a magic word, she could conclude when Gilbert leaned over her, taking her by the nape and gently stretching her to kiss her again, feeling the urge to hold him by the shoulders, not knowing what to do with her own hands. Her breathing sounded more labored than ever, just like the weight of his growl that made her shudder from head to toe, letting out a sinful sound as the alpha gently bit her lip, licking her lower lip, “Do you want this?”.

The question was, easily, the most absurd one she had ever heard in her life, how could she not want this? Her conscience would devour her later, but in that very moment, Anne felt that she had been made and created solely to live this, to be caressed by him, to sink into his warmth and the greatness of his chest, to enjoy the whimsical sensation of his gaze upon her as if she were a divine being instead of a person full of flaws and imperfections. She separated from the alpha with her lips glistening with saliva, opening her eyes almost in confusion upon meeting his, starting to nod her head before her brain could process the sentence she wanted to formulate “Yes, please, Gilbert, I just want...”.

“Come here” he pulled her away from the wall, caressing her shoulders, kissing her cheek as she walked backward, led by him, confident that he wouldn't let her stumble. The interior of the stable was beginning to darken, but nothing seemed to intimidate the desire to stay close to him, knowing that the amount of time they had was risky and limited, the adrenaline from the forbidden and wrong coursing through their veins “I'm going to take care of you, Anne. I promise”.

            I know, I know, alpha, I can feel it, I can feel it when I close my eyes, I can hear it when I hear you coming, I can sense it when our hands brush against each other.

            “Do you trust me, Anne?” his raspy tone made her straighten up in her place, closing her eyes as she trusted that he was holding her, brushing the tip of her nose against the edge of his jaw, trembling as she breathed in his scent intensely and feeling as if she had been scolded when the alpha growled low, claiming her attention “I want to hear you”.

“Yes, Gilbert,” she nodded, eager to give him everything he asked of her. They had little time before Matthew and Marilla began to suspect, knowing she had to return before the sun set for good, feeling the sadness protesting in her body in anticipation of their separation. Her mind could only deal with the desire to please him, to stay close, to listen to the nature that swirled in her chest as she had never had the luxury to do before “I trust you, I trust…”.

She blinked when, abruptly, her feet lifted off the ground.

She made a pathetic sound of surprise when the alpha effortlessly lifted her, taking her by the thighs without touching the sensitive skin on the inside of her legs, careful to keep her dress in place, sitting her on some boxes hidden at the end of the stable; in this position, she couldn’t see or hear any of the animals, nor could she be seen. Anne would have been terrified to find herself in this situation in any other scenario, but in this one, when the alpha made sure she was comfortable, sliding his hands to her dressed knees to make gentle circular caresses with his thumbs in a calm and protective manner, Anne had no better impulse than to lean her face closer to his. The height was ideal to have him face to face, feeling her cheeks flush as she could see him so closely, feeling the warmth of his body between her parted legs, his secure hands caressing her gently and affectionately “Is this okay?”

Anne licked her lips, having time to nod slightly before the alpha approached her, frantic and hungry, being careful with his movements and keeping his senses alert to any sign of discomfort from her. From that position, Anne felt flames licking her body, her consciousness, opening her mouth to receive his tongue, adjusting her legs around him, wrinkling the shirt between her hands, struggling to breathe and losing herself in the sensation of having him so close; being at eye level, she could comfortably touch the strength of his shoulders and chest, feeling the tightness in her lower abdomen contract with pleasure at the feel of his warm skin, his heavy, masculine scent enveloping her, blinding her reasoning, making her lose her mind to the point that she didn’t realize she wanted to speak out loud until Gilbert pulled away once more to listen to her “You smell so good, alpha. Too good. Better than I ever imagined”.

The alpha growled at her words, surprising her once again as he took her by the legs and brought her to the edge of the box she was sitting on. The contact of their bodies took the air from her lungs, making her tremble as she pressed against him this way, wrapping her legs around his hips and having to lean on her own arms to avoid falling backward; Gilbert, always controlled and rational, seemed consumed by the instinct to devour her from head to toe, growling low, pulling away from her mouth with a loud, wet sound that made her shut her eyes tightly. When the alpha slid his mouth to her jaw once more, speaking in a raspy, deep tone that sent shivers down her skin, Anne felt there was no way to come out of this situation alive “Do you want to smell like me, mhm?”

She felt sorry for herself, but at the same time, she couldn't focus on the fleeting feeling of disappointment when she sensed the fire burning in her veins, on her skin, pleading for relief, for him to be closer and closer, confessing the irrational urge to sob when the alpha murmured gravely and dangerously, caressing her sides with large hands, as if he too were feeling pity for her “Don't cry, baby. I will give you everything you ask for. Everything”.

Anne didn’t understand what he was talking about until, after blinking several times, she could distinguish the change in her vision — was she really on the verge of tears, was that her state of desperation? Her train of thought suddenly seemed to vanish when the alpha squeezed her thighs, not daring to slide his hand under her skirt, making a guttural sound that was far too attractive for her well-being as Anne stretched her own hand to caress his hair, deciding that any regret or coherent thought would be a concern for the Anne of the future. The Anne of now was too focused on being kissed by an alpha who seemed willing to rip out his heart and leave it in her hands rather than let her go, finding a point that made her shut her eyes tightly when he pulled her by the lower back with one hand, tilting her head back with the other, taking both braids in his grip, a force that was firm but would never be able to hurt her. To prolong her torment, Gilbert seemed to have decided he wanted to separate and look at her, absorbing the sight before him as if he wanted to tattoo the memory behind his eyelids, imprint it with fire on his skin, sliding the hand that was on her back to her neck, down the middle of her chest, grazing her stomach, not allowing her to move her head as he kept her fixed in place with his other hand; Anne could do nothing but tremble beneath his touch, making sounds that begged for his attention, but that didn’t seem to affect his dark, predatory eyes at all, the deep rumble of his chest, the rhythmic breathing through his nose, as if he were desperate to feel her scent, to feel anything. Anne remained obediently still when he spoke again, consumed, lost, “Aren’t you scared?”.

The question made her squirm, trying to connect her eyes with his, but she understood it wasn't what the alpha expected when he applied more pressure on her, leaving her unable to move “No, alpha”.

“That’s good,” he observed, brushing the tips of his fingers against her belly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity when Anne tensed her jaw, struggling against the explicit desires of her body, her mind, her nature “You’re so good to me that I have no choice but to give you whatever you ask for, aren’t you?”

Anne couldn’t breathe from the lust shaking her from head to toe, making the mistake of nodding her head, looking with a furrowed brow in sadness when the alpha made a sound of disapproval, bringing the hand resting on her stomach to her mouth, brushing his thumb against her swollen, wet lips, tightening his jaw with brutal force when Anne had the audacity to kiss it, blinking slowly as she swallowed with little control, knowing she shouldn’t push too hard to break it “You need to learn to use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you want, Anne. I want you to do that from now on”.

Anne had a sensitive, resilient, revealing, impulsive personality; however, she now seemed to be under a spell, unable to contain her body's response before her brain caught up with her actions, kissing the alpha's finger again in a gesture of apology, looking at him with wide, honest, pleading eyes, “Yes, Gilbert.”

His gesture seemed pleased, and his approval, to her eternal mortification, made her sigh with madness, melting against him as he slipped his thumb into her mouth, parting her lips, looking at her with black eyes, leaning down to kiss her cheek gently, growling against her skin, “You’re perfect. Perfect. You’re going to drive me crazy”.

Anne kept pushing, feeling her rationality hanging by a thin thread on the verge of breaking, searching for his gaze, melting into his warmth, into the fixed sensation of his hand tugging at her hair, how her elbows burned from resting on them, in the animal desperation to get what she wanted, to be able to smell his scent on her skin for days, in the primitive satisfaction of the fragrance protecting her, wrapping her from the cold and from strange alphas who would flee from her at the first hint of his mark on her. She wanted his mark, she wanted him closer, she wanted it all, playing her last card, playing dirty; after all, Anne had never promised to be an honest person.

She knew she had caught him by surprise and had shattered any trace of self-control when she wrapped her lips around his finger, licking it shamelessly, sucking until the alpha choked on his own breath. He pulled his hand away from her mouth as if it burned, startling her for a few seconds until he forced her to sit up straight, her pupils dilated, the scent burning her lungs, her skin, making her tremble uncontrollably as he murmured, “Don’t move”.

Anne wouldn't be able to disobey him if it meant he was going to mark her. She needed him like oxygen in her lungs, craved him like the fierce beating of her own heart, closing her eyes as he let her hair down, searching for the knot of the scarf that covered her neck and awakening a small alert in her that she couldn't quite distinguish; there was a reason she wore that, right? Was it so important that she should worry about it and lose the chance to be marked? No, she repeated to herself, nothing could be that important. Nothing could be worth such a sacrifice, she resolved as the alpha removed the delicate scarf that covered her, biting her lower lip hard as he playfully blew air on her neck. A whimper began to rise in her throat, filled with need and desperation, yearning for his attention, “Alpha.”

“I know,” he spoke slowly, moving closer to her once again and kissing her, sending shivers down her spine as she felt his tongue and teeth against her lips, unable to enjoy the sensation as she compared it to the desire to feel him on her neck. She needed him, she wanted him, she wanted him so much that she felt like she was going to explode, licking his mouth pleadingly as his growl coursed through her entirely, relishing the small sounds that escaped her mouth when he licked her jaw, pinching it with his teeth, caressing the lobe of her ear, dragging her into madness. Her hands clung to his shirt so tightly that she feared she would tear it, audibly sighing as his warm breath fell on her neck, wanting to sob from the overwhelming desire that controlled her “You’ve been such a patient girl for me, Anne. So good.”

His words melted into her brain, into her ears, forcing her to stop wrapping her legs around him and succumb to the most primitive of her instincts, an electric and peaceful sensation as she yielded to her omega, so long ignored and repressed throughout her life, able to express it for the first time without any feeling of disgust or terror. Her heart seemed to have calmed its beats, her breathing seemed to have synchronized, a brief moment of lucidity where she appeared to be a whole person, where she felt herself instead of her rationality and the condemnation that dwelled within her. The alpha let out a guttural sound, relieved and desperate, giving in to his desires as he brought his lips to her neck, exposed for the first time.

The response was automatic, perceiving from a considerable distance the fierce growl of Gilbert as he savored her skin, but she knew it could not compare to what was happening within her; she felt her vision had turned white, her entire body tensing for a few seconds before parting her lips and completely relaxing, almost fainting in his arms. It was an inexplicable sensation, stretching the muscles in her neck to the brink of pain to allow him better access, trembling beneath him as he let her lie down, hovering over her like a beast, connected to her own heartbeat, tranquility coursing through her veins, pleased and happy, pleasure burning low in her belly, inside her thighs and between them, letting out small breaths as the alpha slid his tongue along the sweetness of her throat. She found her own hands when Gilbert, breathing against her and parting his mouth to kiss her where he could, dared to graze his teeth against a particularly sensitive spot, rolling her eyes back and sighing heavily, unable to utter a word, unable to move. The alpha seemed lost in himself as well, aware not to crush her, not to touch her in places where she hadn’t given permission, daring to take her by the chin and turn her head to access the other side of her throat— their feelings of peace and belonging were mutual, sensing her body relax despite the growls, looking at her through his lashes with black eyes, stretching his hands to caress her hips, her stomach, her hair. Anne didn’t want to and couldn’t move, letting out a low, sharp sound when the alpha buried his face in her neck again, rubbing his nose against her skin, sliding it down her dressed collarbones, breathing deeply once and again before speaking again.

“Are you wearing any perfume?” the alpha asked, carefully.

Anne felt that her heart had stopped beating “Do you smell something… different?”

“No,” he replied after considering it for several seconds, pulling slightly away from her before lifting his hand and running it over his lips, looking at his fingers in confusion “I feel like my lips are… numb, is that possible?”

When Anne suddenly paled and the alpha's expression turned to something resembling panic, Anne understood that she had made a grave mistake, and that perhaps there was no turning back.

Chapter Text

Her only response was to freeze under his gaze, as if time had stopped, as if the world had stopped spinning, stealing the air from her lungs in the process.

It was a matter of seconds to understand what was happening, to understand what she had to do. She had suffered on multiple occasions from the danger of being discovered, but this situation had to be the most dangerous of all; she had never been the victim of the attention of a person like Gilbert, with sharp instincts, keen and sensitive senses. The slightest change was visible to his eyes, perceptible to his nose, his hands — Anne swallowed, frozen, still sitting on the box, legs apart, breathing agitated and the anxious rise and fall of her chest. She could picture the image, her cheeks hot, her lips swollen, moist and parted, and above all, her neck glistening from the alpha's kisses, her collarbones exposed, her eyes misty with lust and confusion. Yet the warm, delirious sensations had left her body fleetingly at his confession, feeling her heart contract in panic, fear coursing through her veins like cold, unavoidable poison, forcing her hands into fists, her eyes widening imperceptibly in horror.

She had to think, and fast. The alpha had frowned slightly, looking to her for an answer she didn't seem to decipher, but a faint hope rose in her chest at the knowledge that Gilbert had not sensed her scent, knowing that it would be impossible for his nature not to react to being in the presence of an omega. She had read in isolated, unprovable writings that many men lost their minds in the presence of creatures like her, unable to restrain the wild urges to lay hands on their bodies, to take over people they would never be able to control. Her head worked at full speed, overcoming the panic, the horror, the paralyzing fear that tensed her muscles and made her heart beat in a frantic, erratic manner. Gilbert could hear it as clearly as her voice, putting his confusion aside to reach out his hands to her, concern tingeing his features, his touch delicate and careful as he stroked one of her legs, unable to fight the desire to comfort her, to keep her calm and safe.

She had to calm her heart before the alpha discerned that something was wrong, truly wrong; the task was incredibly difficult, mindful of every breath he took, terrified that he might smell her scent as he licked the ointment from her skin. She had to distract him, take his attention elsewhere, concentrating on linking her legs together, stretching her spine and tilting her head to one side, blinking her big eyes at him like a prayer, “Are you feeling dizzy, Gilbert? Would you like us to see a doctor?”.

Gilbert was slow to react, looking at her with dark eyes before relaxing, dropping his shoulders but not abandoning his thoughtful features, stroking her gently, attentive to her reactions, to her heart that was beginning to calm “No, I'm fine. The feeling is just... strange. It's never happened to me before”.

Anne controlled her heart, which had threatened to leap, concentrating on stretching out one of her feet and caressing his legs, distracting him — she knew she had done her job when the alpha let out a sigh, tightening his hands around her thighs, pinning her in place with determination when the young woman spoke again “Perhaps I bit you too hard. If I had known you had such sensitive lips, I would have been more careful”.

The omega prayed the humor was enough to remove the doubt from his face, from his movements, unconvinced with the explanation she had bestowed upon him, holding her breath as Gilbert let out a sideways smile, sliding his hands to her knees, watching her through his lashes with something akin to affection painting his gaze “You don’t need be careful with me, Anne. I can take whatever you want to give me”.

Relief seemed to shoot through her with the speed and certainty of an arrow, relaxing her body against the box, holding back the urge to let out a laugh of satisfaction at having bought time, falling victim to an entirely different sensation in a matter of seconds; an inexplicable feeling coursing through her from head to toe, making her shudder beneath his hands, choking on her own saliva at the intensity of his words, the sincerity of his actions. She had to concentrate and prioritize her rationality before her true intentions, longing to be able to kiss him for hours without fear of discovery, knowing that her chance was now, smiling slowly as she said, “Even when I have to leave?”.

Gilbert sighed, as if the thought of having to pull away from her was torturous, wasting no time in leaning over her, slowly, giving her time to deny him or pull away, melting against her skin as he planted a hot kiss against her cheek. Anne couldn't help but feel the warning vibrating through her, worried that he might feel something, unable to fight the urge to melt against him, as if the mere touch of his skin was enough to cause energy in her veins, causing sparks inside her body, behind her eyelids “I have no choice but to let you go”.

         Anne didn't object to the alpha grabbing her, setting her down gently, waiting patiently for Anne to adjust the scarf she wore around her neck, not asking any questions regarding her clothing. Anne looked up at him blushing as he busied himself adjusting her coats, settling the scarf securely around her throat, satisfied as he turned away from her once more and reached for her hand to take it. The sensation never failed to be magical, brushing her skin against his, letting out a breath as his warmth enveloped her securely; she risked her hand to one of the horses, smiling imperceptibly as she stroked its fur, before heading into the forest with Gilbert leading the way. The sunset was beautiful, tinting the sky a dark violet that was in tune with the uncharacteristic chill of autumn coming to an end, clinging to him undisguised as they started walking through the forest; the shadows seemed to grow larger with the bare branches of the trees, the familiar rustle of dry leaves beneath their feet, the steam steadily and rhythmically rising from their lips. Anne still couldn’t measure how risky and foolish her decision to be marked by him had been, inwardly chastising herself and biting the inside of her cheek obsessively, knowing it was something that could never happen again, a miracle she had never dared to fantasize; Gilbert had perhaps licked the surface of the ointment, removing a good amount to numb his lips against the friction, but what little remained impregnated on her skin had been enough to shelter her for a few moments longer. She didn’t want to risk and push her luck anymore, inwardly thanking repeatedly that the alpha hadn't been able to sense anything strange other than the curious sensation of his mouth, dipping her nose behind the thickness of the scarf, praying the wind wouldn't blow her imperceptible scent into his nose, wishing she could get home as soon as possible so she could breathe in peace.

         She began to bite her lips anxiously at the thought of her parents, worried that they were furious with her for the hours she’d been gone, squeezing Gilbert's hand between hers absently, drawing his attention by accident. The alpha glanced over his shoulder gently, studying the only exposed portion of her face from having it hidden behind the scarf “Are you cold?”.

         “No” his question took her by surprise, shaking her head and looking away, unable to look into the distance because of the impending darkness of the approaching night “I'm weighing the possibility that my parents are angry with me for being gone so long”.

         “They were kind enough to let you come” Gilbert concurred, stroking one of his thumbs against her hand, still walking and positioning her at his side, risking resting one of his hands on her lower back, weak at the desire to touch her as much as possible while they were alone “I can accompany you, make up a story, be extremely charming, all to justify your unpunctuality”.

“Something tells me you're a good liar” Anne murmured, relaxing her posture, hitching her shoulders, blinking up at him to study his reaction as the alpha allowed silence to stretch between them as confirmation “You really consider yourself a good liar?”.

“It's not something I'm proud of,” Gilbert confessed, unable to tear his gaze away from hers, dark pupils meeting the paradisiacal blue of her gaze like a magnet “But they’re qualities I had to learn after being at sea for so long. Perhaps I wouldn't be able to walk on two legs if I hadn't learned in time”.

         “You're a retired liar, then” Anne sentenced, curious about his response, consumed by the masculine beauty of his features, the smug smile stretching his lips, his addictive, warm scent surrounding her with assurance, inviting her to care about nothing else but enjoying his touch and the depth of his voice.

Anne twisted her mouth under the scarf, feeling the guilt digging into her chest like a wound she would never be able to close, boiling through her veins like a constant reminder that she couldn't reveal who she really was to the people she most wanted to be seen by “But this time, with your parents... you look like you need a hero. I'm capable of committing sins for you”.

         “Don't be ridiculous” Anne laughed slowly, nudging him gently by the shoulder to hide her hot cheeks from his vision. Being aware of the thin rope she walked on was enough to keep her on edge, watchful and paranoid, hating everything Gilbert was capable of causing in her; she could be in immeasurable danger at that very moment with nothing but a thin layer of ointment on her neck, losing her own balance at the sweet and devout words that took her unaware, forgetting her purpose when she felt the sure touch of his large hand on her lower back, feeling her mouth fill with saliva as the alpha looked into her eyes as easily as breathing, as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life “I'm not going to introduce you to my parents so you can lie to their face, that would be disastrous. I'd rather you be honest with me, now, and tell me about what your life was like in the ocean”.

         “Sounds like an adventure when you put it that way” Gilbert smiled, stroking her back absently, rhythmic movements that would have been enough to distract her were it not for how addictive it was to watch him talk, the unmistakable sensation of his low tone travelling down her spine “I accomplished many tasks in the months I was there. Of course the first ones were the nastiest, the ones no one wanted to do, and eventually they delegated other jobs to me because they saw I didn't complain too much”.

         “The others did?” Anne asked, scratching one of her eyes from the tiredness that was beginning to weigh on her eyelids. Gilbert noticed, abandoning his grip on her lower back to wrap his arms around her shoulders, pressing their sides together, ignoring the way Anne tensed at the closeness and the memory of his sleeping lips.

         As if being pressed together wasn't enough, fitting snugly under his arm, blinking up at him curiously, the alpha couldn't help but rest his hand on her head, stroking her hair “Are you tired, sweetheart?”.

         “No, I-I'm fine” Anne shook her head, fighting the urge to hide her face in her hands, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks with such speed that she thought it was worthy of being studied by science. She snorted behind her scarf, averting her eyes from his in embarrassment “I want to hear more”.

         The alpha patted one of her shoulders before continuing to speak, taking pity on her shyness and combing his hair back as the darkness seemed to advance with worrying speed “The others complained and, on top of that, they weren't honest with their jobs. I can't blame them, because the conditions were deplorable, but the superiors were able to see who was lying and who was not. I understood that if I wanted to get out of where I was I had to do what I was ordered to do, and it was in a matter of weeks that I was able to sleep in the rooms with windows, where the sun came in”.

         “Where did you sleep before?" Anne would love to go through experiences like that, exploring the world and challenging herself in a way she hadn't, by her will rather than not having a choice to have somewhere to sleep and eat.

         “By the boilers” he replied, making a gesture as he wrinkled his nose that made Anne laugh, her chest feeling warm in something unfamiliar at the playful sight of his expression “The smell was unbearable, and the beds were always dirty no matter how hard I tried to clean them. There were days when the itching went on forever, and it magically disappeared once I had a room with fresh air and daylight”.

         “It must have been very hot in the boilers before, wasn't it?” Gilbert nodded, tucking her braids behind her shoulders in a thoughtful, nonchalant, natural way “Did you ever have a really, really bad storm while you were out on the open sea?”.

         “Yes, we have. Dozens of them” he commented, not taking his eyes off her face, letting the air out through his nose as he remembered “They were all scary, I'm not going to lie to you. Most of the time I wanted to hide inside the ship, maybe under the beds so no one would have time to look for me until they were done, but it was impossible. My mates took great pleasure in pushing me towards the bow, and sometimes I was the only one who could pull the wet ropes. It always had its benefits, of course, but at those times I felt like the sea was going to swallow me whole”.

         “That sounds amazing” Anne replied, fascinated, lost within her own imagination before she could help it, turning her face towards him excitedly “Storms scare me now, when I'm in Green Gables, I can't imagine what they must be like lost in the middle of the ocean, were the waves too high? Could the boat sink?”.

         Gilbert didn't seem annoyed or surprised by her questions or enthusiasm, scratching his chin as he thought of the right words “I'd love to be able to paint it for you, Anne, but I think if I describe it correctly you'll be able to imagine it as it is. You have to think that, in the first place, the only light on the ship is the lanterns, which are few in number and, besides, they were quite worn out. All around us was darkness, an eternal darkness, Anne, that seemed to have no end or beginning. Absolute darkness as the sky roared, really, the roar of lightning and thunder deafened me, and every time it lit up for a few seconds all you could see was the image of high, towering waves, so high that sometimes I feared I would blink and be plunged metres under the water afterwards. It's a miracle I never tripped over my own feet in the dark and fell over the railing, honestly. I tried not to think about it while I was out there, of course, otherwise I'd have lost my mind”.

         Gilbert was right, Anne could imagine it. She could imagine the fast, icy wind cutting across her cheeks, the deafening, mystical sound of the sky roaring above her, the electricity cutting through the storm, crashing over the vastness of the sea, raising gigantic waves and making the world tremble beneath her feet, as if she were on another planet defiant and catastrophic “And what good was all that danger worth?”.

“That's a good question, Anne” the alpha smiled, joking as he touched the tip of her nose with one of his fingers, causing the young woman to wrinkle her nose and listen intently “The captain allowed me to continue sleeping in the upstairs quarters, exempted me from feeding the boilers and cleaning the toilets, limiting me to unloading duties when we came ashore, along with machinery and path decisions when he perceived I was a good apprentice. The pay wasn't great, but it allowed me to save, and the occasional box of cigars he gave me opened doors among my mates. You'd be surprised at the things a man would do to keep smoking, and the lies they ignored to get cigarettes. All that made me stay longer than planned, along with the small factor of meeting Sebastian in the middle of it all, of course”.

“That sounds like a decent adventure of its own, Gilbert” Anne murmured, thinking of stories she could develop in the unfamiliar environment of the ocean, biting the inside of her cheek before asking “Were there women with you, travelling?”.

“No, not on my ship” he confessed, giving himself a few seconds to think and admit “But there must be others who do work with women. I should do a little more research to confirm that”.

         “That would be amazing!” she nodded, looking at the image of Green Gables in front of her with something close to resentment, almost completely forgetting the scenario of minutes before, excited to find out more when they reached the fences, eyeing him suspiciously when the alpha wouldn't let her go “I'm not going to let you lie to my parents, Gilbert, so wipe that smile off your face”.

“I wasn't thinking about any of that” the alpha replied, suddenly low, not giving her time to react as he broke the distance between them, taking advantage of the poor visibility to corner her against the fence, knocking the air from her lungs “I was thinking about how much I enjoy having you on firm land, close by”.

         Anne, as much as she knew what she should be doing, couldn't help but let out a soft noise against the alpha's lips as he leaned in to kiss her. He had cupped her face between his large hands, stretching her neck to reach for him, feeling her body shudder as it brushed full against his, the warmth of his skin running across it through the wind and cold. Gilbert made a low sound, almost imperceptible if it weren't for her hands resting against his chest to feel him, feeling the vibrations of his growl, lost in the sinful, wrong sensations that felt right and insane in her body, in her mind. She could never get away from him, she thought with a certainty that made her sigh, she could never stop this, stop chasing the heavy feeling that lodged in the pit of her stomach, in the addictive brush of his lips against hers, his tongue licking her mouth, his hands effortlessly locking her in place, stroking her cheeks with his rough fingers, melting beneath him, against him, against his caresses and his devotion and everything he had to give her.

         Anne knew it was dangerous, she knew she had to stop and that she was yards away from not revealing the most important secret of her life. She had to stop, she thought as she pushed her hands against his chest, parting effortlessly, her eyes closed tightly, her will hanging by a thread as she felt Gilbert's hot, heaving breath fall across her face, the surprise brush of his thumb against her lips, wiping them unashamedly “I don't know how I'm going to do this”.

         His words unsettled her, the gravity of his voice searing into her bones, biting her tongue to keep from making any undue sound as he took her chin in his hand, forcing her eyes open. The image weakened her knees, forming fists in his shirt, parting her lips through the darkness of his pupils, his hungry fragrance stealing all her attention, all her thoughts, the taste of his lips melting on her tongue “Don't look at me like that, baby. You have to go”.

         Anne didn't want to agree with him, but she understood she had no choice. To her comfort Gilbert seemed reluctant to let her go, too, sliding his hands up her shoulders and down her arms, until he took her hands in his, enveloping them in his warmth. He could not resist the sweet sight of Anne looking up at him, not turning away from him, kissing her cheeks, the corner of her lips, the tip of her nose in a delicate, purposeful way, his scent pleasant and sure on her nose as the young woman accepted her fate and murmured, slowly, “I hope they're not angry with me”.

         “They won't be” the alpha comforted, brushing the tip of his nose against her cheek, a typical gesture of an alpha wanting to reassure his mate, doing it so naturally she felt her heart shrink inside her chest. Anne closed her eyes for a few seconds before Gilbert broke away, still stroking her “Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?”.

         “I'm fine” Anne replied, plaintively, leaning her head against his shoulder, rubbing her face imperceptibly against his clothes as if she was also able to mark him with her scent “I'm sorry for taking up your time until this hour, you're not going to get lost on the way?”.

         Concern seeped into her tone no matter how much she wanted to disguise it, noting how Gilbert would return in pitch darkness by the time he reached his home. The alpha shook his head, leaving a light kiss on her forehead before replying, clear and slow “Don't worry about me, Anne. I can come back with my eyes closed”.

         “Yeah, sure” she snorted with a wry tone, feeling more reassured at his confidence, deciding it was the right time to break away from him. She squeezed one of his hands between hers before letting her go, opening the small metal door that lay between the fences as an entrance; saying goodbye to Gilbert shouldn't be as difficult as it actually was, feeling her omega writhing inside her with protest, the cold surrounding her like a monster hanging from her shoulders, the loneliness biting at her feet, how was he able to have such an effect on her to forget the rest of the world when he was near, when she could look at him? “See you tomorrow, Gilbert. Be careful”.

         “I will” the alpha nodded, polite, keeping his hands in his pocket, ignoring how good he looked with messy dark hair, full lips from kissing her intensely, shirt revealing skin that looked warm and soft to the touch, the definition of his face and the darkness of his eyes accentuated by the shadows “I'll wait for you to get to the door. Go”.

         Anne wanted to roll her eyes, wanting to protest that it was mere yards, and nothing would happen in such a short distance, but his tone was definite and she sensed how stubborn he could be, deciding that she was going to dedicate herself to ignoring the strange feeling in her chest, swallowing and nodding her head before turning away, feeling his presence behind her like a contrariness she was trying to decipher; he could be a guardian and her protector at the same time as the greatest danger hovering around her. A dagger held in her hand, capable of harming other threats, but the wrong move would be enough to plunge into her fatally and irretrievably.

To her disappointment her suspicions were correct. Matthew and Marilla were furious with her, deciding that a punishment of dubious length and character would suffice to correct her tardiness. Anne accepted it with her mouth shut after understanding in the early years that talking back and protesting would never result in a better solution (except that one time Rachel had insulted her, certain that she would do it again if the opportunity arose), having to pick vegetables with her jaw clenched by the damp earth and the cold, washing clothes with hands stained red by the change in temperature, feeding the chickens, collecting horse droppings, feeding the cows who licked her hands with such exaggeration that the saliva always ended up dripping hot and slimy. Anne had always helped with the farm chores, of course, but her parents were willing to take it to an extreme, forcing her to do all the chores without being able to waste a single minute on her commute to and from school, unable to accompany Marilla to the center of Avonlea to do the shopping, or to have her lessons with Jerry. She was destined to work and study, being strictly forbidden books unrelated to her education, having to spend her time thinking of Gilbert. On Gilbert over and over again, thinking she was falling into an endless cycle of madness when she could admit that he was the only thing occupying her head; she thought of him before she fell asleep, writhing in the sheets with her legs rubbing insanely against each other, having to force herself to stop, only to find him again in dreams that made her sigh and wake up covered in sweat, shaking with unfamiliar sensations, sinking her face into the pillow to let out a low cry of frustration.

         In the daytime the situation seemed to get worse, acting automatically as she allowed her head to wander in questions she couldn't answer, biting her nails when her hands were free, writing nonsense when neither of her parents were present. In class she had explained the situation to Diana indignantly, speaking in whispers so that no one could know she had attended Gilbert Blythe's house, stealing fleeting glances in his direction, flinching when she found him staring at her without any concern or disguise. She tried to be as respectful as possible in the presence of Ruby, who kept looking for him with big, bright eyes, tolerating Josie Pye's hurtful, passive comments, averting her gaze when she expressed concern over Billy's absence, unhappy with her sister Jane's stiff excuses that she had gone on a business trip with her father to begin learning about it.

         Anne endured five days in that infernal cycle when, drying one of the plates, it slipped from her grip and exploded on the floor, flying to pieces. Her response was impulsive and careless, kneeling on the floor swiftly to begin gathering the pottery with swift, bare hands, cutting off one of her fingers just as Marilla entered the kitchen with hurried steps “Anne! What are you doing?”.

         “I'm sorry, Marilla!” she exclaimed, bringing her hand to her chest with the pain radiating from her finger with intensity, having to let out a snort to counteract the urge to cry. Her eyes filled with tears because of the pain, but the reasons were wide and distinct; frustration closed her throat, as did anger at having made such a mistake, feeling the sadness built up after so many days choke her, blinking rapidly to clear her vision as her mother approached her with concern “I didn't mean to break it, Marilla, I promise. I know you hate it when things break, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to....”.

         “Anne” she sighed, defeated, stroking one of her soft hands against her cheeks, forcing her to lift her head and expose her crystallized gaze, twisting her lips in response. The young woman felt her lower lip begin to quiver as she brushed the open finger against her clothing, staining it and causing the wound to ache even more, pressing her jaw until the older woman spoke “Come, let's clean your wound”.

         “And the plate?” she replied worriedly, not getting up from the floor. Her mother shook her head, unconcerned, waiting for her to stand up in a hurry “We need to pick it up, Marilla, and maybe we can put it back together”.

         “We can deal with that later, Anne” she protested, watching her earnestly until Anne stood up, averting her gaze with an anguished expression on her face “We must heal you first”.

Anne followed her silently into the bathroom, where she poured water over the wound, closing her eyes at the agonizing sensation of the icy water against the open skin. Marilla was relentless despite being careful, professionally ignoring her low moaning noises of complaint and pain as she cleaned the cut naturally, surrounding it with a small gauze pad that rested in a drawer, blowing on the wound before wrapping it tightly. Her finger was tender even while covered, breathing deeply through her nose to keep from sobbing, confused by her dramatic overreaction, wanting to gain control of herself before Marilla became angry at her unsteadiness “What's wrong, Anne, why are you so distressed?”.

         “It was an accident, Marilla” she stammered, clasping her hands together in her lap, feeling the tears fall hot down her cheeks, balling her hands into fists and regretting it within seconds as the pain intensified as she squeezed, wiping her face with more force than necessary “I didn't mean to and I don't want to do any more laundry outside, Marilla. I feel like my hands are going to fall off any second”.

         Marilla raised an eyebrow in disbelief as Anne muttered in despair, sobbing as if she had witnessed an atrocity rather than suffered a minuscule cut on one of her fingers “Is this whole act because you don't want to go through with your punishment, Anne?”.

         “It's not that!” she denied, still crying, feeling the frustration mount as she could make out a small smile from Marilla, feeling her chest rise and fall as she took a ragged breath, overcome by the situation “I'm just... I'm just tired of not being able to do the things I want to do, and now I broke a plate that was too pretty to be broken, and...!”.

         “Oh, Anne” Marilla couldn't hold back the soft giggles, covering her mouth sheepishly as Anne narrowed her reddish eyes at her, letting her mouth drop in indignation at her reaction, feeling more tears welling up in her eyes at the betrayal she was experiencing right now “You want to stop being grounded, is that it? Is that why you're so distraught?”.

         She opened and closed her mouth again, crossing indignation, shame and finally acceptance. She wiped her cheeks once more, taking a deep breath to calm herself and come to a lull to nod, feeling her lip quiver emotionally “Yes, Marilla. I miss reading things that are not related to Mr. Phillips, and performing in my room, and being able to bake...”.

         “We were too soft on you” Marilla replied with false sadness, smiling as Anne came over to rest her wet face on her shoulder, grateful to have a mother who could nurse her wounds and laugh at her tears, comforting her no matter how absurd they might be.

         The day had passed smoothly and wonderfully, the two of them having chosen the prettiest portion of the broken plate to display with the rest of the crockery, busying herself petting the horses and asking cordially if Matthew needed anything, commenting cheerfully that she was no longer grounded, being quickly dismissed as he could make out the eager, energetic glow that tinged her face, which could mean only one thing; she clumsily ascended the stairs, intruding into Marilla's room where she had hidden several of her books in her drawers. He picked them up one by one and arranged them back in her room, before heading in front of the fireplace and lighting it with precision, closing the heavy curtains to keep out the cold more directly. Anne soon settled into the armchair closest to the fire, covering herself with a thick blanket, before beginning to read with a thrill worthy of a first experience. The satisfaction of being able to lose herself inside fascinating stories, to forget everything as she immersed herself in them, to let her imagination fly as she could see everything in her head, her eyes closed, her body tensing in intense moments, laughing quietly at crude quips of the characters, frowning in difficult scenarios where she had to pay more attention than usual — she didn't know how many hours had passed when Matthew appeared in the living room, shuffling quietly towards her, bringing his index finger to his lips as a signal to be quiet. Anne set the book aside, captivated as she stood up and approached him with a smile, whispering, “What's wrong?”.

         “Look” he pointed, leading her towards the window in a stealthy manner, waiting until she was positioned beside him to pull the curtains firmly apart. Anne brought her hands to her open mouth, covering it before smiling so hard her cheeks would start to ache in a matter of minutes, wrapping her arms around him without a second thought, thrilled at the sight before her.

Snow. The first snowfall of the year in the dark of the night, she could stick her nose in the window to make out that it was accumulating on the ground, staining everything white; she was sure that in the morning the change would be drastic, sighing against her father's body, muttering under her breath, “It's beautiful, Matthew. It never fails to surprise me”.

         “That's why I wanted to show it to you first,” her father replied, stroking one of her shoulders and keeping his voice low, smiling slowly as Anne kept her attention on the snow, hypnotic.

         “Does that mean Marilla hasn't seen it yet?” she asked, curious, the smile still stretching her lips as Matthew slowly shook his head, recognizing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that appeared on occasions too special to be wasted “Do you think we should show it to her?”.

         The coincidences of the universe could be wonderful, Anne thought as she slipped into the kitchen, a heavy, stolen coat from Matthew on her shoulders, biting her lower lip when she noticed Marilla's concentration sewing on a ripped pair of trousers. All the curtains were closed and she was thus totally oblivious to the great event taking place at Green Gables; Anne took a deep breath, sheltering behind the wall before she incarnated herself into the best of actresses, rushing to her side and grimacing with concern that was hard to disprove “Marilla, quick! The fox is trying to eat the chickens!”.

         “I can't believe it” she growled, dropping the trousers hard on the table, before fixing sharp eyes on her to scold her “This is the price of wanting to look after those animals, Anne! They're going to eat everyone else for your sympathy”.

         The front door remained locked, the windows drawn, stammering apologies as her mother headed for the exit with chilling determination, wanting to laugh at the thought of Marilla fighting small, thieving foxes. She stepped forward at the last moment, willing to stretch the act as long as possible, covering the door as she exclaimed, “Promise you won't hurt them, Marilla! It's a family that wants to eat, they don't know what's right and what's wrong”.

         “I'm going to show them what's right and what's wrong” she replied, rolling up her sleeves, causing Anne to feel a slight guilt at the cold she was about to suffer in a matter of seconds “Let me through”.

         Marilla sensed something was out of place as Anne, awkward and anxious, couldn't hold back a mischievous laugh before opening the door wide and quickly. She didn't have time to react, of course, when a snowball exploded full in her chest, startling her from the impact but not hurting at all, allowing a tense, danger-laden silence to stretch between the three of them - Anne smiling, holding the door with happiness vibrating in her fingers, Matthew on the other side of the door, paralyzed with fear and regret at the possibility of provoking his sister's wrath, and Marilla, who after a few seconds, could do nothing but start laughing slowly, slowly, not stopping until the laughter was contagious between the three of them, her legs feeling weak from lack of air as the woman picked up her dress, lifting it slightly so as not to stain it with snow, leaning on the floor without wasting a second to start forming her own snowball, still wet.

         “Run, Matthew!” Anne exclaimed without stopping laughing, almost slipping on her own feet, when a snowball grazed her head, impacting with the face of the man who had not managed to close his mouth. The lanterns dimly illuminated the few metres to the entrance, her body feeling the snow falling on her more intensely, the adrenaline and happiness vibrating through her in an electric and incomparable way, greedily ignoring the pain that came from the cut as she plunged her hands into the thick snow, looking over her shoulder as Marilla tried to defend herself from Matthew, who had revealed himself by wanting to stain her unpolluted hair with snow.

         Anne couldn't remember how many minutes they stood like that, under the first snowfall of the year, laughing so hard her stomach hurt, having to hold her torso up as she swallowed snow from Marilla's surprisingly accurate shots. Falling more than once over herself in desperation to duck and dodge the snowballs, celebrating every time she hit one of them; by the time they decided to enter Green Gables they were covered in snow, mud, and heavy breathing. Anne could hazard that her cheeks hurt so much she couldn't stop smiling, her nose wet and her face warm, feeling her heart pumping, holding back the urge to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream.

Having trouble sleeping was nothing new in her life, less so lately, where her head had more to worry about. Anne had decided to plunge her room into darkness, concentrating on listening to the snow falling on Green Gables, her paced breathing and memories ringing in her ears when something caught her attention.

         Her first reaction was to blame her imagination and tiredness, feeling her eyelids heavy and her muscles clumsy as she sat up on the mattress to confirm what she was seeing. She rubbed her eyes, clearing her vision before standing up, approaching the window with quick, impulsive steps to press her nose against the glass, frowning as her heart began to pound inside her ribs with such speed that she feared it would stop at any moment. Her body froze for mere seconds, feeling her movements become foreign and anxious as she pulled up the window hard, leaning her body forward, the snow beginning to fall on her, until she could make out what she was seeing.

         Fire.

         Fire, in the distance, but fire nonetheless. Fire taking place in the first snowfall, massive enough that she could notice it from a distance, consuming something as big as a house to feed on like that. The blood froze in her veins, not recognising her own voice as she cried out, her own throat wounded, “Matthew! Marilla!”.

         Time, from that moment on, had begun to move in a strange, erratic way. She couldn't tell how long it had taken them to leave Green Gables and arrive at the fire with expressions melting into horror and worry, shivering not only from the cold temperatures, but also from the atmosphere that looked before her like a work of terror. The other people who had come to the rescue were doing their best to move, clutching buckets of water with unsteady hands, their skin red and irritated by the cold, the smoke filling their lungs, the snow hindering their steps. The fire seemed like a ravenous monster alive, the flames flaming in rhythm with the icy blizzard, the chilling sound of wood burning, the agitated breaths of the men, the hurried footsteps on the ground, the desperate signals of those trying to keep calm and a faint sense of leadership through the disaster. Anne clumsily climbed down from the carriage, stretching out a hand so that Marilla could climb down more safely, ignoring her parents' shouts as she stepped through the chaos to reach Diana, who was staring at the fire with bright eyes and a blanket wrapped around her body. Anne reached her, touching her shoulder gently so as not to startle her, taking several seconds to react as her best friend hugged her tightly, crying into her shoulder uncontrollably “I can't believe it, Anne! I can't believe this is happening. Ruby and her family are fine, they were able to get out, and I can't believe it. I can't move from the relief I feel”.

         Anne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, hugging her and closing her eyes tightly, trying to process what was happening. Everything around her seemed to be tinged with violence, hopelessness and lethality, but just like that, hugging her best friend as she cried from happiness and worry, Anne understood that she could face it with strength “Ruby is okay. Her family is fine”.

         “Yes, yes” she nodded frantically against her, pulling away with a small smile in her lips, diverting her attention to the fire carefully, as if it could stretch and reach them despite the distance “Only their home... I don't think they can save it”.

         Anne filled her lungs with air, disguising the gesture by the bitter taste of smoke intoxicating her chest, before looking at the fire. People were trying to work as fast as they could, climbing the stairs to put out the fire in the upstairs rooms, tirelessly throwing water to kill the flames, ignoring the pain their arms must be feeling from the movement and constant weight. Anne slid her gaze down to the ground floor, where others were trying to accomplish the same, until a feeling of mortification crept into her like a curse, an irrefutable truth that split her chest in two “They're never going to be able to save it”.

         “W—what?” Diana stammered, looking at her with confusion and a frown before following her with her eyes, frozen in place as Anne disappeared from her vision. Diana could try to keep up and chase after her, but it had been incredibly easy to get lost in the crowd of people, the men moving back and forth to carry buckets, distribute blankets, try to think of new strategies to stop the fire. Anne knew better than all of them what to do, but she was not going to risk not being heard or being responsible for injury or worse. This was something she had to do from the silence alone, and quickly.

         It was not difficult to find a pile of blankets piled up on the snow, acting quickly as she scooped them into her arms and plunged them into a nearby bucket of cold water. The weight was almost unbearable, settling them in her arms, shivering with the water dripping down her skirt and legs, tensing her jaw tightly as she wrapped one of them around her neck already clad in a dry scarf, covering her mouth and nose. She looked around, satisfied with the lack of attention due to desperation to help, to begin circling the fire with watchful eyes, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she felt the energy pumping through her veins, determination coursing through her muscles with something magical and dangerous.

         The entrance soon appeared before her as a challenge, a door on the right side of the house leading to the living room. The ceiling was already on fire, unable to see more than a few meters, inserting a decision within her in a matter of seconds; she had to act fast before the fire became absolute, before it could bring the house down on her. Fear paralyzed her body but also drove her, silencing her thoughts as her legs moved of their own accord, struggling against the weight of the damp fabrics resting on her arms. When she set her first foot inside the house, feeling the wood creak beneath her, the quietness that enveloped her was enough to know she was going to make it.

         She closed her eyes as the heat and smoke hit her, impassive, filling her eyes with tears from the change in temperature and the intensity of the fire. She felt she was capable of melting as she climbed the stairs with agility, grabbing the first handle with exposed hands, letting out a groan as she touched the burning metal, closing it tightly; her body moved instinctively, based on the adrenaline and panic that drove the righteous desire to survive without making fatal mistakes, leaving the wet blankets under the doors she closed so that the oxygen could not feed the fire even more. Anne heard exclamations from the men helping outside, claiming in outrage that someone had broken in to close the doors and windows, concentrating on her breathing and the deadly crackle of the fire consuming everything in its path, laughing behind her back at the fragility of her mortality, damaging her hands, blinding her vision and her head, the heat sticking to her clothes, burning her skin. Every moment she felt she could not bear it, that she would fall into the flames, her body pushed the limits, planting her feet on the ground and lifting the heavy weight of the wet blankets, managing in what seemed like an eternity to close one of the last doors before throwing herself out the way she had come in. Perhaps her sinful, impure omega status made her immune to the flames, a creature created by fire and hells, certain she would have laughed at the irony were it not for her darkening vision.

The snow seemed to cut into her skin as she collapsed on it, releasing a strangled air, her head on the verge of exploding into unconsciousness. The cold, clear air seemed like a sweet caress after crossing the inferno, struggling to settle her body on the ground, moaning softly as her wet clothes made her shiver, trying to make out the image in front of her, breathing erratically. She was outside and she was alive, but she didn't know where she was, didn't know how to stay awake, how to move. She understood that, despite the wet cloth covering her face, she had inhaled too much smoke and her brain was having a hard time doing its job, unable to do more than let out a pitiful noise and struggle to find her hands to tear the wet clothes off her. She couldn't move, she wasn't able to find her limbs, her voice, and the thought of being trapped inside her own body burned her heart with panic, paralyzing her muscles. She wanted to breathe harder, she wanted to dig her toes into the snow, she wanted to crawl away from the fire but she couldn't, she couldn't and the anguish was beginning to press on her lungs, squeezing her ribs, stealing her consciousness, her reality, and she couldn't move. She couldn't. She was trapped, locked as if in a coffin, lost and forgotten in the snow.  No, no, please, please, please. She wanted to fight and stir and be alive. To be awake. No.

It took her body several seconds when something, someone approached her. The footsteps seemed hurried over the snow, swift and clumsy, a thud when the person was close enough, a familiar, reassuring sound ringing in the distance, in the back of her head like a caress, a pleasant reminder. The fear lingered inside her, but its intensity lessened with the knowledge that she was not alone, that someone had found her, that someone was holding her carefully, pressing her against something soft and warm. Firm. Pleasant.

         She wanted to understand what the person was saying as they pulled the scarf away from her body, touching her arms, her hair; she would have been in terror if she hadn't recognized him, even in the limbo of unconsciousness, wishing more than ever that she could open her eyes and tell him that she was fine, that nothing bad was happening, but her eyes felt too heavy to make such an effort. She couldn't find her voice to murmur it and, in the end, she was too tired. Gilbert would understand, she reasoned as she let herself be embraced by the darkness, grateful to have been found by him.

         Mary had been incredibly sympathetic as she watched Gilbert and Sebastian adjust his boots late at night, stirring frantically around the living room, Gilbert's unbearable scent nagging at her nose as she took them by the shoulders, stopping them in their tracks when she spoke, a firm tone that gave no room for protest or complaint, glancing at each other cautiously “I hope to see you two in one piece again, yes?”.

         “Of course you do, Mary” Sebastian muttered quickly, a talent Gilbert could never stop laughing at, biting his tongue to keep a smile from escaping in the tension drenched moment.

         Despite knowing with the very certainty of the soul he harbored in his body that he wanted to be a doctor, he couldn't help but hide the trembling of his hands into fists as they reached the fire, taking in the scene before him with anxiety and a brief moment of panic before digging his nails into the insecurity and transforming it. He had to transform that fear into a desire to help and solve, knowing that the family victim of the fire was perhaps still inside, perhaps the damage would be irreversible or, on the flip side, it was within his power to make it better. To save it. Sebastian didn't say a word as he tapped his shoulder, encouraging him, before trotting off to start carrying water to douse the flames. The alpha had no shame in stopping the first person who crossed in front of him, a young man he'd never seen before, to ask earnestly, “Did everyone make it out?”.

         “Yes” he nodded, shaken and unfocused, pointing behind him before he could ask again“That's the whole family”.

         He asked no more questions, allowing the boy to leave as he saw Ruby sitting, her face streaked with tears and ashes, sobbing as her mother tried to comfort her. He looked around for the village doctor, failing to identify him, before cutting through the people surrounding the family with ease, his presence and scent making it easy to reach them quickly. Her companion was slow to recognize him, wiping away tears with trembling hands as she saw him, the fire illuminating their faces darkly and effectively “G—Gilbert?”.

         “Hello, Ruby” he tried to greet in a friendly voice, studying the appearances of his family members, too, silently confirming that no one was seriously injured “I'm so sorry about what happened, I really am. I wanted to reach out to make sure you were alright, and to let you know that I am at your disposal for anything you need”.

         “Thank you, young man” her mother thanked, letting go an anguish-laden breath as she avoided looking in the direction of the fire, probably feeling her heart break with the movement of each flame “We are heartbroken, and I can't be so thankful to the Lord that we are all safe”.

         “Are you feeling well physically?” he asked, concentrating, finding the typical symptoms of smoke overexposure; runny noses, constant coughing, eyes glazed over. They would probably develop complications from breathing or running, but they would survive, they were not of an urgent nature “Did you suffer any bumps or cuts in addition to the smoke exposure?”.

         “No” Ruby spoke, slowly, her irritated eyes blinking slowly as she clasped her hands together, consumed with panic and sadness as she tried to express herself “I don't know if we have any burns...”.

         “You’ll be fine, Ruby, and they'll put the fire out as soon as possible” he comforted, trying to sketch a confident and convincing smile, glancing over his shoulder as he saw the quick organization they had managed to put out the fire; a line holding endless water, trying to limit the fire's time to keep regenerating. He stood, knowing he was going to be of more use by the fire than with them, looking them in the eye as he murmured, “I'll go and assist, but if you feel anything is wrong let me know. I'm sure the doctor will be here any minute and will be able to examine you as soon as possible”.

         Her father grunted something under his breath, catatonic from the raging fire, which had consumed the entirety of his life in a matter of minutes, furious that he felt incapacitated when he should be in charge of killing the fire, limited to sitting on a cold wet blanket on the snow. Ruby and her mother both nodded, too devastated to measure his words, implicitly allowing Gilbert to leave with full permission to concentrate on helping with the task of disintegrating the flames. The chaos was frantic, possessing a life of its own as he traversed the few yards where the buckets were being distributed, trying to sharpen his senses on his surroundings; the fire stood behind him like a beast impossible to ignore, pulsing with mortality and crackling as it consumed everything, ravenous and absolute, as men traversed yards and yards with water falling on the ground, screams painting the air, the steam of breaths mingling with the black, toxic smoke of the fire. The event of the first snowfall was totally overshadowed by the infernal disaster, whimsical within them as it melted the snow around them, consuming all that fell from the sky without any effort — his mindset was clearer and calmer knowing that everyone was safe and had made it out, knowing that the goal of sheltering material things was a task they could accomplish with more time and efficiency with the absence of despair blinding them.

         Neither of the men asked a question when the alpha offered to carry two buckets, turning carefully and beginning to walk steadily when he heard a commotion coming from the house. He fixed his vision, trying to hear the intermingled exclamations, the deadly sound of fire, failing miserably to make out what was happening, swallowing spittle and merely reaching for the water before approaching carefully. He frowned as one of them barked something, forcing the others to keep working, standing in place for a few seconds before turning away, ready to continue helping.

         A body collided with his with force, knocking him off balance in surprise. His first reaction was to reach out, holding the person who had hit him, regaining his balance quickly to focus his vision on the young woman screaming in front of him. It took several seconds, longer than he would like to admit, that Diana was screaming — she was screaming in desperation, crying, trying to explain something to him that must be important, but he couldn't decipher “Diana. Diana, breathe, are you all right? What's wrong?”.

Diana wanted to speak, but her breathing was too fast for her to express herself, bringing her hands to her chest as if she couldn't breathe. Gilbert opened his eyes slightly, leaning down to be level with her as he took a deep breath through his nose “Diana, I need you to breathe and tell me what's going on, is anyone hurt?”.

         Her voice seemed stagnant, frustration further worsening her symptoms, causing Gilbert's nerves and attention to border on insane points, thinking what to do at full speed as she was able to stammer out “A—Anne... Anne...”.

         The world seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

         His reaction was questioning, hasty, determined. He grabbed Diana by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him, startling her by his reaction and holding her tightly enough to not allow her to move without hurting her; the change and the demonstration snapped her out of her state of shock, stopping her babbling as tears streamed down her cheeks. Gilbert should stop, should hate himself for what he was about to do, but his body, his mind, his will seemed to have been taken over by the beast that inhabited his chest, heart throbbing with panic and anger at not knowing what was wrong with her. His tone was low, dangerously low, coming from deep within his chest, a tone that his peers could not help but duck their heads when they heard it, a voice that would shape the will of others by the mere presentation of dominance and power. Diana was such a good friend, Anne's best friend, but none of that seemed to matter when with his hands imprisoning her and black eyes piercing her he murmured, “Where is she?”.

         “She went in— she went into the house and I don't know, I don't know if...” Gilbert didn't need to listen any longer. He planted his feet, leaving her in the middle of the snow as the fire burned out in front of them, heading with certainty towards the man he'd seen giving orders; he couldn't have ever seen him coming, grabbing him by the shoulder before slamming him against the wall without a care or scruple. His body seemed to have been injected by adrenaline, oblivious to the thickness of his veins and the tension of his muscles, the putrid scent of fear and fury, unconcerned about the priorities of the rest of the world and his reputation as he snarled in his face, fierce and menacing, watching as he began to writhe beneath him to free himself. Within seconds he was staring at him with eyes wide as a bug's, paralyzed beneath his grip when the alpha spoke, dangerous and determined.

         “The girl you just saw” he muttered, having to breathe in the smoke that dried his eyes to maintain what little calm he could possess as he watched him twist his face, terrified “Where is she?”.

         “I—I don't know what—” he didn't give him time to finish the sentence, stretching him by the collar of his shirt to bang his head against the wall. The heat seemed delighted with the entertainment and with anger that possessed a force vastly greater than any natural disaster, trying to rationalize the desire to find her rather than waste time breaking the teeth of a man too frightened to speak.

         “Where” he repeated, his eyes black and the toxic scent of his body choking him, making it clear that he was not playing games, and that he had no patience for his answers. The gravity in his voice seemed to stand out over the shouting, the orders and the fire despite the baseness of his tone “Is she”.

         “They saw her... they saw her come in through the side door, but we couldn't risk...!” the alpha released him abruptly, causing him to fall flat on his face in the snow, running his eyes over his face so he could remember it later. Gilbert had an enviable memory, and he was sure he could remember his face every time he closed his eyes, sealed with fire.

         He ignored the timid, cowardly insult he stammered from the floor, heading for the side of the house with inexplicable feelings beginning to take over him devastatingly and absolutely; panic pumping his heart, beating so fast he felt his legs trembling, his hands falling to his sides as he thought for a second that something bad had happened, something really bad had happened. He was going to find her, he promised himself as white noise exploded in his ears, his body weak and frail and raw. Fear. Paralyzing fear that was capable of knocking him down on his feet, taking the air from his lungs, the energy from his heart. Cold sweat covered him in seconds, dampening his palms, the back of his neck, the heartbeat buzzing in his body's core as he tried to watch quickly through the windows for any movement that would indicate Anne was still inside, hoping it was an illusion, that she was outside handing out blankets, comforting Ruby, safe, alive. His body moved automatically, sensing minutes passing out of time with his frantic, hurried, desperate movements, feeling the world disappear around him, his vision dimming with the need to find her, his throat closing, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen that seemed to escape him, struggling to concentrate, to....

         His eyes slid naturally to the ground, as if he was able to sense her presence and hear her heartbeat before he was aware of it. His limbs seemed numb as within seconds he reached her, dropping to the ground abruptly, unable to hear anything but her choked breaths and his heart on the verge of exploding as he gently took her in his arms — his brain tried to process the information, studying her as his hands touched her in an anxious, frantic way, bringing her head to his chest, closing his eyes, feeling as if he would be able to lose consciousness as he recognized her heartbeat, the inhale and exhale of her lungs. Alive. Alive, running his hands down her arms, her head, tearing off a wet cloth wrapped around her nose and mouth so she wouldn't breathe in so much smoke, examining her arms, her legs. She was alive. He pulled her to his chest, settling her body on his legs, anguished and wild as he babbled things even he couldn't decipher, shivering against her burning wet skin, ashes smearing her face, carefully wiping her cheeks as he tried to think what to do. He had to move, he had to find a doctor with the right tools, he had to....

         He juggled with his hands to remove his coat while still holding her, wrapping his clothes around her as he tried to regain his composure. He tried not to panic as he recognized that she was unconscious, assuming that in a matter of minutes she would wake up, sore and confused. He couldn't pull away from her, he couldn't, he thought as he hugged her tightly and brushed his nose against her skin, deciding that he should stand up and find a solution, find some water, something sweet to help her recover.

         Footsteps behind them made his skin crawl, feeling the anger coursing through his veins irrationally, insanely, tensing his jaw as he looked over his shoulder, anger poisoning his morals, his logic. There was a man watching them, a distinctive garment he could make out after a few seconds. Father Dixon. Gilbert, however, could not be less interested in people and their hierarchies, his head repeating like a mantra she is hurt, she is hurt and she has no way to protect herself, she has no way to....

         It took only one more step for his restraint to wane, growling low, menacingly, pulling her close to his chest and hiding her from his sight. The alpha hated he could see her, more so when she was unable to move, unable to speak and stand up for herself — his skin was bristling, his muscles large and his scent an unmistakable, impossible-to-ignore signal to stay away, feeling completely unaffected by his spotless clothes, the cassock hanging around his neck, the burning house smoldering behind him. He didn't care about his sceptical and curious gaze, he could only note with protective fury burning inside him that he wanted to get closer to her, that he wanted to look at her, and his hands crumpled imperceptibly over her clothes “Stay away”.

         It was the first time he got a reaction from him, stopping his walk and raising his hands slowly in the air, a sign that he had no desire to breach his boundaries, speaking slowly as he replied, “Don't worry, kid, I'm not going to take her”.

         “I could kill you before you even try” he replied, growling, still covering her protectively from his view, feeling her begin to stir in his arms. He dropped his shoulders, unsettled by her awakening, pinning his black eyes on him before muttering, “Go away”.

         “I know she's hurt” he spoke, calm, too calm for the chaos that surrounded them. The alpha let the air out through his nose, hating the possibility of having to put her down to get between them more effectively, the warning weighing on his stomach like a fact too obvious to ignore “I just want to help her, alpha. I'll take her to the doctor to take care of her”.

         Gilbert was going to kill him, he sentenced with a cold, effective calmness. If he dared to look at her, to lay his hands on her, Gilbert would not hesitate to kill him; it didn't matter if his future consisted of eternal storms in the middle of the ocean, sleeping by the boilers, dreaming of her memory knowing she was safe and well. If he took one more step the alpha was ready for low things, so low that the only accomplice would be the flames and the satisfying memory of the pressure of his hands. The priest seemed to have read his thoughts, releasing the air through his nose with something akin to disappointment “I'll stay here until I can make sure she’s alright. She’s the only injured, and it's my responsibility”.

         It's not your responsibility. It's mine. It's mine, and I'm willing to carve your eyes out if you keep trying to look at her.

         The only reason he didn't show his teeth, an attitude akin to a rabid dog, was that Anne spoke low in his arms, the voice broken, imperceptible “Gilbert”.

         He couldn't answer, the contrariness of his intense feelings muffling him, lifting her in his arms to brush their faces, caressing and marking her without asking permission, breathing shakily against her skin as she crumpled his shirt between her hands “Anne. Anne, are you okay, are you...”.

         “Who...?” she spoke slowly, confused, exposed. Gilbert shuddered at everything he'd be willing to do to keep her close, quiet, growling low when he knew she was looking directly at the man standing behind them “Who is it, alpha?”.

         He stroked her back, pressing her to him, something new being born inside him, something hidden and denied, blossoming and taking over his body so fast he felt he could breathe for the first time in his life. Carefully he settled Anne away from the priest’s gaze, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, breathing against her skin as she relaxed against him, trembling. 

Chapter Text

Reality came back to her in a slow and confused manner.

At first she was unable to feel her own body, taking several seconds to begin to perceive the heaviness and tiredness of her muscles, the pain in her throat, her eyelids immobile and her head in a splitting agony. She tried to breathe deeply through her nose, failing as she resorted to a desperate measure of fear and disorientation, opening her mouth and taking a breath that burned her insides, her mouth dry and the icy wind rushing into her smoke tainted lungs — as she coughed her chest contracted in a way that made her jaw tighten, emitting a low sound of pain. She struggled against unconsciousness, trying to open her eyes, to move her limbs, feeling her heart beating rapidly behind her ribs as she realized she was not being able to wake up, to regain control of herself, her anatomy tensing from head to toe in panic, her arms paralyzed, her movements too weak to make a difference.

         It was enough to breathe through her nose to feel her reality losing its balance again, barely able to remember what had happened before she lost consciousness. Anne, falling in the snow, wet and on the verge of suffocation, covered in ashes, when Gilbert appeared, taking her in his arms, mumbling things she couldn't understand, pulling the wet clothes off her face and pulling her close to him to keep her off the cold, wet ground. She could feel his firm, steady presence beside her despite the delicacy of her consciousness, her non-existent control over herself, fainting in his arms as she was unable to resist the lack of oxygen suffered from the toxic inhalation of the smoke. Now, breathing in his warm, sharp, protective scent, Anne could cling to him as if he were life itself, allowing her senses to become attuned to his; his warmth enveloped her in contrast to the snow that fell mercilessly upon them, a pleasant, familiar closeness that defied the deadly flames meters away from them, sensing how she found herself being gripped by him in its entirety, his sinewy, strong legs functioning as a barrier between her and the ground, his arms encircling her with certainty, hiding her face against his chest. She breathed once more, trying to open her eyes, feeling her fingertips tingle as she was able to close her hands around his shirt, feeling her heart give a flip as she took in the strange vibration echoing through her; Gilbert was growling. He was growling loudly, feeling the vibration run down his chest, brush against the palms of her hands, bristling her skin and bathing the back of her neck and back in cold sweat, worried, helpless, paranoid.

         Opening her eyes slightly the malevolent light of the fire blinded her, she frowned and let out a strangled sound, struggling to move her legs, to get up, whatever could bring her to life again. She tried once more, sliding her gaze slowly back to Gilbert, watching in anguish as his attention was fixed on something else, putting more pressure on her sleeping hands as she sensed the tension in his jaw, the veins standing out in his neck, the firmness of his grip on her, making her tremble; the knowledge that she would not be able to escape him no matter how hard she fought was terrifying, but the contrast of knowing that no one could take her away from him was enough to calm the erratic beating of her heart. She was safe. Gilbert wouldn't let anyone get close, and that prompted her to use her hoarse, broken voice, her throat burning with the effort, “Alpha...”:

         Gilbert, of course, hadn't been able to hear her. He was roaring something under his breath, menacing and determined, giving her time to stir slowly in his arms, regaining a slight control over her aching, exhausted body, blinking as she looked down at herself, noting how he had taken care to dress her in his own coat to protect her from the bitter cold of winter. The stress visible in the alpha forced her to speak again, slurring his name, meaning a great effort as she raised her voice to be heard by his attentive, sensitive ears “Gilbert...”.

         His reaction was natural, automatic, destined. He turned his head towards her, sinking his black eyes into hers, his shoulders drooping with desperation and wasting no time as he rejoined her carefully, bringing his face close to her cheeks, brushing the tip of his nose against her skin, kissing lightly and swiftly all he could reach, on the verge of trembling with relief and nerves as he began to murmur, hoarse and anxious “Anne. Anne, you're all right, you're...”.

His scent enveloped her safely and happily, flickering slowly against his words, against his hot breath and his protective hands caressing her gently, wanting to make sure she was well without overwhelming her, his moist lips delicate in contrast to the fierce growl he was emitting moments before. She crumpled his shirt further in her hands when, in a matter of seconds, she could find the reason why he was furious, watching them from a distance with an indecipherable expression on his face, the fire illuminating the shadows at his side when Anne could make it out. The Father, absorbing her with curious, unobtrusive eyes, his posture relaxed and composed, a respectful distance between them, but enough to send the message that he was there for them, silently allowing the obscene and improper display that was taking place in front of him, his presence a sure reminder that death could appear among people and be worshipped.

         Panic clouded her mind, choking on her gasping breath, her body paralyzing as she realized what was happening, that she was being possessed of the time and attention of the most dangerous man she had ever learned to fear. Anne tried to speak, frozen, not knowing how to react when she could enunciate “Who...?” nausea clawed at her throat, having to stop herself from vomiting right then and there “Who is it, alpha?”.

         Gilbert seemed to have a more efficient solution to calm her silent terror, sliding her delicately beneath him, blocking all vision that did not consist of him. His defined face, his sharp cheekbones, his dark hair moving in the icy winter breeze, everything focused on him, on his expression, on the rise and fall of his chest, studying her closely, unable to define his train of thought until a low growl startled her, forcing her to open her eyes slightly as the alpha moved closer to her, bringing their foreheads together, breathing through his nose as if he were able to sense her scent “No one. You don't have to worry about him”.

         “What does...?” she tried to enunciate, stopping midway through to swallow saliva with effort, her throat dry and her breathing labored with fear. The alpha wasted no time in resting his heavy, hot hand on her chest, brow furrowed in concentration as she continued speaking “What does he want?”.

         Gilbert seemed reluctant to explain what was happening, settling his coat over her, sliding his fingers unquestioningly to her neck, taking her by surprise as he rested them on the soft flesh of her pulse, taking his wrist between her hands instinctively, her skin bristling as she felt his touch on the sensitive area of her throat “He thinks he's responsible for you being injured, and he wants to make sure the doctor sees you before he lets you go”.

         She couldn't measure her reaction as she dug her nails into him, desperate, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt with her eyes unfocused, fire reflecting in her pupils as she murmured softly, very softly, as if the priest could hear them despite the chaos and distance “No, Gilbert, please, he can’t, I-I don’t want him to touch me, I don’t...”.

         Anne watched the emotions cross his face intently, surprise at the determination in her gaze and the strength of her grip, confusion at her terror and denial, and finally confidence sliding across his features like a mask. There was no doubt in his eyes as he took the hand that crumpled his shirt between his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips, breathing against her skin calmly, his face melting in devotion and, in its shadow, something fierce that crept up her spine with certainty, something so true she could feel it as surely as the beating of her heart. She let out a shuddering breath as the alpha brought their faces close, leaving a delicate kiss on her forehead, believing she would be able to sob in relief to know that he trusted her, that he needed no explanations to respect her fears, her terror, protecting her even when he was unable to understand her “No one is going to lay a finger on you, Anne. I'm not going to let them come near you”.

Her body reacted on itself, brushing her nose against his, still trembling beneath his hands, unable to stop feeling restless and desperate knowing that she was meters away from the priest, victim of his detailed attention and plans that could not be fulfilled. While there was nothing in plain sight that could reveal her dynamic, perhaps with a medical eye they might be able to perceive the sensitivity of her crucial gland points, the strange sensation of the ointment on her, the unbearable stress that would cause reactions she might not be able to explain. The priest’s mere presence was enough to place her in an escape mode, holding back the desire to run into the darkness of the forest to put distance between them, knowing she could not resist the pressure of being watched by potentially dangerous man who could see through her, testing their luck by digging their nails into the parts of her neck to make her cry out in pain unlike the betas, who would make no more than an offended expression at the unwanted touch. Her ragged breathing formed steam between them, mingling as she tried to regain her composure, repeating over and over in her head that Gilbert would not leave her side, that she was fine, that there was no need to resort to extreme measures to protect herself as long as he stayed close “I want— I want to walk”.

         There was no motion as she attempted to move, suddenly halted by the steely, delicate pressure of Gilbert's palm against her chest, feeling her arrhythmic heart brush against the warm skin of his hand and looking up at him with a frown in denial when the alpha was completely unmoved by her challenge “I need to make sure you're alright before I allow you to stand”.

         “Gilbert” she enunciated, resting her icy hand on his, too agitated to try and look like a calm and rational person, her instincts bristling her skin in terror and screaming in her ears that she needed to get off the man’s radar as soon as possible “I want to leave. Please. Please”.

          Her words seemed to contain spells, biting her tongue as she understood the reason why her dynamic was despised, seen as magical creatures that could convince men to move mountains just by asking once when Gilbert let out a breath between his teeth, growling low as he nuzzled his knuckles against her ribs, brushing his lips against the tip of her nose, her eyelids, kissing the corner of her lips before murmuring “I'm not going to drop you”.

         Drop her? She was beginning to open her mouth curiously to ask, the surprise taking her out of her panicked state for a few seconds until she understood his words — Gilbert's arms were settling around her shoulders and under her knees, settling her head against his neck, resting against his shoulder and brushing her nose inevitably against the exposed glands; Anne let out a sharp noise of surprise at the movement, her hands acting instinctively as she crumpled his clothes so as not to fall, swallowing at the reality that the alpha had lifted her as if she weighed absolutely nothing, emitting no sound of effort or complication, disabling her from looking around as he began to walk at a pace that would not make her dizzy. Her lower stomach contracted as she recognized how strong he could be, his personality calm and resolute, his movements efficient and sure as he wanted to keep her calm and safe, her omega suddenly forgetting the danger around her to purr pleasantly inside her, distracting her for mere seconds until her ears picked up an unfamiliar voice addressing them.

         Her body's response was automatic, the muscles rigid, the strangled noise of her throat to hold back a scream escaping her, the grip on her hands so tight that her knuckles were stained white. Gilbert was quick to sense it, stopping to plant his feet on the ground, turning slightly so he couldn't see her, the direction of his body forming an unconscious barrier between the priest and Anne, who closed her eyes tightly to regain control of herself, breathing in the heavy, possessive scent of the alpha filling her lungs, weakening her legs, choking on her own breath as she felt the low, hoarse growl beneath her body, vibrating through her as if she were made of glass, the world spinning around her as she heard him speak, impatient “I thought I made myself clear, Father Dixon”.

Dixon. Dixon was his name, she remembered as she thought back to the dance hosted by Rachel Lynde where Gilbert had whispered his name in the dark after being forced into hiding by Billy's irritating presence. Anne took a deep breath of his scent once, twice before turning away from his neck, blinking slowly at where her alpha's attention was directed, ignoring with effort the determination of his muscles, the large, menacing, protective stance, probably nervous at her frail state to the point of being unable to stand, furious at the nearness of anyone but him. With less distance between them she could watch him closely, skin dangerously pale, jet hair combed neatly to one side, his face clean-shaven, his crystalline eyes piercing her as if he could see through her, as if he could see her. She wanted to cower back into Gilbert's chest, or punch him in the throat to ease his grip and run desperately away from them, but she didn't allow fear to choke her to the point of irrationality, her heart pounding hard against her ribs and her sense of self-preservation taking over her body and mind as the man took a step forward, his gaze hardening as Gilbert growled directly into his face, rude and savage “Have you forgotten your manners, boy?”.

         Anne knew she should intrude, too attuned to his alpha's emotions and expressions to understand that he was on edge, wrathful, the desire to protect her and the possessiveness blinding him so effectively that she was beginning to fear what he would be capable of doing to keep him away from Anne. Her omega spoke through her, imperceptibly brushing her wrists against his clothing, catching his attention as Gilbert cautiously turned his head to watch her with dark eyes, his expression relaxing slightly as he took in the image of her face, her closeness, freckles bathing her nose “He's just worried, Gilbert”.

         The words made her nauseous, her nature begging her desperately to act the opposite of what she was doing, breathing deeply to battle the division of longing in herself, determined that her rationality should always reign. Gilbert looked lost, too, tensing his jaw and holding back a snarl at the thought of putting her down, of allowing anyone else to see her in an imminent state of vulnerability; the mere idea of her being out of his reach seemed enough to drive him mad “I don't want him anywhere near you”.

         She swallowed heavily, trying to concentrate on finding the best words to get out of this situation unscathed, panickily ignoring the insistent presence of Father Dixon that bristled her skin with revulsion, wanting more than ever to give in to her omega's wishes and melt into his arms and allow the alpha to sort out the situation alone. She hated herself for acting this way, promising that she was only going to do it for both of their well-being, so as not to create suspicion of the wrong person, so that she could be alone with Gilbert as soon as possible; she could only imagine how her face must look, her eyelids heavy and her eyes bright and misty, her lips moist and parted, her face slightly dirty from the ash as the tone of her voice came out sweet as honey, sliding into the alpha's ears like a prayer “I want to talk to him, Gilbert. I want him to know I'm all right”.

         The darkness in his pupils seemed to be able to absolve her, losing herself in the low tone of his slow voice, his fingers sinking into the sensitive skin of her body as she shivered from head to toe, the alpha closing his eyes tightly to contain the irrational growl that climbed up his chest; Anne could hear his brain working, fighting the alpha growling deep in his chest, furious at the idea that she would walk away from him, explain her well-being to someone else as if it wasn't his own responsibility “Are you sure?”.

         Perhaps she had underestimated the situation, she thought as she took in with a frown the husky voice coming from his lips, the impossible-to-ignore tension of his muscles, the deep, low rumble of his chest bristling her skin, tightening his grip on her as if she were capable of evaporating in his arms. Gilbert was trying to try to understand her, ignoring all the demands of his nature to respect her will and her decisions, releasing the air through his nose before slowly setting her down on the floor. Anne clenched her fists against his shirt, tensing her jaw as her legs seemed on the verge of giving out beneath her, ignoring the trembling and weakness of her muscles as Gilbert gripped her arms firmly enough to know she would not collapse to the floor; Anne merely stroked one of his shoulders in a lousy attempt to soothe him, licking her lips before looking up at Father Dixon.

         She broke away from Gilbert to begin walking towards the man, stopping a considerable but polite distance away, knowing she should be convincing, calm, diplomatic, attempting to perform her most genuine smile when the Father smiled slowly, pleased with her obedience and respect for an important entity in Avonlea “I hope my concern is understandable, miss”.

         “I apologise, Father” Anne greeted, hugging herself as an icy blizzard caressed her face, glancing over her shoulder as she heard Gilbert's inevitable footsteps approaching, forcing him to halt his walk when the signal to stand aside was clear “My friend is simply concerned about what I have just done, but I promise he is a very noble and proper man. I am hopeful that there will be no major hard feelings left over from this situation”.

         “The most important lesson our Lord teaches is forgiveness. I am understanding and merciful, so don't waste your time worrying about something improbable” her heart thumped against her ribs violently as he took a step towards her, a faint gleam of irritation crossing his eyes as a low growl from Gilbert brushed against her ears, calmly ignoring it as he looked at her in detail, searching for some explicit injury that might warrant a doctor's attention “Tell me your name, child”.

         “My name is Anne Shirley, sir, Anne with an E” she replied, her voice surprisingly steady despite the fear that weakened her legs, the cassock in front of her swaying in the wind and the rise and fall of his breath as if drawn to her, seeking her out just by feeling her close “And my companion is Gilbert Blythe”.

         He nodded, acknowledging her, before looking over his shoulder almost resignedly to greet Gilbert in the same manner; the alpha seemed to be able to read her mind, keeping just enough distance to feel his presence as an imposing shadow caressing her shoulders, but a considerable distance so that Father did not feel threatened by the sharp, aggressive scrutiny of his gaze and tense posture. Anne felt her chest constricted, her breathing arrhythmic as Father asked slowly, clear, his face neutral as he watched her, “May I ask the reason you entered a burning home, Anne?”.

         Perhaps she should have recovered for several more minutes before deciding to face one of her greatest fears, she thought as she swallowed saliva heavily, the edge of her vision darkening as she felt there was not enough oxygen reaching her lungs as his image seemed to loom over her, cornering her, his icy eyes piercing her and squeezing her heart in his hand as if he could pull it out “The doors and windows were open, and fire is only capable of spreading when it can breathe. To put it out it must be smothered, like a living thing, and that's what I did, sir. I didn't want to worry anyone, I only wanted to help”.

         The priest didn't seem to process her words at the moment, watching her silently until a fleeting, unfamiliar glow crossed his gaze, too fleeting to make out, but obvious enough that Anne had the reflex to take a step back before thinking twice about it. He nodded slowly, keeping his distance, his tone incredulous as he replied “I must admit I am surprised not only with your bravery, Anne, but also with your knowledge. Most of the young men in this town are not capable of carrying the buckets properly to put out the fire, while you decided to enter the flames to save someone else's home. I would like to know, then, where did you learn that information?”.

         She tensed her jaw, restraining the desire to roll her eyes at the typical assumption that young people were disinterested, lazy, merely answering whatever he demanded of her, growing impatient with the need to get away from him and drink water to soothe the itch in her throat “In the orphanage where I lived there were few things to read, Father. I can recite the fire manual from memory”,

“An orphan” he repeated, absently, as if he was understanding the information she was bestowing upon him, causing Anne to frown slightly at the insensitivity of his words, making sure to disguise her expression before he could notice it “Without any scars. The Lord has done a good job of looking after your path, young lady”.

         Anne did not disguise the wary expression on her face this time, the wind blowing through her reddish hair, contrasting with the flames that still burned behind her in the few moments of life they possessed. She had made sure to kill them, had closed each door with her hands boiling against the handles, her eyes suddenly bright as the priest didn't take his eyes from her gaze, studying her; the implication that she was alive thanks to God made her blood burn, her fists clenching as she wanted to answer that everything that had happened, everything she had been through was because of her and, eventually, her parents. She had fought with tooth and nails against her own body, against societies and religions to be alive, standing, lying to everyone around her to have the right to keep breathing. There was no God capable of taking care of her but herself, having to carry the weight on her shoulders of escaping her true identity, her freedom, the weight that He Himself had placed on her. Anne could respond, she could shake her head and perhaps laugh quietly, but she no longer wished to share his attention, nor the short distance between them that sharpened her instincts to the point where her body would begin to disobey her at any moment to get away from him. She allowed her rationality to speak for her, calm, steady, confident “He was incredibly kind, and helped me prove that he is capable of miracles. He never ceases to amaze me”,

         “Indeed” he murmured, almost purring at her conclusion, causing Anne to swallow heavily, her skin bristling at his satisfaction “I hope this serves as a lesson, Anne, that you should not repeat these actions no matter how necessary they may look from the outside. The Lord teaches us, but we must learn to see it. I cannot be sure that He will be so benevolent with you next time”.

         His stride was long, taking her by surprise before she could react, her whole body tensing in response as he stopped in front of her, so close that he would be able to touch her just by stretching out his arm. She bit her tongue to keep from walking backwards, her heart throbbing in her ears, the irrational and improbable fears beginning to scream in her head, what if he was able to sense her scent when even Gilbert hadn't been able to? What if in one swift movement like the one he'd just made he grabbed her by the throat and dug his nails into the hidden glands, making her scream from the pain? What if he only accused her by her look, her posture, her defiance? The panic was searing, absolute, consuming her as if she had been set on fire minutes before, choking on her own breath, her shoulders rising and falling in despair as the priest looked at her with icy, crystalline eyes “God never misses a chance to bless us every day, giving us life and showing us new ways to appreciate it, even when we are not careful with it”.

         Her reaction was automatic as the Father raised one of his hands, brushing his finger against her ash-soiled skin, the temperature of her skin matching the coldness of the snow; her eyes widened with exaggeration, her legs suddenly trembling with fear as the priest, indifferent to her response, to the fear written on her features, to the lack of concern that he was touching her without permission made the sign of the cross on her forehead, the fire ringing behind them as if laughing at her fear, the snow falling on them unstoppably “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, may God continue to guide your path. May God continue to guide your path, and keep you in his light eternally, Anne. It would be good to see you again, and to hear more from you”.

         She could not speak, swallow, move. His touch burned against her body, unable to understand how such a frivolous, delicate touch could feel like a stab, knocking the wind out of her, leaving her mute, disoriented, frightened — she knew it was her head playing tricks on her, weak and exhausted, unable to respond except with a nod, lost, before almost stumbling in the direction of Gilbert, who was quick to take her in his arms, pulling her face to his chest so she couldn't see or feel anything but him, his scent, his warmth, the firmness and security of his hands surrounding her with enough determination to understand that he wouldn't let her go. She could breathe, closing her eyes against his coat, hands shaking as she made sure Dixon could not see them, listening to his soft, graceful footsteps moving away from them as if he had never been there, ignorant or acutely aware of what he had caused in her, wishing he would mistake her reaction for physical discomfort to the real reason for her fears. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Gilbert, who demanded no explanations despite how confusing it could be to understand her and decipher everything around her, lifting her head with effort to look at him for a few seconds, blinking slowly as she noticed how the alpha followed the priest with his gaze, tense beneath her hands, the low rumble of his chest tickling her.

         Curiosity got the better of her, risking the possibility of being unprepared to receive the answer, her voice low in contrast to the wind, the fire, the bustle around them coming back to them as a stark reality they were ignoring amidst the tension and danger “Gilbert”.

         Only then did he snap out of his trance, loosening his arms around her, looking away from Dixon to fix his black eyes on her, his dark pupils absorbing her voraciously, consuming her as he lifted one of his hands to cup her face, inspecting her face irrationally, as if she had been able to hurt herself even while under the attention of his gaze; the scent of his skin intoxicated her, relaxing her muscles, expanding her lungs as she took a deep breath so she could feel him, his warmth inviting her to lean against his hand, wanting to melt against him and close her eyes “Are you all right?”.

         It took her several seconds to answer, biting the inside of her cheek in frustration at the uncontrollable shaking of her hands, looking up at him through her lashes, appreciating the wetness of his lips, the definition of his face, the sincere concern in his words “Yes, but it was incredibly strange. It would not be pleasant for me to see him again”.

         “He's not coming near you again, Anne” sighed the alpha, as if he had been tortured for the last few minutes, sinking his fingers into her hair to bring her to him and kiss her forehead gently, wiping away the trace of Father's icy touch, his hot breath falling over her face, unable to contain himself despite being in public, witnessing a tragedy in the first snowfall of the year, brushing the tip of her head against his cheek, marking her with his scent innocently and unconsciously, probably too upset to be able to distinguish what was normal and right from what was not “Tell me what you feel, please, can you walk?”.

         Her cheeks flushed pink before she could help it, pulling away from him slightly so she could look him in the eyes earnestly “You're not going to lift me up again, Gilbert. I'm capable of going back into the fire before some else sees me that way”.

         The lightness of her words did not have the effect she had hoped for on the alpha, who snorted and brought one of his hands to her forehead, leaving it there for a few seconds before sliding it to her neck, politely ignoring the guttural sound of surprise she emitted at the brush of his warm skin “Are you dizzy? Do you feel cold?”.

         “Gilbert, I'm fine” Anne replied, pulling his hand away carefully, taking it between her own for emphasis, tensing her jaw at the looming anxiety in her omega and her head at the sight of her alpha worrying about her, wanting to make it clear that she was fine, that he had nothing to worry about “There's nothing you need to—”.

         Gilbert's warm, moist lips were on hers in a matter of seconds, unable to finish the sentence as he took her face in the firmness of his hands, gently stretching her to meet it halfway. She crumpled the garment of his shirt between her fists in surprise, a low, sharp sound emerging from the bottom of her chest, breathing in deeply the possessive scent of his body, able to hear only the low growl of his voice amidst the chaos, forgetting for mere seconds that they were surrounded and exposed to the entirety of the town, where several would turn in horror at their lack of propriety and politeness, certain that Marilla would be able to drag her towards Green Gables with her hair between her fingers; nothing seemed to matter as Gilbert caressed her jaw with fingers rough from work, licking her mouth, biting her lower lip gently before pulling away from her, his labored breathing beating against her face, the insanity of wanting more of him driving her to part her lips so he could continue kissing her, merely leaving wet kisses at the corner of her mouth, her cheeks, pressing their foreheads together as he looked into her eyes fiercely “I don't know what you were thinking when you walked into a fire, but don't you ever...don't you ever do that to me again”.

         “Gilbert, I didn't mean to...” her heart contracted at the emotion in his eyes, the rawness of his words, the desperation of his grip on her, as if she could disappear at any moment.

         “You... you don't understand. You don't understand what I would be capable of, you don't understand that—” he shook her head, closing his eyes suddenly as if searching for the right words, giving up halfway through, stroking the back of her neck, her shoulders. His husky voice ringing in her ears like divine music, listening to him intently, the world disappearing around her “Swear it, Anne. Please, swear it, tell me that...”.

         “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry” he kissed her cheek softly, her lips, hugging her so tightly she feared her ribs would give in to the pressure, sinking her face against his chest, her world shrinking to a single instant, guilt burning in her throat “I'm sorry, alpha. I promise, I promise, it won't happen again, I swear”.

         The fire died in a matter of hours, with Anne watching from a distance, a blanket draped over her shoulders, exhaustion taking over as Gilbert carefully placed her asleep in the carriage in the middle of her parents. Neither of them said anything about it, but they didn't need to. They had seen it and, like her, they knew it. Silence sometimes meant more than a thousand words; Anne had learned to live with that truth.

         “Leave me alone, you brute!” Anne exclaimed, dropping the book in her lap with more force than necessary, her eyes flashing with irritation as more stones were hurled in her direction “Don't you have anything to do besides annoy me? I'm sure Marilla would be happy to teach you how to make pies for Christmas”.

         “Be quiet” he scolded, throwing a stone dangerously close to her elbow, making her jaw tense so hard she feared it would break in two, the weight of the book on her as a reminder that she might throw it at him if she finally lost her head because of him “This is my only fun activity for the day, so keep reading until I smack you in the forehead. I've got plenty of target, I need much time”.

         “Unbelievable” she growled under her breath, stepping down from her usual spot in the barn to head towards him with an expression worthy of fear, reaching out her hand with speed as Jerry laughed, failing to escape her grasp, grabbing him by the front of his coat tightly “Leave. Me. Alone”.

         Jerry pulled her hand away easily, frowning at his strength and taking her wrist in his hands, wanting to push him towards the pile of horse droppings. Jerry had grown abruptly from one moment to the next, a likely effect of his revelation over the summer, an alpha who lacked all the typical characteristics of the dynamic; he was hardworking, of course, but he took advantage of every loophole to take naps on the hay, he was gentlemanly in the eyes of others, but in privacy he was burlesque and brutish, making Anne boil with anger every time she discovered new bruises because of him. He had no dominant personality, hiding behind Anne at every opportunity to take as little responsibility as possible, interested in all the young women of Avonlea, laughing too loudly for his own ears, teaching barbarities in French when Anne asked him to. He was one of the dearest friends Anne had, knowing that she would protect him with her life if necessary, but on these occasions she wished to kill him with her own hands.

         She returned to her place, folding her legs and sinking her face into the pages of the book to continue reading with anger throbbing in her veins. The sound of a flying object forced her to roll her knuckles from her frustrated grip on the book, breathing deeply through her nose so as not to give him the reaction he wanted, closing her eyes as another stone brushed her shoulders, her ear, her legs, until it hit the back of her book. Smoke billowed from her ears when she could look up at him, placing the book in her lap once more, opening her mouth to insult him when he threw the last stone at her, landing in the middle of her forehead like a perfect shot.

         Jerry's exaggerated laughter tinged her skin red, bringing her hands to the hit area quickly, making a low moan of pain. She held her position for a few seconds, waiting for him to stop laughing before releasing the air between her teeth, careful that he couldn't see her eyes “You better not cry about this, Anne, because I'll laugh even harder”.

         Anne didn't respond, slowly shaking her head, weakly lowering from her place to support herself with one of the wooden barriers, dizzily, keeping one of her hands on her book gently. Jerry kept silent for a few seconds, watching her carefully, before slowly approaching her, gripping her shoulder firmly to watch her more closely, not believing her act at all “You stink at acting, must be that hair of yours that—”.

         Anne spun around and slammed her book against his nose, hard. Jerry staggered backwards, grunting abruptly under his breath at her blow, glaring darkly at her as Anne raised an accusing finger in his direction, a comical bruise beginning to form in the middle of her forehead “I swear if you keep bothering me, Jerry, I'm going to make sure I break your nose with a single book, maybe with my bare hands!”.

         “Crétin” he muttered under his breath, the French sounding venomous on his tongue, causing Anne to clench her fists and bring her fingers up to her forehead experimentally, thankful that he hadn't made any cuts “You can't carry more than two bags by yourself and expect to break my nose. This comes at a price”.

         “Always crying” Anne replied, exhausted by the interaction and deciding that cooking with Marilla seemed to be a profoundly more fun activity than fighting with Jerry, walking outside, the ground thickly covered by the snow that fell endlessly days ago “Think twice before you keep throwing stones at me, you'll save yourself a couple of tears”.

         Jerry didn't respond and Anne should have known as soon as she stepped in the snow, almost falling on her face when the alpha pushed her from behind, taking advantage of her distraction to make her fall, breathing shakily with a smile stretching across his lips when he said “You're leaving already?”.

         Anne spun around, her shoulders rising and falling, steam rising from her nose like a raging bull, raising an accusing finger at him like a habit “Do it again. Do it”.

         Jerry grinned, forcing Anne to fix her feet on the ground, ready to hit him with her book without caring if it got dented by the hardness of his skull, ready to make him retreat with his tail between his legs, embarrassed, until he positioned himself in a strange way — leaning forward slightly, spreading his arms apart, shrugging his shoulders with disinterest “As you wish”.

         She could only take a deep breath and stumble over her own feet as Jerry launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her legs and sending her crashing brutally to the ground. The snow cushioned her fall, reaching for the book in a matter of seconds to blindly throw it at him when she heard a thump and a low growl in response, irritated at being hit twice “You're an animal, Jerry, what's your problem!”.

         Anne managed to sit up, her head tossing back slightly as snow filled her mouth, her eyes, understanding in a matter of seconds that Jerry was sinking his hands into the snow, forming quick, efficient balls of snow to win, letting out an angry yell before turning her back to him, coughing snow, doing the same despite her nose hurting from the blow. Jerry was still laughing, like a demon with inexhaustible energy, almost professionally dodging the snowball Anne had made in a matter of seconds. Anne scrambled to her feet as best she could, finding a shield behind a piece of wood leaning against the stable walls, biting back a grin as this time the shot hit him squarely in the face, already tender from the hard blows of the book “You're a coward hiding like that”.

         Anne slyly balled several times before dashing off towards him, busy punching him in the eyes to surprise him, emitting a low chuckle when he let out a startled yelp once she reached him, shaken by the jog and heavy feet sinking into the snow, inwardly celebrating her victory when she pushed him and saw him lose his balance, ignoring the hand that had instinctively reached out to grab her. The world spun around her, crashing down on him in such a way that her lungs emptied from the shock, hitting their foreheads so hard that she felt nauseous for a moment. The vision of snow hurt her eyes as she opened them again, her vision unfocused for a matter of seconds until she understood the image in front of her. Jerry. Jerry staring at her with exaggeratedly wide eyes, so close she could make out his eyelashes. She had fallen on top of him, their faces mere inches apart, confirming that his scent could only be described as bland and repulsive.

         The screams of horror had been so loud that Matthew and Marilla had to approach, worried, finding them on the floor with meters between them, their breaths arrhythmic, skins pale with disgust as the woman crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow in indignation “You two. Again.”

         “Anne” Marilla's voice sounded distant, pulling her out of her reverie, looking down at her with heavy eyes “Are you feeling well?”.

         Anne opened her mouth to answer a truism, standing up too quickly, clutching the edge of the table desperately and managing not to fall flat on the floor. She frowned deeply, bringing a hand to her head as her mother rushed towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders, everything around her spinning, the floor disappearing beneath her feet. She managed just one breath before she felt the familiar, hellish pain of her belly twisting, tears filling her eyes helplessly, staring at Marilla through her eyelashes in anguish, sadness and anger filling her body with such intensity that she felt she would be able to explode.

         Her voice sounded sweet, low, careful as she asked, “Your heat's coming, isn't it?”.

         Her mother stroked her hair as she began to cry silently, tears of indignation wetting her cheeks, her nails on the verge of breaking as she pressed them against the wood of the table, wishing her heart would stop beating, too scared to face the living hell.

         Wishing, in her mother's arms, that she could disappear. 

Chapter Text

Winter could be ephemeral, poetic, hypnotic, without taking away the rawness and edge of its stay. Green Gables looked beautiful in white, taking her breath away every time she saw it, but the beauty disintegrated the moment her bones began to ache from the cold temperatures. The nights were closed, generating an irrational fear of being anywhere but the safety of her room, hidden under layers of blankets and sheltered under the dim lighting of candles, sleeping with the wind gently tapping at her window.

Adapting to the cold was not easy, having to reduce the variety of meals due to the frozen crops, being able to manage well thanks to Matthew and Marilla's years of experience of getting through harsh winters, keeping the fireplace burning for hours, bundling up properly so as not to shiver every time she had to leave, starting to read in worrying quantities due to the scarcity of possible activities to do during her day to day life. Due to the cold temperatures they had enticed (forced) Jerry to stay with them in a small room on the ground floor that was excellent for allowing him to rest and shelter him from the cold, collectively ignoring his protests mixed with French that it was not necessary, claiming that the stable was warm enough to sleep in, shutting him up with a cup of hot tea which he took with resignation.

A firm and clear warning that he could not venture upstairs for fear that he might be able to smell Anne's faint scent permeating her room was enough for them to breathe easy, trusting that the alpha was an honest and respectful person who would not go back on his word, beginning to follow Anne around the house in a comical manner, uncomfortable about his lack of chores and his curiosity to watch her bake obsessively, becoming a kitchen judge that ended in absurd fights most of the time. Her parents were not at all shocked by the close relationship they possessed, learning to distinguish it as a relationship of pure siblinghood that was not meant to signify any kind of concern, accompanying them in silence when Anne decided to read in front of the warmth of the flames accompanied by the insistent presence of Jerry, who secretly hoped she could continue to teach him to read more fluently, wishing she had her around to ask meanings of words he was not able to decipher instantly. Matthew had an uncanny ability to materialize confidentially in every argument they had, probably too interested in their fighting ways, separating them when Jerry managed to wear Anne's patience down and she had no choice but to hit him, eyes too wide for his own good when the alpha decided to snarl full in the young woman's face, regretting it the second Anne stood up pointing at him and daring him to try again, her hand too heavy to test it — it was a matter of hours before they were once again stuck on the couch in front of the fire to keep warm, reading in silence and their voices low as they exchanged short conversations as if nothing strange had happened.

Anne sometimes took courage and searched for Belle on days when the sun was not surrounded by clouds, roaming the forest for hours and stroking her fur, imagining on more than one occasion that a pack of wolves was following them, laughing quietly when they returned and overfeeding her to keep her body fat intact. On rare occasions she would wait for hours hiding inside the barn, sitting upstairs and watching the chickens, too curious to see if the fox family was still alive despite the harshness of winter, biting her fingers at the thought of what food she could steal for them without Marilla being able to tell. Diana had covered her mouth when she had uttered it, confused as to what the need would be to care for such animals, sheltered in the warmth of the school during lunches, unconsciously distracted in search of something, someone she knew was out of reach.

In a few days Anne would not be able to leave Green Gables for her own safety, her heat approaching torturously and inevitably, having warned Jerry beforehand that they must leave for a trip they were due to take, advising her teacher that she would not be able to attend, and briefly mentioning to her best friend that she would not be able to see her for several days for the same reason. Despite the questions Anne had everything perfectly calculated, unable to allow such banal details to cast doubt on her alibi, letting out a faint sigh when everyone around her did not seem suspicious of the reasons for her absence; being in the waiting for a heat was one of the most stressful parts of her life, hating in advance the impending scenario of sobbing in her room, her insides writhing in agony, suffering from the unholy desires that made her tremble and yearn to cease to exist.

The waiting caused the gears in her head to move in a dangerous direction, turning her down roads she had little time to travel. She had waited her whole life for information regarding her dynamics and her courage and curiosity were pushing her to find out, desperate for the need to know herself, to protect herself. Once she found herself in front of Avonlea's library, the cold burning in her throat with every shaky breath, Anne felt no fear.

         The door did not make the familiar creak as she pushed it, her footsteps light, holding her breath as if Abigail was able to perceive her immersed in her isolated, individual world, gliding through the aisles of pages and dust with her heart echoing in her chest like an accurate melody. Her own body directed her towards the shelf where the book that had followed her in her dreams for weeks lay, breathing deeply as she brushed her fingers against it, swallowing heavily as she took it in her arms. She looked around one last time before opening it, searching through the last few pages with sweat beginning to form on her lower back.

Her eyes automatically slid to the last words, feeling a shiver run up her spine before she could discern it.

Omegas choose their mates based on instinct and, consequently, on their rationality. The glands are prepared to receive the bite, which is exerted by sharp fangs that cut the flesh with great pressure and are made to heal quickly with the alpha's saliva and bear the mark for the rest of their lives. This mark is not exclusively physical, as the bond forged between the two dynamics can cause, in turn, an emotional and spiritual bond.

Anne swallowed audibly, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion before she read on with quick eyes, her hands clammy with anxiety and nervousness.

In the little research that could be carried out on bonded couples, as we decided to call them for ease of reference, we encountered characteristics that were difficult to explain due to the lack of scientific and biological research. We can define as spiritual the multiple descriptions that couples gave, having one factor in common - the union of their bodies, minds and souls. The testimonies derive from the ability to feel intense emotions coming from their partners as if they were their own even at a distance, the physical and extreme need to be close to each other, claiming that in situations where distance and time were longer the subjects suffered from illnesses as a consequence of the gradual loss of the bond, which may eventually lead to the death of those involved.

         The manifestations of dynamics do not occur only when a bite is made but can be expressed moments before when their nature recognizes that they have met their mates. In the case of alphas and omegas it will begin with mild symptoms of separation and denial of the intended, evolving in an inevitable way that has as its ultimate purpose the formation of the bond, and can culminate in catastrophic consequences if the bond is rejected.

         Anne closed the book, letting the air out of her nose and trying to ignore the ridiculous humming of her heart, wanting to laugh at herself, at her hope, at her naivety, how could something so magical and absurd be real?, how could her nature naturally and eternally choose a mate?, and how could she die at the mere fact of being away from him or denying the connection? She should not read on, she should not waste her time on this, but when Anne turned the pages again and fixed her eyes on the words she could do no more than take a deep breath.

         One of the examples could be the heat of the omegas, who are potentially more exposed than the alphas, who tend to deteriorate after the worsening or demise of their destined ones. The omegas’ heat, similar to that of the alphas, consists of a period of less than seven days where the subjects lose their rationality as the days go by to give way to their body's biological cravings; none of the omegas or close associates who were interviewed were willing to give details about the process they undergo, but they could describe it as overwhelming and extremely vulnerable episodes where the protagonists have no control over themselves, to the point of suffering dehydration or malnutrition if they have no caregivers during those days.

         It was not possible to fix a specific period, with some having to go through it every three months and others every six months. In reference to the manifestations of the dynamics, the omega may begin to suffer, among many other symptoms, irregular, extensive and agonizing heats, a gradual and tortuous increase. Those omegas who go through heats on their own report a higher level of trauma than those who experience it with their destined ones, who can only describe their cycles as moments of connecting with and taking refuge in their partners, having the possibility to strengthen their bonds. Lonely omegas suffer not only physical but psychological consequences; their personalities become withdrawn, generating mistrust in other dynamics as the cycles pass, to the point that disconnection with their own nature causes irremediable breaks in their psyche.

         She closed the book abruptly, the information beginning to overwhelm her with such intensity that she knew she had to stop, placing it in place with unsteady hands, breathing desperately as the winter wind burned her face, feeling her nature stir with panic within her, cursing the moment when she thought she would leave with answers instead of more questions.

Now all she could feel was the unmistakable curiosity coursing through her, the familiar thirst for knowledge that promised her research would begin to expand and thus begin to become risky enough to no longer find herself in the darkness of ignorance. Anne had to be ready, and when she was, she knew there were few boundaries she would not be willing to cross.

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked alongside Ruby and Diana, having met them on the way to the reconstruction of the burned house hours after her scene in the library, listening carefully as her companions commented on Moody's comical way of carrying heavy objects, an expression too exaggerated to be honest. Anne set the basket of food on the floor, combing her hair back, taking as much of the wrapped food as possible to approach the working men and distribute it evenly as she had been doing for days. She politely ignored the curious glances of several of them, feeling suddenly uneasy with the strange attention, before raising her gaze to find Billy Andrews watching her through a window from the height of the first floor.

         Her body reacted before she could control it, taking an imperceptible step backwards, her skin bristling beneath the multiple layers of clothing that clothed her. They hadn't crossed paths for weeks, and the reason for his absence seemed vastly different from the one Jane had tried to explain over the days — Billy looked different. Not the kind of different that one gained from travel and good experiences, but the kind that came from fear, born of something brutal and impatient; she couldn't help but frown as the alpha set his eyes on her, cold, before his scent turned sour, repulsive, as if her mere presence was capable of causing panic and distaste, moving away from her in a matter of seconds before she could study him further. She blinked slowly, confusion forming knots in her stomach, beginning to doubt if his thinness was common or if it was a novelty, the pallor of his skin, the contrite tenor of his eyes as he looked at her and his scent, his scent making her sweat and....

         “Young lady” her body turned abruptly, almost allowing the food to fall from her hands, pressing it tightly against her body, eyes unfocused as she fixed them on Father Dixon, his expression a vacant and diplomatic “It is a pleasure to have our paths meet again”.

Anne swallowed heavily before nodding, her body tense from head to toe, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze “Yes, Father. I should have assumed I would find you helping in these cases of vulnerability”.

         He merely smiled slowly, causing Anne to look at him closely — his features were generic, capable of being lost in a tidal wave of people and forgetting his face in a matter of seconds, his skin pristine, his hair elegantly combed, his body slim, harmless, except for the controlled, enigmatic energy that covered his silent, analytical gaze, the monotone of his voice as he enunciated “It seems you also have a habit of helping those who are in distress, Anne. I shouldn't be surprised to find you handing out food to the workers”.

         She slid her gaze to the food resting in her arms, nodding gently, eager to put as much distance between them as possible, anxious with the idea that they were sheltered from the attention of others, longing to escape his closeness at the proximity of her heat, the irrational thought that he would be able to sense her when he did not even possess the sensitive nose of an alpha “It’s one of the few things I can help with, it is no bother at all”.

         “Did you cook them yourself?” the priest murmured, stretching out one of his hands and exposing his palm without approaching her, silently requesting that she left the food in his grasp. Anne was quick, careful not to touch him at any point, pulling her hand away from his grasp as if his touch could burn her “A young woman of your age being able to cook this variety of food is remarkable, Anne”.

“I prefer my worth to be based on my morals and intelligence, Father, not my cooking” Anne replied with a slight edge to her tone, breathing through her nose as the priest's indecipherable gaze connected with hers, probably unhappy with her challenge “It's just a matter of practice”.

         The icy smile caused her heart to pound, suppressing the urge to take a step back, tensing her jaw when he replied in a polite, neutral tone “Maybe one day I'll stop by and visit your parents’ farm, Green Gables, can I? And you can dazzle me with your culinary and intellectual prowess. It is an honorable task for me to get to know all the families in the community, and I'm sure your parents must be as... striking as you, Anne”.

         She bit her tongue, wishing she possessed enough strength to look at him with the fierceness with which she longed to do so, wanting to enunciate in a low, mumbling voice that she would rather chop off her own hands than cook for her impending hunter. He wasn't aware of what Anne really was, but the moment he knew he would soon set the dogs loose, search for her to the ends of the earth only to make her bleed, the flames burning in the darkness of his pupils. The air escaped her lungs, the impending terror and danger locking her into her own body, forcing herself to smile weakly and nod “We'll be waiting for you any time, Father”.

         It was in a matter of seconds that she stopped herself from slapping his hand away from her as the priest brought it up to his forehead, forming the cross with cold fingers, a shiver running up her spine as he murmured a small prayer. She tensed her jaw so hard the muscles protested, sinking the clarity of her eyes into his, her emotions and warnings causing a revolution beneath her skin “Go, young lady. You have my blessing”.

         She gave no thought to her lack of manners, or how her face must have looked when she turned away from him, the warm air rushing from her moist lips, the violet color beneath her eyes standing out against the brightness of the sun reflected in the purity of the snow. Each time her heat approached the symptoms of her dynamic became more pronounced, reluctant to leave her home, having trouble resting or sleeping for hours that worried her parents, unconsciously snuggling against them for warmth, inexplicably irritated when they set foot in her room, rubbing her face in frustration against the scant scent of Gilbert lingering on her bed.

Her body reacted as expected when the unfamiliar sound of men laughing and growling playfully reached her ears, almost tripping over her own feet as she watched the round of alphas around a controlled campfire, beginning to sweat under the layers of clothing that sheltered her from the raw cold, her breath catching in her chest as she could make out that they were pushing each other, laughing, but with growls low enough to feel the nausea rising in her throat.

         Anne knew she had to deliver the food to them, she knew she had come for that reason but now, hearing them make that low, deep sound, she couldn't stop her feet from digging into the ground in impending terror. She had to move, she had to do something because at any moment they would see her there, paralyzed, and there was nothing she wanted less than to be perceived by a pack of men, of alphas, the voice of her omega beginning to fill her ears as if it were the only voice of reason in her head; they are going to smell me, they are going to smell me and they are going to kill each other to have me, and after they take me they are going to bite me to death and, and my body, my body....

         When a warm hand landed on her shoulder she couldn't stop her reflexes, the food falling to the ground, moving away from the grip with such speed that Anne felt her heart was on the verge of exploding. Her vision was still unfocused when she could gasp for breath, her lungs filling with a heavy, familiar scent that brought her to life, balling her hands into fists when she could make him out — Gilbert Blythe. Gilbert Blythe with his black hair tousled by wind and hands, Gilbert Blythe with skin shiny with sweat and dirty with dust, his scent overpowering with exertion and his magnetic presence in the midst of other alphas that unconsciously provoked his nature to show its strength and dominance. His jaw was tense as he appraised her face, his brow furrowed in concern at her reaction, pupils black with devotion at the sight of her after days that seemed to go on forever. Anne could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers as she spoke, still agitated, feeling her omega calm with the knowledge that he was near, a sure reminder that she was all right. That nothing bad was going to happen as long as the alpha was around to chase away whatever wanted to threaten her “Gilbert”.

         The alpha was able to see right through her, she decided as he tilted his head slightly to one side, studying her, the masculine scent of his manliness and effort weakening her legs, the depth of his voice bringing her back to reality, sending heat throughout her body “Anne”.

         She blinked rapidly before focusing her attention on the food spread across the snow, letting out a low groan before bending down, the snow molding to her weight as she stretched out one of her hands to take the first packet. Her heart skipped a beat as the alpha mimicked her movements, being quicker to grab all the food in one hand, stretching the other out towards her to help her to her feet. The brush of his skin against hers caused a shiver to run up her spine, the difference in temperature making her dizzy, biting the tip of her tongue as the alpha kept looking at her, trying to decipher what was wrong “Can we talk for a moment?”.

         She swallowed hard, nerves twisting her stomach before she shook her head, releasing air through her nose “I must give the food away before I can leave”.

         Unconsciously her gaze slid to the group still talking loudly, now laughing uproariously as two of them bickered comically and grunted with exaggeration. The nauseous expression on her face had been obvious as the alpha approached her, silently, blocking her vision as he perched between her and the group, forcing her to focus all her attention on him, on the determination in his voice and the breadth of his shoulders “Don't worry about it”.

         She couldn't protest before the alpha approached the group, all present falling silent when they sensed his arrival, receiving the food with a soft but submissive smile; it didn't seem to matter that Gilbert was younger in comparison to most of them, respecting him anyway for the controlled energy of his body, the definition of his muscles, the imminent control in his actions. They didn't resume the conversation until the alpha left them, turning to her and covering her with his own body from the curious looks, probably rejecting the idea of her being watched by strangers, clearing his throat “Did you come by yourself?”.

         Anne frowned slightly, shaking her head “No, Diana and Ruby are with me. They must be with the other boys”.

         She held her breath as Gilbert watched her face, probably noting the weariness in her features, the obfuscated glow in her pupils as she returned his gaze. Gilbert looked good, very good, wanting to purr against the warm scent of his skin, the low tenor of his voice, the concern tingeing his tone; she sighed unconsciously, clearly affected by the proximity of her heat, gaining Gilbert's dangerous curiosity instead — would it be too obvious if she moved near his neck and dipped her nose against his pulse? Or too problematic if she asked him quietly to caress her shoulders, her hip, maybe her neck? Anne would love it if he touched her neck, she thought with a shiver at the thought of feeling his rough fingers against the tender skin of her glands, wanting to pull back the scarf that covered her so he could feel the sweetness of her skin, so that maybe he could taste her. Anne wanted, needed, in fact, the alpha to break the distance between them and nuzzle his teeth against her, licking her lips unconsciously to receive him, blinking slowly when the alpha reached out one of his hands to touch her forehead “You're burning up, Anne, do you feel okay?”.

         Okay? Yes, how could she not feel fine when the alpha was touching her? She leaned against his touch, closing her eyes and almost stumbling over her own feet as the alpha pulled away from her, something cold forming in her stomach as she found his expression disgruntled and confused “What's wrong?”.

         “You're sick” he muttered, tensing his jaw and running one of his hands through his hair. The scent that hit her nose filled her mouth with saliva “You shouldn't be away from home if you feel this way”.

         “I'm not sick” Anne argued, touching her skin as if she was able to discern her own temperature “Work affected your medical knowledge, alpha”.

         The second the last word left her mouth she tensed her lips, watching the sudden darkness in Gilbert's pupils with concentration as he spoke with a definitive tone “I'm going to take you home”.

         “No” she protested, blinking slowly as she looked around for her friends “I can't leave without Ruby and Diana knowing. They'll worry about me if I leave without saying anything about it”.

         “Diana will understand,” the alpha insisted, his expression softening but his tone remaining firm, the concern expressed in the heaviness of his scent and the gradual tightening of his shoulders. Anne parted her lips to reply, frowning as the alpha tore his gaze away from her to fix it in the distance “I can see her from here”.

         Irritation and confusion burned in the pit of her stomach, annoyance at receiving orders from him, mingling with the animal satisfaction of his concern and attention, culminating in the cautious voice of her rationality claiming that the fever was not a good sign “I'll come back alone, I don't need you to—”.

         “Anne” the deep voice in his tone automatically silenced her, watching him with wide eyes in surprise at his determination and seriousness “I'm going to take you home, and I'm going to wait for you until Diana knows you're leaving”.

         Anne merely tensed her jaw, knowing that she should be in the safety of her room in case the warm temperature did not abate, unconcerned at her tactlessness when her only response was to glare at him and start on her way to Diana with such hurried steps that she was sure, on another occasion, she would have heard Gilbert's low chuckle behind her.

         The silence between them through the forest could be called tense.

         The sound of their footsteps in the snow was all that could be heard, releasing air through her nose as she watched him out of the corner of her vision — the alpha seemed focused, keeping a respectable distance between them but close enough to feel his proximity, their coats brushing against each other, not uttering any words other than curious glances in her direction that she struggled not to return “Do I look strange?”.

         “No” the alpha replied, the coldness of his tone forming knots in her stomach, tensing her jaw as she connected her gaze with his and the wind blew against her, hitting the alpha's face and causing his expression to close even more.

         She clenched her hands into fists, anger beginning to burn low in her throat at his inexplicable change in attitude and action, biting the inside of her cheek to avoid asking questions she knew she would not be able to contain. She took one breath, two, and the third time she stopped abruptly to look at him with pink cheeks of heat and anger “May I know what your problem is, ordering me around and then acting this way?”.

         The alpha seemed reluctant to stop walking, pausing steps in front of her with an odd tension in his shoulders, his pupils too dark to mean anything good when he replied nonchalantly “I don't have a problem”.

         “You don't have a problem” Anne replied through her teeth, the fever beginning to bother her as she struggled against the oppressive scarf around her damp neck “Then I suppose it must be my great imagination”.

         Gilbert didn't answer, fixing her eyes on him before letting out a snort and moving past him as the alpha took her by the arm gently. Anne swallowed audibly, the hot, overwhelming grip of his hand unnerving her, holding her breath as the alpha spoke so low the vibration in his voice made her shiver “You want to know what my problem is?”.

         Anne didn't know what she wanted to hear, ignoring the sweet feeling in her lower belly at the hardness of his features, the heavy, unfamiliar scent filling her lungs addictively, the darkness in his pupils waiting for her reaction as Gilbert studied her face, “Maybe I can hear you”.

         The world spun around her as the alpha, using minimal force that wouldn't have been able to hurt her but sent her staggering backwards, gently collided her against one of the logs surrounding them. The harshness of winter seemed to have disappeared as Gilbert loomed over her, trapping her between the tree that formed solidly against her back, the heat of his nearness coursing through her like fire, breathing sharply through her moist lips as she watched him through her eyelashes.

         Her eyes were on the verge of falling from her face as the suddenly lost alpha reached out one of his hands to cup her face, pulling her back and tensing his jaw so tightly that Anne feared it would break under the pressure “There's something I'd like to understand”.

         Anne gulped, her heart beating fast beneath her ribs, loathing the notion that the alpha was able to hear it, the tension becoming sweet and tantalizing that seemed to raise her temperature rather than control it. The alpha licked his lips, deciding not to comment on the natural way Anne's eyes followed the movement, responding with a whispered “Tell me”.

         His response was non—verbal, the hardness of his muscles leaning over her, breaking the distance so abruptly that Anne could do no more than hold still beneath his attention, blinking as his face came close to hers, breathing slowly against her skin, tilting her face to one side as a growl deep in his chest bristled her skin, a shiver running up her spine in a delicious warning that made her bring her legs together involuntarily “Who touched you?”.

         The meaning of his words took a while to reach her, lost in the depth of his tone, the heat of his breath from his mouth, the husky sound of his growl piercing through her like a melody. Once the question could be processed by her brain her body tensed, paralyzed, slipping from his grip to look up at him palely and reply “What?”.

         The alpha could have regained his senses, perhaps replied with a small smile and shook his head, pleading his delusions, but his reply unsettled her world as he slid his hands down her throat, making her shiver, the awareness of finding herself in the middle of the forest with a wolf stalking her becoming too real for her own good “Someone touched you. I can smell it on you, I can...”.

         Only when he voiced his discomfort could Anne decipher his feelings; the anger beneath his skin, in the measured, delicate movements as he touched her, the disgust obvious in his expression as he breathed deeply through his nose and above all the foreign definition of his scent, her pulse beating against the delicate skin of her neck. Possession. Gilbert was unable to tolerate the mere thought of another person's scent on her, his fingers caressing her scarf—covered throat, her legs trembling under her weight “No one touched me, Gilbert. I don't understand why—”.

         Gilbert took several seconds to smile slowly, bristling her skin beneath her coats imperceptibly as Anne inhaled the heavy, addictive scent emanating from his skin, holding back the sharp rumble that wanted to rise in her throat as the alpha took a step forward, pressing his body against hers so firmly she was able to feel his muscles against her, the heat breaking through the layers of clothing, the mere brush of his proximity taking the air from her lungs “I can feel him on you, he's everywhere. Tell me, Anne, what did he do?”.

         Anne gasped, biting the inside of her cheek as one of Gilbert's legs slid between hers, the difference in height and the firmness of his thigh colliding with her so gently she felt she would be able to collapse in front of him. The mere touch made her close her eyes, parting her lips in response when the alpha's hand caressed her again, claiming her attention “I want to hear you”.

         “No, I don't understand who—” she replied, in between ragged breaths, feeling her knees tremble as she slid under impulsively, the contact with her most sensitive part making her close her eyes as if she was able to see stars through her eyelids “I don't know who— no one touched me, alpha, I wouldn't let anyone—”.

         “I know” Gilbert spoke, softly, as if seeing her in this state was too entertaining to interrupt her thoughts. She shivered beneath his hands as he caressed her neck, her collarbones, the mere brush of his fingertips separated by layers of clothing against her chest causing her to pull away from his touch for a few seconds before arching her back, eager to continue to be touched by him “You're too good of a girl to be touched by anyone but me, aren't you?”.

         She shook her head, overwhelmed by the amount of sensations coursing through her fevered body, letting out a low, high—pitched noise as she moved experimentally against his leg, the clothes forming a pleasurable and frustrating friction that filled her eyes with tears as she dared to fix her gaze on him. His scent was enough to take her breath away, warm and absolute and searing, the closeness of his body inviting her to keep doing it, to forget about everything around her and reality and what was right and what she had to accomplish when the alpha looked at her with dark eyes, causing the irrevocable need to please him and be good for him so he wouldn't pull away, so he could stay close “Why do you smell like another alpha, Anne?”.

         The question didn't sound threatening, she could conclude through the hot sensation that coursed through her as she moved against his leg again, rubbing against him in a pathetic, embarrassing way, her eyes rolling back as Gilbert seemed to encourage her by pressing his thigh even harder against her sensitive skin. Anne found her hands, clutching at the coats covering him, the intense scent after a long day's work filling her mouth with saliva “I can't hear you”.

         Perhaps the desire to please him was greater than her own pleasure, her brain finding the explanation that in her anger and confusion she couldn't seem to find “Jerry—Jerry, we read together and, and sometimes he sits with me, but it's no more than that, I promise....”.

         “Jerry” her friend's name sounded like an insult coming from his mouth, blinking slowly to look at him as his fingers stroked the front of her dress, one of the few that possessed buttons down the front instead of her back, just like the one of thinner fabric that lay beneath the principal “I can feel all over you. It's disgusting”.

         The meaning of his words twisted the knots in her stomach, her nature suddenly distressed by his displeasure, the sway of her hips stopping slightly as the alpha's low growl froze her in place “He shouldn't have touched you at all”.

         She swallowed audibly as Gilbert undid the first buttons of her dress, not bothering to remove the scarf from her neck, revealing her collarbones and the beginnings of her chest, keeping up the husky sound as his fingers brushed her skin for the first time. Anne couldn't feel the cold winter temperatures, consumed by the burning, overwhelming sensation of being cornered and caressed by his hands, the beginnings of something electric and catastrophic starting to grow inside her as she tentatively resumed the movement of her hips. It would be a vile lie to say that Anne hadn't thought of this situation dozens of times before bed, the brush of her legs and the sheets making her shiver, imagining with closed eyes that Gilbert was on top of her, helping her find the kind of release that would make the Devil laugh. The alpha was beginning to lose his rational train of thought, growling possessively and greedily, breaking the distance between them as their mouths joined and devoured her ravenously and wetly, swallowing the sharp sound in her throat as if aware that he could make of her whatever he wanted.

         The kiss was frantic, forming her hands into fists over his clothes as he kissed her, sliding her hands down his shirt to brush against the warm, firm skin of his body, sighing into his lips at the tingling sensation of feeling him. Her movements did their best to move over her feet, strangling Gilbert's leg between her own, the constant, forbidden rubbing of her nerves against the width of his thigh eliciting so much pleasure that she couldn't tell whether to cry out in despair at her body's impending weakness or to stop holding back the guttural noises that wanted to leave her lips in pleasure. Gilbert, consumed by her closeness and the sweet sounds emitted from her mouth, wasted no time in sliding one of his hands to the back of her neck to pull her head back, revealing her throat and pinning her to bite her lower lip, pupils black, the grandeur of his free hand sliding to her still covered chest, brushing his finger against her breasts as if to drag her into madness in a matter of seconds “Tell me what you want”.

         Anne would be able to burst into tears, the movement of her hips losing rhythm, her eyelids parting slightly to watch him with crystalline, desperate eyes. His gaze returned the same, the lips moist and swollen from having consumed her, the definition of his face, the dangerous way he looked at her as if ready to devour her; a shiver ran down her spine at the intensity of his attention, her desire being expressed by a whisper before she could discern it “I want to smell you, Gilbert”.

         Anne could discern the rationality and honest desire to be touched by him despite the closeness of her heat as her own breathing. It was an animalistic need, feeling that her heart might stop beating if she wasn't touched by him, if she wasn't consumed by his touch, by his teeth, wanting him so fiercely that, if the alpha pulled away from her, she wouldn't be surprised by the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She wanted him, wanted him so much that the fire burning in her veins seemed to calm only with his proximity, releasing the air through her nose in an agitated way when the alpha nodded his head slightly, bringing their faces slowly closer, his nose brushing against hers, his eyes sinking into her pupils as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world, the snow reflecting the heat of their expressions like a mirror “You're going to ruin me”.

         Anne couldn't deny it.

         Her eyes closed abruptly as the alpha slid his lips away from hers, politely ignoring her throat even though the thought of feeling his lips on her glands made her moan softly, the rhythmic movement of her trembling legs against his thigh making her sigh, biting the inside of her cheek when she sensed the wet brush of his tongue against her bare collarbones. The fabric of the dress was stiff, but it made just enough room for him to see the thin clothing she wore underneath, growling impatiently when he undid those buttons, too, releasing a strangled noise when the alpha licked her collarbones, the heat of his mouth making her head spin with insanity. She didn't know how long her weak legs would accompany the shameful movement of her hips, the rubbing of her clit against the musculature of her leg generating a sticky heat throughout her body, a dizzying, overwhelming sensation forming in the depths of her belly, tensing and stealing the air from her lungs with every movement she made — her cheeks burning as the alpha brushed his teeth against the delicate skin of her collarbones, looking up at her with dark eyes as he pulled away slightly to brush his fingers tentatively down her chest, holding her breath as the alpha's husky voice asked “Is this okay?”.

         She nodded her head without thinking, arching her back to ease his access, heat building in her neck as Gilbert shook his head earnestly “I want to hear you”.

         “Yes” she replied, overwhelmed, consumed by the longing to be touched by him, to be released by him and to be watched as she did so. She wanted his attention, his caresses, she wanted everything and, at this moment, nothing was more important “Please, Gilbert”.

          The thump of her head against the tree behind her sounded dangerous as she jerked her head back, a strangled cry escaping her throat as the alpha's warm hand slid down her ribs, the brush of his fingertips against the tender skin of her breasts making her shiver, her rubbing failing for seconds at the rough touch of his thumbs against her nipples, her lips parting but unable to utter any sound, the pleasure building abruptly and blindingly, the world disappearing and shuddering beneath her “So beautiful, Anne. So good for me. I would eat you whole”.

         Anne wanted that, looking up at him through her lashes, her tousled reddish hair framing her fevered face and moist lips, her beauty ravishing him and translating into the insane growl caressing her ears, the addictive, heavy scent of his skin causing the glands in her neck to moisten beneath their hiding place with the sheer need to be licked by him. Anne wanted Gilbert to eat her, to brush his teeth against her and run his tongue all over her body, and her legs didn't seem to do her desires justice, her movements weakening and her legs beginning to ache, crying low as the alpha nipped at her sensitive skin, massaging, forcing her to close her eyes to eternally remember the moment when the alpha decided he was going to snatch her heart on a normal winter afternoon “Alpha, I need—, I want you to...”.

         Gilbert leaned in, licking her mouth, never ceasing to brush his fingers against her breasts, growling fiercely against her lips at her arched back, the desperation and doom in her eyes as she looked up at him again, pleading “Please, Gilbert, don't stop, please...”.

         Her body was on the verge of explosion, her legs trembling with exertion, her nerves painfully sensitive on the verge of release, her skin hot against his, vibrating in desperation beneath his touch. The alpha seemed to take pity on her, feeling the sensitivity of her burning body, which bristled and trembled beneath him, the darkness of his pupils, the delicacy of his lips as he kissed her cheek, abandoning one of her breasts to slide his hand to her hip, sinking his fingers into the tenderness of her flesh so hard she was sure he would leave marks Anne would touch in the privacy of her nest “I'm going to take care of you, Anne”.

         I know, alpha, I know, I know, I know, I know....

         When he shifted her hips with minimal force, having to concentrate on not falling on top of him, Anne could only emit a low rumble, blinking slowly as she accompanied his direction with the firm brush of his thumbs against one of her breasts, parting her wet lips to call his name irrationally and deliriously, her heart throbbing beneath her ribs, sweat forming on the back of her neck and lower back, her legs shaking uncontrollably from the sensations that overwhelmed her and forced her to close her eyes and breathe through her mouth, choking on the possessive, dominant scent of the alpha holding her. Of Gilbert holding her, the rhythm of his movements and the force he exerted on her causing her belly to tighten with every rub, something unfamiliar and searing spreading through her body like an uncontrollable fire, her clit swelling from the stimulation despite the layers of clothing that separated them, the low, deep sound of the alpha murmuring compliments that pushed her to destruction with disturbing speed “G—Gilbert, I'm going to—”.

         “Go on” he murmured low, delirious, dangerous. Anne thought her body would give up at the mere tone of his voice “The most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life, cumming only with my leg”.

         It didn't take long to get what she wanted. She could only feel the alpha's tongue licking her parted lips and swallowing her weak cries, his fingers gently pinching her nipples and pulling, her legs beginning to tighten in an inevitable and painful way, Gilbert's growl piercing her chest as he knew the last touch would be enough to send her tumbling into doom; the touch of his thigh against her nerves made her cry out, her hands balling into fists in the shirt that clothed him, her world staining black and only able to focus on the overwhelming, hot sensation of pleasure consuming her, the searing fire spreading throughout her body and colliding with the reality of the alpha kissing her, muffling the high—pitched sounds coming from her throat, Gilbert's agitated, devoted breathing against hers, unable to stop caressing her breasts, her neck, her face. Her legs finally gave way beneath her, trembling and sobbing from the emotions and sensations that coursed through her endlessly, only able to feel the alpha's unmistakable warmth and scent on her skin, on her collarbones and ribs, on her swollen lips.

         Gilbert scooped her up in his arms, his instincts attentive to her needs, taking her with little effort and sitting down on the snow, careful not to let her body touch the ground, settling her on his lap and beginning to kiss her face gently, a low, contented growl coming from his chest. It was several minutes until, still breathing heavily and her cheeks tinged with red Anne called out “Alpha”.

         “Tell me” Gilbert replied softly, patiently, his. Anne melted into his chest, unconsciously rubbing her face against his shirt, oblivious to the abnormal speed of Gilbert's heart at her nearness.

         “Do I smell like you now?” her question was innocent, genuine, letting out a strangled sound as the alpha took her face in his hands and stretched her neck to kiss her with scant delicacy. Her legs hadn't stopped shaking.

         “I'm going to take you home” he replied when he pulled away from her, kissing the frown at her determination, holding back the desire to laugh lowly at her indignation “And I'm going to have a little chat with Jerry before I go”.

         “Oh, shut up, alpha” Anne snorted, punching him in the shoulder irritably, stretching her spine despite finding herself sitting on his lap. The sudden shift in position flushed her cheeks as she felt something unfamiliar beneath her, the mere notion making her stagger at her own words as her imagination spoke for her “No one could take you seriously, no matter how hard you tried”.

         Jerry's pale expression when he came out to greet them long afterwards, however, seemed to say otherwise.

Chapter Text

Gilbert Blythe was addictive.

         Time seemed to stand still when he was near, struggling to ignore the blunt warning in her head that she was making a mistake, that he was dangerous, that she should get away from him and return to Green Gables before her parents were consumed by the fury of her disobedience. But she couldn't. She couldn't ignore the searing urge to sit as close as possible, his muscular legs beneath her weight, her breasts rubbing against the desperate friction of touching, of feeling close, of being consumed; she couldn't remember the exact moment when a brief conversation in the snow had turned into a clear demonstration of the forbidden. All that ran across her skin was the heat, the electricity vibrating with every touch, their heaving breaths coming together in the winter's harshness, the firm, unmistakable grip of the alpha on her, unable to pull away from her with such longing that Anne pondered the possibility that their addiction was shared.

         He was the perfect alpha, she thought as she remembered the depth of his voice when he murmured sweet words after her release, settling her carefully on top of him so that she didn't feel the cold of the snow beneath them, her legs still trembling from the intensity of her sensations. He had taken care to caress her gently, kissing her jaw with care while still touching her softly, the warmth of his body caressing her to the point where she couldn't contain the desire to melt into his chest and brush her cold nose against the hot pulse of his throat — his scent was warm, overpowering and protective, feeling her eyelids begin to close as Gilbert slowly recounted his occurrences in the few days of work, brushing his fingertips against the width of her back, the tender skin of her hip, the depths of her stomach. It was enough for an imperceptible shiver to run up her spine for the alpha to snap out of his stupefaction, able to imagine his frown from her hiding place as he asked slowly, “Are you cold?”.

         “No” she answered hoarsely, quietly. A calmness she had never known until now, when her body lay in fever and tense muscles, her mind her greatest enemy, fear hunting her in every shadow as the danger of her heat drew near. She closed her eyes as Gilbert stroked her arms, warming her despite the rawness of the cold temperatures, “I'm fine”.

         Gilbert made a guttural sound of hesitation, gently grabbing her so that she was sitting firmly in his lap and he could watch her carefully. The intense vision of the darkness of his pupils studying her never failed to make her shiver, the irrational urge to stretch her neck towards him morphing into an imperceptible movement to lift her chin, swallowing audibly when the alpha reached out one of his hands to stroke her covered throat. Anne could cry at the thought of moving the scarf out of the way, hovering over her knees so the alpha could taste her “You are not well, princess. I must get you home before your fever gets worse”.

         The nickname made her blink slowly, her heart throbbing beneath her ribs, the closeness of her cycle collaborating with her natural aptitudes that her brain repressed the entirety of the time. Her throat itched with the desire to purr for him, “I don't want to go back. It's cold in Green Gables”.

         I'm cold when you're not around, alpha, her nature whispered instead, releasing the air through her nose as Gilbert cradled her face lovingly, a slight frown forming on his expression. Her excuse was lousy, considering no place could be colder than the outside itself, but she didn't consider her words when Gilbert offered gently, voice soft as satin “I can light the fireplace if you wish”.

         Anne wrinkled her nose, wanting to release the whine that rose in her throat at the lack of reason not to return to Green Gables, her place in the world. The truth was uttered through her lips before she could help it, “I don't want to leave”.

         The sweet image of the alpha smiling warmly twisted the pit of her stomach with pleasure, closing her eyes as Gilbert pulled her to him, brushing their faces together to kiss one of her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the corner of her lips “I'm sorry, darling, but I can't keep you out in the cold that long. We have to go back”.

         Instead of protesting Anne let herself be carried away by his closeness, the intoxicating scent of his skin, the low rumble of his consumed growl as she broke the distance between them and kissed him slowly. It was a kiss unlike any they had shared, which had been frantic, unstoppable, but this one felt like a question, an invitation — she rested her hands on his chest carefully, skin burning through the thick layers of clothing, settling onto his legs so she could brush her forehead against his, a sharp sound leaving her lips as the alpha took her hips to bring Anne closer. She couldn't feel the snow burning her knees, the icy murmur of the wind wrapping around them and the consequent whispers of nature, she could only feel the warmth of his mouth against hers, the wetness of his tongue caressing her, the firm grip of his hands against her skin making her sigh, her sanity slipping from her grasp in a matter of seconds. Addiction. The world could fall apart in a matter of seconds and Anne couldn't tear herself away from him, there wasn't a humanly possible thing she wasn't willing to do to continue to be consumed by Gilbert. She wanted it all. She wanted it all so badly that when she moved experimentally against him, the friction made her close her eyes tightly and break the kiss in surprise, electricity surging up her spine with such intensity that she visualized stars in her closed eyelids, drinking in his growl as if her life depended on it.

         They couldn't stop, one of his hands sliding down to squeeze her thighs, the pleasure bordering on painful, his scent filling her lungs and pushing her not to think about the consequences. There could be no possible consequences to something that felt so good, so right, sighing as he pulled her lower lip with his sharp teeth, his hands running over her with delicacy and purpose as if he could think of nothing but pleasing her. The flames were back to licking her despite feeling nothing but his mouth against hers, his fingertips caressing her gently, the rumble of his growl piercing her chest with a vibration that had become familiar and comforting “Anne”.

         The young woman crumpled his clothes in her hands, kissing the corner of his lips with sudden shyness, heat tingeing her cheeks, desire obvious in her expanded pupils and swollen lips. She drew in a deep breath through her nose as the alpha gently pushed her shoulder, pulling them apart with effort, the pained expression clear on his face as he murmured, “I can't”.

         Rejection squeezed her heart, her brow furrowing in sadness and worry as the alpha shook his head, moving in to gently kiss her mouth “I must take you home. If I don't do it now I fear I may never be able to let you go”.

         Anne let three heartbeats pass, knowing he was right, trying to understand. She had to go back. Her parents were waiting for her, and she shouldn't be doing dangerous things like kissing an alpha in the first place, let alone using his leg to achieve her own pleasure, let alone trying to bribe him to stay with him. Anne was not like that. Anne was a decent, proper, prudent woman — and she was an omega, too, and the duality inside her made her dizzy, her breath hitching as worry over the weight of her actions pressed on her lungs “They're going to kill me, Gilbert, what was I thinking?”.

         She parted her eyes in surprise as the gentleness of his expression became final, the hardness of his face translating into the darkness of his gaze as he slowly shook his head, his fingers caressing her as his fingers against the edge of her jaw “No one's going to do anything, Anne. Breathe”.

         The simplicity of his words, of his conclusions, at times managed to infuriate her but now, in the sincerity of his prayer and the carefulness of his caresses, she could do no more than sigh in resignation at the consequences and admit, “They'll be furious with me”.

         “I will go with you” he sentenced, leaving a final kiss on her cheek, his scent so heavy she felt the pure air had died out around her “And I will be charming, have you forgotten?”.

         Anne smiled slowly as the alpha nuzzled his nose against her face one last time.

         “They're your parents” Gilbert encouraged her, rubbing one of his hands against her shoulders to comfort her. Anne looked up in desperation, a silent plea for help that the alpha could only answer with a small smile of amusement “They're going to forgive you in a matter of minutes if you look at them like that”.

         “You've never seen Marilla angry, Gilbert!” Anne protested, covering her face with her hands as they reached the Green Gables fence “It'll be terrible!”.

         “Anne, she can't—” Gilbert replied, on the verge of laughing softly at her when he stopped abruptly, giving her no time to react as he grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. The tension in his muscles could only worry her, struggling against his grip at the thought that something bad could be happening in her own home, raising her voice carelessly.

         “Gilbert, what are you doing?” she growled behind him, able to break free when the alpha gently loosened his grip on her, staggering to the side to notice Green Gables in perfect condition, her heart calming its beating. Anne began to slide her eyes over the horizon as she asked, “Honestly, what's your problem? Why do you always do that? Can't you, maybe, vocalize it instead of—”.

         Jerry. Jerry approaching them, with a natural pace, shaking one of his hands above his head “Anne!”.

         Oh.

         She glanced to her side, her heart fluttering at Gilbert's composed, indifferent expression beside her. He had sensed Jerry's proximity in the distance, and in the face of unfamiliarity had succumbed to the impulse to protect her rather than allow doubt. Her head began to work out the possibilities of an encounter in which her alpha was clearly not pleased, content to take his hand in hers and stretch him towards the fence “Come with me?”.

         He nodded, allowing himself to be guided until Jerry stopped in front of them, the confusion was clear in his expression, but he did his best to disguise it with a pleasant smile “You saved me some work, I was just coming to look for you”.

         Though he tried to focus his attention on Anne the urge to slide his gaze to Gilbert was inevitable, a presence beside her like a shadow, the brush of the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest brushing against her back reminding Anne of their closeness, the fear beginning to rise on his face as he stammered “I suppose I should thank you”.

         Gilbert's movement was so subtle and quiet she couldn't differentiate his intentions until he landed in front of her a second time, a cordial smile stretching across his lips as he offered his hand “Gilbert Blythe”.

         Anne kept quiet, the overwhelming scent of the alpha making her dizzy, possessiveness and confidence pouring from him like a fountain, her cheeks reddening at the thought of Jerry being able to distinguish him as he swallowed heavily to take his hand in greeting. Despite possessing good size and height he seemed small in comparison to Gilbert, who pressed his hand lightly, still looking him in the eye “There's nothing to be thankful for. Anne is independent, and I only had the pleasure of accompanying her before dark”.

         “Why were you going to look for me?” she questioned, trying to snap Jerry out of his silent stupefaction as he pulled his hand away from Gilbert's, hiding it behind his back, slightly unfocused as he fixed his gaze on her. His expression visibly relaxed as he met her, unconsciously reassured to have a familiar face nearby “Marilla and Matthew requested it?”.

         “Actually, uhm” he replied, managing to make Anne frown in confusion at the uncertainty of his words, his posture suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment “It was me... I wanted to come and find you. Your parents aren't worried”,

         Jerry was her friend, and Anne hoped Gilbert really could see it, but she was afraid to look at him. The tension of his muscles though imperceptible was clear to her field of vision, the radical change in his scent loosening her legs in a matter of seconds. Anne just wanted to understand, and fast “Did something happen?”.

         “Not exactly” Jerry scratched the back of his neck nervously, taking a small step backwards, involuntarily choking on the intoxicating scent of Gilbert, who kept silent with his feet dug into the ground, hiding her slightly from the other alpha's vision “It's— it's a new book I'm trying to read and it's complicated when you're not around. There are difficult words and sentences I don't understand. I get the characters mixed up”.

         “Oh, Jerry” Anne smiled slowly, coming out of her forced hiding place behind Gilbert to stand in front of him, doing her best to ignore the alpha's volatile and heavy energy “You know you can ask Marilla and Matthew; did you feel ashamed? They'd be happy to help you”.

         Jerry snorted, fighting the embarrassment of admitting out loud what he really wanted to say “I didn't mean to disturb them, they're very quiet. I don't think they want to explain those things to me like you do. And besides there was nothing sweet to eat during the day, it's... boring when I can't judge anything”.

         Anne let out a small disbelieving laugh, opening her mouth to reply when suddenly Gilbert turned to look at her. The words died in her throat at the intensity of his dark pupils, fixing her in place, her heart pounding with brutality and hating the notion that the alpha could hear her clearly “Judge?”.

         “Yes” Jerry answered quickly, making her jump in place in surprise, watching with slightly widened eyes and fighting the urge to recognize how Gilbert had glued himself to her in a matter of seconds “Anne usually cooks during the afternoons before our reading session, and I often act as a judge to help her improve. I assure you she's good, but since she started taking criticism from me she's improved a lot”.

         “Anne” Gilbert spoke low, the depth of his tone stealing the air from her lungs, her heart stopping for a few seconds as he reached out one of his hands to tuck a hair behind her ear. Her face burned in its entirety as the alpha leaned over her, an unnatural distance for people who were supposed to maintain a civilized relationship “I hope he’s not being too harsh with you”.

         Her friend let out a muffled noise, probably anxious to express the misinterpretation, deciding she’d rather keep her attention on Gilbert than waste her time looking at anything that didn't consist of the devotion in his eyes “He's good most of the time, Gilbert. You are invited to any of our sessions whenever you wish”.

         The alpha's face changed slightly, biting the tip of her tongue for speaking without a second thought, sliding her attention to his pale friend who was looking at her as if she had bloodily betrayed him. Her breath hitched as the alpha fixed his attention on Jerry firmly, a small smile forming on his mouth with just enough warning for his friend to look up at him with excessively wide eyes “Is that okay?”.

         “Yeah, sure” Jerry replied and his lack of enthusiasm was so obvious that Anne's first reaction was to roll her eyes, while Gilbert replied with a low chuckle at his lacking sincerity “It really is!”.

         Anne took a deep breath through her nose, suddenly exhausted, as she unconsciously rubbed one of her hands against her eyes to chase away the tiredness. The familiar sound of snow caught her attention as she felt the warm, familiar touch of Gilbert's heavy hand stroking her head, her cheeks warming from the show of affection in front of Jerry until she looked into his eyes; his pupils dark, his gaze intent, devoted, and finally into the slightly frowning brow with concern “Are you feeling all right?”.

         Her chest warmed into something pleasant at his attention, a small smile stretching her lips helplessly, her body and mind concentrating on him in a matter of seconds “A little tired”.

“We should get going, then” Jerry spoke behind Gilbert, his large, curious eyes watching them with slight discomfort, but honesty seeping into his tone of voice “Maybe dinner's ready”.

         It was the first time Gilbert showed a sign of irritation as he sighed heavily in response, being slightly rude by not turning to acknowledge Jerry's participation and confining himself to the silence that stretched into the eternity of winter.

         Gilbert had stopped smiling, and when Anne breathed through her nose, her lungs filled with a heavy, intoxicating scent, possessive, protective. The tightness of his jaw and shoulders bristling her skin, the darkness of his eyes fixed on her, his closeness destabilizing her reality chaotically and inevitably — the sensation began as a slow, confusing tingle, but as it spread through the pit of her stomach, burning and twisting her expression in slight pain, Gilbert's whole body tensed.

         “I have... I have to go home,” Anne confessed, panic seeping faintly into her tone, terror and the possibilities beginning to chill her bones. She had to go, had to escape before the pain was accompanied by the dense, delirious fever, where her skin would begin to itch, and she would lose her mind again. Her heat. Her heat was about to begin and there were two alphas with her, two alphas who cared about her and were close, very close and....

         She took an imperceptible step back as Jerry wanted to approach her innocently and gently, his brow furrowed in concern at her radical change of attitude, opening his mouth to ask when Gilbert intervened, the deep tone of his voice forcing Anne to ball her hands into fists at the shiver that went up her spine “Anne, I'm going with you, is that okay?”.

         Her first impulse was to deny it, to say that she would be fine with Jerry, but her nature began to twist inside her at the thought. She trusted Gilbert with her eyes closed in any scenario, but how would Jerry react? She couldn't risk it, her omega decided, blinking slowly as she muttered, “All right”.

         The alpha, as usual, asked no questions about her strange attitudes, her changes, despite sensing the concern and warning in the heaviness of his scent and the cautious posture of his body, taking her hand gently and dragging her to his body, covering Anne unconsciously from Jerry, strangely silent. He didn't utter a word as he decided to walk in front of them, leaving meters of distance that allowed Anne to show her true exhaustion and agony for mere seconds, tensing her jaw as she leaned her face against Gilbert's body “I'm sorry, Gilbert. I didn't mean to say goodbye like this”.

         “No” he replied, the determined tone of his words catching her attention as they stopped, her eyes widening slightly as the alpha took her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips gently, making her feel like a priceless treasure rather than an object on the verge of breaking. The ointment could hold for several hours without altering until the arrival of the heat was inevitable, closing her eyes and melting against his touch, her heart squeezing at the thought of having to be separated from him for days “Don't apologize to me for this. Ever”.

         “I can't control it” her voice came out fragile, brittle, vulnerability expressing itself in her pupils as she leaned against the warm touch of his hand, sighing heavily as she admitted “I don't know when I'll see you again”.

         The expression that crossed Gilbert's face was indecipherable, but she could make out the desperation as he tightened his grip on her, his dark eyes searching for the hint of what was wrong “What do you mean?”.

         “I'm leaving, Gilbert. For days” Anne lied, her nature clawing at her chest at the need to tell the truth, at the longing to confess everything and that he could see her. That he could hear her “We're going on a trip, and I don't know how long it will be before we see each other again. I'd like to think it will be less than a week”.

         “Is it important?” he asked, her heart breaking as she knew the questions he was holding on the tip of his tongue, the worry in his caresses, licking his lips as Anne couldn't find the courage to enunciate any more lies aloud and nodded her head “I'm going to wait for you”.

         “I know” Anne replied, reaching up to join her face to his, the warmth of her body brushing his with familiarity, her whole being vibrating at his nearness “I promise to be back as soon as possible”.

         “When you come back” he spoke slowly, deeply, his voice forcing her to close her eyes to enjoy it. Jerry was waiting for them in respectful silence, though she could sense his nervousness in his erratic movements “You're going to tell me everything?”.

         “Maybe” the young woman smiled, her blue eyes contrasting with the coldness and rawness of winter “Maybe I need to be convinced”.

         Gilbert returned her smile, studying her face warmly, concern still visible in his expression as he shook his head in disbelief and kissed her forehead in farewell “I'd like to try”.

         She broke away from him, her chest contracting with each step she took, waving at him as she stood in front of the door with Jerry at her side. She rested her hand on the icy handle as Gilbert spoke for the last time, his black hair disheveled by the wind, his dark eyes fixed not on her, but on his friend who had paled several shades.

         Anne could understand it, being able to make out from a distance the overpowering presence, the sharp teeth as he smiled innocently, his broad shoulders, the overpowering scent of his dynamic and, above all, the explicit warning in his gaze as he said goodbye “Jerry”.

         “Yes?” he had to acknowledge his friend's bravery as he answered in a firm voice, noting his hands clasped behind his back, the movement of his throat as he swallowed heavily.

         “Be careful” he spoke slowly, ignoring Anne's surprised and murderous look at the boldness of his words “Don't think I didn't see the bruises from your fights, or that I can't smell you on her. I won't be so kind next time”.

         “Gilbert!”.

         Her heart seemed on the verge of failing as she searched for her mother hours later, almost tripping over her own feet in desperation when she found her.

         “Marilla” Anne murmured, low, like a deadly secret. Her mother's expression transformed as she looked into her eyes, skin pale, sweat bathing her forehead and the base of her neck. The true meaning of her words passed like an icy breeze “I think Jerry has to leave”.

         “Get some rest” Marilla stroked her cheek, her hand cool against her clammy, burning skin. Her eyes filled with tears before she could control it, helplessness tearing at her chest and squeezing her lungs, fear bristling her skin “Everything’s ready”.

         Marilla asked no questions regarding the sudden onset of her cycle, nor did she show the true panic that must have been racing in her heart as she planted a kiss on her forehead and escorted her to her room. As usual she made sure her bed was clean, with water within reach, fresh food waiting for her when she could be conscious and consume it; she confirmed that the window was closed, the heavy curtains covering her from the outside and, finally, blew out the candle that lit the room for fear of causing an accidental fire in the midst of her torture. She combed her hair sympathetically for the last time for days before closing the door behind her, the sound of the key turning making her sob in anguish, her knees crashing to the floor as she recognized the familiar sound of a blanket settling in the gap under the door so that her scent was locked within the confines of her room. Her cycles always started this way, her heart breaking with each passing second, the heat gradually growing unbearable and weighing the possibility that she was walking through hell with her eyes closed.

         The first part was devastating, aware of what was about to happen, the first effects resulting in oppressive heat glistening on her damp skin, the clothes itching at her and tearing at her in desperation as she cowered on her sheets. Anne’s scent, usually comforting and familiar, seemed threatening in its intensity, lust filling her mouth with saliva every time she inhaled it, increasing the pain behind her eyes along with the incessant crying that stole her breath — she rubbed her face against her pillow, the faint scent of Gilbert present after days of not being able to straighten it, a moan rising in her throat as the agonizing pain began to take over her body. It crept up her legs, seizing her muscles, the fire burning in the pit of her stomach and twisting her insides as if boiling metals were running through her, her skin glowing and her muscles trembling as she struggled to find relief, writhing in the sheets, in the pitch blackness, consumed and reduced to shreds over and over again until she knew that all that would be left of her after days of agony would be a shell.

         The hours passed slowly and agonizingly, writhing between the sheets for what seemed like forever, staining it with sweat from fever and tears, sipping water with her skin bristling from the temperature difference, placing light clothing over her as best she could when Anne knew she had to bathe to bring the fever down. The dynamic was simple, parting the curtains delicately to differentiate what time it was, taking advantage of the fact that she still retained little sanity to knock on the door with the rhythm she knew by heart so that her parents could understand her silent request; Marilla stayed in the house the entirety of her heat, knowing to assist her when necessary like these moments before her nature took over completely. Anne heard the familiar rattle of keys and opened the door slowly, Marilla breathing through her mouth so as not to inhale the brutality of her scent, holding her against her chest as Anne staggered towards her like a newborn animal “I need a bath before it begins”.

         “You couldn't rest, could you?” she asked, her voice soft as she stroked her hair, eliciting a sigh as her only response “It will pass, my child. Everything does”.

         Marilla took charge of preparing the hot water, allowing her privacy but staying close in case her strength failed — her blood pressure was incredibly low, losing consciousness in sporadic moments of the day before her heat began. The warm water still felt cold as she sank into it, taking care to cleanse as much as possible as she shivered and pressed her jaw from her body's involuntary reaction to her inevitable touches. She hated it. She hated it so much that the tears melted into the water, her cheeks red with anger and fever, the feeling of fragility and vulnerability splitting her soul in two, leaving her empty of strength and fire as her mother helped her out, the overwhelming anguish taking away any sense of shame or shyness.

         Marilla accompanied her silently, encouraging her to eat as much as possible while braiding her hair so it wouldn't get tangled during the erratic movements of her body, wiping away her tears one last time until she touched her burning skin and sighed “You should try sleeping again, Anne”.

         “I don't want to” she replied, wiping her nose, the sickly skin of her face revealing her gradual discomfort “It scares me”.    

“Anne” her mother sought her eyes to look at her, failing when her daughter turned her attention away to another spot in the room “Nothing bad is going to happen. Matthew and I are here and we're going to take care of you until you feel better. There's nothing to be afraid of”.

         Yes there is, Anne thought bitterly, it breaks me every time.  

         “If I sleep, when I wake up, it won't be me” she confessed, able to watch through a slight gap between the heavy curtains the sun going down, the white snow covering all manner of life under its weight “I'm afraid of not being in control”.

         “Oh, Anne” Marilla shook her head, combing a lock of hair behind her ear as her pupils glowed with something bordering on determination “You're still you, you'll just be listening to another part of you. One just as important as this one. Don't be afraid of yourself”.

         Perhaps the pain scared her, she thought hours later in the devastating silence of the night, as blades seemed to pierce her belly and sting her skin, sitting on the mattress with her heart beating brutally against her ribs. Her body screamed for something, anything, and she let out air between her teeth as she allowed one of her fingers to brush between her experimentally. It burned, it hurt, and she wanted it to stop, wanted relief, biting her lower lip as Anne caressed her stomach with the palm of her hands, the heat tingeing her cheeks, the fear of the improper and the forbidden screaming in the back of her head as everything in her began to reach for what she needed.

         It was her, it was another part of her person, but she was still herself, she repeated as a moan began to rise in her throat, closing her eyes tightly as she ran her fingers over one of her breasts experimentally. She didn't want this, she didn't want it, part of her didn't want it, but the other was writhing in pain to have it, to escape the agony, and Anne knew what she had to do.

         The feeling of emptiness was the most painful, knowing she was still rational enough to discern reality, imagining the points she would reach before her heat culminated — the unbearable emptiness, the hormones and her nature demanding something inside her, something that could fill her, something that could satisfy her. Anne breathed deeply through her nose, the faint scent of Gilbert in her bed mingling with her intense, lustful fragrance, her insides twisting at the thought that he could be with her right then and there. That he could be very, very close.

         Maybe thinking about him could help her, she decided as she parted her legs and rested her back against the wall, the sheets enveloping her as she closed her eyes and let her hand explore her gently, experimentally, tremblingly. Anne couldn't deny herself what she needed, sighing as one of her fingers brushed the wetness of her center, knowing that the inside of her thighs would be stained with the sweet liquid of her body, concentrating to find the touch again, her heartbeat increasing in speed as her delirious head remembered.

         The addictive heat of his body against hers, his possessive, overpowering scent consuming her, the steady vibration of his growl running through her like a caress, imagining his sharp teeth against her throat — the soft sound that left her lips was ignored by the intense sensation of her fingertips between her legs, beginning to shiver and sigh, her imagination losing itself in the scenario where Gilbert was close, licking her neck, brushing his teeth against her glands, his body covering her as he hovered over her. She could think of his rough hands touching her hot, sweaty skin, sliding his mouth down her throat, licking her ribs, biting her as if he wanted to devour her; the fire seemed to begin to consume her in a radically different way as she kept touching herself, her hands inexperienced and voracious, her body betrayed by the idea that an alpha — her alpha — was there to take care of her. To chase away the pain and, instead, make her see stars.

         Anne could only think of his dominant, searing presence when he tasted her, kissing her intensely every chance he could, sighing at the memory of his body between her legs, pressing their fronts together in an addictive, delicious way, holding her by her waist as if she were a doll, positioning her as he wanted to have her — the feel of her touch was beginning to be familiar with the scenario of hours ago, when the steady brush of his thigh against her broke her, as he kissed her cheeks and helped her move to use him to achieve her own pleasure, her eyes filled with tears.

         She wanted him, wanted him so much that her belly contracted with pain at his absence and the inexperienced pleasure of her caresses, her fingers trying to keep up the speed as they slid wetly over her, swallowing heavily as she visualized Gilbert touching her, his fingers brushing her gently, the constant grunting as he looked at her and murmured things that made her shudder.

         I could listen to you for days.

         Anne would do horrible things, she thought as she remembered the darkness in his pupils as he looked at her, willing to do anything for her. To have her.

         I want to listen to you.

         She bit her lower lip, her movements beginning to become erratic and addictive as the pleasure began to build like an unstoppable force, consuming her, absolute.

         I'm going to give you everything you ask for. Everything.

         She wanted it all, she thought as her legs began to tremble, arching her back so she could keep going, coming to the edge in a matter of seconds as she remembered his husky voice and his wet lips close to her, on her.

You must learn to use that pretty mouth of yours to tell me what you want, Anne. I want you to do it from now on.

         She tried to breathe, her skin prickling, her heart deafening her ears as everything around her seemed to disappear.

         So beautiful, Anne. So good for me. I would eat you whole.

         Pleasure consumed her, biting her lower lip so hard to keep from making noise that the metallic taste of blood washed over her tongue, spreading from the pit of her stomach, crashing against her chest like a wave, her world white for multiple seconds until she was able to come back, staining the sheets with the warm liquid of her satisfaction, her breathing quickening as she turned her attention to a dark corner of the room, her head spinning on itself at breakneck speed, the contrariness of her emotions, the forbidden and the desire dividing her soul and body, a frivolous and confused sensation taking over her after an intense fire.

         Every time her cycle began Anne knew that the devil was knocking at her door and, instead of watching her from afar in the dark of night as she slept, he would step across the threshold to burn her with his bare hands.

         Gilbert had not seen Anne for days. As he watched the snow fall outside his window he thought of when she had come to visit him, the sweetness of her gaze when he opened the door, the melodic laughter of her mouth when she spoke to his family, the gentleness of her body against his when he licked her neck for the first time.

         Green Gables was so close, and Gilbert Blythe never wasted an opportunity. The icy wind burned his lungs as he began to walk down the path that led to Anne Shirley. Everything seemed to lead him to her since he had met her.

Chapter Text

Gilbert knew something was wrong when he crossed the Green Gables fence.

 It was the same uncomfortable, overwhelming feeling he harboured in his chest, his palms damp with nerves as he tried to wipe them against his trousers, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck as his senses sharpened to absorb his surroundings. Worst of all, however, was his mind; ever since Anne had disappeared from his sight his head had not stopped imagining horrible scenarios, repeating warnings in his ears, his heart squeezing at the uncontainable rage of his nature throbbing in his chest, a caged beast snarling to be heard, to be obeyed. His alpha had dragged him into madness over the days, his patience non-existent with the people around him, growling under his breath when the other alphas dared to get too close, having to take deep breaths and close his eyes tightly when everything he seemed to touch snapped in two, making unforgivable mistakes like standing for several seconds between the door and Delphine, muscles tense and eyes dark at the mere thought that a stranger might be within yards of her, turning red with embarrassment when Sebastian raised his hands harmlessly until he was recognized. When he was scolded, claiming he had officially become a rabid dog, he didn't have the strength and dignity to deny it — he had slowly become an animal he couldn't control, emotions and impulses overriding his reasoning and logic.

Gilbert was losing his mind. After the encounter in the forest, where he was sure he could replay the scene with closed eyes, the vivid image behind his eyelids, he couldn't recognize himself. He had to breathe deeply through his nose every time he remembered the sweet sounds of Anne’s mouth at inappropriate times, her hands clinging to his clothes as if she could hide from him, her trembling movements against his leg to find her release, receiving whatever he was willing to give her with shining eyes, lips moist and cheeks tinged with red. His alpha had never witnessed such a precious creature, having to control the strength of his hands so he could touch her gently, sinking his fingers into the skin of her hip, the tender, desperate heat of her skin brushing against him, her body compliant against his as he kissed her face and whispered compliments hoarsely against her draped neck. There was no human way to satisfy himself at the memory, constantly and obsessively imagining that instead of his own caresses he had a gentle, almost shy touch, tensing his jaw and biting his tongue every time he finished during the late hours of the night so as not to be discovered. His instincts seemed to worsen with lust and need clouding his thoughts, delirious at the thought that he could have Anne close, hearing her voice as she scolded him, freckles standing out when he angered or embarrassed her with his words, holding back the constant urge to watch her, brushing his knuckles against her face gently, his heart contracting every minute at the desperation of not knowing where she was.

The only reason he had endured so many days without looking for Anne was for the thought of causing her anger and rejection, biting his knuckles raw to contain the urge to go looking for her without any kind of permission, determined that he wanted to maintain his status as a respectful gentleman and alpha, giving her space and allowing himself to miss her even though the madness, his alpha, seemed to be consuming him.

But a man had limits, and Gilbert seemed to have reached his.

He tensed his jaw to distract himself from the demanding sensation of the alpha pacing in his chest, heating the blood coursing through his veins, repeating the same words for days inside his head like a mantra.

She's hurt, she's hurt, and you left her alone. She needs us. She needs me.

Gilbert wanted to laugh out loud or clench his fists tightly at how absurd and ridiculous his thoughts, his actions, could become when it came to her. The reflection of the snow hurt his eyes and he let the air out of his nose almost reflexively; Anne had only taken a scheduled trip with her parents, where she would be safe and accompanied the whole time, knowing from logic that she was capable of taking care of herself, that it was the only thing she had done since her beginnings, that she was alive because of herself and no one else. But his instincts, his obsession, seemed to think differently — when a movement in the stable caught his attention at the edge of his vision, his body was slow to react as he turned in on himself and almost stumbled over his own feet. His heart buzzed in his ears as he could make out Matthew's figure, holding his breath in his chest as the man's expression didn't vary an inch, his alpha beginning to growl under his breath as he differentiated the unfamiliar and hostile manner of observing him, as if he were a threat rather than a friendly and harmless visitor “Mr. Cuthbert, I hope I'm not disturbing you”.

His posture said quite the opposite, tensing his muscles as he noticed the heavy shovel one of his hands held, skin pale but eyes fixed on him as if to avert his eyes in a matter of seconds could mean catastrophic harm. Silence stretched between them with tension, beginning to frown with warning and confusion, clearing his throat as Matthew regained consciousness and shook his head, his tone of voice sure unfamiliar in his ears as he replied, “You shouldn't be here, boy”.

She's hurt. She's hurt. Find her.

“I don't want to bother you” Gilbert replied, sinking his feet into the snow, its clarity suddenly undisturbed, filling his lungs with cold air as the pain behind his eyes seemed to increase latently. He didn't want to look dangerous or add to Matthew’s stress, instinctively deciding to place his hands behind his lower back, dropping his shoulders to look relaxed, his scent becoming subtle and soothing, his voice low when he spoke, “I just wanted to say hello to Anne after so many days of travel, if I have your permission”.

“That won't be possible” his reply was too quick for his liking, struggling to keep his expression neutral rather than tensing his jaw, watching carefully as Matthew tried to compose himself in a matter of seconds, unable to fool him “Anne isn't feeling well. We're letting her rest”.

“Is she ill?” his body moved of its own accord, stopping abruptly as Matthew took a step backwards in response, imagining what he must look like in dark clothes, eyes unfocused, voice deep and his alpha expressing itself through the pores of his skin; the old man let out a snort, as if his scent was beginning to drown him “Did a doctor come to see her?”.

“Gilbert” Matthew called, cold sweat covering his back as the man's expression became definite, his face serious, his fingers still wrapping around the shovel as if he was ready to hit him with it if he didn't obey his words. Something was wrong. Something was wrong and he didn't want Gilbert to find out, didn't want him to find her or even take extra steps towards the house, his skin bristling as his alpha began to voice his desperation through his frantic heart “You have to go”.

Gilbert took a deep breath through his nose, his head working a thousand miles an hour, struggling to keep his nature within his own boundaries before he lost his mind and snarled in his face for daring to hide Anne from him. Reality didn't work that way, he repeated to himself over and over, reminding himself that he was a decent man, a rational, polite, diplomatic gentleman, not a desperate, capricious animal — Gilbert tensed his jaw, averting his gaze from the man to contain the growl that rose hoarsely in his chest, balling his hands into fists behind his back so Matthew couldn't see it. Anger and anguish coursed through his veins like poison, the intense pain behind his eyes making him dizzy, his scent wafting from him like a premonition of what he would be capable of. But Gilbert was more than that, ignoring the nauseating sensation scratching his throat to ask with mock calmness “Is there anything I can help with?”.

His control seemed to shift his posture, noticing how Matthew's gaze softened, releasing the air through his nose, allowing silence to stretch between them. His heart rang in his ears as the man glanced behind his shoulder, noting three buckets of water on the ground before pointing at them “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to reach the water towards the house? My back is killing me with the cold temperatures”.

Gilbert took them effortlessly before he could regret it, ignoring the insistent pain of metal against his icy skin as he lifted them. The snow didn't stop his good walking pace despite its density, grateful for the weight in his hands to disguise the frustrating trembling that gripped his fingers, desperate to distract himself from the violent, visceral feeling that wanted to take over his mind, his actions, his angry nature at the knowledge that Anne was ill and he couldn't see her, trying not to be overpowered by anything other than his reasoning. When Matthew spoke again he was slow to register his voice, having ignored the fact that he was several feet behind him “You can leave them in front of the entrance”.

Gilbert nodded obediently at the instructions, depositing them on the first step as he tried to remain calm, blinking slowly as the man approached him and patted one of his shoulders, another decision uncharacteristic of his introverted and bashful personality. He swallowed heavily as Matthew dodged his gaze as he murmured, guilt catching up with him after he'd done the favor “There's nothing to worry about, Gilbert, Anne's fine. She got food poisoning on the way back, with the tide and the cold, but I'm sure she'll come looking for you in a couple of days”.

Matthew was lying. He studied his hidden expression, his eyes straying from his, the greyish pallor of his skin, the slight tremor in his voice, the man's heart coming to Gilbert ears in a rhythm too fast for casual conversation, sinking his feet into the snow as he raised one of his eyebrows sceptically, why would he lie about his daughter's wellbeing?

The icy wind enveloped them, blowing between them like a premonition, blinking slowly before nodding slowly “Thank you for seeing me, sir. I'm sorry to have interrupted your day”.

His neck stretched painfully as the door opened slowly, his heart beating arrhythmically as he took a deep breath through his nose.

His mouth went dry in a matter of seconds.

Gilbert’s vision was slow to focus as Marilla opened the door, her skin paper—white and her eyes fixed frantically on him, leaving such a small space that he could only see one side of her face, listening to her panic—driven heartbeat the moment he was able to regain control of his body. She was horrified, and Gilbert couldn't seem to find his tongue, or the control of his muscles. Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and he didn't know how to respond when the woman spoke in a voice gripped with terror, “Gilbert?”.

Find her.

“Mrs. Cuthbert” his voice came out too deep for his liking, his jaw tensing as the woman closed the door even further in surprise at the depth of his tone, his alpha growling under his breath menacingly at the thought of being locked out like this. Gilbert had so many questions, and he couldn't leave without any answers, least of all when his head had begun to process the most exquisite scent he had ever smelled in his entire life. He feared his legs would begin to tremble beneath him, licking his lips, pupils expanding into black eyes that possessed no meaning other than hunger “It's good to see you again”.

What was that scent? He had to place his fists behind his lower back, muscles tensing violently, his reasoning slipping from his fingertips in a matter of seconds. He couldn't think. Sebastian must have referred to this kind of sensation when he tasted hallucinogenic foods on extended trips, or when his other companions shared strange drinks that made them laugh until they cried and then vomit for hours on the soles of their shoes — but Gilbert knew it wasn't supposed to be this. It couldn't be. It was more, much more. His mouth filled with saliva, his lungs breathing deeply a scent that seemed to caress him but was too far away to be reached; his heart seemed to have a new rhythm, his alpha and his head a new purpose, as if for the first time in his life, since his presentation, Gilbert became one being. There was no alpha and Gilbert Blythe, they were one, and that fragrance seemed to seal itself in his nerves, in his soul, in his body that moved of its own accord as he sensed Marilla wanting to close the door in his face, consumed by the scent that bathed him in flames, sharpening and tuning his senses, his instincts, his desires and longings and his entire center in that scent that seemed to seek him out, tempting him with every breath he took, eyes tinged black “What is that?”.

Matthew was transfixed in place, his paranoia rising and the desire to find her and confusion beginning to choke him.

“What are you doing here?” Marilla asked as his alpha was beginning to consume him, making him dizzy, inviting the urge to bare his teeth at her and command her to step aside at the thought of getting away from that smell, at the thought that Anne might be nearby and he couldn't touch her. Gilbert was deeply confused, frowning, his body and mind turning in on itself as he could make out the calm in the woman's voice countering with a heartbeat akin to a heart on the verge of failure from panic. Did she not know that Gilbert could hear her terror and her lies, smell the faint trace of sweat from the horror of lying to an alpha looking him in the eye? It must have been very important to keep him outside, to put her body up as a barrier knowing there wasn't much she could do if his alpha decided otherwise “You look sick, and we're not having visitors. You need to go”.

He breathed once more, a low growl leaving his chest, his hands beginning to tremble as he could discern the sweet fragrance of vanilla, peaches, the salty breeze of the sea, the scent of sun kissed skin, warm as the embers of the fireplace and so moist it seemed to weigh on his tongue as if he was closing his mouth around a spoonful of honey, melting in his mouth and consuming his decency and his humanity and everything that didn't consist of trying to find the source of that scent before he lost his mind “What's going on? What is that?”.

“You need to go, boy” Matthew warned, taking one of his shoulders without a doubt when Gilbert grunted under his breath at being touched unexpectedly, plunged into a state of confusion and obvious vulnerability, not giving an inch when Marilla began muttering requests under her breath.

“I think you should accompany him, Matthew. He's clearly confused”.

His head and his decisions were committed by his alpha with too much determination to feel guilt for the plight of the poor woman trying to keep an alpha away from her; Gilbert could only hear her name repeating over and over again, like a warning, his dark eyes fixing her in place as he spoke once more, unable to disguise the trembling in his hands, waves of uncontrollable sensations so intense that the air left his lungs every time he tried to breathe through his nose “Tell me where she is”.

His vision seemed to darken at the edges, the hoarse growl stuck in his chest beginning to be released as Marilla shook her head, fighting the natural submission her body wanted to bestow in response to a confused and angry alpha. Gilbert didn't want to be this, didn't want to become an animal, a beast; he breathed through his mouth with effort, his body trembling with the restraint of his own mind at his longings, confusion closing his lungs and throat — he'd never felt this way before, like he was on the verge of losing control, the worry and doubt making him dizzy, the anguish of knowing if Anne was near, if she was okay, if he was the only one affected by the scent that seemed to cloud his senses and take over his body and his will and his desires. He let out a growl between his teeth, closing his eyes and beginning to shake his head, sweat covering his back and chest, panting as if he had spent hours under the sun in high temperatures instead of through a snowy forest “Gilbert, you need to leave”.

“Tell me where she is” he demanded, knuckles tinged white, his scent heavy and laden with possessiveness and danger forcing her to look down, not taking a step back despite being horrified “Tell me she's okay”.

“She—” Marilla began to stammer, the cold wind ruffling her skin, a shiver crawling up her spine as her eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to explain once more “Anne—”.

She's hurt. She's hurt, and she's alone. Find her.

“Tell me” the height difference was absurd, something akin to remorse whispering in the back of his head as Gilbert felt relief as he watched the woman's composed expression disarm, as if she could be convinced with his worried eyes and pleading scent. He had to find her; he had to find her first and he could explain and apologize later. Nothing else mattered if he couldn't see her, if he couldn't hold her close. Gilbert was capable of anything, and things far worse than breaking boundaries with the woman he respected all his life “Please. I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to see her”.

“You can't do that” Marilla whispered, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, breathing through his nose accidentally and feeling the world spin beneath his feet, practicing unnatural strength not to begin searching for the source of the scent himself, hunting it down until he found it; it could be nothing other than a divine creation, made to drag men into madness, his sharp teeth pricking his tongue as the woman murmured again “This was a big mistake, Gilbert, you have to leave. You can't stay here”.

“I don't understand what you're talking about” his head began to ache, the characteristic agony behind his eyes returning with the similar force to those of a heartbeat, growling through his teeth as he tried to concentrate again, the familiar fire of his rut burning in his muscles slowly, his skin sticky with the sweat of his longing and his effort to maintain control “I don't understand what's going on, what is that scent, what's wrong with me?”.

“Gilbert, you're confused” Matthew replied, trying to resolve the situation in a peaceful way by speaking softly, unable to fool him by the tell-tale beat of his heart sounding in his head. Liar. Liar. She was sick, and a scent was coming from within, ready to end his poor sanity “You must go. You're scaring Marilla, and you're going to worry Anne if she's able to hear you. Be a good boy and leave”.

“Don't you feel it?” how could they not feel it when Gilbert believed his insides were on fire, when his lungs seemed to fill with the divine aroma, his tongue tasting the flavor of an elixir that was fused into the beating of his heart and the blood coursing through his veins? He took steps back, consciousness struggling to control him, his alpha growling deafeningly in his ears “I can't be the only one. This can't be possible”.

Gilbert had never experienced this. He had never read or heard anything similar in his life to what was happening to him, his alpha clawing at his insides and growling as if it wanted to split his chest and crawl out of his body with sheer force of will and violence, the longing and hunger consuming him like poison. He could not discern the moment when he had ripped off the coat that covered him, the sweat bathing his skin, the veins in his arms standing out from the force of his fists in an effort to contain the almost absolute loss of control over himself. His heart seemed to overtake the grumbling noise in his chest, closing his eyes to focus on his surroundings, until reality hit him like a bucket of cold water; it wasn't his own heartbeat, it was pounding.

Blows. Banging coming from inside the house. From upstairs, perhaps. From Anne. He couldn't react in time before Marilla closed the door, reinforcing it with a lock, leaving him alone with a man whose face was pale with panic but who was unwilling to take his eyes off him, off his movements, holding the heavy shovel in his hands with knuckles tinged white with force. Gilbert didn't need several seconds to know that Matthew was ready to hit him with it, hurt him if necessary; his alpha wanted to bare his teeth, his vision staining red for a few seconds at the thought of Anne locked in her own room, banging things with her bare hands for attention, far out of his reach. Nausea wanted to rise in his throat, the confusion and worry being more than Gilbert could bear, licking his lips before he quietly enunciated, “She's sick. She's sick and you’re keeping her locked up like an animal”.

Anger coursed through him like a dark poison, his heart pumping adrenaline and danger and his sanity and patience being controlled by a thin thread of awareness, of thinking through his actions before lunging towards Matthew and pinning him to the ground. He was not weak enough to be stopped with the blow of heavy metal, least of all when he felt the sweet taste of the unknown smell on his tongue, willing to crawl for the rest of his life if necessary to keep it. Matthew seemed on the verge of breaking down when he replied “It's for her own good, Gilbert, but we don't expect you to be able to understand. You're going to leave, and if you want to keep her safe, you're not going to say a word about this”.

He was threatening him. A smile almost stretched across his lips, deciding to pull his hair painfully with his own hands, putting distance between them. He had to concentrate. Anne loved Matthew, Anne was happy at Green Gables, he couldn't touch them. Gilbert couldn't do anything that would mean the slightest discomfort to her. He tried to reason once more, “Tell me she's all right. Tell me a doctor came to see her”.

“Anne will be fine” he assured him, his shoulders still tense. Gilbert felt like he was going to pass out the second he got far enough from the scent that seemed capable of killing him, his body trembling slightly from the strain of his control, his skin burning, clammy, his nature consuming him with hunger and savagery “But you have to promise, Gilbert, that you won't tell anyone else. No one can know she is ill if we wish her to stay with us. If the rumor starts to spread outside doctors will come looking for her, and there will be no chance of Anne not being taken away from us”.

The growl rose in his throat without any warning, confusion knocking the wind out of him, shaking his head, “I feel sick. I feel like something is wrong”.

Matthew looked at him with something akin to grief in his eyes, as if he were a helpless, confused boy, trying to empathize with a reaction he would never be able to understand. Everything in him seemed to burn, as if he were in rut, his head spinning as Matthew insisted, “Promise me for her sake you won't say anything. Swear it, Gilbert. You don't understand what's at stake”.

Gilbert felt like he was going to break in two, the inhuman voracity of his alpha demanding that Anne was ill, that she needed him, that he was willing to do anything to find her and make sure with his own eyes that she was well, that he could care for her as no other would be able to. The repetition was becoming sickening, closing his eyes tightly to distract himself from the mine, mine, mine, mine prayer and his rationality that invited him to consider Matthew's words seriously; they were good parents, Anne was happy except for her erratic health, complaining about them with comfort and humor, knowing that she was content and contained by both of them every time she returned to Green Gables. He breathed in through his nose, the inexplicable scent burning his lungs, centering himself before swearing, “I swear. I promise I won't tell anyone”.

Matthew’s shoulders relaxed minimally as he asked again, “What's that scent, Matthew? Can't you feel it?”.

“I'm sorry, Gilbert” he sentenced, the snow reflecting on his face the determination of a man who earned his respects in the depths of his conscience. He had to believe in Anne, in them, knowing he had no choice.

His alpha seemed to think differently.

Gilbert vomited on the way home, a shiver running up his spine as he finished, wiping his mouth with his sweat—covered coat. His body was failing, his alpha weighing on his muscles, blurring his vision and drying his mouth; anger vibrated through him, its putrid scent expressing itself on his damp skin, trembling slightly as he managed to survive the walk and get through his front door. Delphine instead of crawling towards him with admirable speed when she saw him coming stood frozen in place, unable to acknowledge him, before bursting into tears; Mary was quick to lift her into her arms, looking up at him with wide eyes before muttering “Gilbert, what happened? What's wrong?”.

Sebastian caught his scent from a distance, hearing his wife's comment as comical, raising his voice from the kitchen with a smile painted on his lips “What happened, wolf, did she come back with a ring on her hand?”.

The growl he emitted echoed off the walls, his throat closing at the memory of Anne locked in her sick room, the mystery surrounding her beginning to kill him. His vision dimmed for a few seconds until he regained consciousness, his knuckles tinged white as he clung to the doorframe to keep from falling through the weakness of his trembling legs. His body seemed empty, as if he had felt whole for the first time before the only part of him that seemed to be his was ripped away — Sebastian appeared in front of him with eyes unhinged, jaw tense in anger and distrust “Have you lost your mind, snarling like that inside our house? Who do you think you are?”.

“Sebastian, wait—” Mary spoke softly, alighting in front of him to take him by the shoulders, preventing him from moving any closer to Gilbert while still looking at him with an expression he'd never seen on her face before. As if he were a beast.

He stepped back, the icy wind hitting his face, filling his lungs, trying to regain control over himself, shame beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach despite the whirlwind that seemed to shake him to the point of not recognizing himself “I'm sorry. I don’t…”.

Sebastian broke the distance between them, grabbing him by the shoulders, his fingers sinking into him painfully as he took him in desperately, studying his expression with a frown “Gilbert, what's wrong with you? You look dead”.

“I don't understand what's wrong” he blinked slowly, shaking his head weakly when Sebastian wanted to pull him inside by pushing him “No, I don't want to scare you. I don't know what's wrong with me”.

“Don't be silly” Mary replied, wiping the tears from her baby's cheeks before dragging a chair over to him and forcing him to sit down with a look that was enough to bite his tongue “I'll get you something salty to eat”.

The mere thought of ingesting food forced Gilbert to take a deep breath to fight the nausea, balling his hands into fists and raising his dark eyes to look at his friend curiously. His expression was alarmingly serious, breathing through his mouth to keep his scent heavy and annoying away, the candlelight not revealing enough to decipher his thoughts “I thought your rut was weeks ago”.

Gilbert frowned, removing his damp shirt quickly, the room and the heat of the flames beginning to close in on him as if he were trapped, taking in the flesh Mary offered with his own fingers. The salt dissolved on his tongue quickly, unable to help him with the deadly, nauseating sensation that seemed to weigh on his muscles, on his eyelids, the voice hoarse as he replied, “It was weeks ago”.

“And why do you smell like you're on the verge of one?” Gilbert stopped chewing, eyes unfocused as he began to think of the possibilities, letting the air out of his nose as Sebastian pointed at him with one of his hands “Look at you, Gilbert, what did you do to end up like this?”.

“I didn't do anything” his voice sounded low as he answered, anger growing in him abruptly and uncontrollably like a wave, standing up to put space between them, the irrational feeling of feeling trapped starting to bother him even more “Something's wrong”.

“Maybe you'd feel better after a bath and some sleep” Mary suggested, looking at him with something akin to pity and stroking Delphine's head, who was merely looking at him curiously, still intimidated to ask to be lifted by him “If you keep feeling that way in the morning we can call a doctor to come and see you”.

The memory made him let out a low growl of frustration, enraged at himself and his poor control as Delphine began to sob softly, rubbing his face with one of his hands before slowly giving in, knowing that he should greatly repay for his attitudes for the rest of his days “I'm sorry, I really don't understand what's wrong with me. If I keep acting this way tomorrow I'll sleep outside without any arguments”.

“Sebastian is right” Mary spoke, almost a whisper, as if afraid to admit the reality out loud. Gilbert looked at her with expanded pupils, black hair damp from his own sweat and exertion, pale lips and the bones of his face more defined than usual “You smell of rut”.

“That can't be possible” he snorted, shaking his head and dizzily bending down to pick up the discarded clothes on the floor, the world spinning around him as he headed for the stairs, a shiver creeping up his spine “It's cyclical, regular. It can't be unexpected”.

“When you're sick, you don't smell like this” Sebastian argued, closing the door behind him, tired of the winter blizzard ruining the internal warmth of the house, the flames resisting the breeze “But I understand you're in no condition to debate it now. We'll take your dinner to your room, and you'll leave your plate clean, without protest”.

Nothing helped. The water seemed icy against his skin despite the steam, the food didn't fill his stomach or calm his dizziness, the moon was high in the sky when he knew, devastated, that he couldn't sleep with the stiff pressure in the center of his chest, unable to breathe, unable to think clearly. It all came back to Anne. It came back to the pounding that echoed inside him like his own heartbeat, the fear and uncertainty as he imagined what she must be going through, alone, sick, locked away, his alpha whispering promises in his ear over and over, like a prayer.

Look for her. Look for her. We can find her, take good care of her, not hide her. Heal her. Protect her. She won't have to suffer disease, hunger, or cold. We just have to find her. She wants to be found. She is waiting for us.

First it began as a silent movement to open his window, the icy air ruffling his skin in response, the pressure in his chest yielding slightly as he breathed and shivered, his consciousness suddenly quiet, his body submissive and attentive to the next decision to walk out of his room, only a shirt cladding his chest, his boots unlaced on his feet. Gilbert didn't feel cold if his skin was feverish, his mouth suddenly moist, sinking his feet into the snow until he let himself go, moving instinctively and mechanically through the darkness of the forest, far from being intimidated by its absolute silence, the creatures that might be watching him; nothing would be able to stop him. He was weak, abstracted, but still respectable, dangerous if he wished to be, blinking slowly as Green Gables appeared in his vision once more, snarling into the void and covering his face with his bare hands, what was he doing? Had he lost his mind?

He couldn't do this. He was not an animal, he had not lost his mind, he could not be driven by the delusional yearnings of his alpha, by the supernatural needs of his body and soul and unconsciousness. Gilbert was more than this, so much more, and Anne would never be able to forgive him, to look him in the eye, to even hold his hands one more time and smile sweetly and—.

Gilbert could hear his heartbeat, too faint, breathing deeply, hands trembling, until the reality fell upon him like a single, certain truth, like death assured. It was not him.

It was the blows. Her knocking, in the distance, calling out for him. Looking for him. Wanting to be found. Gilbert couldn't think twice, taking the fence in his hands and leaping over it, tired of wasting time. When he reached the tree by her window, chest rising and falling, his muscles seemed to widen to help him climb.

Everything burned.

         The moan of pain was absorbed by the ruined sheets of her bed, stretched out on the floor, wet with her saliva and her lust, crumpled from clenching her fists in them and sobbing uncontrollably when she could regain consciousness. Her muscles protested with every movement, her legs trembling when she had to spread them apart, her eyes burning from the heavy tears that fell down her cheeks, her lips cut from biting them without any restraint to be silent so she could distract herself from the absolute and eternal pain of her writhing interior, consumed by the flames of her heat, her omega taking her over with totality as the hours passed. There were moments where she lost consciousness of herself, blinking in confusion as she found her hands damp from trying to satisfy her body's ravenous need, her skin covered in sweat and burning her fingertips when she dared to touch the exposed, glistening glands of her neck, making her sigh as she stroked them, imagining with closed eyes how much she longed to feel sharp teeth against the sensitive skin of her throat.

         Anne was lost in the passage of time, confused as to how many hours, days or weeks had passed since she had been locked within the walls of her room, growling with frustration when she discovered food and water by the door, curious as to how her parents were able to predict when exhaustion was irresistible enough to enter her nest without disturbing her. This heat was undoubtedly the strangest and most painful she had experienced since her presentation as an omega — despite the impending loss of reasoning at the end of her cycle she used to remain aware of her surroundings, of the passing hours, of herself and her needs. Yet now she felt lost, lost in an endless limbo of pain, of insatiable lust and insufficient pleasure, her fingers and wrists beginning to ache with the feeble attempt to satisfy herself, the anguish starting to take over Anne with intensity when she could distract herself from the overwhelming longing to feel filled, tensing her jaw when the contractions were constant and unbearable, unable to devour the hot, fresh meals her mother prepared even during the harshness of winter, praying to escape from herself, begging for the culmination of her heat, a feeling of despair and worry settling in her heart when her omega whispered that something was wrong.

She knocked rhythmically and intentionally on the door so that she could be escorted to the bathroom, trying her hardest to hide the shivers that ran up her spine as the cool, cold winter air brushed against her, unable to control herself as she began to cry against her mother's chest in despair at how everything hurt, how her body burned, how she knew it would all pass if only her alpha was near.

         Alpha, alpha, alpha.

         Her mind, her heart and soul seemed to depend on him, on his memory, on deluding herself with the mere possibility that Gilbert could be there, that he could caress her with large hands and his rough touch, trembling at the overwhelming imagination of his body against hers, touching her breasts, her back, the tender skin of her hip, her intimate part wet, sensitive and on the verge of breaking as she touched herself uselessly thinking that Gilbert might be doing it instead. That Gilbert might be with her, close, so close that his growl could pierce her, bristling at the deep husky memory of his voice, of his black pupils studying her, of the exact words he knew how to say to leave her trembling, the edge of his teeth biting her glands with just the right amount of pressure, the insane idea that he could smell her omega and want to bathe in her scent, allow himself to be marked by her, lick her until he made her scream, tears falling into her eyes at the emptiness in her belly, the ache inside her contracting at the absence of her alpha, trembling as she settled on the floor to begin touching herself and—.

         There you are. 

Chapter Text

Her body moved on its own, her legs trembling from the weakness of her muscles, her skin glistening with sweat, bristling from the violent fever, her hands damp with the frustrating product of her insatiable pleasure. The high temperatures must have finally ruined her mind; it couldn’t be possible to visualize the shadow of a man near her window, it shouldn’t be real to feel the intense scent of Gilbert filling her lungs, burning her skin, dragging her to madness.

It wouldn’t be the first time that, in the midst of her feverish delirium, she had visualized her alpha nearby, able to lick away her pain, able to fill the emptiness inside her that seemed to be beginning to devour her. Anne, in the middle of hell, knew that something was wrong, that she wasn’t going through a normal heat— Anne never had lost track of time so absolutely, falling into unconsciousness frequently, her guts twisting as if they wanted to be expelled from her. She could distinguish the shadow of bones that hadn’t been there before, a result of not consuming the food her parents religiously left every day, her lips bloody and chapped from biting them to exhaustion and not drinking enough water, her head splitting from the pain of the endless fever and the eternal crying. She felt like she was dying.

Perhaps she was finally about to be consumed, and she sighed with delight when she brushed her fingertips against the fogged-up glass of her window. The difference in temperature between her room and the outside must have been brutal, the cold burning her skin when she clumsily tried to remove the latch, breathing in the burning scent of Gilbert as if he were really there, close. Her hands trembled uncontrollably when her eyes filled with tears, terrified of herself, pulling away from the window after a few seconds when she could discern what she was thinking, anguished that the hallucinations were becoming increasingly real to the point of considering that her heat and her omega had whimsically taken over her rationality after a lifetime of denial. Her chest contracted, panic squeezing her lungs, taking her heart in its claws and pressing her throat as if it were choking her, her eyes wild when the shadow stretched until it touched her window, desperately trying to lift it, falling noisily when the latch resisted the movement.

Time seemed to stop, her heart vibrating beneath her ribs, until her omega seemed to take control of her to start pumping adrenaline into her veins, the instinct of danger and survival forcing her to move backward, her back hitting her bed, a scream stuck in her throat when the shadow spoke “Anne”.

She breathed shakily, cold sweat covering her body, struggling to concentrate, trying to adjust to reality—there was a person outside her room, outside her window, and he smelled and sounded like Gilbert. Anne didn’t trust herself, her senses, her sticky, confused, and treacherous mind, her body uncovered when the voice spoke again, pushing her out of the fog of terror to immerse her in something much more pleasant and warm “Anne, don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you; I just want to make sure you’re okay. Let me in”.

She blinked slowly, her headache increasing to the point where the edges of her vision began to darken, her body disobeying all kinds of warnings as she crawled back toward the window, the demon inside her whispering sweetly in her head, expressing itself in her broken voice after so many days of inconsolable crying “Alpha”.

It didn’t make sense, nothing around her made sense, neither the illusion that Gilbert was outside her window, calling to her, nor that Anne was reaching out to allow him access as if her life depended on it. Anne was sure that once she opened the window and the only thing that brushed against her skin was the icy breeze, she wouldn’t have the strength to stay awake. Her cheeks were covered in tears, too weak to keep thinking about what was real and what was a creation of her fever, a voice exclaiming in the back of her head that it was dangerous, that there was a small detail she was overlooking, the desperation suffocating her with enough certainty to fix her scarce concentration on the clumsy movement of her fingers, a noise echoing in the space when she was finally able to open the window.

The fever couldn’t create what happened when the wind brushed her face.

Her lungs filled with an intoxicating scent, her skin burning to the point of emitting a low sound of pain, trembling incessantly beneath the shadow. Her back hit the floor, the room spinning around her, the intensity of her emotions pushing her to the brink of unconsciousness when she tried to take a desperate breath of air, something deafening raising goosebumps on her skin, suffocating her, her vision lost when she could understand what was happening — Gilbert was snarling over her.

His figure seemed to absorb the entirety of the world, his heat enveloping her like a curse, his scent making her dizzy and condemning her to perdition when she was able to focus her eyes on him, on the absolute blackness of his eyes, his damp lips, his dangerously disheveled raven hair. Anne gasped, parting her lips with the urge to scream, her heart on the verge of exploding at the horrific revelation that it was real, that he was growling over her, his eyes fixed on her face despite her being naked and covered in sweat, the revelation of her dynamic shattering something inside her when she could stammer “G—Gilbert, what are you…? What are you—?”.

She was going to lose consciousness. She was sure of it when the alpha growled low, squeezing his eyes shut before exhaling through his nose and leaning over her; his body wasn’t touching hers at any point, his broad muscles almost unnatural, chills running through him when she could hear his hoarse, consumed voice, knowing he was fighting against his own nature when he pronounced “What is that scent? What is happening?”.

Everything was lost. Her life, everything she loved, everything had been destroyed in a matter of seconds. Panic overwhelmed her, sobs climbing up her throat, trembling beneath him without being able to react, paralyzed. Her secret. The secret Gilbert so desperately desired to divine, pleading for it with desperation, thinking she could hide it, thinking her efforts would be enough to keep her own life. She was going to die, they were going to burn Green Gables to the ground, they were going to hunt her family and hang them on the cliffs by the sea to—.

“Omega” his voice rumbled through her body, stealing the air from her lungs, her heart whistling beneath her ribs when she looked at his face, the black pupils, his lips twisted in a growl when he lifted one of his hands. Anne tried to move, horrified when he pressed his palm to the center of her chest, and understood after a few seconds that his gesture wasn’t meant to imprison or abuse her, his attention never leaving her face and respecting her nudity when he pressed against her chest until he emptied her lungs. Tears blurred her vision, the consciousness that he knew who she really was breaking her soul, struggling to breathe when he released the pressure, repeating the action once more until Anne let out a pathetic sound of agony “Don’t cry, please. I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you. Breathe”.

"I'm sorry, I—I'm sorry, please, please," she sobbed, her voice breaking as Gilbert let out a rough sound of frustration, the difference in strength and size terrifying her for the first time since she had met him. Her reason and her nature were both consumed by panic, struggling to breathe as the silence stretched between them, and Anne tried to speak, desperate to do everything in her power to save her life. To save her family's life “I'll do whatever you want, Gilbert. I'll do anything, I'll do whatever you ask, but please, please don't—don't let them hurt my parents, I beg you, please, I'm begging you—”.

“Anne,” he called her name, his scent beginning to turn heavy, sour, reflecting her own, which after so many days she could no longer distinguish. She had never perceived her scent when she felt helpless, terrified, but she was sure it was the cause of the alpha's reaction when he took her face firmly “Anne, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt your parents. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I need you to breathe”.

Gilbert knew. Gilbert knew she was an omega. He had climbed the tree outside her room, and Anne had opened her window thinking it was an illusion. Gilbert knew her secret, Anne had revealed it to him, and now he was looming over her, battling the beast within that wanted to claim him, his body trembling with effort, his scent heavy and overwhelming because of her panic forcing her to cry even more. Anne wanted to move, wanted to get away from him, but her nature was beginning to calm at his scent, at his soft words that echoed in her consciousness. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, and she brought her hands to her throat, anguish consuming her as she tried to speak again, murmuring almost without air, “Gilbert, you can’t— I beg you, you can’t tell. They’ll come for me, they’ll kill me, they’ll hunt me if… they’ll—”.

Anne couldn’t think, digging her nails into the sensitive skin of her neck in a desperate attempt to fill her lungs with air, her throat tightening in panic, her eyes full of tears when Gilbert’s low growl deafened her once more. He looked her in the eyes and murmured something she couldn’t discern. She couldn’t hear him. The terror was greater than her reality, consuming her body, her sobs uncontrollable under his gaze. And then, amid the choked sounds of her attempts to breathe deeply, Gilbert uttered something low before prying her hands away from her throat, taking them in one of his own. The effortless strength he possessed squeezed her heart, horrified, until she felt the familiar tickle of his hair against her chin. Moments of confusion flickered through her panic until her world turned white, her chest abruptly filling with air.

Anne closed her eyes, a low, strangled sound escaping her damp lips as she felt the clear press of his teeth, the deep rumble of his growl against the frantic beat of her heart, her body frozen when Gilbert licked her neck; he was guided purely by instinct, finding the sensitive point of her throat within seconds, his hot mouth encasing it and grounding her reality with a single motion. Her insides twisted even in her fever, the confusion and fear and pleasure destabilizing her, the movement of his tongue forcing her to breathe, the scrape of his teeth melting her muscles, a shiver coursing through her entire being as he stretched her sensitive skin with the edge of his bite.

She inhaled deeply, her lungs filling with his warm and protective scent, the steady sound of his chest weighing on her eyelids, the fear ringing like an alarm in the back of her mind when her alpha pulled away from her neck, his lips glistening. The sour scent of her fear clung to his face, his eyes dark and his voice hoarse as he murmured with effort, “I’m sorry. Your heart was beating too fast, and you couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t think of anything else”.

Her body felt distant, her head aching as she tried to focus, her skin hypersensitive from the addictive sensation of teeth against her neck. Anne was in heat and the only alpha who had ever stirred something in her nature and consciousness was looming over her, studying her face, the waves of possession and protection rolling off his body lie waves. She had to fight the pain low in her belly, her omega purring as she stretched her face toward him, brushing her nose against the exposed gland of his neck, burning inside with the desire to be licked by him once more. No, no, there was something more important and the pressure in her chest returned as she registered that Gilbert was there, waiting for her reaction, her eyes filling with tears once again as she managed to ask, fragile, “What did you do, Gilbert? Why did you come? Why did you have to—?”

“Oh, Anne,” his voice held genuine pain as he grasped her shoulders, his warm hands burning against her fever-damp skin, covering her entirely as he pressed her against his chest, the low rumble vibrating against her flesh. They sat on the floor, his touch careful, restricted to her shoulders, his lips brushing over her hair as Anne let out a sharp sound of distress, the anguish tasting acidic on her tongue—a shiver ran through her alpha when she sobbed against his chest, breathing in his scent in ragged gasps “Allow me”.

She didn’t understand his words until he wrapped the nearby blanket around her, his supernatural restraint ignoring the lustful scent woven into it, his furrowed brow a picture of effort and concentration as he covered her properly. The tension in his jaw forced her to swallow audibly.

The tears kept falling, her heart began to race again as terror gripped her once more, her lower lip trembling when Gilbert shook his head and pulled her closer, pressing warm lips to her cheeks “Don’t cry, my love, please. You’re safe. Everyone is safe. Don’t be afraid”.

“Why are you here?” she sobbed, broken, the weight of her endless heat, of her lack of rest, water, and food began to make her dizzy, leaving her feeling fragile under the size of his hands, the analytical study of his eyes as he examined her in the dim moonlight—her dark under-eyes, her more pronounced cheekbones, her chapped lips “What did you do, Gilbert? What were you thinking?”

“I knew something was wrong,” he confessed quietly, and Anne felt her heart break, felt a piece of her soul splinter and turn black, putrid. She shook her head slowly as Gilbert continued speaking, his gaze locked onto her neck with an unreadable emotion in his eyes “Your parents wouldn’t let me see you, but I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I thought you were sick, that they had locked you away. I never imagined that you were actually—”.

I never imagined you were actually a monster, an abomination. Anne swallowed back the bile that scratched at her throat, covered in a cold sweat at just the thought of what Gilbert must be thinking.

“Please,” Anne choked out, on her knees, indifferent to how the blanket slipped from her shoulders, exposing the top of her torso. Trembling, pleading, panic squeezing her throat again “Please, Gilbert, I beg you. Keep this secret, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want, and I’ll understand, but I beg you not to tell anyone. They could come for my family, they could kill them, and they don’t— they don’t deserve that. I swear I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll do anything.”

A shadow flickered across his dark eyes, allowing the silence to stretch between them for the first time, the cold wind from the open window filling the room, the loud noise of their unsteady breaths, knowing Matthew and Marilla must not have woken up, too used to nights filled with her ceaseless distress. Her lower lip trembled with anxiety as Gilbert tilted his head, his scent pouring off him so intensely that she felt like she was drowning in it, her skin prickling in response to the disbelief and dominance in his tone “Do you truly believe I would be capable of that?”.

It felt like the blood had drained from her body, the air abandoning her lungs, the world crumbling beneath her in seconds — he wasn’t going to help her, even when she begged on her knees, even when she was willing to give him her life if he said yes, and she must have looked like a corpse when she shook her head “Gilbert, don’t do this to me. I beg you. You don’t know what they’re capable of if… if they find out. I’ve heard them, I’ve heard how they hunt them, how they’ll hunt me if—”.

Something in the air shifted when she couldn’t finish her sentence, a shiver running down her spine as she buried her face in her hands, breathing raggedly.

She didn’t want to imagine it, she didn’t want to think about it while she was in heat, while her body felt like it was splitting in two, breaking under the weight of worry and unnatural, dangerous, murderous fear, sobbing when Gilbert took her wrists in his hands, pulling them away from her face. The air caught in her chest, time stopped as she looked at him; in that instant, in that moment when her eyes met his, Anne knew—

She wasn’t looking at Gilbert.

She was looking at her alpha.

“If you believe for a single second,” he growled, fierce, exerting just enough pressure on her hands to keep her in place without hurting her, her eyes slightly widening in surprise, “That I would ever allow anyone to lay a hand on you, you are gravely mistaken.”

She took a deep breath, the overwhelming, heavy scent reaching her nose like a caress, her pupils as black as the night, the deep voice making her skin prickle, his growl deafening her ears when he broke the distance between them, knowing that Gilbert could still distinguish and smell her fear, her confusion, her doubts “You have no idea what I’m willing to do. You couldn’t imagine it”.

She nodded with glassy eyes, the world spinning around her from the weakness of her body and the strength of her emotions, sobbing when Gilbert pulled her against his chest, the vibration of his growl caressing her, a shiver running up her spine when the alpha stroked her exposed skin with hot hands, her body damp as he breathed deeply into her hair, her scent present on every part of her body for the first time in months. Anne struggled to regain control, the weight of relief and the searing fear forcing her to murmur, pressed against his clothes, “Please, you can’t tell anyone. No one can know. Matthew and Marilla—”.

The tips of his fingers moved her hair aside, revealing her shoulder blades and a part of her neck, caressing her throat delicately as Anne trembled under his hands “I would die before revealing your secret, Anne. I swear it on my own life. I would die before allowing anything bad to happen to you. I promise”.

Reality crashed down on her with such intensity that she thought she would lose consciousness, clutching at his clothes and sinking into his chest, the muffled sounds of her sobs silenced by the low growl of her alpha, who could do nothing but stroke her gently and wrap her in his arms, desperate to chase away her anguish, to fix everything, to protect her. Anne couldn't think, trembling, shaking her head as she began to murmur anxiously, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I knew it was dangerous, I knew I shouldn’t have, and I let it happen anyway, I let this happen, and I hate myself. I hate myself for trapping you in this, I hate myself for—”.

“Anne,” he responded, taking her face in his hands, feeling the faint tremor in his fingers from the helplessness of not being able to calm her, his voice calling for his omega to surface “Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel it?”.

Anne couldn’t answer, stunned when Gilbert leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, the hot air of his sigh brushing against her tear-streaked face, smiling softly before saying, “You smell like vanilla, like a bonfire, like gardenias, like honey. You smell like everything I’ve ever wanted”.

Gilbert leaned in once more, kissing her cheeks, rubbing his face against hers, indifferent to her tears or her poor appearance after so many days of neglect. Anne was still trembling, too tired to keep resisting, to be afraid, to keep pretending that she didn’t trust him, that she wouldn’t follow him with her eyes closed after hearing him, after he had proven it since the first time she had laid eyes on him, sighing shakily when her alpha kissed her forehead, looking at him curiously when he sat against the bed and carefully positioned her on his lap. Anne didn’t protest when he covered her again with the sheet, a contented noise coming from his chest when her omega nestled her head against his neck, breathing in his scent after days of endless torture. It felt like paradise in the middle of hell, his warmth cutting through her fever and curling her up with care, biting her lips nervously when Gilbert stroked her over the sheets “Gilbert”.

She inhaled his scent deeply, still anxious, her omega scratching at his chest, her body responding when a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, clenching her jaw and moving her hand to her stomach, sweat beginning to glisten on her neck, on her collarbones “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”.

Anne didn’t have time to answer, a low sound of pain rising from her throat when Gilbert took her by the shoulders, pulling her away from him to touch her forehead and neck, ignoring the shiver that ran through her when he touched her exposed glands. She could see Gilbert, she could remember everything that had just happened, but it was starting to become something minor, unimportant, as she began to feel how truly close he was after so long of wanting him, begging to have him near, to fill her lungs with his heavy, possessive scent, to see how bright his lips looked after licking her neck. Gilbert. Alpha “Anne, you’re burning up. How many days have you had this fever?”.

His voice. His voice sounded beautiful. She sighed as she placed her hands on his chest, a low purr escaping her throat as she leaned close to him to brush their noses together, the sheet starting to rub against her irritably, remembering her disheveled nest with frustration, stroking her wrists over her alpha’s shoulders to mark him desperately. Why hadn’t she done this before? She must be a terrible omega, she thought, when Gilbert took her wrists and pushed them away abruptly, her turn to watch the shivers shake his shoulders “Anne, I need you to explain what’s happening. Are you sick?”.

Her alpha wasn’t pleased with her, her nature murmured sadly, her eyes filling with tears until Gilbert saw them and shook his head, frustration expressed through his scent, wanting to comfort her as he stroked her arms with concern “Don’t cry, sweetheart, I just want to know what you feel so I can take better care of you. Tell me what hurts”.

She held back her sobs, wiping her cheeks with trembling hands when she was finally able to murmur brokenly, “Everything, alpha. I can’t take it anymore. Everything burns”.

How could he not understand, how could he not see what she needed? Her consciousness lay deep within her, feeling like everything she desired was happening without hesitation, without thoughts of doubt or confusion coursing through her as her omega took care of her. Her skin burned, scorched, bathed in cold sweat when the icy winter wind made her shiver, blinking slowly when Gilbert growled something unintelligible and set her down, closing the window completely and inspecting the room.

Why couldn’t he look at her, give her all his attention instead of moving away from her? She pulled the sheet from her body irritably, annoyed by the constant friction, wiping the sweat from her forehead when she lifted her gaze, watching Gilbert through her lashes with curiosity, immensely enjoying how he kept his distance, his body tense, his broad muscles, his dominant scent reaching her nose as if he wanted to devour her. She was his. Anne blinked slowly at her alpha’s dark pupils studying her every movement, at his parted lips, at his fists clenched at his sides. He had come to find her, to see her after she had called for him so many times, he had comforted her, he had sworn to protect her—how could she not be enchanted by him?

She began to crawl toward him, her legs trembling slightly with the desire to be touched by his hands, when a deafening growl paralyzed her in place, sitting on the floor halfway and pressing her legs together, her chest rising and falling as Gilbert said, “Anne, you’re not thinking clearly. You don’t want this. It would be better if… if you didn’t come so close, okay?”.

Her moment of lucidity had been brief when he entered through her window, completely consumed by her nature when the force of his rejection felt like a stab wound, clenching her hands into fists and letting out a sharp sound of distress, her scent turning sour and acidic, causing the alpha to take a small step forward, weak and fragile at the slightest sign of his omega’s discomfort “Anne—”.

“It hurts,” she whispered, looking at him through her lashes, the moonlight illuminating her sweat-slicked skin as if she were an angel granted by the winter stars, her voice soft as if trying to lure him like the siren tales he had heard endlessly at sea, her scent filling the room and making his mouth water. Anne could see it, could feel it when her alpha dropped to his knees, still taller than her when she tried to move, heat coloring her cheeks when the alpha held her in place with his dark gaze in warning “It hurts so much, alpha. Everything burns, and it makes me cry so much that I feel like I won’t survive it, and the emptiness is unbearable. I feel like I’m going to die if you don’t touch me”.

His alpha swallowed audibly, black eyes, tense jaw, and the veins in his hands standing out from the force exerted in his fists, his messy black hair, his large legs beneath his weight. Anne could remember his thighs perfectly, could remember how they felt against her, could imagine how much she would enjoy sitting there and allowing him to kiss her neck while holding her by the hips. His voice sounded restrained, too hoarse to be natural, filling her chest with pride when she could distinguish how, for the first time, he allowed his eyes to slide over her exposed body “Anne, is this... is this like when alphas have cycles? Is that what you feel?”.

“It's a heat,” she nodded obediently, wanting to show him that she could be good for him, that she could be perfect, letting her arms fall to her sides so he could study her collarbones, her chest, her stomach, her thighs. Anne began crawling again, a slight sense of triumph washing over her when Gilbert bumped into the wall, unable to stand, hypnotized by her, by the intoxicating, lustful, and overwhelming scent that must have been responsible for the bulge forming in his pants “I couldn't stop thinking about you, Gilbert. About how I wanted you to come for me, about how I wanted you to take care of me”.

Gilbert swallowed audibly, breathing unevenly as he licked his lips, clenching his jaw and almost baring his teeth in a threatening manner when Anne reached out to touch him with the tip of her fingers “Anne, you're not thinking clearly. You don't want this. You wouldn't choose this if you were conscious”.

“I am thinking clearly,” Anne replied, studying him carefully—the slight sweat covering his exposed skin, his dominant and possessive scent overwhelming her, the strength of his muscles as he dug his fingers into his own leg to keep from touching her by accident. Anne could see him as clearly as the full moon illuminated the paths, as she could find him in rooms full of people, as she could follow him with her eyes closed “You are my alpha. No one else can touch me, no one else can come close to me”.

The low growl from Gilbert made her tremble, the friction of her legs against her most sensitive part making her sigh, feeling the sweet lubrication of her body staining her thighs, watching with dilated pupils as her alpha tried to move away from her, cornered in her room, fighting with all his strength to make sure Anne wanted this, as if he couldn't see the desire wetting her skin, her heavy breathing, her sweet scent inviting him to come just a little closer “I have to go”.

“No,” Anne murmured, desperate, grabbing his ankle and reveling almost inhumanly when her alpha inhaled through his nose, struggling to tear his gaze away from her “How can I prove to you that I won't regret this?”.

“I know you don't want this,” Gilbert shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his neck exposed before her like an elixir, making her euphoric at the thought of kissing it with her lips “I have to go, and we will talk about this when you are not—when you are not in heat”.

Her poor boy. He looked on the verge of death just thinking about it, looking at her as if she were a punishment. The desperation to keep him close forced her omega to retreat, making room for rationality, her tongue moving on its own “Gilbert, I don't want to force you to do anything you can't think clearly about. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't control it—”.

“Anne,” he murmured, low, deep. Anne blinked, breathing heavily through her lips, cracked from the intensity of her emotions—fear, confusion, and something akin to ecstasy coursing through her veins as Gilbert licked his lips “Ask me to leave”.

She swallowed, her skin prickling, her heart beating irregularly, her mind clouded, knowing she should send him away, knowing she needed to recover, to think about how Gilbert now knew who she truly was, knowing it was dangerous, wrong. Knowing it was a sin, knowing it felt like she was made for him. To be looked at this way. 

Anne did not answer, clasping her hands in her lap. Her silence was worth the trust of a lifetime, her purity, her worth.

It was not an instant change—it took several seconds for Gilbert’s eyes to turn completely black, a full minute before he moved toward her, slow, and Anne knew there was no point in denying it. Her consciousness, her nature, her soul, every part of her longed for him with the certainty of past lives, craved him with the force of entire oceans, and when Gilbert broke the distance between them, his breath warm against her lips, Anne was the first to kiss him.

Chapter Text

Kissing him felt like worlds colliding.

         She had spent her entire existence hiding, fearing for her life, wondering why it had to be her, why everything had to be calculated, lies, betrayals, fear. So much fear. All because of unrealistic beliefs she couldn’t refute, all because of faith channeled in the wrong way, all because of the violence and terror of ignorance. All because of myths, of hatred, of envy —Anne had to be the one to pay for the sin of collective ignorance, of violence dressed up in benevolence, faith and charity, tolerant of their disgust, their wrongs, their sins. She had to bear it when she walked paths, when she exchanged words, when she tried to fulfil her dreams, to overcome her fears, struggling to catch up with the rest, struggling to surpass them.

         But now, now she didn’t have to hide. Now she didn’t have to pretend, she didn’t have to lie, she didn’t have to run. It was her, exposed, raw, real. And she was being consumed.

         Her skin bristled as Gilbert lunged at her, her back hitting the ground once more, struggling to breathe before his alpha caught her lips between his. Anne had spent a lifetime hiding, and Gilbert seemed to have been searching for her in the entirety of his; the touch seemed electric, addictive, as their hot, feverish, wet skins touched, trembling imperceptibly beneath him, her heart humming in her chest, at his fingertips, making her gasp as her alpha pressed their foreheads together, his hot, stirring scent falling over her face “Tell me you want this”.

         Anne could spot her alpha in a room full of people, could find him in the middle of the dark, could lure him in with just the caress of her hands. He was hers, hers when he looked at her with dark eyes, absolutely devoted to her, the tension in his shoulders and jaw, his veined hands pulling away from her in a feeble attempt at control, the deep growl of his chest making her throb. His possessive, masculine, devoted scent filled her lungs, causing the blood in her veins to boil, dripping, parting her lips in desperation as her alpha looked hungrily at her, resting one of his hands on her neck, breathing shakily as Anne let out a low moan of pleasure, sensitive at the hot brush against her glands “Tell me”.

         “Yes” yes, yes, yes, yes. Her body seemed asleep, straining to take his wrist, the fever starting to make her dizzy, the ache in her lower stomach expanding until her eyes filled with tears “Please, alpha, please. It hurts, it hurts so much, I need—”.

         “Don't cry, sweetheart, please,” he murmured low, his worried tone causing a shiver to run up her spine as he leaned close to her, the moon illuminating the side of his face as he watched her adoringly. Anne bit the tip of her tongue as Gilbert kissed her jaw, her nails sinking into the hand that caressed her throat reflexively “You break my heart every time I see you cry. Tell me what you need”.

         Anne blinked rapidly, trying to concentrate, her cheeks burning at his proposal, parting her lips despite not knowing what to answer, the weight of his actions crashing down on her with lightning speed; Gilbert Blythe was in her room while she was naked, in heat, and had made sure she was conscious to get her consent, asking her what she needed so he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to. Everything burned, searing hot, her insides writhing in agony at his hesitation, closing her eyes tightly as she felt she would melt if she wasn’t touched by him “I need you, Gilbert. Please touch me, touch me, touch me—”.

         Gilbert kissed her, his hand leaving her throat to take hold of her jaw, silencing her and pinning her in place — he was a patient, honest, analytical man, but right now he seemed consumed by the uncontrollable desire to devour her, his lips brushing against hers, his teeth taking her lips, the growl of his chest ripping through her, sighing against her as Anne reached out and gripped his shoulders tightly, desperate to hold him close. Anne let out a sob as their hips touched, the stiff bulge in his trousers grinding against her wet, sensitive part, feeling on the verge of breaking when her alpha growled over her, correcting her, “Don't move”.

         She was going to break. She was going to break, and she was going to descend into madness, biting her tongue to stifle a scream when her alpha grabbed the hair on the bottom of her head, stretching her neck painfully to expose her throat, his growl deafening her ears. She could feel his warmth, the firmness of his muscles, the possessiveness in his gestures, his scent, his gaze burning over her as he studied her., “I'm going to eat you whole, is that what you want?”.

         Anne couldn’t answer, couldn’t move as she felt Gilbert leaning over her, could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of her neck, the exposed glands of her throat moistening at the mere attention of his alpha as he blew cold wind over them, chuckling low as Anne shivered in response to the sensation, “You're perfect. Perfect”.

         Anne moaned gutturally as Gilbert broke the distance, licking her neck with his hot tongue, making her shiver and writhe beneath him, her world staining white and bringing her abruptly back to reality, the insides of her legs moistening, her body turning to exposed nerves, burning heat as his alpha brushed his teeth against shiny skin, sighing heavily at the lustful, sweet scent that began to fill his lungs, driving him mad. Anne dug her nails uselessly against the coated skin of his shoulders, tears streaming down her cheeks as it all became too much in too little time “Alpha...”.

         She couldn’t string whole sentences together, staring at him with glazed eyes as Gilbert pulled away from her neck with effort, a shiver running through his body, the beast watching her obsessively, roaming her face intently; her lips moist and swollen, her pupils bright, her neck marked by him. Anne reached out her trembling hand towards him, tugging at his shirt to hint at what she wanted, swallowing audibly as Gilbert mumbled something under his breath and yanked it off, his chest firm and his muscles marked in accordance with the rustic labor of the farm, skin glistening under the moon. Her breath caught in her chest as he came up to kiss her cheeks, breathing into her skin deeply, growling low as he murmured, “Come here”.

         The room spun as Gilbert took her effortlessly in his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips instinctively, biting her bottom lip hard when Anne felt her breasts brush against his, a shiver running up her spine as she tried not to sob from the pain, explosive pleasure burning her skin as his alpha licked from the bottom of her neck to her jaw, addicted to the bittersweet taste of her exposed gland and the sweat on her body. When he laid her gently on the mattress, hovering over her, Anne’s cheeks were streaked with tears, the agony after so many days bringing her close to madness and exhaustion, her body protesting not getting what it needed despite submitting her to the torture to get it “It hurts, Gilbert, please—”.

         The moon dimly illuminated her messy room, the door locked by her mother, her sheets stretched on the floor, her nest disarmed and being occupied by an alpha who seemed ready to hand her his heart on a silver platter as he silenced her with his lips, kissing her slowly, making her shiver as he caressed her jaw with one of his thumbs, his free hand brushing his fingertips against the center of her torso until he made her sigh “You’re made for me. You’re mine”.

         Anne couldn’t answer, her eyes turning white as he gently touched one of her breasts, the slightest sensation pushing her over the edge, her breathing becoming arrhythmic with desperation to feel him closer, parting her lips to beg again as he removed his hand from her jaw, cupping her throat with just enough pressure to silence her “Breathe, Anne, don’t you want me to touch you?”.

         Anne wanted to claw at him, the frustration of not being touched by him even as she lay wet and exposed beneath his attention after so many days of fever and pain was enough to feel the frustration and anger filling her chest, her scent turning slightly spicy before her unresponsive nose as she answered with effort from lack of air “If you’re not going to do it, you’ll have to lean back and watch how—”.

         Gilbert exerted a little more pressure on her throat just as he brushed his fingertips against her wet flesh, the mere touch sending electric shocks throughout her body, her lungs emptying of air as her alpha spoke, the husky voice bristling her skin “Don't challenge me, omega”.

         Anne thought she was going to fall apart beneath him, becoming a liquid substance under his attention, sinking her nails against the hand pressing her throat until she could focus her vision on her alpha, lips slightly parted, his scent making her dizzy to the point she thought she would lose her mind — the caress was so light she was afraid to imagine it, her hips lifting pathetically to chase his fingers, stifling a cry as her alpha brushed his fingers once more against her most exposed and sensitive part, throbbing whimsically at the fragile caress, wanting to hurt him when she knew Gilbert wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, what she needed by touching her slowly, spaced out, torturously. Her thighs were slick with her lust, her legs trembling faintly with the desperation of pursuing him, biting her lower lip hard enough to feel blood when Gilbert growled low, consumed “You have to be a good girl if you want me to make you feel better, Anne”.

         Her omega sobbed as he brushed his knuckles against her clit, pushing them away as Anne lifted her hips to cause friction between them, gripping her hips hard, squeezing her thighs, his touch burning everything in its path as he kept her pinned down by holding her by the throat. The brush of his fingertips against one of her glands was enough to make her respond in a small, desperate voice, “I’ll be good, Gilbert. I’ll be very good, please, please—”.

         “Pretty thing” Gilbert sighed in contentment as Anne cried silently, her body feeling like exposed nerves as she relaxed, gluing her hips to the mattress and not trying to squeeze her legs as Gilbert watched her devotedly, eyes so black she feared for a few seconds he’d be ready to bite her if she showed him her neck for a few seconds “You’re going to ruin me”.

         Anne didn’t move, closing her eyes tightly as Gilbert took one of her ankles, resting her leg on his shoulders as he slowly kissed her calves, a low moan escaping her throat at the sensations coursing through her entire body. He breathed deeply against her skin, filling himself with her, his growl beginning to vibrate through her as he began to lose control of himself, leaning down to nip at her skin with his teeth, the stained skin of her thighs being licked by him until his restraint reached a limit, murmuring low words through his delirium “Will you be quiet, princess?”.

         “Yes” Anne replied, breathless, trembling and burning and collapsing, when she could watch Gilbert with white knuckles parting her legs, lips glistening, his control straining by a thread so thin Anne knew just the right words would be enough to break it “Please, alpha, no one else, no one else can—”.

         She sank her face into the pillow as Gilbert growled, leaning back enough to breathe heavy on her wet flesh, the change in temperature pushing her over the edge in a matter of seconds, melting and cracking as she felt his tongue caress her. The world disappeared and distorted around her, the hot wet caress of his tongue against her center making her cry out, the direct sensation causing her to want to pull away from him and rub against his mouth at the same time, struggling to catch her breath as Gilbert dug his fingers into her hips to lock her in place, furious at the mere thought of pulling away from her and stop devouring her. The wait since she’d met him, since she’d kissed him for the first time, since he’d brushed his teeth against her neck, as he pressed their foreheads hidden together in the darkness of dusk, expressing itself in her bristling body, her heart on the verge of exploding, pleasure and hunger shielding her reasoning and her senses, her muscles moving on their own as Gilbert closed his lips around her clit, sucking.

         It was all too much. Too much as she tried to breathe, wanting to pull away from him on instinct and having no choice but to take again and again what Gilbert decided to give her, the pleasure growing inside her like a bomb on the verge of exploding, her hands shooting into his hair as she pulled hard, tears covering her cheeks when Gilbert broke away for mere seconds to bite the inside of her thighs sharply, black eyes locking on her as he took her wrists in one of his hands, the movement of his mouth coming back to ruin her, pushing her limits to the point where she felt she would lose herself; Gilbert was not careful or slow, the greedy movement of his mouth swelling her nerves, the heat consuming her as the constant caresses of his tongue made her shiver, trying to lean against his mouth, her hips moving on their own with the desire to rub against his tongue until she found the exact spot and—.

         “Oh” Anne sighed, the trembling of her body beginning to reflect the surges of pleasure that were beginning to tighten her lower belly, her skin becoming covered in sweat, her hands caught in the firm grip of her alpha, the electricity expanding in a way that she struggled to catch her breath, sobbing quietly “A—Alpha, alpha, please, I want...”.

         “Be quiet” Gilbert broke away for a few seconds only to nuzzle his lips against her exposed nerves, catching her attention with his messy black hair, his ravenous scent making her dizzy “If you don’t stay quiet I’m going to bite you”.

His warning was not in vain — when he gently brushed his teeth against her clit Anne had no choice but to endure the shiver that ran down her spine, biting the tip of her tongue to keep from screaming, her body reflexively moving away from him as Gilbert, with the hand that was not holding her wrists, dug his fingers into her hips to hold her still, growling against the wetness of her center, his lips caressing her, sucking, his tongue taking an impassive rhythm that consumed her in a matter of seconds. It was all too much, her raw pleasure in front of him, surrendered to be consumed, to leave nothing in his wake, to never stop. Please don't stop, please don't stop, don’t—.

         Gilbert moaned against her, as if she had spoken aloud instead of thinking about it, her eyes turning white as he closed his lips around her clit for the last time.

Pleasure strained her muscles, obscuring her vision, ecstasy making her shudder and thrust her hips into him as one, two, three strokes of the tip of his tongue against her were enough to break her, biting her lips hard to keep from screaming as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, moving poorly against her alpha’s lips to chase the sensation that seemed to take everything from her, the reality, the pain, the thought that she might be able to exist without him. She was his. She was his as Gilbert continued to kiss the exposed, swollen flesh, the extreme sensitivity making her cry out again, writhing beneath his iron grip as he bit into the sensitive skin of her thighs, his growl filling her with security, with satisfaction, shuddering as his alpha moved and continued to kiss the sensitive part of her belly, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of stopping touching her. Anne was breathing audibly, her bare chest rising and falling, blinking slowly as Gilbert kissed her stomach, the edge of her breasts, her collarbones, her breath heavy falling over her face as he looked into her eyes, his suddenly soft hands caressing her waist, the wrists he still held, his mouth bright with the result of her pleasure. She watched him transfixed, fearful that he would suddenly change his mind, growling angrily and muttering profanities, her heart beating sweetly beneath her ribs as he emitted a contented noise from deep within his chest, his protective scent enveloping her, his eyes still black as he leaned over her and licked her neck, instantly relaxing beneath his touch “You are perfect, and mine. Mine”.

The remnants of overwhelming pleasure still lingered in her body, docile and exposed to his caresses, a shiver running through her as Gilbert took his time licking the fullness of her throat, her collarbones, lifting her wrists to caress them with his teeth, watching him with a mouthful of saliva as she could see him sitting on top of her, his chest bare, his member firm beneath the fabric of his trousers, growling slowly as he stroked the glands of her wrist against his neck, looking up at her with dark eyes as he noticed her attention “Does it hurt?”.

It didn’t hurt, but the hot sensations of his touch still pulsed through her, making her throb, licking her lips as she slid her eyes across his body, her heart humming below her ribs, her omega beginning to murmur prayers in her mind to hold him close. So close she couldn’t tell where they began and where they ended, her insides twisting painfully despite having been transported to another dimension only minutes ago, the feeling of emptiness and the overwhelming desire to kiss him forcing her to sit up with trembling limbs, swallowing audibly as Gilbert tensed his jaw, reading her intentions as if she were transparent.

Anne was his, wanted to be his as she blinked slowly, stretching one of her hands out experimentally towards him, her fingertips burning as she touched his skin. His scent caressed her nose, filling her lungs and making her dizzy, lingering even lower than him even though they were both seated, tucking her damp legs to lie beneath her. Gilbert’s eyes were black as he breathed abruptly through his nose, his hands spasming at the sides of his body as Anne looked up at him through her lashes, her voice breaking the dense silence that had been created between them, “I want—I want to touch you”.

The pressure exerted on his jaw seemed on the verge of breaking as Gilbert swallowed saliva, studying her, his black eyes roaming over her as Anne shifted experimentally in place, the brush of her thighs against each other causing a shiver, clasping her hands shakily together on her legs as she tried to concentrate on his face, failing miserably as she traced his shoulders, the moles resting on his collarbones, the shape of his firm stomach, the marked bones of his wide hips. His member within her fingertips, hard, his exquisite scent intense when he was so close, the heat radiating from him and inviting her omega to speak for her, her consciousness consumed by desire and the security he conveyed as she tried again at his silence “It hurts, Gilbert, it hurts so much and I just want—I want to touch you, and I need to be full. I want to feel full, alpha; I need—”.

She fell silent as a shiver ran down Gilbert’s spine, his eyelids dropping slightly from the desire to hear her, to touch her, holding obediently still as he reached out one of his hands and cupped her face, caressing her cheek gently, releasing the air through his nose as Anne leaned into his touch “I'm going to be good, alpha. I'm going to be quiet, I just want to feel full, I want it to stop hurting. Please, please—”.

Gilbert growled low, silencing her, sighing heavily as he leaned over her and kissed her, the taste of blood from the wounds on her lips melting on their tongues, touching him desperately as she could feel his heat, the strength of his muscles beneath his skin “Anne”.

She kept kissing him, sinking her nails into his shoulders, clawing at his chest when she slid her hands down, breathing shakily when she brushed their noses and touched him experimentally, testing him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise when he took her by the throat with black eyes, fierce “Be careful, omega”.

His member throbbed at her touch, still covered by his trousers, releasing a shuddering breath from the pleasure that formed hot in the pit of her stomach. She could feel his heat, she could smell his heavy, demented scent, she could look into his black eyes and wet lips and peacefully consider losing her mind “I'll be good, let me—let me touch you. I'll be good. Perfect”.

Anne nodded in his grip, a high—pitched moan rising in her throat as he pressed, his fingers sinking into her glands and emptying her lungs of oxygen “Say it. Let me hear you”.

Everything in her seemed to pulsate in heat, in sensitivity, in her head and body wanting devotedly to touch him, to make him feel good, to be filled by him. Anne wanted it all, trembling slightly when she licked her lips, her cheeks tinged pink when she caressed him gently, shyly, closing her eyes slightly when her alpha passed the rough brush of his thumbs against her sensitive glands. She smelled like him “I want to touch you, alpha. Please. Please”.

His alpha’s smile bristled her skin, heat coursing through her and taking her over in a matter of seconds, a faint sense of danger and warning ringing in the back of her head as he nodded his head slowly, licking his teeth before murmuring “Do it, then. Show me how”.

Gilbert gently loosened his grip on her throat, not letting her go but allowing her more movement when she tilted her head to look up at him, biting the inside of her cheek when he released the air through his nose, her nervous heart throbbing in her fingertips, lust dripping from her when she used her inexperienced fingers to stretch his trousers down, her brow furrowing with indignation when she couldn’t do it after several attempts, the embarrassment becoming mortifying until Gilbert let out a small laugh, taking one of her hands between his to grasp the edge of his trousers and pull them down enough to be released.

Her breath stagnated in her lungs, emotions mixing in her in a disgruntled and overwhelming way, her heart racing. The surprise and desire possessing her, licking her lips automatically as she could watch him, the veiny, thick, glistening shape — his scent was capable of drowning her, the size making her swallow saliva nervously and excitedly, the pleasure pressing into her to the point where she almost pounced on him, pressing her jaw as Gilbert held her neck firmly, watching her from his place with the defined bones of his face and full lips “Be good and do what you told me. If you want anything else you’ll have to ask”.

Anne nodded, delirious, shivers running through her before she brushed her fingers against the tip of his shaft, her skin bristling at his hot temperature, the wet touch, the obvious difference in size making her dizzy, discovering she would have to use both hands to touch him fully. All remnants of humanity, decency and concern had disappeared from her as Gilbert released the air through his teeth, his hips rising slightly to pursue her touch, watching him through her lashes as Anne brought her hand closer, not knowing what to do until Gilbert took her hand once more, the size of his covering it, pulling her closer to him and wrapping his fingers around his length “You have to touch me like this, a little harder and—you have to pull down, slow”.

Gilbert was trembling, sweat covering his skin, his control slipping away from him as he pulled her closer by her throat, eating her mouth frantically, growling against her lips as Anne did her best to follow orders when she herself seemed to be consumed by flames. Her clit was getting poor friction from the rubbing of her thighs, sighing shakily as her alpha pulled away from her to watch her with dark eyes, looking down at himself and Anne's unsure movements, licking his lips as he said, “You’re not going to hurt me, baby, don’t be afraid”.

Anne nodded, dizzily, pressing her hand even harder and increasing speed, her brain melting to liquid as she fixed her attention on his swollen, hot member being stroked by her hands. Her belly twisted painfully at the sight, drooling at the thought of having him inside her stretching her, filling her, imperceptibly moving towards him and parting her legs, her voice trembling on the verge of a sob, the droplets of her pleasure staining her thighs “Please, alpha, it h—hurts, it hurts so much, I need you, I want—”.

Gilbert grunted hoarsely at the trembling of her hands, desperate to hold him close, closing her eyes tightly as he could watch her wet flesh exposed for him, the pleasure visible and belonging to him. Anne was his, she had to tell him so he could take her, so he could bite her and fill her “I’m yours, alpha. I belong to you, no one else—”.

Anne didn’t stop touching his alpha at any moment, his cock growing and pulsing at her caresses, the veins in his neck marking from the effort of not losing control, his eyes black as he tensed his jaw and murmured “I’m going to take care of you, Anne. I promise. I swear”.

Yes, yes, please, she thought as she came even closer, their knees colliding as they faced each other and sat on the mattress, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched his pleasure building, the heat and wetness of his member causing her to lose her mind, her omega making her dizzy with the desire to crawl into his lap and sit on him, certain that the pleasure would consume her the instant Gilbert filled her completely. Her alpha seemed to have taken pity on her, abandoning the grip on her throat to stroke  her breasts, pinching her, grunting as Anne arched her back to chase the bittersweet sensation of ecstasy and pain, her skin bristling as Gilbert brushed his fingertips against her ribs, her stomach, her thighs, breathing heavily as he asked once more “Does it hurt?”.

Gilbert wasn’t immune, either, his breathing quickening, unfocused as Anne sighed in relief, believing he would finally give her what she wanted, rising up slightly on her knees to climb on top of him, trembling until her alpha cupped her hips and slid his hand down, down, stroking her folds gently before entering a finger inside her, covering her mouth quickly when Anne moaned loudly. Her own fingers had never felt this way before, stretching her just the way she wanted it, knowing it was only one so as not to hurt her, stopping her caresses for the pleasure of having something inside her making her bristle, her hands unsteady when Gilbert warned, “If you stop I won’t be able to keep touching you, Anne”.

She nodded, the pleasure obscuring the edges of her vision as she took his shaft again, squeezing it and pulling it down without fear of hurting him, the heat tightening in the pit of her stomach as Gilbert began to move his finger inside her as well. She was dripping, and it was all too much, his possessive, lustful scent filling her lungs, sweat coating her body, her sensitive skin and nerves exposed and feeling on the verge of disappearing when her alpha made a strange movement inside her, bending his finger forward, a spasm forcing her to arch her back and try to breathe ‘G—Gilbert, alpha, please, yes, yes, yes—”.

“Do you like it?” he asked, pupils black, hair messy, shoulders broad as he moved closer to her and kissed the corner of her lips, leaning close to her ear to murmur dangerously, “And what about this?”.

A shiver ran up her spine violently as he brushed one of his thumbs against her clit, one of his fingers still twitching inside her, growling menacingly as Anne hid her face in his shoulder and bit down desperately to keep from crying out. Everything seemed to increase, tensing, shuddering as she tried to breathe against his skin, trying to concentrate on continuing to touch him to no avail as the pleasure was building, consuming her, tears streaming down her cheeks from the intensity of the sensations and the constant, direct, hungry touch of his fingers, his scent filling her lungs, his warmth enveloping her. She was extremely sensitive from having been touched moments ago, her core throbbing and swelling beneath his fingers, his hand moistening her dripping sex, her heart on the verge of exploding. She wasn’t going to be able to take it, she wasn’t going to be able to touch him if she kept going like this, speaking with effort “Gilbert, stop, I’m going to—I'm going to cum if you keep going like this, y—you have to stop, you have to—”.

“Next time” his alpha growled against her ear, licking her exposed throat, biting the edge of her jaw “I'm going to make you scream as many times as I make you come, and you’re going to get down on your knees and fill that mouth of yours until I decide to have you another way”.

“Alpha” she sobbed, the pleasure expanding, taking the air from her lungs, her body vibrating from the sensations beginning to overwhelm her, frustrated at wanting to keep touching him harder as she felt herself coming apart into pieces, the direct touch of his thumb against her clit and his finger flexing inside her consuming her. She was on fire, and everything seemed to disappear around her as she responded, agitated “Alpha—don’t, don’t stop, don’t—”.

“Sweetheart” he whispered, slow, kissing the exposed gland of her neck before murmuring in her ear “Don’t scream”.

The firm brush of his fingers against her was enough to pull her to his chest, pressing against his skin to cry out faintly, the pleasure consuming her like a fire, her sensitive nerves acting like electricity to cause spasms throughout her body, drawing her trembling legs together as Gilbert continued to touch her despite her orgasm, her cheeks wet as she sobbed from the overwhelming sensations coursing through her, her hands still holding his cock as she drew in a shuddering breath, blinking slowly as her alpha took her face in his hands and looked down at her with an indescribable expression on his face, kissing her, pulling away from her with eyes bright with possessiveness and adoration. Anne, trembling, tried to touch him, shivers running through her as her alpha growled, shaking his head, fixing her hands against her stomach, her skin perspiring, her scent of pleasure and sex bordering on impure, biting her bottom lip as her alpha spoke “What do you want, princess?”.

Her brain was reduced to liquid, blinking slowly when she heard his voice, moving closer to him hypnotized to kiss his chin, her omega forcing her to listen to her alpha, answering huskily “Touch you”.

Gilbert nodded, but didn’t allow her to move her hands. She held them against her belly, her legs apart, her lips parted, frowning until Gilbert explained, “Baby, don’t move, okay? Be a good girl for me”.

Anne nodded slowly, her eyes moving intently to Gilbert’s free hand, who took his member and began to touch himself naturally, quickly, the length swollen and wet and ready to consume him. Anne held her breath, desire again pulsing inside her as her heart raced, his muscles widening, the veins marking on his skin, the tension in his jaw increasing as he studied her, covered in sweat, illuminated by the dim moonlight. Anne made a low, almost pained sound as Gilbert closed her eyes, breathing heavily, shuddering as he came closer and his fingers closed in a tight circle on the tip of his member, his body tensing, his lips parting slightly as he fixed his attention on her, opening his wet mouth to let out a hoarse moan, shivers running down his shoulders, bristling as Anne felt something thick and warm fall onto her belly and her hands clasped together.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, opening her mouth to kiss him when Gilbert, still trembling, leaned over her and cupped her hair at the base of her head, stretching her neck, a primal satisfaction pulsing inside her as she felt the warm liquid slide down her skin, marking her, biting her tongue to keep from making a sound when Gilbert breathed contentedly against her face, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids “You were perfect. You’re perfect, sweetheart, mine. So good for me”.

She parted her lips to reply, exhaustion after so many days of fever and agony catching up with her, the stress and anguish of searching for him in her consciousness and unconsciousness racing her heart, deciding to nod her head and bring her legs together awkwardly, the wetness in her turning cold. Gilbert noted this with a frown, stroking her ribs gently “You’re tired. They weren’t taking good care of you”.

Anne twisted her lips disapprovingly, wanting to argue with him but knowing he was right, vaguely remembering how hunger seemed to have disappeared among her needs, as did thirst. She could only concentrate on tolerating the pain and fever, licking her bruised lips to reply, “It’s not my parents’ fault. They did everything they could to help me, but my body decided not to cooperate”.

“Anne” Gilbert murmured, hoarsely, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up onto his lap, again clothed except for his exposed chest, sighing as Anne sank against his neck, breathing quietly and slowly against him. He didn’t seem bothered with the sticky feel of her belly, kissing the tip of her nose “We’re not going to talk now, because you’re exhausted, but after this I want to listen to you. I want to know everything”.

He stroked her back, looking at her with something akin to devotion, his touch protective, his scent possessive. Anne nodded despite the feeling of dread and anxiety tensing inside her, watching the moon through her window, snuggling against him “I don’t want you to go”.

“I’m not going to leave” he replied, kissing the top of her head, touching her shoulders. His warmth made her eyelids heavy with sleep, as did his deep voice and feeling content for the first time in her life, the fever and agony forgotten as Gilbert held her against him “I’m going to leave when your parents wake up, but I’m staying with you until that happens. You should get some rest”.

Anne couldn't protest as her alpha settled her against the pillow, arranging the sheet on the bed to cover her with it, opening the window slightly to try to clear the air of the intoxicating scent of the two of them coming together, intertwining. She shivered until Gilbert positioned himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her against his chest, their skins brushing warmly against each other, indifferent to the wet sensation in her belly, blinking slowly as Gilbert brushed his fingers across her stomach, dirtying them, and stroking the glands in her neck and wrists with it. A strange sensation rose in her throat in response, unable to control the soft vibration emitting from her chest, smiling slowly as her alpha kissed her cheeks “Stay”.

“Sleep, princess,” he brushed her hair behind her ear, his eyes shining with something indescribable as Anne stretched to kiss the corner of his lips, her heart on the verge of exploding “As long as you choose to have me, you don’t have to fear my absence”.

Chapter Text

The sun had not yet risen when Anne awoke.

She blinked slowly, her jaw tensing at her body's protests, letting out a guttural moan as she tried to move, something heavy pinning her in place, a heat surrounding her that invited her to melt against it. She breathed through her nose, her brain taking several seconds to make out what was happening, tensing all over — the scent of her alpha.

Her heart took on an abnormal speed as she began to remember, the touch of their bodies, the overwhelming pleasure, the promises Gilbert had whispered against her skin; she didn't have time to feel guilty, terrified, or allow herself to feel the deep relief her soul harboured when she felt Gilbert breathing heavy and hot against her exposed neck, covering her with his body. He seemed to instinctively sense her awakening, sinking further against her neck until Anne let go a choked sound from deep in her throat, his nearness making her dizzy, “G—Gilbert”.

Gilbert growled low, leaving a kiss on the back of her neck before stroking one of her glands with his hot wet tongue, bristling her skin and making her shiver in response as all her muscles seemed to numb, lying quiet and exposed beneath him; she trusted her alpha as if her life depended on it, biting the tip of her tongue when he did it once more, the vibration of his chest piercing her “You're perfect. I never thought you could be even more, but you are”.

Finding herself embraced by him was one of the most intimate experiences she had ever had. She felt the totality of his body on top of hers, crushing her in a way that invited her to relax and sleep beneath him, the sure beat of his heart between her shoulder blades, the warmth of his closeness enveloping her as if it were her place in the world. However, there were other sensations she could distinguish when he was looming over her; she felt his hot breath on her sensitive glands, the brush of his tongue making her shiver, marking his scent on her skin, growling in her ear as if he were confessing the truths of the universe, his warm hands holding her close to him, the firmness of his shaft pressing against her lower back being politely ignored. Anne couldn't concentrate on anything but his caresses, his proximity, the growl that consumed her, answering awkwardly, “Alpha, is it... is it safe for you to be here? What time is it?”.

Gilbert kissed her skin, entranced, smelling her hair, the edge of her jaw and her collarbones before looking at the window, answering huskily “It's safe. It's not dawn yet, but when I hear from your parents I'm leaving. You don't have to worry about anything. You're safe”.

She let the air out through her nose, smiling slightly as Gilbert nuzzled his face against her head, marking her, pressing her against him even though it wasn't humanly possible, speaking in a voice broken by exhaustion and days of fever without rest “I can't believe you're here”.

Gilbert kissed her cheek, careful to move his hands without removing the sheet covering her body, caressing her hips, bringing them up to rest on her throat. Anne stretched back slightly, meeting his black-tinted gaze with a racing heart, licking her lips as Gilbert smiled slowly ‘’It was my alpha. It brought me here as if I was bewitched. I've never felt anything like that before.’

The word bewitched formed a knot in her stomach, her skin turning slightly pale at the thought that Gilbert might cling to the collective idea that she was a diabolical being, her breath hitching slightly until her alpha made out her suddenly sour, heavy, horrified scent — Anne blinked slowly as he appeared above her, his expression serious, his eyes watching her as if she were transparent “Anne, don't be afraid, please. I did nothing against my will, and I was fully conscious when I decided. I may have come here not knowing what I was doing, my alpha knew you were ill, but once I could see you, I thought clearly. Don't consider for a second that I believe in the blasphemies that society and the church says about omegas. You know what I saw”.

His eyes, suddenly dark with something indecipherable, studied her face intently, her neck, her chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. Fleeting terror still quickened her heart, her hands trembling, but slowly understanding that Gilbert would never be able to hurt her. He could never think of her, or any omega, that way after witnessing what they were victims of once their identity was discovered, taking several seconds to respond, “This is new to me too. No one ever—only my parents, and the women who spared my life. An alpha could never... no one could ever find me. It scares me”.

Gilbert breathed on her face, hovering over her but careful not to touch her and crush her with his weight, Anne could see the amount of questions beginning to form in his head, anxiety dampening her body with cold sweat, holding her breath as the alpha reached out one of his hands and caressed her cheek, trying to reassure her “You have my word. You have nothing to fear because I will guard your secret with my life, I promise. Your identity is protected with me, and I will never do anything to compromise it”.

         She leaned gently against his palm, her eyes filling with tears from the conflicting emotions that were beginning to choke her. Terror, relief, anxiety, happiness, suffocating her and making her dizzy, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to control herself “I don't know what will change—I don't know what to do, I should never have come near you. Now you're in danger because of me. I condemned you too, when all I want to do is protect you. Forgive me. Forgive me, Gilbert”.

“I'm so sorry, Anne,” he murmured softly, his instincts demanding that he soothe her, his heavy, masculine scent filling her lungs, unconsciously letting her know that she was safe. Gilbert took her face in his hands, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose, resting his face against hers so he could look at her freely despite the dim darkness of the room “You don't have to apologise to me, or worry about protecting me. Ever. Least of all for being who you really are. You don't know what it means to me to be able to see you, really see you, and to be able to understand what my own body has been trying to tell me ever since I met you. I feel like I've always known, and now I can finally tell”.

         He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, kissing the corner of her lips, pulling away from her to sit against the wall, taking her by the shoulders gently to sit her on his lap, holding the sheet against her skin to guard her nakedness. The icy wind was still blowing in through the half-open window, stopping her shivering as she melted into his chest, her skin feverish, his strong arms wrapping around her until she rested her face against his beating heart, calm “This was a mistake. I can't believe I was so naive, so careless. I'm going to find a way to protect you. I'm going to make it right”.

         Gilbert kissed the top of her head, looking up at him through her lashes as he shook his head, something definite expressing itself in his features, no room for argument “You don't have to fear for my safety, but be assured that I share your secret. Nothing bad is going to happen to us because I will not allow it. I am yours, and there is nothing that can change that. Knowing you is not a mistake or an oversight”.

         Her heart throbbed in her ears as she heard him, plunged into a trance, her emotions on the verge of consuming her as she found her hands, pressing them between his, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks with guilt and regret tightened her throat “You don't understand, Gilbert, you don't understand what it means to carry this weight. It's best that we part ways right now, and it will be the safest thing for both of us. I don't want anything bad to happen. I don't want to hurt anyone”.

         “My sweet omega” he murmured, reaching up to kiss her cheeks salty from crying, stroking her back rhythmically, his protective scent filling her lungs, the world disappearing around her “Don't cry, sweetheart. Talk to me, talk to me and I can understand what it means. Tell me everything”.

         She closed her eyes, curling up in his lap, breathing raggedly through her nose as she tried to concentrate. They didn't have long until his parents woke with the dawn, understanding that if she wanted to protect him she had to inform him what little she knew about her dynamic, bringing one of her hands to her chest to cover her frantic heart “My parents left me at the orphanage when I was a baby, and I grew up with most of the girls. It was always obvious that I was different from the others, weak, fragile. They were growing up, becoming stronger even though our food was decadent, and they could quickly understand that I wasn't going at the same pace as them. It complicated everything”.

         “At the orphanage, one of them—” the memory of Lloyd filled her with panic, tensing imperceptibly against Gilbert, blinking slowly as his alpha growled from deep in his chest, taking her firmly as he sensed her fear, not daring to look him in the eye. She couldn't talk about her at the moment, the revelation of her dynamic being enough stress for her, shaking her head softly as she enunciated, “I sunk into a fantasy world to survive, reading the few books the orphanage had in my free time when I didn't have to work cleaning, hiding from the girls who sought me out to tease me. They knew I was weak and could offer them no benefit other than a few laughs when they made fun of me and unload their anger when they found me, and every day was sheer hell. Every time a family came looking for me, I had the illusion of finding a family, as I found in Green Gables, only to realise as the days went by that I was perceived as something akin to an animal”.

         She bit her lower lip, anxiously, letting the air out through her nose as Gilbert stroked her knuckles with his fingers, listening to her attentively and patiently. She couldn't stop now “It was always the same cycle. They would come looking for me, delegate thousands of tasks to me, and leave their children in my care even though I was sometimes two years older than them. It's a miracle nothing serious happened, considering I was a child, but sometimes the pressure would tear me apart. I tried to play when I could, or read, but most families had worse conditions than the orphanage. I think they had agreements, taking in girls on a rotating basis to relieve the orphanage population, but none of them endured exploitation or lived up to expectations. After weeks or months I would find myself back there, holding back my emotions so I wouldn't look weaker than I already was, and I would be forced to clean until my skin was burning”.

“I don't want to—I don't want to complain” she let out a laugh, broken, the panic of sharing her story with vulnerability, her tongue wagging of its own accord, beginning to tremble “I learned a lot, it helped me grow as a person and none... none of them were extremely cruel to me. I was rarely hit. Some girls—some girls, older, they had other kinds of work and they never looked the same when they came back, Gilbert, they—they would come back with gifts but I saw, I knew they had broken them, that they were empty, that—”.

         “Anne” his alpha spoke firmly, the only real thing in her world of horror, listening to him obediently as she sank her face into his chest, filling with his protective, solid scent, his warmth covering her from the cruel coldness of winter. She was okay, she wasn't in the orphanage, she wasn't going to suffer the same fate, she was okay, alive, in pieces, but with parts that were still hers “You're okay. You're not going back, no one will ever be able to treat you that way again, nor will you ever have to witness it again. You made it out. You're alive”.

         “I know” she sobbed, leaning back in his lap to look up at him, her eyes glazed over, digging her nails into his shoulders, gasping for breath when she could look into his eyes, his attention devoted, possessive, an oath implied in the delicate way he cupped her hip “And it makes me feel guilty, the relief I feel. The happiness that makes me cry every time I remember, why could I and they couldn't? How dare they do that to them?”.

         “You're not responsible for their suffering” Gilbert kissed the tip of her nose, nuzzling her back as Anne sank her face into his neck, breathing in the intense scent of his skin until she stopped feeling the pounding tachycardia, closing her eyes. She hadn't measured the amount of scars that were beginning to bleed as she spoke of her past “You have a right to feel relieved, free. You didn't steal their chances at a better life, nor are you to blame for what they go through”.

         “I'm sorry, I don't want to cry” Anne whispered against his neck, snuggling under the warm, steady touch of his hands, concentrating on her body against his to continue “When I was thirteen a family took me to work, and my expectation had been reduced to escaping the orphanage girls who were becoming increasingly violent. The differences in size and temperament had become dangerous, and it was preferable to work tirelessly rather than have to face them. My dream was perhaps to have my own space and the slightest chance of being able to study to find my vocation. My life at that time already seemed chaotic. I was innocent, naïve”.

         “When I started having symptoms I thought it was an illness from tiredness, malnutrition, or sadness” Anne shrugged, forcing herself to continue even though her tongue had become heavy, her mouth dry “Dizziness, fever, high fever, drowsiness impossible to compensate for. I slept through the few moments of silence, shivered with cold even though it was spring, and the presence of the father of the family unconsciously horrified me. I had never been close to him, but now I know I was obliviously hiding, trying to take care of myself even though I didn't know what was going on”.

Gilbert kept stroking her back as she tried to breathe through the pain of the memory, struggling to concentrate and find the words, pressing her hands against her stomach to hide the trembling “That day the headache was unbearable — my eyes felt like they were throbbing, my brain was melting. When dinner came it was raining so hard that the noise of the wind made the agony even worse, and when I had to start moving, it happened”.

         A shiver went up her spine, Gilbert hadn't uttered a single word other than to comfort her and help her concentration, eternally grateful for his silence and caresses as she recited “It felt like a dagger had been driven into the centre of my stomach. My skin burned and the world spun and suddenly I was on the floor, I had dropped a plate, and the man threatened me. I felt like I was going to die from the pain, it was hard to breathe, and when his wife told me I had to leave I begged her on my knees to let me stay. I was so terrified of going back to the orphanage that I was willing to endure another kind of abuse in that house, and I begged her not to force me to leave. She didn't care”.

         She didn't dare look him in the eye, still hiding in his neck, biting her lower lip for a few seconds to keep from crying when she continued, “To this day I don't understand how only she could feel it, how she spared my life. I shouldn't be here today. If it had been anyone else they would have handed me over to the sheriff's dogs, maybe her own that she had in the stable because they could smell me too. She told me I was an omega, but she didn't explain what it meant, or why it was important for me to leave right away, she just gave me time to gather my things and leave me in the open field. It was raining so hard that the storm was lighting my way in the middle of the night, and I bent one of my ankles in the mud when the dogs wanted to bite me, I don't know how I got that far”.

         She sat back up as she watched the first rays of sunlight illuminate Green Gables, draped in white, her heart buzzing under her ribs at the mere memory of her first experience in her new life as an omega. Her lower lip trembled as she looked at Gilbert, his expression dangerously composed and wary, her voice almost a whisper as she confessed, “The fever made me delirious, in conjunction with the fear, and I was so disoriented from finding myself in the middle of nowhere, abandoned during a thunderstorm. It was a miracle that no one found me, and I think my conscience decided to stop working to protect me; I walked for hours until my body couldn't take it anymore, and I collapsed in the middle of the forest. An older woman and a boy found me later, and they saved my life”.

         Curiosity exploded in her alpha's pupils, parting his lips to ask more, when he furrowed his brow in concentration before tensing his jaw in annoyance, “Your parents are waking up, I can hear their footsteps, are they coming to see you?”.

         Anne licked her lips, the danger of meeting an alpha in her own room sneaking around, sobbing in his lap, would be enough to scare her parents to death. She wiped away her tears with trembling fingers, nodding her head “Marilla will want to check my temperature and bring me breakfast, yes”.

         Her alpha was not happy, she could tell in his heavy, protective scent filling her lungs, his warm hand reaching out to caress her neck possessively, his expanded pupils taking her in as if it was the last time he was going to see her “Anne, I want you to listen to me”.

         She leaned against his touch, the warmth melting into her soul, his velvety voice chasing away her nightmares and memories, melting against him, wanting to contain the anguish of separating after a traumatic heat and the revelation of her greatest secrets. She blinked slowly before nodding, her full attention fixed on Gilbert, who combed her hair gently, speaking softly “I have to go, but I'll be back this very night if you'll let me”.

         “Yes, alpha” she allowed, kissing the palm of his hand as he caressed her cheek, an irrational relief taking hold of her knowing she would see him again once the moon skimmed the sky “I feel better, I know my heat won't return until my next cycle. I'll recover quickly, and I'll be able to return to classes in a few days”.

         Gilbert studied her, resting his hand on her forehead, holding back a small chuckle when she knew how many thoughts were forming in his head “I'll come back tonight and bring some tools to check on your physical condition to make sure you're okay. I need you to eat and drink more water to recover as soon as possible”.

         Anne nodded, sighing as her alpha leaned over her, taking her by the shoulders to pull her close to him and kiss the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her lips gently, consuming her, before sliding down her throat and leaving a loving kiss on one of her glands. Anne had to bite her tongue to keep from making a sound, staying relaxed in his arms, looking up at him with wide eyes when Gilbert murmured huskily, “I'm always coming back to you. Always”.

         To her peace of mind neither of her parents noticed Gilbert's scent in her room, grateful for her alpha's ingenuity when he decided to leave the window slightly open overnight, an ideal solution with weak adult noses. She was so relieved that her heat was over that she had to hold back tears of happiness against her pillows, tensing her jaw to bear the pain of her exhausted body when she wanted to rearrange her bed, making her way downstairs in embarrassing time to look up at her mother from the living room with a small smile stretching across her lips. Her mother, a stiff woman who was learning to express her emotions, came up to hug her and kiss the top of her head, sighing contentedly as Anne laid her head on her chest, melting into her embrace.

         She walked close to the house on unsteady legs, as if she were a deer learning to take its first steps, careful not to stray too far in case she had to return from exhaustion, not wanting to miss the chance to enjoy the outdoors after so many days of confinement, waving to the chickens, considering whether the fox family was doing well despite the winter, and laughing softly when Matthew trotted over to her to look at her with wild eyes, fearful that she might fall apart in front of him in a matter of seconds, stroking her with care and disbelief.

         She ate slowly, her stomach still twisting as she had to get used to eating in normal quantities, drinking litres of water as she tried to read and ignore the headache. When evening came, exhaustion could not get the better of her, anxious for Gilbert's arrival, her heart on the verge of bursting as she discerned his shadow, an almost imperceptible tap on the window as a silent question to get through. Anne opened the window with burning cheeks, remembering her condition the night before, her breath catching in her chest as she looked at him, gracefully entering the room as if he were a feline. She couldn't contain her smile as he leaned down to kiss one of her cheeks, looking up at her adoringly, “Thank you for waiting for me”.

         His appearance, like hers, was more neat, usual; his characteristic suit hugging his body, and a package in his hands which he deposited in her grasp as Anne studied it curiously “I thought a dessert might help you feel better”.

         Anne brought the still warm biscuits to her nose, closing her eyes to take in the aroma, watching him through her eyelashes “Thanks, alpha, I still can't eat much, but I'm going to try”.

         Gilbert kissed her forehead, brushing the snow off his coat outside the window, analysing her before murmuring, “I brought some equipment to examine you, if I may?”.

         “I seem to be your only patient since you found me” Anne snorted, always speaking softly, sitting down on the floor as Gilbert frowned and gently picked her up to lift her onto the bed, politely ignoring Anne's shiver at the warm touch of his hands.

         “Maybe” his alpha concurred, touching the tip of her nose when Anne averted her gaze, falsely irritated “Are you going to pay attention to me?”.

         “Yes” Anne agreed, silently cooperating with the routine studies Gilbert could perform with the few objects he had. He listened to her heart with an icy metal that forced her to frown, unused to the cold, taking a deep breath when he asked, responding with something akin to shyness when Gilbert began to ask questions about her dynamic. Her sentences were short, the constant clarifications that she couldn't speak for the rest of them having never met any other female omega, detailing behaviours that seemed to be characteristic of her nature; the symptoms of her heats, the constancy of her cycles, her reactions around alphas and situations of stress or aggression, sensitive parts of her body due to the glands. Her real concern left her lips before she could measure the consequences “My heat was strange, different. My fever could not be controlled even though I followed the same routine as with all my cycles. It lasted more days than usual, but I fear it will become unpredictable. Uncontrollable. I don't have much of a choice”.

         Gilbert had written down his observations in code words so as not to compromise her in the rare event that someone read it, tensing his jaw thoughtfully, “I can study more and keep regular medical checks to discern changes. We can investigate and see how to fix it if it doesn't regulate itself. Your body knows what it needs, but we have to learn to interpret it”.

         “The book” she mumbled, fiddling with her fingers nervously at how ridiculous her words had sounded. She began to walk around her room, careful to keep her steps light as the weight of a feather so as not to alert her parents “The book in the library, God's Forbidden Fruit, is the only thing I found that references my dynamic. It has little information, but it's more than I've ever gotten in my entire life, maybe it has answers we can understand now that we know what we're looking for”.

         “I remember” Gilbert nodded, looking at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, careful with his words “I read a few pages with you”.

         “Yes” her cheeks burned as she remembered the page they had read together and by accident, brief explanations of its dynamics and the bite, her breath hitching as she remembered “One afternoon—one afternoon, before I went to help with Ruby's house, before the beginning of my heat, I went by myself to read it”.

         “Anne” Gilbert sighed, following her with his gaze, moonlight streaming through her room “It's too dangerous. Maybe... maybe we can find a way to steal it and study it from here”.

         Anne shook her head, rubbing her wrists together as she continued to walk silently around the room, trying to calm her nerves and her racing brain “No. Abigail would realise the moment something was wrong. In fact, isn't it incredibly odd that she keeps it in her library?”.

         “Do you think she read every single book she keeps in the library?” Gilbert questioned, combing his hair back, a frown beginning to form from his intense concentration.

         It should be funny the way they found themselves whispering secretly in her room, about a serious and potentially life-changing subject that could change her fate meaningfully. Anne stopped walking, sitting down on the floor in front of Gilbert, despite his impending expression of displeasure at perceiving her anywhere but soft and warm, “She's related to absolutely no one, and may not leave the library unless out of strict necessity, did you see her wearing any rings, mourning clothes?”.

         Gilbert studied her slowly, taking several seconds to answer with a tone akin to determination “No, she is a somber person, but she does not follow the protocol of a widow”.

         “What do you think an older, lonely woman would do in a library she's been in charge of for years? She must have built it herself” Anne thought aloud, wanting to bite her fingers anxiously until Gilbert took them in his, restraining her compulsion “She knows, Gilbert, she probably read it. I can't believe it, how could we not have noticed it before?”.

         “It's a risky assumption” his alpha conceded, sceptical, a less impulsive and more rational person than Anne on certain occasions. Anne felt ready to lace up her boots and walk through the woods at night, in the dead of winter, and wait for dawn to ask Abigail outright what information she had. Her alpha seemed to be more careful “But it is not wrong. She may have read it, and decided to leave it in her library so that more people could, but why would she risk her life like that?”.

         “She has nothing to lose” Anne enunciated aloud, biting her lower lip anxiously, slowly shaking her head “That's not enough. There's got to be something else”.

         Gilbert breathed warmly over her, stroking her hands, leaning on his knees to hover over her, who was sitting on the floor and between his legs. Anne held her breath as he connected his gaze with hers, devotion melting in her veins “We're going to find all the answers you need, Anne, I promise. I just want us to be careful. I want us to think about all the possibilities”.

         “I've already thought—I've already thought of all the scenarios” she murmured, quietly, licking her lips gently as she searched for the right words “With my parents we've discussed the plans we're going to make depending on what happens. If I am discovered, if they find me first, if they are discovered first, routes, locations, lies in common. Now that you know too, I'll have to tell you so that you understand what to do. I want you to know that—that you can regret it, and that as long as you don't confess a single word to anyone, you can go on with your life as normal. You don't have to get involved in this. It's a curse”.

         “Come” he replied, taking her by the arms and pulling her up onto his lap, her legs resting on the sides of his hips, her breasts brushing against each other. Anne felt her pulse quicken at his nearness, becoming mute as Gilbert took her face in his hands “Do you trust me?”.

         The question startled her, her eyes widening exaggeratedly as she heard it, the answer forming inside her with confidence and instinct, the same naturalness as her heartbeat, resting her hands on her chest carefully to say with a thread of voice “Of course I trust you, how could I not?”.

         Gilbert's reaction was minimal, certain that no one else would have been able to distinguish it besides her, who spent hours on end watching him, studying him, to notice the quickening speed of his breathing, his pupils expanding, his grip on her becoming slightly firmer “Trust me when I say I want this. That I want you. Every part of you. I want it all, Anne, I want to show you, I want you to see”.

         “You have nothing to prove” Anne shook her head, the weight of anguish beginning to squeeze her ribs, terror threatening to take over as she looked into his eyes “I believe you—it terrifies me to think of all that could happen, all that could go wrong because of me”.

         “It's not your fault” Gilbert leaned down to kiss her jaw, bristling as he took a deep breath of the scent of her skin, faint from the ointment she'd used in the morning “It'll never be your fault, and nothing will go wrong, and if it does we'll follow one of your plans perfectly and we'll be fine. You don't have to worry about anything. I'll always find you”.

         “Thank you. Thank you, alpha” she murmured, kissing his face shyly, biting the inside of her cheek “If we steal the book Abigail is going to know, but we can, during one of our study sessions, copy down the important parts. After we study it we can define what questions we have, and maybe she will want to collaborate with us. We have to make her understand that she doesn't have to be afraid, that she knows we can be trusted”.

         “She's close to Phillips” Gilbert enunciated, stroking her lower back, sliding his nose down her throat. The depth of his tone vibrating through her, making her dizzy “He seems to be the only person she maintains communication with. I have to make sure she won't say a word”.

         “You sound dangerous when you say it like that” Anne whispered, brushing their noses together as Gilbert emerged from the hiding place of her throat to look into her eyes, his pupils black, the shadow of night painting him as a fallen angel. The temperature seemed to rise, aware of the weight of his hands on her, the close distance between their mouths. She was sure he could hear her arrhythmic, frantic heartbeat, that he could smell her.

         “I could be dangerous,” the alpha confessed, sliding his hands down her back, her hips, stopping at her thighs. The fabric of her dress rode up her legs, noting with hot cheeks that the alpha could make out her skin bristling from his touch, his possessive scent beginning to smother her in something safe and pleasurable “I could be good, too”.

         Anne laughed sheepishly, not knowing how to react to his proximity and the devotion in his eyes, replying in a voice too high pitched for her liking “Mm, no, I don't think so. Jerry wouldn't say that”.

         “I am” her alpha confessed, it being his turn to let out a hoarse laugh as Anne rolled her eyes, touching her ribs and forcing her to squirm on his legs “Jerry can verify it”.

         “I forgot you were a liar” Anne smiled, escaping his ticklishness, melting into his warmth, looking up at him with sparkling eyes “Lying people can't be good. I'm not good”.

         “I'm horrified” the alpha murmured, trapping her wrists in one of his hands, pulling her to his chest to stop her from moving any further. Anne could believe that the world around her had stopped, had ceased to be home to injustices, horrors, violence, and she could have a hiding place with something indescribable filling her chest “How can you accuse me of something so vile? I never enunciated a lie. You must apologise”.

         Anne sunk her face into one of his shoulders, holding back laughter, reassured that she could free herself from his grip if she gently pulled away, biting him playfully until her alpha sat her in place, a false seriousness painting his expression “No. I don't know how to apologise. I learned to pray, but not to say sorry”.

         “How convenient” Gilbert laughed, looking up at her with heavy eyelids, clearly exhausted, leaning over her as Anne looked at him more intently, kissing the tip of her nose “We'll leave it for another time, shall we? You can practice in the meantime”.

         “You're tired” Anne observed, blaming herself for not noticing it sooner, the determination in his gaze, the shadows on his face, the depth in his voice. She stroked his cheek with one of her hands, keeping her free hand in contact with his “What did you do today?”.

         “I had to go to class” Gilbert confessed, settling Anne's hair over her shoulder, moving closer to smell her skin, his hot breath falling over her glands, a shiver running up her spine as Gilbert took her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him, their bodies rubbing together, as if he needed her to breathe “Diana said she was very, very worried about you, and I told her that my doctor had let me know about a virus in the harbour, that you might have caught it on the trip. She had intended to come and visit you, but finally decided that she would leave letters and the lectures for you. Then I went home and waited until everyone was asleep before coming back. I couldn't think of anything else all day”.

         “Thank you, Gilbert” Anne replied, pulling her head back slightly, breathing shakily as her alpha left a delicate kiss on her pulse, her concentration slipping as she tried to find the right words “I thought about you, too. Sometimes”.

         The lie sounded obvious on her lips, her cheeks burning as Gilbert spoke softly, slowly, returning to caressing her legs as he continued to kiss her jaw, wanting to break what little distance there was between them “What about your day, did you have fun playing?”.

         “Shut up” she snorted, closing her eyes as the alpha finally wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her so close that she had no choice but to press their stomachs together, vibrating whole at the slight friction, struggling to stay silent “I did nothing but read and wait for you. I was anxious”.

         “Anxious” Gilbert repeated, stroking her hips with his thumbs, connecting her gaze with his “My angel, I don't want you to be anxious, or make you wait. I want you to be well, calm”.

         “I'm fine” Anne nodded, biting her bottom lip nervously as Gilbert didn't take his gaze from her, the intensity of his attention and emotions revving her up “I just don't want you to get caught”.

         “Your parents?” her alpha asked, shaking his head, smiling slightly “You don't have to worry about that. I can hear when they get close, sense if anyone is around, you don't have to worry about anything”.

         Anne was aware of many things at that moment. She was aware of the warmth of his body, pressing against hers, the vibrations of his voice caressing her ears, the firmness of his legs beneath her, the contradiction of the safety and gentleness of the caresses of his hands, and a fact that quickened her heart to the point where she knew Gilbert could hear it; he hadn't kissed her lips since he had arrived, the questions beginning to arise. He had kissed her neck, her jaw, her nose, but he had not approached her mouth — and now, with so few inches between them, the space closing, the air escaping her lungs, she feared the turn her own intentions might take. Her heat had been strange, violent and irregular, but the second Gilbert had touched her Anne knew she was conscious, that she would not find herself in that state again, the shyness and curiosity expressing itself in her heated face, her pupils expanded, her lips parted as her alpha studied her “Anne”.

         “Yes?” her tone startled her, husky, airy, consumed. It frightened her, the power Gilbert held over her, in his hands, certain she would do anything to have him, the fear seemed to disappear when he was near.

         “I want to kiss you” the confession stopped her heart, her body unconsciously leaning into him, the room beginning to swirl around her “Can I?”.

         “Yes, alpha” she nodded, swallowing her saliva heavily when Gilbert made no move to show his intentions, sounding desperate to foreign ears when she enunciated “I won't make a sound—”.

         Gilbert silenced her, their lips meeting, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, something melting and forming and exploding between them as Anne moved against him, the vibration of his growl bristling her skin. She could hear her heart pounding deafeningly in her ears, crumpling his shirt in her grip, wanting to disappear at the wet, addictive feel of his lips, breathing noisily against his mouth when Gilbert broke away to sink his face into her throat, a pleased, husky noise leaving his chest when Anne stretched her head back, exposing her neck.

         Lights formed behind her eyelids as Gilbert closed his lips around her gland, electricity coursing through her, trembling over him and biting the tip of her tongue to keep from moaning. His voice and his words melted her brain “You smell so good. I can't get enough of you”.

         “G—Gilbert” she murmured pathetically, sighing as her alpha dipped one of his hands under her dress, stroking her stomach with his fingertips, beginning to shake her head “We shouldn't. Yesterday—yesterday was a different situation, my parents—”.

         “It's okay, it's okay” he murmured, licking her throat greedily, a shiver running through the muscles that held her. He sounded delirious as he continued to speak “They don't have to find out”.

         “We shouldn't” Anne repeated, convincing herself, shame and heat taking over as she felt the wetness between her legs, Gilbert's guttural growl rising up her spine communicating to her that he had sensed it too. He looked ready to eat her when he pulled away from her with lips swollen and glistening with their saliva “Alpha”.

         “Do you want me to stop?” Anne wanted to curse, to sob in his arms, to drag him away from the real world so she could be his. Guilt and shame weighed on her, but when she could watch him intently, the movement of his shoulders from his labored breathing, pupils extended and jaw tense, she just shook her head. No, she didn't want it to stop. She didn't want it to ever stop. When her alpha moved in to kiss her cheek Anne shivered, his closeness unsettling her “I'm sorry, you're right. You need to rest”.

         His scent filled her lungs, protective, possessive, real. Anne clung to his arms as he tried to pull away from her, the contradiction of her emotions filling her eyes with tears, wanting to apologise for the confusion of her actions when Anne whispered “No, alpha, don't go”.

         “Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked, careful, combing her hair back, brushing his nose against hers. Anne nodded, wrapping her arms around him, forcing him to stick to her “I can leave at dawn, like yesterday”.

         “Don't go” she repeated, her breath catching in her chest as Gilbert rested his hands on her hips, politely pulling her back so he could look at her, causing a friction against his lap that made her shiver “Oh”.

         “God, Anne, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—” he fell silent as Anne broke slightly from her hiding place, resting her hands on his shoulder, her eyes still glazed over. Gilbert's expression instantly darkened.

         There seemed to be a thread between them about to snap from the tension, the connection of their gazes vibrating beneath her skin, reading her alpha's expression as if she could read his thoughts, the intensity of his eyes asking her if she was going to dare to do it. To take what she wanted. His scent surrounding her, embracing her, shuddering as she descended once more, dragging her body slowly against his lap, pleasure beginning to form into a slow burn as Gilbert parted his lips, a shiver creeping up his spine as he had his omega rubbing against his legs as if she couldn't live away from his touch, his voice almost a growl “This is what you want?”.

         Yes, yes, was all she could think as she shifted her hips, digging her nails into his shoulders, rubbing her clit covered only in the thin layer of her underwear against the hardness of his clothed cock. His trousers were of an expensive, elegant fabric, and Anne was going to ruin them with the wetness of her pleasure, letting out a shuddering sigh as Gilbert cupped her face with one of his hands, opening her lips delicately to plunge his thumb into her mouth. Anne moaned around his finger, sucking instinctively, “Pretty girl. You're perfect, twitching in my lap, look at you”.

         Anne made a high-pitched sound in response, licking Gilbert's finger as he pulled it away from her mouth, biting her tongue as her alpha sank his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back, beginning to kiss her jaw, her throat, kiss her lips hungrily and madly. He seemed ready to possess her, the muscles hard and capable beneath her, everything in his nature in favour of manipulating her and getting her to do anything Gilbert asked of her, preferring to be used by an omega who could do nothing but rub desperately against him in search of a release that grew abrupt and sufficient “More—more”.

         “How?” her alpha whispered, innocent, brushing his teeth against her exposed gland and causing Anne's vision to be tinged black for mere seconds, her movements failing. He licked her once more before he began to undo the buttons of her dress, exposing her breast, her stomach, her wet underwear. Anne would have died of mortification if it weren't for the frantic sensation of continuing to rub herself against him, his possessive, lustful scent making her dizzy “I know you can do it on your own, Anne. Show me”.

She let out a broken sob as Gilbert stretched one of his warm hands towards her, breathing through his teeth as Anne arched her spine forward, her skin bristling as he gently caressed her nipples, her whole body tuning into exposed nerves and sensations that seemed ready to set her on fire. God, she couldn't breathe properly, her legs beginning to ache from the effort of her movements, frustration building with every second as her alpha stroked her but not quite enough. She wanted more. Needed it, she thought as she tried to kiss him, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks as Gilbert pulled away, shaking his head “Not yet, princess”.

         No? How could he say no to her in a moment like this? She dug her nails into his shoulders hard, wanting to hurt him, finding the spot where the hardness of his shaft caressed just the right way against her swollen, sensitive flesh. She was on the verge of disintegrating, disappearing, her skin coating with sweat that her alpha was taking care to lick away, the low rumble of his growl of pleasure and satisfaction as Anne began to tremble on top of him. Her body was beginning to have a contrite reaction, shivers running through her from the overwhelming pleasure that was forming in her lower belly, spreading through her chest, wanting to pull away from him for being too much and pushing herself even harder to chase it. Her lips moved of their own accord, watching him through her lashes with glazed eyes, “I—I like you”.

         The confession sounded choked, rushed, closing her eyes for a few seconds as the electricity intensified, fading as she lost contact, biting her lower lip so hard to keep from making a sound that she felt the taste of blood coating her tongue, embarrassment and shyness losing itself in the need to hold him close, to be touched by him. Gilbert smiled slowly, sideways, raising one of his eyebrows as he asked, casually, “Do you like me? What do you like?”.

         She opened her mouth to let go a quiet moan, brushing her chest against his, the friction being so frustrating that she thought she wouldn't be able to respond because of the uncontainable urge to cry out. When Gilbert growled, demanding her attention, Anne struggled to speak and be coherent “I like—I like your hands, your eyes when... ah, when you look at me, I like the way you smell and, God, I'm fascinated—I love your voice, alpha”.

         Pleasure seemed to brush her fingertips to disappear, to begin to grow abruptly inside her, electricity coursing through her, to slink away and discourage her, desperation tiring her muscles, her patience, her wet, sin-covered scent wafting from her skin, from her stained thighs, her cheeks tinged red with pleasure, exhaustion and frustration, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at the man in front of and beneath her.

         His raven hair messy, his lips swollen from biting them, running his tongue over his sharp teeth before tilting his head to one side, indifferent if it wasn't for the obvious expression of pleasure pressed between her legs. Anne wanted to hold him in her hands, to feel his heat again, but her intuition said she wasn't going to have any of what she wanted that night, even more so as he slid his fingers down the middle of her chest, torturously ignoring her breasts, the glands in her neck, holding back a cry when Gilbert pressed his thumb against her centre, pupils expanding “You like this, too?”.

         “Yes” she enunciated, sighing, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to keep still, silent, willing him to move his thumb, knowing it would be a matter of seconds until— “Yes”.

         “It's a good thing, then” Gilbert commented, his voice dangerously husky, his heavy scent choking her as, not bothering to move her underwear aside, he began to rub his thumb against the damp fabric, her body convulsing in response “That is something that I like, too”.

         “Oh, Gilbert, don't—” she sobbed, shuddering, the brush of the clothes against her nerves bristling her, the edges of her vision darkening, tears falling as her alpha squeezed her throat, holding her fixed in place, his movements steady, unforgiving, direct. Anne was going to melt, disintegrate, destroy and be reborn again, her stomach muscles tensing, her skin sensitive and hot “Please don't—don't stop, alpha, don't—”.

         “My sweet girl” his alpha whispered, delicately kissing the corner of her lips without ceasing to hold her, without ceasing to touch her, watching in fascination as she stood on the edge, wasting no time in reaching up with the hand that held her throat to plunge his thumb inside her mouth once more, drawing closer to her throat before growling a warning “Don't you dare make a sound”.

         When she felt the edge of his teeth caressing one of the glands in her neck the universe seemed to disappear, her nerves swelling, the pleasure exploding and revolving inside her, blinding her, shuddering, holding back the scream that wanted to tear at her vocal cords. Heat, electricity tensing her belly and thighs, her brain and body merging in the divine sensation of Gilbert's thumb pressing against her again and again, like endless waves that seemed to consume her, her body collapsing on his as tremors of overwhelming pleasure coursed through her, emptying her lungs, instinctively leaning into his touch. She felt she could see whole universes behind her eyelids, experience life and death within her own body, her clit swollen and wet beneath her alpha's gentlest caresses, feeling his cock pulsing beneath her.

         “You are mine” he murmured, quiet, as if it were the only certain truth in a life full of mysteries and lies. Anne could watch, her heart still racing, as he brought his wet thumb, coated in her pleasure, to his mouth, tasting her, then leaning down and kissing her cheek gently, she could smell herself on his lips, in his hands, the primal, possessive satisfaction sending shivers down her spine “You're perfect, and you're mine. My omega. The things I would do for you... you couldn't imagine”.

         Anne thought maybe she could. That she might be able to, because she knew what she was willing to do for him too.

         When she hugged Diana she thought she would burst into tears at that very moment, exerting so much force in her arms that she was sure she would be able to choke her, laughing throatily as they broke apart to look at each other and return to the embrace, not having sized up how much she had missed her until she held her in her arms again “Oh, Diana, you don't know how much I've missed you, you have no idea!”.

         “Of course I do, Anne!” Diana exclaimed, almost offended, still holding her close “I'm sure I've missed you twice as much, having to go back to the routine without your company! The nearest thing to an agony ever detailed!”.

         “I don't want it to happen again” Anne murmured, separating from her definitively to study her face, the sweetness of her gaze, the darkness of her silky hair and the exquisite blue of her clothes, highlighting her paleness and the density of her eyelashes “It was unexpected, Diana, I never thought I'd go so long without seeing you, and it was terrible. I never want to be separated from you again”.

         “Anne” her best friend repeated, hugging her, laughing with Anne as she began to laugh out loud, her heart glad to have her best friend back and to be able to get back to normal “My eyes couldn't believe their eyes when I saw you arrive. The girls won't be able to believe it, either, let alone your perfect timing”.

         “My perfect timing?” Anne asked, still smiling, blinking slowly as a hesitant grin stretched across Diana's face “What do you mean?”.

         “Prissy's getting married to Professor Phillips this weekend!” Diana declared, looking at the snow that had begun to fall around the classroom, ignoring Anne's stupefaction “Isn't it funny, how you just recovered so you could be there?”.

Chapter Text

The wedding came before Anne could get used to the normal rhythm of life. Matthew gave her a beautiful, dreamy dress and the other girls seemed happy to invite her to pre-wedding events as if nothing bad had happened between them. They arranged afternoon teas, laughing loudly around her, biting their tongues to restrain themselves from commenting on the obvious differences between Anne and the other girls as they discussed their superficial concerns about the cold temperatures when she struggled so hard not to think about the orphanage as she did every year as the snow fell, constantly absent in herself as she watched the winter through the window.

Her body still felt weak, forcing herself to eat more than usual to regain her stamina and to walk and expose herself to the cold to build up more resistance. They had decided as a family that Jerry would not yet return to live with them, worried that he might somehow sense what had happened, grudgingly accepting when Anne begged to attend the afternoon events that her classmates organised. As much as Anne wanted to apologise to Prissy in privacy she seemed to constantly avoid her even when they were in the same room, busy chatting about her next plans once she was a married woman with the man of her dreams, Mr. Phillips, even though Anne shivered every time she thought of him; Diana always sought her gaze in a complicit manner, taking a deep breath to keep from laughing.

The lessons were, because of Phillips's nerves, chaotic and unhurried. There were several days when he allowed spare time even when Prissy was not present, locking himself away in another part of the cabin, while the boys arranged games in the snow or on the frozen lake a few miles away to compete for hours while the girls watched boredly from afar — several expressed a desire to join in, but Josie Pye was quick to wrinkle her nose “Are you serious? Do you want to play? And do you want to play with them? Do me a favour and look at how Moody is settling in to run. Look at him”.

“Ruby, really” Jane muttered with her constant frown, combing her hair with her hands “You wouldn't last two seconds within a few feet of them if they're playing”.

Ruby merely frowned, lips puffed out “It's boring being here and besides... besides Gilbert's playing, too. I'd like to say hello to him after all these days”.

Anne let out a sigh that was too heavy to be casual, but she was fortunate that none of the girls were paying attention to her. Diana, beside her, looked at her intently without uttering a word. Anne squared her shoulders, wanting to ignore the sour feeling that formed in her chest at the thought of another person wanting his attention “What?”.

“Nothing” Diana smiled shyly, laughing when Anne nudged her with her shoulder gently “Don't push!”.

“See, Ruby?” Josie wasted no time in commenting “Some of us are too delicate to play at that sort of thing, others, on the other hand, will have no problem getting sweaty and dirty. Nothing to envy them when we can enjoy the view from afar”.

Her voice had turned to a whisper as her eyes locked on Billy, muttering something derisive as his friends laughed in unison. Anne couldn't disguise her frown, disgust and alertness tensing her body, until Ruby spoke again “The boys will be considerate if we ask to play with them, Josie! They're gentlemen now, you know”.

“I’m not going to play anything” Jane muttered, nodding when Tillie said her same words “See? Just as much fun without moving or tearing my dresses”.

“Maybe Billy can teach me how to ice skate” Josie enunciated, as if thinking out loud. The smile she offered Ruby was enough to make her friend's cheeks pink with excitement “I'll walk with you, Ruby. It will just be a few minutes and we'll be right back, okay?”.

“I don't want to go first! I'll go after you” Ruby begged, clasping her hands together as Josie rolled her eyes “Please, I promise I won't bump into you. I swear”.

“You can't be serious” Jane insisted. She turned her gaze to Diana and Anne with intrigue “Are you two going too?”

“No—”Anne started to answer until Diana interrupted her, taking her hand and dragging her out onto the ice. She had to stifle a gasp as she kept herself from falling over in surprise, looking at her friend with wild eyes.

“Charlie can teach us,” Diana lied, knowing that they had shared glances when they had seen him on the verge of breaking his neck because of his own feet since they had arrived. None of the others could tell though, too busy with themselves “It will only take a moment”.

Josie and Ruby watched them curiously before shrugging their shoulders and starting to walk over to where Billy was, of course, while Diana and Anne headed over to where Charlie was chatting with Moody. Anne had scant moments to whisper “Diana, what are you doing?” to her.

“Ruby is tirelessly trying to have Gilbert's attention and you're standing at a distance” Diana enunciated, not judging her, but with a slight tinge of curiosity in her voice, wanting to understand her. Anne was silent for several seconds before confessing.

“She's in love with him, Diana” the words sounded monotone on her tongue, licking her lips to concentrate “I can't do anything about it, those are her feelings and I respect them. I'm not going to interfere in Gilbert's choices, no matter what is... whatever it is that's going on between us. She doesn't deserve it”.

“It doesn't bother you?” Anne bit the inside of her cheek, honesty forcing her to answer by looking into her eyes “That she's looking for him all the time?”.

Anne couldn't blame her. She suffered from the same agony, finding him at all times even when she didn't know she was chasing him. The result between them was different, however, when Anne discovered that Gilbert was always looking at her first.

“I do not enjoy it,” she could murmur, letting the air out of her nose, “But it is not my place to tell him of things of which I am not aware. If Gilbert does not want it he may tell her, as he sees fit, and when he thinks best. I—I don't want to get in his way, in his decisions. He's free to do what he wants”.

“Anne, maybe you should consider—” her sentence was interrupted when the disc some were playing with, solid and promising to leave bruises on their ankles, grazed their legs with a hiss from the speed. Anne and Diana grabbed each other's arms, steadying themselves, before raising their scowling gazes.

“My bad!” one of Billy's friends exclaimed in the distance, batting the hockey stick he was holding with one of his hands “Josie wanted to see how hard I could hit it”.

“Be careful with where you aim” Anne spoke, clear, letting go of Diana as she made sure they wouldn't land squarely on the ice “You could have hurt someone with that”.

Josie and Ruby didn't comment on that, but they didn't seem happy with the show of force, keeping silent when the boy himself muttered something under his breath and listened to what Billy had to say. Anne was still looking at them as Moody and Charlie approached them awkwardly, conscious not to hit them by accident “Hi, girls. You've got some pretty good skills standing upright in the middle of the rink”.

“Oh, sorry” Diana commented, looking around “Should we move?”.

“No, no! Not at all, we just—we stayed on for quite a while until we stopped falling over with our skates on” Moody excused himself, swiftly, his cheeks burning from his unrestrained words “Charlie here is good, though. I am the problem”. 

Both Diana and Anne raised their eyebrows, having witnessed his meagre skills for hours “Is that so, Charlie?”.

“Sort of” he shrugged, shy as ever, but glad to see them, or Anne at least, if one could judge by how he hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd appeared “I stink at skating, but I'm a good shot”.

Anne smiled, searching for the rubber disc with her eyes until she found it on the other side of the rink, waving her arms above her head to get the attention of the nearest person “Pass it!”.

Charlie stopped the disc with the stick as it reached them, blushing as Diana made a small noise of surprise, big eyes looking up at her as he heard Anne say “Can I try?”.

“Sure” Charlie nodded, on the verge of stuttering, thinking for a few seconds before blushing even harder “I can show you with my own, if you want, it'll be easier if...”.

Anne considered it for a few seconds before shaking her head, unconsciously rejecting another man's physical closeness after getting used to Gilbert's “Maybe Moody can lend me his?”.

“Right” Charlie replied, embarrassed, until Anne took the stick from Moody and positioned herself next to him, focused. He seemed suddenly more nervous as Anne stood nearby, all her attention fixed on him and his explanation “Right, you'll want to take the stick this way—move that hand up a bit—like that, perfect, and then you'll have to position your arms like I'm doing now. Exactly. And just because we're standing up we can position our body to set the trajectory better. Because the arc is over there, you see? It's good for me to stand like this, and hit this way”.

He could improve as a skater, but he was good with his arms, encouraging her when Anne copied his moves and tried the trajectory several times until she felt confident “Diana, be careful”.

“Don't hit it too hard” Charlie warned when Anne pulled the stick too far back, nodding when he corrected her. The move was clumsy, novice, but effective; the disc slid across the ice without hitting anyone and into the goal, which consisted of two branches stuck in the snow. Diana clapped proudly, “First time, Anne. Congratulations!”.

Anne handed the stick back to Moody, smiling “You have a very good technique! Do you practise a lot?”.

“With my father, yes” Charlie shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in his place. Anne considered at what point in their friendship he would consider himself relaxed enough to stop “We have a rink like this nearby, and ever since I was a kid he has taken me. He would be delighted to hear about your innate talents”.

Anne breathed contentedly for the benefits of winter when she was not choked with the scents of her classmates thanks to the constant wind and the thick layers of clothing that dressed them. She could think clearly, have a better humour, and her omega was more relaxed as she was not perceptive of the brutal scent of the alphas with whom she had to live. She was about to answer, playfully, until Charlie asked “Are you feeling better, Anne? What happened?”.

“Oh, yes” her whole posture and words were convincing, covering the truth of her heat, the revelation of her secret, the drastic plans she had to make to protect herself “When I got back in the harbour I became ill with a very contagious flu among the passengers. My parents decided to keep me at Green Gables for a few days for safety, but I'm as good as new. I'm just trying to eat a little more than usual and keep warm, but I'm recovered. I'm not going to infect you, if that's what you're worried about”.

“I know, but it's been a few days. I thought something bad had happened” Charlie nodded, studying her face unconsciously. Anne had the urge to pull back, restraining herself “It's good that you're feeling better anyway. You're going to the wedding, aren't you?”.

Her eyes betrayed her as they glanced over his shoulder, fixing on the only thing she seemed to make out in the stark white world — Gilbert being stopped by Ruby, dressed in black, wearing shoes just like her as he didn’t hold a hockey stick in his hands. Even though he was chatting with Ruby intently she could see the slight tilt of his body turning away, the smile he kept on his lips insincere. The satisfaction that formed low in his stomach was swiftly replaced by guilt “Anne?”. 

“Yes, I'm sorry. I'm going to the wedding, are you?” Charlie nodded “I think it's my first wedding ever! I always imagined what they would be like, but this will be the first time in real life, and I'm feeling a bit anxious about Prissy”. 

“Why?” Charlie asked, genuinely curious “Isn't that something all girls fantasize about—getting married?”.

“Uhm, fantasize wouldn't be the right word. We all think about what it will be like, with whom, and at what time but... I don't know if I'd define it as a fantasy. It's more like an eventual reality”.

“Makes sense” Charlie muttered, scratching the back of his neck “It's something I've been—that I'm thinking about a lot these days”.

“You want to get married? Now?” Anne asked, unable to contain the smile that stretched across her lips, grabbing him by the arms as Charlie flushed red with embarrassment “I can't believe it, Charlie, you're such a grown man! Thinking about getting married and everything”.

“Yeah, I mean, not now, b—but, you know, maybe start considering it—”.

“Everyone should be doing the same thing” Diana enunciated, crossing her arms as she asked Moody “Are you thinking about getting married too?”. 

“Of course I am” the lie was obvious, the silence stretching between them until Moody sighed “Okay, I'm not, but when the winter's over I will. My parents are waiting”.

The conversation was interrupted by a shout in the distance, Billy Andrews waving the hockey stick in the air, a smile too genuine to mean any good “Moody, catch!”. 

The position of the stick was too high for the small space of the rink, and Anne knew Billy was a strong man, missing the motion of the hit as she blinked. It happened in a matter of seconds, missing the disc as it slid at an alarming speed down the ice, and her body moving on its own as Moody jumped in place so he could avoid it, unaware that Anne was behind him. Her only reaction was to move to the side, the disc hissing across the ice, and dodging her feet by mere inches — the victory, however, was short-lived as she lost her balance from the sudden movement, grabbing Diana by the irrational desire to stay on her feet and dragging her down in the fall. 

The first sensation was the sharp thud against the ice, the coldness piercing her clothes, and then the absurd relief of relieving Diana's fall with her own body “Anne!”.

“I—I'm fine” she stammered, lungs emptied of air, huffing in a strange way as Diana managed to get to her feet, Charlie and Moody hovering over them, their skin pale with worry, their nervous scents forming a knot in her stomach.

Diana took her by the shoulders to sit her up, her frantic tone causing an instant headache “Anne, are you dizzy? Are you feeling okay? Really okay? Where did you get hurt?”.

“Anne, I'm so sorry” Moody enunciated, anxious, moving towards her awkwardly so he could look into her eyes with sincere regret “I can't believe I didn't think about where you were, I'm so sorry. Let me help you”.

He didn't give her time to answer — he grabbed her by the shoulders just as clumsily, with just enough strength to pull her to her feet without Anne slipping from his grip, holding her as she regained her balance. The weight of the gaze of all her classmates on her was enough to feel her cheeks flush red, having the overwhelming desire to hide under piles of snow “Better, yes? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. It was an impulse”.

“Moody, don't worry” she replied, taking advantage of his response to turn away from him, unconsciously wiping her coat as if he had dirtied it (a very rude gesture after he had helped her) “I did it on impulse too and made you trip, Diana, I'm sorry, I'm a beast! Are you all right?”.

“Anne, I am” Diana commented, disinterested as she studied her face for an expression of pain “Are you sure you're okay? The sound of the fall was so loud! I didn't think I was going to fall on you”. 

But Anne wasn't listening to her, having turned her body in the direction of where Billy was standing, laughing loud enough for anger to obscure the edge of her vision. Before she could stop herself she was walking towards him at a speed too reckless on such unsteady ground, but her body didn't betray her, ignoring as Diana, Moody and Charlie followed behind trying to stop her. She couldn't hear them. When Billy saw her only a few feet away his first reaction was to let his smile grow cold, eyes glinting in curiosity and mischief “Did you hit your head too hard, orphan, to come looking for me like this?”.

“Watch your words, Billy” Anne mumbled quietly through her teeth, unafraid to make eye contact. It was at these moments that her nature seemed to revolt within her chest, the terror of defying an alpha like Billy, who had shown he had no fear of harming her, against the protective instinct to guard her friends “You could have seriously hurt us with the stunt you pulled, don't you know how to play after all these rounds?”.

His expression held no smile at all now, as did his posture and his scent, ignoring how Anne had to start breathing through her mouth to keep from gagging. He was furious, fists tensed at his sides as he replied “If I were you I would act more carefully, Anne, isn't this the first time you've seen this?”.

He raised the stick, causing Anne to instinctively take a step back, clenching her jaw at being frightened by something so absurd — Billy was a violent, volatile person, but he was a coward above all else. He would never dare to hurt her in front of other people “I don't need to have seen it before to understand that you don't know how to use it. Measure your strength and try to aim better next time”.

“It's funny, you know,” he muttered, quietly, as if he only wanted her to hear him. Anne held her breath “I think this will be the only time you'll ever see one of these. You should commit it to memory”.

“What are you talking about?” Anne didn't want her heart to race in alarm as it did, but it was inevitable when faced with a threat. A threat she couldn't understand, frowning when Billy looked up from her to swallow audibly and back away; Anne didn't have to turn around to know who was behind her. She could feel his scent intoxicating her in a matter of seconds “Billy, what did you just say?”.

“Be careful,” Billy replied, suddenly pale, unable to contain the hatred that burned her nose as she smelled him “And learn your place before it's too late”.

She thought about walking closer and pushing him, hitting him so hard that her palm would burn, demanding answers that at the end of the day would be worth nothing more than anxiety and paranoia. Instead, she decided to shake her head in absolute silence and brush her shoulder against Gilbert's as she walked away from them, her eyes fixed on Diana. There were battles she had to decide when to fight, and Billy was not her priority. She had more important things to resolve, and time was running out — everything seemed to be leading to an imminent and inevitable end, and Anne could only hope to be ready to meet it.

The wedding finally arrived on one of the coldest days since winter had begun, a week before Christmas. The dress Matthew had given her contrasted with the purity of the snow, highlighting the intense colour of her hair and the emotion that tinged her cheeks, biting her lower lip until it bled to hold back the words rising in her throat, failing miserably “My first wedding, Marilla, can you believe it? Please tell me again what's going to happen”.

“Anne,” her mother sighed impatiently, adjusting one of her gloves without looking at her. She knew it would be a matter of minutes before she raised her voice, fed up with her questions “I already explained. Use your incredible memory to remember, please. I can't recall any more than I already said, and it doesn't mean—”.

“And it doesn't mean that this wedding is the same as the others, I know, but…” Anne interrupted, rising from her seat in the carriage as they approached the church “But it's my first time! I'll have to write down everything we witness in a journal, so next time I can compare and describe more realistic scenes in my stories. Imagination is one of the most important tools, you should know, but experiencing them is just as crucial”.

She waved her arms above her head when she saw Diana in the distance, eagerly waiting for Matthew to stop the carriage so she could get out, careful not to tear her dress. When her feet touched the snow, however, she ran the few metres to hug her friend and exclaim in unison, laughing when Tillie, Jane, Ruby and Josie joined them with the same excitement. They were all wearing vibrant, colourful dresses, long enough to reach the ground, their hair loose over their shoulders; reaching the age to wear such outfits had been an event in itself, and now they were all complimenting each other. It would be less than a year before they finished their final year of school and went their separate ways, having secretly discussed fantasies of which wedding they would attend together next.

Father Dixon was inside the church when they entered to find their seats, greeting her parents diplomatically but flashing a smile that was too genuine when he saw Anne behind them, his icy eyes studying her as he murmured, “Good morning, Anne. How nice to see you at such a special event as today's, accompanied by your parents, am I right?”.

“Yes, Father,” Marilla replied, reserved but smiling politely at the acknowledgement. “Anne has been our daughter since the moment she set foot in Green Gables”.

Anne swallowed heavily, her head warning her of the strange way the Father seemed to enjoy her presence, curious about her, his hair neatly combed back, his eyes as clear as the ice forming on the lake “God bless your souls and your family, Mrs. Cuthbert. I would be delighted to visit you before Christmas, as I am doing with the rest of the community, if you are willing to welcome me, of course”.

“It would be an honour,” Marilla replied again, ignoring how Anne could sense the slight tension in her shoulders at the thought of receiving Dixon in her own home, where Anne slept and whose scent lingered in her room. Despite only having the cross hanging around his neck, they could only see a dagger waiting for the right moment to slit their throats “You may visit us when you see fit, and we will welcome you properly”.

“I'm not asking for luxuries, Madam, not at all,” he shifted his gaze from Marilla to her, unconsciously straightening her spine “I'm only asking for the whole family to be there, so I can get to know you better. Anne and I have met on several occasions, and I would love to know more about you and spread the word of God at times like this, before His birth, and enrich the community as much as possible”.

“That sounds wonderful,” Anne interjected, knowing that Matthew would not say a word unless it was strictly necessary. Her skin bristled at the thought of meeting him at her doorstep, praying that his nose would be weak enough not to detect her scent “We'll be waiting for you, Father”. 

His hand was cold when she took it in hers, grateful for the moment when all the guests began to take their seats, an implicit permission to escape his attention. It was difficult to stay in her place when Diana and Anne shared knowing glances of excitement and mixed feelings, suddenly displeased to see Professor Phillips at the altar, turning their heads at the same time when the doors opened. Everyone stood up to welcome Prissy, mesmerised by the sight of her dressed in white, the veil delicately covering her face as she walked towards the altar on her father's arm, unable to smile even at such an important moment as the wedding of his first daughter. She really looked beautiful, holding a bouquet of dried flowers that were perfect for winter, following her with her eyes as the music filled the space, keeping her smile when she found Gilbert watching her, the familiar and electric sensation of his presence tingling on her skin and tickling her lower stomach. She held her breath when Father Dixon cleared his throat, beginning the ceremony “It is on this day, by the grace and will of God, that we unite Edward Phillips and Priscilla Andrews in love, commitment, and honesty for eternity”. 

Her concentration, however, was focused on Phillips waiting for the Father to finish speaking before approaching Prissy and lifting her veil, not bothering to smile at the sight of his future wife, causing Prissy's expression to twist. The confusion lasted several seconds until, frozen in place, she began to murmur, choked, “I'm sorry, I don't—don't”.

“Continue, Father,” Harmon Andrews' voice was icy, definitive, his jaw tightening as Prissy fixed her gaze on the floor, unable to move. Anne felt like she was going to vomit, taking Marilla's hand in hers and squeezing it, horrified.

Father Dixon was unmoved by the little scene, resuming his words, “Blessed are those who, with the light given by the Lord, find where to share and cultivate it, and decide to seal it in the house of God in the presence of those they cherish, making the sacred promise to care for and love in life, until death decides it shall be enough”.

Phillips looked ill, alarmingly pale, his hands trembling slightly in front of him as Prissy began to sob, listening as Harmon growled through clenched teeth, threatening to stand up. The atmosphere quickly filled with scents that made her dizzy in a matter of seconds, sour scents of nerves and confusion, heavy with the anger of a parent and Prissy's anguish, squeezing Marilla's hand until her mother tried to pull it away. When Prissy raised her head, her cheeks covered in tears, no one could stop her as she threw the flowers on the floor and left the altar, disappearing through the door before the guests could figure out what was happening.

Jane ran after her, followed by Diana, Anne, Ruby, and Josie, who gathered around Prissy when they found her kneeling in the snow, her white dress melting into the winter. Diana was the first to speak “Prissy, are you okay? Please don't cry”.

“It doesn't matter if you don't want to marry him, Prissy!” Ruby exclaimed, stroking her back “You can stay with us until you decide who's right for you”.

Anne was parting her lips to encourage her when Prissy lifted her head, laughing, looking at them through eyes glazed with tears. Her first impulse was to frown, confused, but instead a laugh escaped her lips, growing louder as the others began to laugh too. Prissy cried tears that seemed to indicate relief as she playfully threw snow at Jane, standing up as the others plunged their hands into the snow to respond, melodious laughter ringing in her ears and a weight lifting from her chest that she didn't know she was carrying. Prissy wasn't going to marry Mr Phillips, she wasn't going to give up her whole life for him—.

“Priscilla Andrews” the growl that cut through the air was enough to make everyone stop abruptly. Harmon Andrews wasn't an intimidating man, but at that moment he looked like one, on the verge of baring his teeth, his scent forcing all the girls to huddle together for protection “You will return to church right now, and perhaps I will forgive the embarrassment you are causing me. Right now, Priscilla”.

Prissy's face was on the verge of distorting, tears falling freely down her cheeks, desperately shaking her head “No, Father. I'm not going to marry him. My decision is final”.

“This is not your decision, Priscilla,” Harmon growled through clenched teeth, turning red in a matter of seconds “It is my decision, and I am ordering you to return to the church right now. You are going to marry that man today”.

When he took a step forward, wanting to grab Prissy and drag her to the church, they all moved in unison to shield her, putting their bodies in front of hers, including Jane, who looked on the verge of fainting from confronting her father so brazenly. None of them raised their voices, but it wasn't necessary; the message was obvious — Prissy wasn't going to get married if it wasn't her choice, especially when her friends were there to stop it.

The silence was deafening, dangerous, enough for Harmon to let out a breath through his nose and murmur slowly, “Are you really going to do this to me? Are you going to ruin our life, your reputation, on a mere whim? Because you're scared? Be a dear, wipe your tears and return to the altar”.

“No,” Prissy's voice, despite being hoarse from crying, left no room for doubt “I'm not going to marry him, Father. I'm not coming back”.

He took several seconds to look at her, a cold calmness, then looked at the girls who had not moved an inch from covering her. The last thing he did before leaving was to nod slowly, his footsteps crunching on the snow as the wind began to blow, knocking the flower crown Prissy was wearing to the ground. Anne, for a reason she still couldn't define, felt that all traces of relief had left her and, instead, fear settled in her chest.

Her nose found him before her eyes did, smiling when she saw Gilbert in an alleyway, running towards him and throwing herself into his arms before he could even notice her presence. Her alpha made a small noise of surprise when he felt the impact, but he was quick to take her in his arms and press her against his chest, leaning down to kiss her head. Anne was the first to speak “Did I scare you?”.

“No,” he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down her spine. His hands caressed her shoulders and arms, confusing it with the cold, looking at her with a smile when Anne pulled away slightly to watch him through her lashes. Gilbert growled softly, pleased with her attention, before leaning in closer to kiss the tip of her nose “You look beautiful”.

“Thank you,” Anne replied, even though she didn't agree at all, sure that the tip of her nose must be red and her lips dry, blushing uncontrollably, eager to change the subject “Did you wait a long time for me?”.

“I was starting to think you didn't manage to escape, and I was going to come and look for you,” he replied, caressing her cheek with his knuckles “You arrived right on time”.

Her alpha looked gorgeous dressed in dark blue, verging on black, looking at her with bright eyes full of adoration. Anne was quick to lean in and kiss the corner of his lips delicately, unable to stop touching him, until she took a firm step back “It's inappropriate to kiss in public, Blythe, didn't you hear?”.

His pupils were dilated, and he smelled incredible, filling her lungs with a warm, protective, familiar scent. Anne wanted to melt against him, laughing when the alpha reached out and caressed the tip of his cold nose against the edge of her jaw “My apologies, Anne. My manners are incorrigible”.

Anne was beginning to realise how necessary his closeness was becoming, her muscles relaxing in his grip, sighing contentedly against his warmth. Being away from him was becoming torture, knowing it was a biological as well as a rational matter, feeling the reciprocity of her emotions when Gilbert breathed deeply against her skin “My princess, I missed you too. I don't know how to be away from you”.

Anne smiled, leaving a small kiss on his throat until her alpha let her go, his eyelids heavy and his concentration hanging by a thread “We should go before it gets dark”.

“After you,” Gilbert replied, following her closely on the way to the library. The cold kept the rest of Avonlea's residents from walking the streets unless it was strictly necessary, avoiding curious glances or whispers behind their backs.

When they entered, the air was damp and warm in contrast to the bitter cold outside, and Anne frowned “How can it be so hot?”.

“There are so many questions I have about this place, Anne,” Gilbert murmured, a tone of utter surrender causing her to smile “And none of them seem to have answers”.

“You're right,” Anne whispered, scanning the aisles to see if, miraculously, there was anyone else with them besides Abigail “It could easily not be real, don't you think?”.

“Tell me more,” the alpha said, breathing deeply through his nose, filling his chest “I don't feel anyone but Abigail, but we can take a quick look around to make sure”.

“Should we say hello?” Anne asked, biting her lower lip nervously, thinking, “We could save ourselves some trouble if she knows we're here. If she hears us, she wouldn't have to come and check because she'd know it's us”.

“All right,” Gilbert smiled, causing Anne to hold her breath unconsciously “Let's say hello to the guardian of the castle”.

The exchange, of course, was so unnatural that it bordered on complete comedy. When Anne greeted her, clearly and enthusiastically, Abigail didn't even bother to lift her head to acknowledge her. They waited a full minute that felt like an eternity until Anne, sighing, turned around and headed straight for the bookshelf where she knew the book was, suppressing her own smile when she heard Gilbert laughing hoarsely behind her “Do you find this entertaining?”.

Her alpha leaned against one of the shelves, crossing his arms, momentarily distracting her with the image of his broad shoulders and the muscle of his arms over his chest, his intoxicating smile making her dizzy for a few seconds “I can't help but be curious about her talent for avoidance. It's precise, consistent, worthy of study”.

Anne paused for a few seconds before frowning slightly “It's unique, yes, but that doesn't make it any less annoying. We stood in front of her for a long time!”.

“She knows we're here, and that's what we wanted,” Gilbert replied, still smiling, leaning forward slightly until his warm breath fell on her face. Anne felt her heart racing, her eyes wide as she looked at him, licking her lips when the alpha took her chin delicately between his fingers “The dress you wore at the wedding was new, wasn't it?”.

She wasn't surprised by the change of subject, remembering how he had devoured her with his gaze the moment he saw her, her cheeks burning and her breath catching at his closeness, at how firm and confident his touch felt on her.

“Yes, Alpha,” Anne replied, moving closer to him even though they had an important task to accomplish, even though Abigail was only a few metres away, even though she had to return to Green Gables before Marilla lost her mind “Matthew gave it to me”.

“You looked beautiful in that colour,” he said as he caressed her lower lip with the tip of his thumb, forcing her to press her thighs together. She couldn't resist the urge to kiss him gently. His eyes were black as he looked at her, his heavy scent blending with the warm atmosphere to the point of deafening all rational thought “Tell me, Anne, if I decided to give you gifts, would you accept them?”.

She should bite her tongue, remain silent, but how could she lie to him when he was so close, when he could cause electricity to run through her skin and weaken her legs? Anne was not his only in body; she knew this when, before going to sleep, she thought about him, wondering if he had slept well, if he was warm enough, if he was worried. She knew it from the joy that melted her chest when she found him, the affection that squeezed her heart when she heard him laugh, the devotion in the silence when she thought about how focused he looked when reading. Anne was entirely his, until no part of her remained unconsumed by him, parting her lips when her alpha's hand settled at the nape of her neck and tilted her head up towards him, knowing that Gilbert felt the same. That Gilbert was hers with every breath he took “You've already given me gifts, alpha”.

Gilbert's smile was slow, his eyes shining, hovering over her as if he were capable of covering her with his body at that very moment “No, princess, not the things I really want to give you. I just want to know if you would say yes. Would you?”.

Her eyelashes fluttered as her alpha leaned over her, brushing his lips against hers, laughing hoarsely when Anne parted her lips and stood on her tiptoes to chase him when he pulled away from her. His grip on her hair was firm, holding her in place “No, Anne. You have to answer me first”.

“Yes, Gilbert,” she nodded eagerly, reaching up to take hold of his shirt, his heat seeping through the fabric “I would accept your gifts, Alpha. I would accept them all”.

He caressed the edge of her jaw with his free hand, lowering it to rest on the scarf covering her throat, her glands; the memory of his teeth against her was enough to make her shiver “My good girl, I knew you'd say yes. Come here”.

The kiss was delicate, devoted, honest. Anne clasped her hands on his shoulders, keeping her balance, while Gilbert took her face in his hands and pulled her close, growling softly against her. His lips seemed made to touch hers, trembling slightly as the air seemed to escape from her lungs, his scent surrounding her to the point of dizziness, considering that nothing could be as important or as perfect as this, as finding and losing herself in him again and again, convinced that she would be willing to travel entire worlds to touch him again. His muscles felt strong against her, flexing beneath her hands, his closeness dispelling all fear, doubt and paranoia — when they separated, breathing wildly with their foreheads together, Anne dared to say, “I want — I want more than gifts, Gilbert”.

“Tell me,” Gilbert replied, his voice deep, and when she looked at him, she could only feel the chill running up her spine as she gazed into his black, transparent eyes “Tell me, and I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything you ask for and more, omega”.

Her breath caught as she heard him say her dynamic aloud, something instinctive and primitive choking her, swallowing hard “When this is over, when I know how—how to understand myself, I want it all, Gilbert. I want that”.

Her alpha leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, her eyelids, a contented scent emanating from him, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs so gently it was as if she were made of porcelain “It's yours. No matter how long it takes, or how soon it is. It's yours”.

I am yours.

“I know,” Anne whispered against his lips, closing her eyes, enjoying the calmness that ran through her veins knowing that they wanted the same thing, that she was his, too. “Thank you, Alpha”.

Anne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, nodding slowly and absentmindedly bringing a hand to her forehead, frowning when she found it sweaty. Gilbert was quick to ask, “Are you hot?”.

“Yes,” she moved away from him, looking around, trying to concentrate “I can't sweat too much, it can affect my medication…”.

She didn't have to say anything else, blinking and losing sight of Gilbert in a matter of seconds. She looked over her shoulder to find him reading the titles of the books with precise speed, running his fingers over some of them, until he had read all the books in that section. Anne had taken it upon herself to read the others even though she knew her book was in a specific place, almost dropping one on the floor when Gilbert muttered, “I think we're on the wrong shelf”.

“W—what?” she muttered, terrified and suddenly pale, putting down the book she was holding to stand beside him, her eyes frantically searching for the book that, as the minutes passed, she knew was not there “No... it can't be possible, no one but us—it has to be here, it can't…”.

“Maybe Abigail rearranged them,” Gilbert offered, noticing the tension in his jaw and the change in his posture. Anne shook her head hysterically.

“No, Gilbert,” Anne replied in a whisper, feeling like she was suffocating, unconsciously bringing her hands to her chest to cover her unstable heartbeat “All the books are in the same position. It's not here. Someone — oh, God, someone took it”.

Gilbert's growl deafened her ears and seemed capable of shaking the entire library, and in the distance they could hear Abigail's chair being pulled back heavily.

Chapter Text

Gilbert could sometimes still feel it.

Sometimes, when he was in his room and his head ached from reading, Gilbert could feel the gentle rocking of the waves, lulling him to sleep. He could feel the salt coating his dry lips after hours without water, he could feel the sun burning his shoulders from long days of work, he could remember the pain in his ribs when Sebastian decided to tell him stories of his life before he became a sailor. He could feel it for mere seconds before coming back to himself.

At other times he could recall precious memories, but they left an emptiness tearing at his chest as they slipped through his fingers. He was no longer sure he could remember his father's laughter and his voice, the way he smelled when he hugged him in his childhood, the weight of his hands when he touched his shoulders. Gilbert could remember his routine, how he ate breakfast before the sun lit up the farm, the bread he always split to share with him before dinner, how he fell asleep within minutes of finishing his first glass of wine. He didn't remember what his eyes looked like at dusk, or how his hair felt when he had nightmares and his father accidentally fell asleep in his bed. He wasn't sure how much difference in height they would have at this point.

All those memories used to soothe him, used to appear to chase away the tiredness, the stress, the uncertainty, like his father reaching out to him and touching his cheek to keep him company.

None of that was going to happen right now. Not when the dust and confinement of the library was suffocating, not when what kept him rational had vanished in front of his hands in the blink of an eye.

The book was gone. The only thing that allowed him to sleep when anxiety and worry choked him, repeating to himself that they would be able to solve it, that he would study everything he could to help Anne against her body's imminent betrayal. The only solution was gone, and in its place only the shadow that seemed to be hunting them grew and got closer.

Anne went white.

Gilbert held his breath, his own body pausing for a second to process the image before him. Anne, who was always full of life, happy, sad, furious, warm — talking excitedly, gesturing with her hands, frowning for several seconds until she finished scolding him. Her Anne, explosive, witty, fierce, clinging to what she believed in and to life with teeth and nails. An unstoppable force, a sensitive and brilliant woman. The sun itself.

Now, however, she looked defeated. Anne looked broken, her expression pale and her eyes empty, her arms falling at her sides. Unresponsive, like a doll that had been used and discarded.

“Anne” Gilbert was careful as he approached, reaching out one of his hands to cup her chin and direct her attention towards him. Anne blinked slowly “We're going to find it”.

Anne looked at him for several seconds before taking a step backwards, away from his touch, the same expression absent of emotion “Abigail must have heard you”.

His concentration shifted its focus automatically, turning at just the right moment to watch as Abigail moved slowly among the books, her heavy breathing a clear indication of her displeasure. Gilbert tensed his jaw, furious at himself for losing control, before he felt Anne's hand take his. Abigail pointed an accusing finger at his chest, the difference in height indifferent to how terrifying the woman looked when she was angry “You think you can come into my library and behave like a savage, young man? Growling like a rabid dog?”.

“It was a mistake, ma’am” Gilbert murmured, quietly, dropping his shoulders and looking genuinely sorry "I did not mean to interrupt your work or your peace of mind. I hope you will forgive my recklessness."

“Recklessness” Abigail repeated, ceasing to point at him to let out a snort laden with impatience “Your recklessness succeeded in making me listen to your—barbarities from my place. Both Professor Phillips and I were clear about the conditions of work in my library, and this is certainly not according to what we had agreed. I'm afraid I will have to communicate this to the professor so that he can take whatever action he finds necessary for your behaviour”.

“Ma'am” Anne's voice sounded suddenly behind him, startling him, swallowing heavily as he could distinguish the angelic and patient tenor of her words, frowning as he sensed Anne release his hand to stand beside him “You have to understand that my friend is not a savage, as you said, or in possession of behavioural problems. It was a simple and honest mistake, can't you see he's a decent and honourable man?

Gilbert paid attention to her face, the emptiness in her eyes, the delicate movement of her head so that she could look at Abigail more clearly, the sweetness in her voice unsettling him. Something was wrong, and Abigail was silent for several seconds before replying, “I hope his gestures were not directed at you, miss. No man has the right to snarl at absolutely no one, no matter how serious his mistake”.

“Oh, thank you very much for your concern, but Gilbert is not capable of even hurting a fly” Anne smiled, still not finding the sincere gleam in her eyes, causing the warning to rise within Gilbert “He didn't mean to”.

Anne looked at him carefully, allowing him to interrupt “My sincerest apologies, madame. I did not mean to upset you, of course, and not in the worst of unconsciousness would I dare treat anyone in such a manner. You have nothing to worry about”.

Gilbert should have assumed that a woman of her character, owning the only library in Avonlea and with a close relationship with a person like Phillips, would not be afraid to approach an alpha to scold him. The concern for Anne, however, was a surprise.

“There's no trouble about me urgently asking you to leave, then”.

It was enough for Gilbert to settle his coat on Anne's shoulders to hear her speak, “Gilbert, stop”.

They stood in the middle of the path, the snow crunching under their feet and the wind blowing through the branches. They were alone for miles, soothing the urge to be able to speak without strange words but causing him to feel uneasy at keeping her out in the open when the temperatures were so low “Anne, it's only for a few minutes. I don't need it”.

“Of course you do” Anne took it from him, pushing it against his chest to force him to take it back “You need to stop doing this”.

“What, stop giving you my coats?” he made no attempt to take it, and Anne didn't let go, pushing it back against his chest.

“No, Gilbert” the mask of indifference seemed to be cracking as he saw her breathing shakily “Stop taking care of me as if it makes any sense”.

He allowed a heartbeat to pass “What are you talking about, Anne?”.

Anne tensed her lips, looking him in the eye, before sighing and dropping her arms. Gilbert tried to move closer, stopping when Anne took a step back “Don't you realise what's happening? Can't you see it?”.

Gilbert remained silent, and Anne took two deep breaths to mutter “Someone knows what's going on. Someone knows who I am”.

The silence was overwhelming, and Anne interrupted it again “It was always a matter of luck and it seems like just the right time for it to end”.

“If someone knew the truth they wouldn't be stealing a book to annoy you, Anne” his voice was controlled, deep, studying the expression of the girl in front of him intently “They wouldn't allow time to pass to play with you”.

“I'm not sure” Anne muttered, glancing at the horizon before shaking her head “What is it, then? Another—person like me who finds themselves in the same situation and thought of the same answer?”

“We don't know anything about this” Gilbert sighed, not allowing the stress to take hold of him again “Maybe it's a common condition and they're taking desperate measures not to be found, like you are. Maybe Abigail found the book and chose to keep her head and burn it. There is no way we can tell, Anne”.

“It's easier to assume the worst case scenario and deal with it that way” Gilbert frowned as he noticed the pallor in her skin, the weariness in her gaze, tensing his jaw so as not to interrupt her after being silent for so long “That's how I got here, that’s how I survived for so long, but I'm so tired”.

This time, when Gilbert approached, Anne allowed him to do so. She looked so fragile as the alpha took her in his arms, sinking her face into his chest and breathing heavily the safe scent of his body, still holding the coat in her hands “We're going to find out what's going on and we won't have to worry about anything else. I won't let anything happen to you”.

Gilbert stroked her shoulders, her neck over the scarf covering her glands until he heard her sigh “What was that word Abigail used? Recklessness?”.

Anne broke away from him slightly to look at him through her lashes, having to concentrate to answer in a husky voice “Yes. I suppose it was a more polite way of calling me a rabid dog”.

Her omega looked gorgeous in contrast to the snow, her reddish hair framing the brightness of her eyes and the delicate definition of her face, sliding his eyes over her expression until Anne came close enough to touch her nose against his “Worst case scenario requires us to be reckless”.

Gilbert struggled not to close his eyes as he felt her nearness, resting his forehead against hers, ecstatic to feel her warmth and the sensation of her skin touching him “What do you need me to do?”.

“It's a step I've been thinking about taking lately, but I wasn't sure” Anne murmured, licking her lips “I guess this is a sign that I should do it”.

“Tell me” it was dangerous how easily she had his attention and his will, sliding his hands down her arms in an attempt to chase the cold away, his alpha growling low in his chest as Anne broke the tiny distance between them, feeling the movement of her lips as she spoke again.

“I have to go back to the orphanage to find information about my parents, where I come from” Gilbert heard her swallow, conflicted “Maybe—my mother was like me, maybe I can find out more about myself. At times like this I feel like I don't know myself at all, that I don't know who I am”.

He parted his lips to reply, cupping his hand to her jaw, keeping silent when Anne said “And if we don't find anything about them, which is likely, we can try the town library and its archive. Maybe in some newspaper they've been discussing omegas...”.

“We'll go when you're ready” Gilbert nodded, gently stroking the skin of her cheeks “Everything will be fine—”.

Anne kissed him. The first contact was tentative, the heat and wetness of her mouth forcing him to close his eyes and listen deliriously to Anne's sigh against his lips, the warm, soft feel of her body moulding to his. Gilbert had to stifle a low growl as Anne pulled away from him, closing her eyes tightly, shyly shaking her head “Gilbert, you're risking your family for me, I can't bear my conscience if anything happens, if I'm caught”.

“No” his answer was final and sharp, his jaw tensing as he felt Anne freeze under his touch “I'm not leaving you, Anne. You have my word. I promised”.

“Just—” her eyes seemed transparent as she connected them with his, as if they could reflect the ocean, the stars, the reflection of the sun. Gilbert held his breath “Swear to me that when—that if the time comes, you won't try to protect me, Gilbert. Swear to me that you'll take care of your family. Of you”.

Gilbert hated lying.

“Please,” her fists clenched at his clothes, tightening, feeling her breath falling unevenly over his lips, “Swear it, Gilbert. I can't share my secret with you if I know you're going to compromise your family for it”.

Gilbert would never put his family at risk, it was a certainty as true as the blood that coursed through his veins, but when he could look at Anne so closely and hear her voice, both his alpha and his heart couldn't recognise her as anything but his.

“I swear, Anne,” the lie ached between his ribs, weighing on his tongue, but he wasn't willing to enunciate his truth and lose her over it. He wasn't willing to lose her for anything “Don't fear”.

When he kissed her cheek he thought he saw a fleeting glimmer of distrust in her eyes, losing it as she sank her face into his chest again, clinging to him as if she were saying goodbye.

The muscles in his arms began to burn as he dropped the axe.

He breathed heavily, his skin shiny and clammy with sweat despite the cold, studying the wood in front of him to decide it was enough for the fire they would need that night. When Sebastian and Delphine greeted him from a distance Gilbert held up one of his hands, smiling “That's enough, Gilbert! Mary's going to be mad if you keep us waiting”.

Gilbert nodded, bending to gather the firewood in his arms and headed home. Splinters poked through his clothes and even knowing Sebastian wouldn't, he couldn't help but say, “Don't leave Delphine on the floor until I can sweep”.

“I know, Gilbert” Sebastian replied, rolling his eyes as Delphine watched, focused, as Gilbert fed the fire with the wood “You should take a bath as soon as possible. Maybe right now”.

Gilbert smiled, it being his turn to roll his eyes, positioning the steel grate so Delphine couldn't get seriously hurt by the flames. After sweeping neatly, making sure the baby would be safe from the splinters, it was when he finally dropped his shoulders and stroked the back of his neck wearily, “Intense day, isn't it?”.

“Intense year, Sebastian” Gilbert replied, careful not to touch Delphine too much because of his filth as he kissed her cheek, making her giggle because of the tickle “I won't be long and I'll help you with the cooking”.

“Don't overdo it, boy” his friend murmured, lifting one of his hands to pat his shoulder, before thinking better of it and wrinkling his nose “Take all the time you need. You've already done more than you need to”.

He frowned, thinking of refusing, until he noticed Mary leaning against the doorframe of the living room, staring at him in absolute silence and communicating everything he needed to know — he wasn't going to be allowed to do anything but eat and, perhaps, put Delphine to sleep. Gilbert raised his hands in defeat, starting up the stairs “Whatever you wish, then”.

Stepping into the warm water was enough for Gilbert to sigh deeply and let his head fall back, his arms stretched out at his sides, his whole body protesting the effort that day had taken. The pre-Christmas preparations were always exhausting, and over the years seemed to extend with the daily chores; feeding the animals, brushing the horses, shoveling snow from the crops, shopping at the market, cleaning the house, chopping the firewood, trying not to wake Delphine from her nap to walk with her. The steam from the near-boiling water rose to the ceiling in contrast to the cold, and Gilbert could only close his eyes and enjoy the first moment in the whole day when he could relax and be alone.

His mind, however, did not understand the concept of enjoyment. It only took a few seconds of not forcing himself to concentrate on something to drive him, as if it had claws sinking into him, towards the one thing that seemed to take over his entire being without any effort at all. He covered his eyes and growled hoarsely and low into the void, tensing his jaw until it ached, trying to ignore the voice of him that seemed to grow louder as the weeks went by.

Find her.

No. Anne was fine, with her family, perhaps eating the dinner she'd cooked with her mother. The image formed behind his eyelids with ease, wearing a delicately coloured dress that highlighted her eyes, the colour of her freckles, the moisture of her lips. Perhaps her hair was in a braid, or loose as when he had entered her room and smelled her for the first time, bathed in moonlight, remembering how silky it had felt between his fingers when he had caressed her...

Find her.

He balled his hands into fists, anxious, as Gilbert tried to ignore the voice that rose from the centre of his chest and burned in his veins with longing. Gilbert didn't need to suffer to know he needed her, he had seen her with his own eyes and that was enough. He had heard her. He had touched her with his own hands, even when he thought she was an angel and would disappear when he caressed his fingers against her, her presence filling his soul, melting into his heart. He couldn't fight the fear and his alpha had fangs.

Find her. Take her.

Thoughts gripped him like darkness, eating him away and making him unsteady. Erratic. He didn't want to think of Anne that way, but since he'd discovered his feelings for her it was all he could do. It was consuming him.

Take her. She's mine.

His fingers tinged white from the pressure he was exerting, an irrational, absurd anger burning in his chest as he discerned the words. He shouldn't think of her this way. Trying to focus on anything but her, on all the adversity around them, on how he could fix it. On being rational.

But Anne was so sweet.

The memory only seemed to make the voice worse, growling again as it rumbled inside his head like a curse, closing his eyes tightly, trying to fight the impulse that tensed his muscles.

Find her before someone else does. Take her.

No. The conviction was absolute, unquestionable. No one but him would ever find her. It was in these moments that his rationality and his nature were confused, their tonalities mingling, confusing and weakening him, how could he resist? Anne had been delicate beneath him, beneath his hands, and the sounds she had made.

Take it. She's mine. And she's alone.

The water felt suddenly cold, and as he looked out the window, the falling snow increased his paranoia, beginning to wonder if she really was in Green Gables, beautiful, sheltered from the cold instead of the horrible scenarios his alpha made him imagine. She was fine. Anne was fine. She wasn't alone.

Find her.

Gilbert took a deep breath, as if he could fill himself with her sweet scent, tensing his hands as if he could touch her again. As if he could feel the shyness of her warmth against his palm. He needed her. He couldn't stop.

His alpha had begun to growl again, demanding, until Gilbert heard in the distance with ease “Gilbert, food will be ready in ten minutes!”.

Gilbert stood up before his nature began to manipulate him again, looking at himself in the mirror with what little illumination the candle could provide, the shadows aggrandising his confident, defined body displaying his years of labour on the high seas. He might need a haircut, too, but that wasn't what caught his attention.

The darkness of his pupils did.

Delphine raised her arms at the sight of him, settling into his embrace with familiarity, making small sounds of complaint when Gilbert kissed her cheeks repeatedly, “Hello, baby. You could have helped me with the chickens today”.

“She has to learn to respect them, Gilbert” Sebastian commented, slicing bread “She can't just chase them around and treat them like they're nothing. Their beaks hurt”.

“But they never get that close” Gilbert replied, raising one of Delphine's fists “She always sees them first and hits them, don't you?”.

“Poor chickens” Mary said, starting to serve dinner “We have to guard them from Delphine, then”.

“Smells amazing, Mary” the alpha complimented, licking his lips in reflex as she placed the plate in front of him “Thank you. I know it took you a long time”.

“It's nothing” the woman replied “It's Christmas, we deserve to eat well”.

“And plenty” Sebastian added “Eat quickly if you want to eat more”.

“No” Gilbert protested, frowning “We won't do this again. No one eats as fast as you do, it's not fair”.

“It's my reward for the amazing gifts I got, young man” Sebastian muttered as he chewed, looking confident “It's a shame they have to wait until tomorrow”.

“We've already guessed your presents, Sebastian” Mary replied, raising her eyebrows in amusement as her husband gave her a distrustful look “Pitifully, darling, you're predictable. Doesn't change the fact that the presents are lovely”.

“Lovely” Sebastian repeated, feigning indignation, and Gilbert laughed low. Delphine turned her head to look at him when she heard him “So my effort is now lovely”.

“That's a nice compliment, cheer up” Gilbert replied, trying to contain the smile stretching his lips. The food tasted amazing, and it was natural for him to take a bite and then feed it to Delphine, mindful that it wasn't big spoonfuls and chewed carefully to continue “I'm afraid they'll be better than the ones I got”.

“Don't waste time debating” Mary shrugged “My gifts are better than yours. No doubt about it”.

Gilbert and Sebastian looked at each other before looking at her again “Mary, you are terrible at giving gifts”.

“This is my present” she pointed to the food and then to Delphine “Her too. I didn't hear any complaints about anything until now”.

“In that case, then, you're right” Sebastian nodded his head “Do you remember what we were eating on the boat, Gilbert?”

“Please don't”.

“How could I forget, my friend?” Gilbert laughed again as Mary sighed heavily “Every day I'm thankful I don't have to ingest that stuff again. There were times when we'd rather starve to death”.

“Drinking oil was a valid option” Sebastian concurred, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders “That, my dear, is why your gift is one of the best, but you already knew that”.

“Of course” Mary smiled, before reaching up to kiss him fleetingly on the cheek “I'd like to take food to the bog. They'd be glad to see us after so long”.

“Anytime, Mary” Sebastian nodded, patting her shoulders. Both he and Gilbert saw the sadness in her gaze that she was trying so hard to conceal, and they both knew why “Do you think Elijah will be waiting for us?”.

“I hope so” she replied, her voice suddenly low, unsure “It's been weeks since I've last seen him”.

Gilbert stroked Delphine's feet absently, controlling his expression so that he wouldn't reveal how little he wanted to see Mary's first son. He and Sebastian had tried to give him a chance out of their love for Mary, welcoming him into their home and allowing him to sleep in his father's room before Elijah stole the few belongings he had left behind. That, however, wasn't the real problem; Gilbert didn't like the way he looked at Delphine.

He couldn't leave the baby in the same room with him, no matter how absurd it felt. Gilbert knew that Mary and Sebastian would never let anything bad happen to their baby, but his alpha was unable to ignore the faint warning that surrounded Elijah, holding her close for comfort. He didn't care about material things, or the time it would take for Mary to understand that Elijah wasn't making the right decisions, but all it took was one wandering glance in Delphine's direction for Gilbert to be on the verge of snarling in his face. Sebastian didn't understand it, but after a couple of months he had learned to see it and tried to expose his daughter only when strictly necessary. Neither of them wanted to break Mary's heart even more “Will you come with us, Gilbert?”.

Delphine was going, so he was going too, “I'd love to, Mary. It's been quite a while since I've stopped by to say hello to your friends”.

“Oh, they'd be delighted to see you, I'm sure” she was silent for several seconds before saying “Elijah too, but in his own way, right baby?”.

Delphine had learned to clap that very week, so any occasion was the perfect opportunity to do so — little bits of food jumped out of her hands as she clapped, smiling at her mother's attention.

Gilbert was cautious not to look at Sebastian, knowing it didn't require communication to intuit that they were thinking the same thing “Did you buy him presents too?”.

“Yes, something small” Mary nodded, sensing in a matter of seconds that she would rather talk about something else “I couldn't be at ease with my conscience if I didn't”.

“You're his mother” Sebastian murmured, moving closer to kiss her head even though he didn't agree at all “Whatever you decide to do is fine”.

“Thank you, honey” she took his hand on the table, looking at them fondly before saying “It's time to say thank you and toast, come, Delphine”.

Gilbert raised Delphine up and when she clapped again, pleased, he couldn't help but smile too and raise his glass when Sebastian and Mary did “To us”.

“Merry Christmas” Bash kissed Mary once more “Here's to us”.

Trying to sleep proved useless, sighing as after hours Gilbert dressed appropriately for the cold and quietly closed the door behind him. He had only a few hours before dawn.

Gilbert could still remember how his father would sit with him in the doorway at night to show him that he should not fear the dark or nature; his instincts would alert him to any danger, but Gilbert had to distinguish the true signs of fear tricking his senses. Years of practice were enough to be attentive to his surroundings but confident that there was nothing that could hurt him, careful to watch his step and not slip on sharp stones or mistake the shadow of trees in the moonlight.

It must be after midnight, thankful that the Cuthberts didn't have a guard dog to watch the farm as he began to climb Anne's prized tree: that the branches were strong enough to hold him was a miracle, peering through the translucent curtains until he found Anne.

He lifted one of his hands to tap gently at the window but stopped at the last minute — she was sleeping deeply, hidden in the sheets, and his alpha growled in warning at the thought of waking her when Gilbert knew she needed that rest. He couldn't entertain thoughts of how good it would feel to sink his face into her neck, or kiss her hot cheeks if he didn't want to lose his mind. He held back an unconscious sigh of torture.

He watched her for several minutes before carefully descending the tree, placing the gift in a spot where the snow would not ruin it and it would not be blown away by blizzards. One last glance towards her window sufficed as a bittersweet farewell.

“Oh, Mary!” the woman's exclamation was enough to make Gilbert smile charmingly, “You should have sent word that you were bringing the boy with you to dress prettier!”

“You look perfect like this, Loraine” the alpha reached up to kiss her cheeks, leaning in because of her short height “How've you been?”.

“You know how things are here” Loraine replied, smiling “Work and more work. The bog doesn't care that it's Christmas”.

Winter was not merciful in the bog, with its streets covered in mud and clothes and shoes hung on the doorsteps of the houses so as not to dirty the inside with such low temperatures. The smell of food filled the corridors and Gilbert could find some drunks who had not finished their feasts sleeping on the footpaths, glad to have reached the laundry where Mary's friends came to greet them “And look who we have here”.

Delphine, unaccustomed to the attention of so many people, hid on her father's chest without taking her eyes off the women smiling at her from a distance “Mary, what a relief that your genes were responsible for creating that baby. She gets more beautiful every day”.

“Thank you, girls” Mary replied, smiling playfully at Sebastian before walking over and hugging them “Merry Christmas everyone! Sit down, sit down”.

“What did you bring this time, uhm?” Jocelyn asked, helping her unpack the food. It was the ideal time for lunch and Mary had taken it upon herself to bring food fresh from the oven.

“It looks delicious” Constance murmured, hugging her by the shoulders “It's so good to see you, Mary. I can only imagine how happy you are with your family, but I can't lie when I say I'd love to have you here more often”.

“Oh, Constance” Mary returned her hug “I promise that when Delphine grows up I can come and spend the afternoon with you and bake more food. The baby takes a lot of energy, even with Bash and Gilbert taking care of her several times a day”.

“Surprising considering you're still in one piece” Loraine joked, moving closer to Sebastian who only laughed in response “We knew you'd be a good father anyway, but confirmation is still unexpected”.

“Best job of my life, ladies” Sebastian muttered, glancing at Delphine who had already joined in and was looking at the women with bright curiosity “Always good to see you again”.

Gilbert had taken it upon himself to arrange chairs for them all in a circle, accustomed to how they all touched his cheeks in appreciation and commented on his attentiveness. The intimacy had been the fruit of months of reunions, talks and confessions, having a closer bond with Loraine, who, as always, saved an empty seat next to her for him. He sat down with a sigh, unaccustomed to the fumes of the water they used to wash clothes, smiling in appreciation when the woman served him a slice of tart.

“How's your study coming along, boy?”.

“Fine, Loraine, thank you” he waited for the woman to take her first bite to take his “How's your family?”

“They're fine” Loraine nodded, thoughtfully “Ever since the neighbourhood found out you're going to medical school they've been all asking for you”.

“Well, it'll be a couple of years until I can—”.

“Believe me, Gilbert, your knowledge is better than nothing” Loraine explained, without touching her food again “A mother... a mother begged me for you”.

Gilbert tried not to frown “Is she pregnant?”.

“No, no, it's about her daughter” the woman elaborated, calculating her words “She wouldn't explain what it was, but she told me she was afraid she'd die soon. That he just needed to keep her alive for a few weeks until she could take her away”.

“Take her away?” his stomach had clenched. He set the food slyly down on his lap, the conversation around him was animated and constant, unconcerned that they might be interrupted.

“She's a good woman, they're not criminals” Loraine murmured, dismissing the first assumption he had made “I don't know what her intentions are, Gilbert, but she begged me for you. She's a woman who wouldn't do it for anyone, but when a mother thinks her daughter is dying it's usually right. She's desperate”.

Gilbert watched Mary and Bash laughing, Delphine clapping in demonstration and smiling as the women around her complimented her “I don't know if I'm up to this, Loraine, what if I make her situation worse?”.

“She trusts you, Gilbert, and I do too. Just by seeing her daughter, she won't be burdened with the conscience that she left her to die. Maybe you can even understand what's wrong with her”.

His first impulse was to refuse, to look for some doctor willing to treat a woman in the bog knowing that the chances were close to minimal and non-existent. However, the passion, the desire to help and to do his best outweighed his insecurity, and Loraine understood his answer before he could outline it, “Take me to her”.

No one suspected Loraine of claiming that her family wanted to be checked by him, promising Mary and Bash that he would be back in an hour to catch the train home. The clock was ticking, and Loraine was the one dragging him through mud and aisles, waving to everyone without stopping and interlacing their arms so that people who didn't know him would understand that he had permission to be in the depths of the bog “Do you know where she lives?”.

“Of course I know where she lives” Loraine replied, feigning indignation “I know where everyone lives, boy”.

When they reached a home yards away from unwanted onlookers on the edge of the bog Gilbert had to stop to catch his breath, the cold burning his lungs “All that study is making you weak, how do you pretend to save lives if you can't walk?”.

“I can walk,” he replied, serious. Loraine knocked firmly on the door “Your walk consists of a run, which is different”.

Loraine parted her lips to answer him mockingly until the door opened slowly, just enough space to peer into the eye of the woman who lived inside “Loraine”.

“Ruth” the woman replied, stepping closer so she could get a better look at her “I hope this isn't a bad time, but I thought it would be better now than ever. This is Gilbert Blythe, Mary's friend”.

“Good afternoon, ma'am” Gilbert greeted respectfully, keeping his distance “I hope it's no trouble for us to visit”.

“You're the doctor” her voice was cautious, firm. She had not opened the door more than was strictly necessary to consider him.

“I am a student, but I am willing to help in any way my knowledge allows” Ruth kept silent “If you wish, of course”.

The woman glanced at Loraine before looking back at him.

“I am a student, but I am willing to help in any way my knowledge allows” Ruth kept silent “If you would like me to, of course”.

The woman glanced at Loraine before looking back at him “You are an alpha”.

The statement confused him, not allowing it to show on his face “I am, madame”.

“He is not the type of alpha we know, Ruth” Loraine interrupted “He is calm and intelligent, you need not fear him. You have my word”.

The weight of her oath shifted the woman's posture, who slowly opened the door until daylight allowed Gilbert to study her better. She was older than Mary and looked exhausted, with pale skin and drooping eyelids, but looking at him with the same intensity in a language Gilbert clearly understood — a warning “Come closer, boy”.

His sensitive nose sensed the change as he approached, the scent of sweat and sickness alerting him within seconds. Ruth was still covering the door even in her dismal state; she needed hours of rest and plenty of food “I'm going to let you see my daughter”.

Gilbert did not respond and Loraine, next to him, stirred in her place. Ruth's tone of voice was calm, calculated, “I'm going to let you see her because I'm desperate. Because I need her to recover. But she is not used to being around alphas, and if you make a move that I deem inappropriate, I expect you to understand on the first warning”.

The alpha nodded slowly, “You have nothing to worry about. You will be by her side at all times”.

Ruth looked at him, a glint of uncertainty in her eyes that lasted a few seconds until she nodded her head and let him pass “Loraine, I'm sorry, can you wait here until I finish inspecting her? I'm afraid I don't know how to get back by myself”.

“I'll be here” Loraine replied, quiet, until Ruth closed the door behind them.

It was a simple house, poorly insulated for the cold and prone to becoming an oven during the summer, a thin wooden wall separating the kitchen from the bedroom. There were no doors, the windows closed to keep in the meagre warmth, having to concentrate not to be overwhelmed by the scent that was beginning to sting at the tip of his nose “Her name's Eve, she's sleeping. She sleeps... she sleeps many hours a day, for weeks now. I have to wake her up to force her to eat and bathe her, and sometimes she's unconscious even then”.

Ruth seemed a hard, uncommunicative and closed woman. She was making a great effort to explain her symptoms “When she turned fourteen she changed radically. She has—strange episodes, with fever I can't control, delusions, and her personality is different. More reserved. The problem is that she's had a fever for weeks, when it's usually just a few days, and the fatigue is irreparable. She can't stand up”.

Ruth walked in front of him, still alert as she let him into the room, sitting between him and her daughter as a conscious shield “I need Eve to get her strength back so we can move away. I got a better job across the ocean, and I know the doctors there will be able to treat her without as many complications as there are here, but I'm afraid she's too weak. That she can't hear my voice”.

His concentration had become razor sharp, even as the scents distracted him “May I come closer?”.

Ruth nodded, her attention quickly settling on her daughter as she moaned low, her voice hoarse with dehydration. Gilbert took advantage of her signs to try and wake her up “Eve, hello. My name is Gilbert Blythe. Your mother called me to help you; can you hear me?”.

They must be the same age. She was covered up to her neck and when Gilbert rested his hand on her forehead, the girl had full body shivers “She's burning up. I need you to cool a cloth, Ruth, please”.

Her mother hesitantly broke away from her, nodding after several seconds and heading for the kitchen “Eve, can you hear me? I'd like to talk to you so I can help you feel better”.

Eve's expression when she opened her eyes was one of confusion, shivering from the cold, until she took a deep breath through her nose and turned her head so hard that Gilbert frowned in concern “Eve, my name is—”.

“Alpha” she sat up awkwardly, startling him, tensing as Eve took him tightly, her skin burning against his “Alpha—”.

“Eve!” Gilbert couldn't move “What are you doing? Don't touch the doctor!”.

“It burns” Eve's eyes filled with tears, and her words were spoken in a whisper “Help me, alpha. It burns. I need—I need you—”.

He pulled away with enough speed that Eve nearly lost her balance and fell off the bed, his world spinning beneath his feet in confusion and horror. Gilbert couldn't understand what was happening in front of him. Ruth moved closer to her daughter, stroking her forehead with a cloth “This is—her delirium, I never understand what she means until she goes back to sleep, it must be common after so many days of fever”.

“Don't go, please” Eve sobbed, curling into herself as a wave of pain surged through her “Help me, help me, please, alpha, don't go”.

His breathing was controlled even though his heart seemed on the verge of exploding, his mind working swiftly to come to terms with what was happening. Eve was an omega, an omega in heat. An omega that should have had the symptoms Anne was suffering in a more advanced stage, a demonstration of what was going to happen to her if Gilbert didn't find a solution quickly. Ruth had paled to the point of looking on the verge of death.

There were other omegas in Avonlea, hiding like Anne, suffering like her. Surviving even when the hunt was eternal and relentless.

“Daughter, don't frighten the doctor” her mother pleaded, sliding the cloth over her face, not touching her neck and wrists “Don't listen to her, boy, she usually does this during the night. It's the fever”.

His heart squeezed at the knowledge that she was lying, that she was protecting her as he did with his omega. Another doctor would believe her if they didn't have experience with another omega. Eve couldn't take her eyes off him, sobbing at the distance of an alpha who could chase her pain away, unaware that Gilbert was trying to decipher how he couldn't feel her in an omega's most vulnerable state, did she use the same ointment as Anne?

The thickness of the blankets covering her helped, of course, but they didn't help with her high temperatures “Ruth, you'll have to uncover her if you want the fever to get better”.

“Alpha” his voice seemed to remind her of his presence, squirming on the bed as if she wanted to reach him but too weak to do so “Come closer, it burns, it burns...”.

“I can't do that” her mother replied, slyly taking the blanket in her hands so he couldn't remove it “It's freezing outside. Just... tell me what we can do, doctor. I need two more weeks. That's all I ask”.

His options were obvious and logical — he could excuse himself and say that without his artifacts and his premature study he couldn't help her daughter, be left with the knowledge that they couldn't escape together if she didn't receive medication urgently. Or he could think of his vocation, he could think of Anne, and risk everything in desperation to save his omega, too.

Gilbert decided to trust.

Ruth tensed as he approached the bed and laid a confident hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes with honesty and transparency. The fear he felt was not expressed in his scent, politely ignoring how the omega whimpered low from her place as she could sense his nearness “Ruth, you don't have to lie to me”.

The woman shifted her stance, protective and aggressive even when she wouldn't stand a chance against an alpha of Gilbert's size. Willing to do anything to protect her daughter, her eyes darkening as she replied “I don't understand how you can accuse me of lying, boy, in my own home and when my daughter—”.

“Ruth” Gilbert interrupted her, kneeling down until he was on the same level and could look at her clearly. His next words were firm “I understand”.

“What are you talking about?”

The silence between them was tense, dangerous, only being filled by the agonised sounds of her daughter writhing fragilely between the sheets. Ruth watched him intently, unsure, until after studying him she let her shoulders slump, her eyes filling with tears in a matter of seconds. Gilbert knew he didn't have to say it explicitly, knew he didn't have to enunciate it, Ruth just knew.

The weight of carrying a secret that could be deadly, a misunderstood love, the desperation of loneliness breaking her voice “I need her to live, Gilbert. I'm begging you. I need to get her out of here”.

“I'm going to help you, Ruth” Gilbert nodded, slowly. His request was not up for discussion “But in return I need you to help me, too”.

Ruth didn't answer instantly, weighing the risk they were taking, before nodding “You have my word, alpha”.