Victuals & Vehemence - Septiplier

Chapter Twenty Three

That evening, Jack sits down on the edge of Mark's bed, looking at his reflection in the mirror that resides in the corner of the room. He stares for a long moment before standing and going to his belongings that Ethan had so graciously brought over. After a moment of rustling through the bag, he pulls out a small little pouch. Jack makes his way over to the mirror and stands in front of it. After opening the pouch, he pulls out two delicate earrings, smooth and beautiful. One has a blue stone on it, and the other does not, but the antler design is the same.

Jack steps forward and holds his ear, stretching it to reveal an old, almost closed-up hole from when his parents pierced his ears. After some haphazard stabbing, a couple of winces, and mutters of irritation, the earrings are in, dangling down. The omega steps back to better see himself. A small smile flits onto his face, and he tilts his head from side to side, feeling how they sway with his movements. The earrings frame his face well, and it works with his tousled hair. There's a soft creak from the doorway, and Jack turns, looking at Mark.

"When did you finish them?" Mark asks.

"During the lucid moments of heat, before I got here," Jack answers.

"So you lied?"

"Yes, I guess I did," Jack replies with a shrug, turning back to admire the earrings. He pauses as Mark walks up behind him, watching the lithe, powerful movements of the alpha. Mark wraps his arms around Jack's waist, resting his head on the omega's shoulder.

"Have you lied to me about other things?" the alpha murmurs, teeth nibbling over the shell of Jack's ear. The omega thinks for a moment and shakes his head, making eye contact with Mark in the mirror.

"No. I just didn't want to talk about how poor my gender performance is at that moment in time, so I cut off the conversation," Jack answers.

"Gender performance is only a performance. Even without the corset and lipstick, you are the most omegan omega I have ever met," Mark says. He murmurs a whispery tone that slips over Jack's ear and sends chills down his spine, a hint of his low, alpha growl rolling behind every word.

"Oh? How's that?" Jack asks with a raised, skeptical brow.

"Your empathy is stunning. The emotions you carry with you are the epitome of your sex," Mark says. Jack ducks his head, frowning lightly.

"I don't like doing it," he whispers.

"You don't like seeing yourself in others. You don't like that you understand them."

"I don't like looking into the mind of murder."

"You don't like looking into a cracked mirror," Mark replies, eyes glittering as he kisses a lazy trail over Jack's shoulder.

"A cracked mirror distorts the truth."

"Yet tidbits of reality are still distinguishable."

"The cracks still hide the full picture," Jack snaps, irritated with the conversation.

Mark rests his chin on Jack's shoulder, meeting the omega's gaze in the mirror. He smiles lightly, his fangs showing for a moment before he continues to press kisses over the soft skin before him. Jack shivers and leans back, baring his neck for the alpha.

"Do you need me again?" Mark asks quietly. Jack sighs softly and shakes his head. It's been about an hour since his last wave of heat. By now, he should have had another one. Instead, he just feels a receding prickle beneath his skin, skin chilled and cool compared to only hours before.

"You got what you wanted," Jack murmurs in a low voice. He pulls away from Mark and takes out the earrings, tugging on some pants and one of his own shirts.

"Yes, I did," Mark hums as he works on removing the sheets from the bed. There's a tension in the room that grates against Jack, but Mark revels in it. The frequency fits his own, and he blends with the disturbance easily. Mark can smell the scent change in Jack. His heat is over, and in its stead is a sweet, citrus-like scent. Jack is pregnant. Any alpha or omega can smell it, and soon, even betas, male and female, will be able to as well.

Jack leaves the room and stomps downstairs, shrugging on his jacket, then adding his hat, gunbelt, and boots. The omega leaves the house as the sun sets, making his way to the saloon. The bandanna that is usually tight around his neck dangles loosely, revealing the deep bite on the nape of his neck and the hickey's that litter the front side. Everyone out and about on porches stares at him as he goes by. He stomps by the same saloon those bastards came from, before pausing. Jack turns and walks into the bar with confidence that makes the alphas on the porch stare in shock. The doors swing behind him as everyone in the saloon freezes. Jack stares around, cataloging each face. He grins when he sees several outlaws that he recognizes.

"Lucky I ain't on y'alls warrants, boys," he says before sauntering to the counter. "Whiskey on the rocks," he orders, leaning against the bar. The bartender nods and prepares his drink, setting it beside him. The saloon picks up again when they see Jack isn't there to try anything.

Jack works for a private agency. He is not a man of the law. While Jack sometimes works with the law, he doesn't help them out more than necessary. Jack goes around hunting down men that he gets paid to hunt down. Nothing more, nothing less.

The omega swirls his drink, frowning slightly. He resents what Mark said earlier. It's too on the nose of what Jack fears the most. He fights against it every day, but it terrifies him. Each time he is asked to profile another murder, he falls into it. Jack profiles by reenacting. He becomes the murderer, feels the rage, the joy, the exhilaration. The omega fears he is precisely what he hunts down, only wearing wool to hide the wolf. Mark telling him the same thing only deepens his worries. If Mark sees it too, then it's probably true. However, Jack must fight it. He must fight the monster inside. Wool hides the wolf amongst the sheep, but he's at least trying to be normal, right?