Bessa

Possession

Blue silk catches on the nighttime breeze bringing with it the smell of the salty sea and him.

The Nature within flourishes with the scent of the Northern barbarian from across the ocean.

Subdued creeks from the wooden ship are heard even from this distance - moaning it's sound as it rocks back and forth on the waves.

The future Alpha of the Far North's strides are far from humble.

We were all told to gather here when the husk of the moon could be seen as the light of day declined. The rumors started to circulate as soon as the ship dropped anchor, he's searching for the future Luna.

The quietness is at an all-time high as all of the un-mated gather holding their breath. The downward wind circulates his encroaching heat through the pores of the silk headdress as if it were hot mist. I try to contain the shell of skin from the advancement of him.

His sight is on the Alpha, my view cast down on him from the elevation where all the un-mated are made to stand on. The Guardians of Virtue herding us like sheepdogs in a tight cluster of bodies presses to the sides of the others. Disguising our scents, so we are indistinguishable in the herd. His head lifts up, nose scenting, eyes closing. The soon to be Alpha male's rumble speaks of finding what he has come explicitly across the sea for.

Mate.

The focus of him tells us all how unimportant my Alpha is now.

The male's slow climb up the steps is without worry that he needs to stop soon before he can approach the un-mated.

Fearless.

My body understands that this male is without any outward flaws.

His eyes...

Northern, wild, dilating.

Burning pleasure harbors itself between the space of my legs.

A muffled gasp that tries to push itself through the cracks of my hand.

Veiled faces hold the slightest of turns towards the sound. I swear there are relieved sighs from lungs that start to breathe again. They can't contain their happiness while mine is being eaten away with dread.

Another step is taken by him before my Alpha smiles the calculation of a tradesman. Nothing is without trade in our territory, nothing will be given freely, even mates are bartered like chattel across our land.

"Borson, future Alpha of the Far North territory let us feast. There will be great celebrations tonight. We shall all rejoice in the union between territories." My Alpha's voice rings with greedy intent.

Borson...

His name spoken within my head has a shift of flesh underneath the layers of blue silk.

My mother's fabric wrapping around me as if made of delicate armor, I sink into the material trying to hide in the shadows.

He does not turn into the Alpha's direction. Instead, he chooses to take a forbidden step up.

Fierce, proud, he carries no weapons, only wearing a loin cloth of fur from his homeland. The canvas of skin covered from neck to foot in the ancient language that adorns our Temple of the Moon. Within the symbols are terrifying pictures of animals I have never heard of before baring their teeth of War.

He doesn't stiffen when the Guardians' voices start to vibrate their warning outward. He doesn't flinch when the Alpha demands him to stop. He deliberately takes another step up as the Wild within sounds out his vibration of terror.