« Ask. » The phone lays where the tray was, simple single word staring back.
He moves to door, out with the tray and in without, the red has subbed. Instead his face is stern and cold. What happened ? When he sits back on the bed, he's further away, crosses his arms and legs, facing down. Guarded. Afraid?
« What does it mean, for us, to be mates? » I take the time to formulate my question. Take the time to understand, to realize my words, as if they would suddenly become carved. I wonder how much I can ask. How much I want to know.
He picks up the phone, but his fingers don't move. He looks up, there's something akin to desperation, fateful dread in his eyes. I don't know what he sees. I square my shoulders under his stare, straighten my back, push my head onto the headrest. I don't know if I do it to widen the distance with him, or for something else. He begins to type.
« We are bond forever. Souls link. » he shows it to me, hand tight over the phone. I think I know where the cracks come from.
« Right. So we have to stick together? » I don't really ask him, more comment on it. Forever sounds like too long, I already couldn't keep relationships with people I think I liked, so with someone I know I don't like? Sure. He simply nods, puts the phone back in his lap.
I daze out, think of past supposed lovers. Would I even want to spend that much time with someone? This is already the most I've spoken in a while, I do it for survival, but do I want to? Nope. He begins to type furiously, I glance back at him but he angles the screen so I don't see.
He keeps it in hand, reads it over and over. His forehead crunches. When he shows it to me, a small pout appears. What is he begging for?
« After mate, no stick always. » ah, so he was reading my face. So I won't have to stick to him? Well not always. I'm more confused on the first part of his sentence. We are mates, what is he trying to say? I look back up to his face, confusion probably written all over. His shows something much different.
It's not the red I've grown accustomed to. His eyes are darker, jaw locked and posture tense. Oh. Oh no. When I recoil, I feel my face heat up. No I swear it's his body's heat that flares up. When my neck tingles, I raise an arm to scratch at it. I divert it to wipe my face when his eyes track it.
When I glance back at him, he looks away. Glares at the corner of the room. So we have to bang for me to have freedom? That ruin the point of it. I try to settle my nerves down. This is good intel, he won't leave alone until, until then. Fuck. The phone is shoved back in my face.
« Name? » so now he wants to know my name? It's calming that he wants to change subjects as well, wether for my good or his.
« It's Marshal, yours? » so now we've gone to personal questions, I hurry my answer. I'll need personal information to trick him. Forever if I have too. There's a small smile, knowing, on his lips.
When he pushes them together, I jump to push my hands on his mouth. Startled, he almost topples off, grips my hip for steadiness. His eyes have got to be as wide as mine, if not for his action then for my reaction. I'm surprised myself I touched him on my accord, especially after what he just revealed.
When his face shows realization, I feel the apologetic smile under my hands, I slowly back off, body against the rest. His hand lingers just enough for me to notice. He types right away, face relaxed and less stern than before. There's almost serenity showing, the room feels calmer now.
« Sorry, forget. Milo » his apology is topped off with a guilty smile. If he had spoken, I would have probably either thrown up or passed out. His apology seems genuine, I let it go. I inspect him, the name seems too small for his body. Too soft for his face. It's too gentle for a wolf. Mine suddenly feels to strong for my position.
« How come you have wolf pressure? Why were you even with the envoy? » It's plain curiosity, but even I feel the venom in my voice. I should calm down, I don't want him to be suspicious. What I see isn't what I thought.
It's shame. Sadness and loneliness mixed in. I thought wolves were proud of their station. I feel my own frown. He looks vulnerable, the monster in room yet his body curls for protection, even from me. I'm tempted to soothe him, feel it in my bones, but I keep the feeling down. I press my fingers on my legs. Is he a criminal, was he there as punishment ?
« Warrior. » when he shows it to me, I see him hand tremble, the other clutches to duvet tight. So that's not just it. He only answers one question and doesn't do it fully. I don't push seeing his reaction. I don't let distrust show on my face. I can always ask later when he lets his guard down.
I thought only alphas got the pressure of the wolves so he must be a high ranking warrior. If that wasn't a lie.
« Age? » is his next question. I hadn't even thought of that. I'm tempted to lie, but the seriousness is back in his eyes, I still see the slight shake of his hand.
« 26, you? » it's feels weird to say it aloud. The guys have been there since kindergarden and I rarely made friends outside of them, so I rarely said it. I remember the candles, those rare times when I saw the smoke evaporate. I miss home.
« 22. » I almost choke when he answers, typed fast on his phone. I eye him, big body and slight stubble. So young. We are close in age, but 22 feels so young. Carter would have made a daddy joke. I must have looked unimpressed because he growls a bit, pouts openly. Barely an adult.
I lower my shoulders in response anyway.
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hi, let me know if you spot errors in language :)
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Night Alpha
WerewolfMarshal did not think much of wolves, until he wakes up in bed with one. When wolves declared war on unsuspecting humans, they were quick to annihilate them. The survivors live in secluded cities, surrounded by walls. Detroit has survived and 20 yea...
