The Defiant Claim (The Claim: Book 2) LGBT

Chapter 7 - Mik

After that prick alpha left, Mikwam found himself alone. For how long, he wasn't sure; he couldn't see the clock on the wall, but it felt like hours. His body ached due to being strapped down and unable to move for such a length of time. His muscles protested. Various parts of his body screamed to be scratched and with no relief.

The old hag was the only one to come in and break the silence. She asked if he'd like a drink but he clamped his mouth shut and stared right ahead. She left the cup at his bedside, as if he could help himself. Bitch.

The isolation gave him time to think.

They were right. Dammit!

He hated that his bond with Sam was the only reason he was still alive. However, if he was going to get through his current predicament, he had better smarten up—and that meant treating that male better. He wasn't going to be released from the binds if he kept lashing out at everyone he came into contact with.

It was maddening.

When Sam returned, he brought with him the heavenly scent Mik first encountered when he woke up and found himself in the infirmary. The clean, untainted scent of his mate was an unprecedented relief. And when Sam brought him food and water, he studied him closely. He could feel his lips constantly burning with his stare. At first, it made Mik's stomach churn but that ebbed as he ate and the acid sloshing around his empty gut disappeared, filled with nourishment.

The gentleness in Sam's movements was something Mik hadn't witness in years. Gentleness wasn't a strength, his father had told him. An alpha had to be strong, fierce, and unyielding. No one would respect a weak alpha.

But Sam held his full and undivided attention with his gentleness. He was bashful and for some sickening reason, Mik found it cute.

Sam wanted to try. Sam would've cried if he died. Even though Mik was brash and ruthless, Sam was willing to try because they were mates.

How cruel and twisted the Goddess was.

Sam deserved a better mate than him.

There was a sea of pain and darkness swimming in the depths of those blue eyes of his. The few times Sam dared to meet his gaze, Mik would have choked on his food if he had swallowed. The curse of the bond slapped him in the face and each time Sam looked away before Mik did, his heart beat fast in his chest. The punk even got aroused before he made a mad dash to escape. 

Disgusting.

Sure, Mik thought himself to be an attractive male—attractive enough even for other males—but the slightest hint of Sam's lust toward him sparked within Mik himself—and that disgusted him.

It shouldn't, he knew, because Sam was his soulmate, but it did nonetheless.

He wasn't attracted to the younger male. Not in the slightest.

Except for his eyes.

Dammit.

When Sam returned, he was all red in the face and flustered. Any hint of his arousal before was washed away. He stood by the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The fringe of his hair, that was longer in the front, blocked his face as he hung his head, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

Why was he just standing there?

"Um," he finally spoke up, "d-do you mind if I sleep here tonight?"

"Yes, I do mind," Mik replied. "I'm strapped down to a bed. Can't eat or drink for myself. I'm assuming I'm hooked up to a catheter as I have no urge to piss. Unfortunately for me, whether I like you or not, I need you at my side right now."