xxfaithlynxx

[xxfaithlynxx]

LOSER'S GAMBIT!

Why should you feel selfish when you have the right to ask -- no, demand for more?

Now playing: a girl like me - flowerovlove

↺͏͏ ° < ll >> ⋮≡

Word Count: 3.1k Author's Note: There WILL be a part 2! Stay tuned. and for my omega beta reader, @noxellaa Part 1 (you are here) / Part 2 Desc: zayne x f!reader, mentions of zayne x mc, sylus cameo!, mentions of sylus x reader, hurt/ eventual comfort, reader feeling neglected by zayne, zayne lowkey a little horrible..

Another late night, another plate of food gone cold. You sighed as you dumped yet another meal into the bin, knowing that your boyfriend wouldn’t be eating it when he came home. After all, he had been working an insane amount of overtime recently, and would often spend the night at the hospital. Something about MC’s heart condition acting up, and from what you knew, it was pretty serious. As much as your heart twisted in inexplicable jealousy, you bit your tongue and swallowed it all down like a bitter poison. She had a bloody protocore fused to her heart, for Astra’s sake.

You were putting away the plates when suddenly, your phone lit up. Zayne. “I won’t be coming home tonight. MC isn’t doing too well.” The message read. Short and simple, as straightforward as he usually was. However, these words still managed to pierce through your heart, leaving frosty icicles in their wake. It felt like he was never home. And on the days he actually was, you would only manage to exchange a few words with him before he ate and went to bed.  And whenever he was at the hospital, high chances he would be spotted with MC. You had tried to ignore the occasional whispers from some staff commenting on how cute Zayne and MC looked together, but it would secretly hurt your feelings deep down, no matter how deep you buried these comments in the back of your mind. You knew Zayne loved you, and you knew he loved you dearly, but you couldn’t help the way your gaze drifted enviously to images of him and MC together, no matter if it was recent or if it were photos from their childhood. 

It’s selfish for me to think this way. Anyways, MC has been his friend since he was a kid, I’m being irrational. You knew that dating one of the best doctors in Linkon wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows. Zayne wasn’t just any doctor, he was quite literally THE doctor – entered medical school at 15, and graduated with his certification for cardiology about half a decade later. You knew that someone with his skills and proficiency would be busy almost 24/7, but you couldn’t help but feel a little neglected. You were his girlfriend after all, shouldn’t he be paying some attention to you too? You had fallen for the way he was a quiet lover, how he would notice the smallest things about you – your unconscious habits, which foods you liked, which foods you disliked, your hobbies and interests. The way he would sit with you to eat lunch when you were admitted to the hospital, even though he had just finished a gruelling and tiring surgery. The way he would drop a few sweets into your hands before you left his office. “If  you feel fatigued throughout the day, a small amount of sugar can help with spiking your blood glucose levels for a short period of time.” 

The following few days merged together into a blur of time. Your routine was the same: Wake up to an empty bed, go to work, come back, and go to sleep alone. You tried to visit the hospital a few times, even waking up earlier to prepare a lunch box for Zayne, planning to deliver it around lunch. One of the days, you were successful in giving him the meal, but you only saw him for a fleeting moment when he thanked you with a kiss on the cheek and hurried off to Astra knows where. The kiss made your heart flutter, but you didn’t have time to say or do anything else before his back was already turned to you. You tried to chase after him, but stopped in your tracks after he turned the corner, only to be greeted by MC linking arms with him and skipping down the hallway while dragging him along. Sigh. Whatever, it’s nothing. You thought.

Feeling defeated, you decided to go to one of the more secluded areas of the hospital grounds to eat your lunch. Nevertheless, your spirits were lifted after a stray cat came near where you were seated and purred affectionately. How cute!

Your phone displays ‘2.09am’ when you finally hear the front door open with a creak, and leather shoes hitting the ground. “Zayne.” You called out gently, as if he was going to slip through your fingers if your voice was too stern. That was certainly what it felt like. “Yes, my love?” He responded, hanging his jacket by the door. The words felt like they were stuck in your throat before you spoke.  “We need to talk.” 

It didn’t go as bad as you expected. You had been prepared for a full-blown argument, coupled with furious accusation and blames, maybe one or two tears, but none of that happened. You conveyed your feelings clearly – you told Zayne that you felt slightly neglected, and that you would like him to spend more time with you when he wasn’t caught up in work. He acknowledged your frustration. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was making you feel like that. I’ll try my best to clear my schedule.” He said. “Speaking about spending time with you, your birthday is coming up soon, correct? I promise I’ll have dinner with you that day, okay?” Zayne holds out his pinky to you, and you wrap your pinky around his with a gleeful smile. You could feel your heart rate picking up at the tender contact before you spoke. “Thank you, Zayne.” 

You were glad you spoke to him that day. You had managed to clear up how you felt, and you felt relieved. “I’m glad I chose such an understanding man to love.” You sighed longingly. 

The following few days, you ardently anticipated your birthday, excited to finally get some time alone with your boyfriend. You had gotten your most precious outfit washed, dried and ironed. It was in your favourite colour, and your favourite style. However, the material was expensive, so you only wore it on special occasions, afraid the fabric might get snagged on something or acquire a stain. You spent the first half of the day hanging out with your friends from your job, going around Linkon, window shopping and just having a blast overall. And you may or may not have splurged on a few accessories to go with your outfit… you cursed your friends for being enablers as you looked at the charges on your card. Of course, it wasn’t that bad, as it was only a few accessories, but you felt like an over-consumer with the way you would only be wearing them for tonight and probably never after your birthday due to your job as a hunter. “You could always donate them to me, you know!” Tara exclaimed as you rolled your eyes and shoved her teasingly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tara.” Simone said. But those few hundred dollars missing from your bank account was all worth it in the end! (totally…) 

In your home, you were styling yourself just a few hours before your scheduled dinner, with Tara and Simone by your side as your self-proclaimed  ‘advisors’. “Ooh, that pin would go great with your shoes!” Tara chattered. She was energetically bobbing all over the place, rummaging through the accessories that you had bought. Simone, on the other hand, was quieter, and nodded or shook her head based on how much she agreed with Tara’s suggestions. By 5p.m, your friends were swooning over your look, showering you with compliments. “You look so good! I’m head over heels.” Tara dramatically said, placing a hand over her heart and sighing dreamily. Simone laughed. “Agreed. You do look stunning, birthday girl.” She said with a smile. You smiled back at the both of them, and once they hung out at your house for a little longer, they scurried off, not wanting to disturb your final preparations for the date – not before giving you the presents they had prepared for you. Tara, a life-sized plushie of your favourite animal, and Simone, a special cloth to clean your hunter weapon with. 

With a pep in your step, you headed to the restaurant that Zayne had booked for the both of you. He hadn’t reached yet, but you were 15 minutes early, so it was fine. You shot him a quick text to let him know that you were here already. It took a few minutes, but your message eventually had a ‘read’ sign at the bottom, and the three dots that indicated Zayne was typing appeared not long after. Alright. Be there soon.  Short and concise, as usual.

You occupied yourself by reading the menu and ordering some appetisers that both you and your boyfriend would like. You were delighted to see some of your favourite foods on the menu. How sweet of Zayne to pick a place with all the foods I like to eat. You thought. 

5 minutes passed, and another 5, and another 5. And before you knew it, half an hour had passed. Now, you weren’t the one that was 15 minutes early – Zayne was the one that was 15 minutes late. Trying to pay it no mind, you brushed it off as him finishing up some final documents or just being stuck in a traffic jam on the way to the restaurant. But after another 30 minutes, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Usually, he would send you a text if he was going to be late, no? You tried to text him, but was met with no response. Not even a ‘read’, or a simple 2 or 3 worded answer. Maybe his notifications were just silent? Frustrated at the pitiful stares you were getting from staff and customers alike, you huffed and decided to just scroll social media instead. That’s when you saw it. 

A post from MC, just 5 minutes ago. In the photo, she was in Zayne’s office, happily taking a selfie with him, holding up a peace sign, while a small grin could be seen on his face. The photo had been edited, with a few stickers around both their faces and their surroundings. It was captioned, “The best doctor in Linkon! Thanks for working overtime for me~” 

At first, the post itself pissed you off – you were sitting here in a restaurant alone and getting pitied by onlookers, with the food getting cold on your table,and your boyfriend had the gall to be with another woman? On your birthday, no less. Then, you looked harder, closer at the image. And then you felt downright furious. In the photo, Zayne’s phone could be spotted on his desk, lighting up with notifications from your messages. You gripped your phone harder, feeling the buttons dig into your skin. Overcome by fury and gloom, you couldn’t stop the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Trying to reason with yourself, you tried to convince yourself that MC needed that extra care, and that it was just a small matter. But was it really? You had every right to feel angry. Your own boyfriend stood you up! On your birthday! You bit your lip, trying to muffle any sobs that were threatening to spill over your lips.

“Hello there,  looks like you’re all alone. May I sit with you?” A silken smooth voice calls from above your lowered head. You look up to see a silver haired man with blood red eyes, dressed to the nines. A black leather jacket embroidered with red details, and matching black pants that made his legs look impossibly long. Wanting to save yourself from looking pitiful any longer, you quickly nodded and lowered your head again, not wanting him to see you in this state. You can feel his stare bore into your head, and he hesitantly speaks. “It’s okay, no need to hide your tears. What happened here? It’s impossible that a beauty like you was stood up.” 

The stranger’s comment only fueled the tears in your eyes as you looked up at him. “How did you manage to guess exactly what happened? You’re observant.” You said with a humourless laugh. His gaze softened. “It wasn’t hard to guess. I’ve seen that look many times before.” You were reluctant to speak any more, and instead put your phone, which was still displaying MC’s post, down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. The stranger curiously glances at it, but his eyes quickly dart away from the phone. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. By the way, I never got your name.” He says. 

“___” You reply curtly, now looking him straight in the eyes, trying to rub the tears from yours. “A beautiful name for a beautiful person.” The stranger replies without missing a  beat. That got a genuine chuckle out of you, and you found yourself asking for his name as well. Sylus, he told you. What a nice name. Suits him. You thought to yourself. That brought you to the question of – what made him sit with you anyway? From what you could tell, there were still a few vacant tables in the establishment. Maybe you just looked so pitiful he felt compelled to sit with you. “You know, you have a really nice laugh. You shouldn’t let someone’s careless actions dampen your mood.” Sylus comments suddenly. You smile genuinely at him, and thanked him for the compliment. 

The both of you talk for a little while, and you felt like conversation just flowed so easily with him, even though he was a stranger. You also eat the food that you had ordered beforehand, before you finally called it a day and called for the bill. But when it arrived, he snatched it from your hands in the politest way you could snatch something, and placed his card face down onto it. Surprised, you tried to replace it with your own card,  but you were stopped by him. “Don’t worry, it’s on me this time. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” He says, grinning. “This time? So there’s going to be more of these meetings?” You tease. He chuckles before answering immediately, “Maybe. Who knows?” 

It felt like the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulders after that meeting with Sylus. After exchanging contact information, he offered to drop you off at your house, but you politely declined, insisting that you could get home by yourself. He nodded, and drove off in that motorcycle of his. How cool. Your spirit was no longer dampened by being stood up as you walked into your shared home with Zayne, flopping down onto the couch. Although it was far from the ideal birthday, you were glad you got to spend valuable time with your dearest friends, and even potentially have made a new one. You took a quick shower before tucking yourself under the covers, watching whatever you wanted before bed. After a few minutes, the fatigue from spending most of the day outside caught up to you, and your eyes quickly closed shut as soon as you plugged in your phone and rolled on your side. 

However, your beauty sleep was short-lived. You were abruptly awoken by the opening of the front door and hurried footsteps inside the house. Irritated, you checked your phone. 11:39pm. Okay, it wasn’t an ungodly hour, but you were still irked at being so suddenly awoken. When your bedroom door opens, you are greeted by your boyfriend (did you even want to call him that anymore?) standing in the doorway, breathing unevenly and his tie half-loosened. “Well, are you going to come in?” You asked sarcastically. 

When his ragged breathing evened out, he started his apology speech. “I’m so sorry about forgetting our appointment, I truly am. I- MC just needed me at that moment, I couldn’t just-” Zayne stuttered out, his usually composed demeanor slowly crumbling to dirt. You let him ramble about MC’s needs being urgent and how your date just slipped his mind before cutting him off. “Zayne, I can see that you’re apologetic. But you clearly can’t make enough time for me, which is apparent from today, and the numerous other times you’ve cancelled on me at the last minute or just stood me up completely.” You begin. As if he could sense what was coming next, Zayne hurriedly scrambled for something to say. 

“Zayne, I think we should break up.” You continued, not letting him get a single word in. 

He seemed to understand that you wanted to speak, and he slowly backed off. “This isn’t the first time I’ve felt neglected by you, Zayne. I’ve tried to communicate this to you multiple times, and it felt like this time, something would finally change. I thought that we would finally be able to spend a nice dinner together without you having to leave halfway or being diabolically late.” Pausing to try to articulate your words, you went on, “I understand that MC’s condition is fragile, and that you are her personal doctor. But…” This felt incredibly selfish to say, but if you didn’t tell Zayne, it would linger on your mind forever. “...I can’t help but feel a little envious of the way the both of you interact. Your interactions with her seem so much more natural, and you get to spend more time with her on a regular basis. It’s…bad for my heart, to put it simply.” You laughed, feeling the slightest bit stupid. It seemed so trivial, now that you spoke about it. 

“You know I love you…” Zayne said, his voice trailing off. “I know you do, Zayne. But these words don’t mean a whole lot when your actions keep contradicting them. I know you love me, but…I don’t think it's the best course of action for us to remain together. Look at you, all dishevelled, Zayne. I hate to see you like this.” You tell him softly, eyes scanning over his distraught expression. His face seems to fall as he just accepts the reality of it all. He nods slowly, like he was in disbelief. “I… I respect your decision, ___. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, then. Good night.” 

“Good night, Zayne.”

(Part 2 is out!)

[xxfaithlynxx]

sweet, sweet dessert ⋆୨୧˚

❥ req by: @sadfragilegirl | prompt

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: xavier x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: the food is delectable, the ambience serene. your first date with xavier is going perfectly—so much so that you just might decide to grab dessert on the way home instead. 「you're taking me to new places...」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] fluff and smut, wholesome dinner date, not-so-wholesome car sex, reader realizes she's falling in love

— ༉‧₊ᐟ word count: 1.6k

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: touch – keshi

✧ a/n: sorry this took a while! i loved this prompt so much i wanted to make sure i did it justice XD

Everything about tonight is perfect.

Soft, jazzy music plays in the background, their sensual symphony occasionally interrupted by the soft clinking of champagne flutes and idle chatter between lovers. Everyone here is dressed to the nines, including you.

You take a seat opposite your date, fanning the underside of your dress out elegantly and trying not to let your nerves get the best of you. Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re afraid he can hear it—afraid he’ll figure out he’s the cause of your anxiety. How could he not be? He looks undeniably gorgeous in that finely-pressed suit, his hair styled neatly and his skin almost glowing in the warm candlelight.

But the gentle expression on his face reassures you. You notice the way his eyes light up when you sit down across him, and it calms you. “You look beautiful,” he remarks shyly, and you reply with a simple thanks.

Is this what a date between two introverts looks like?

You tell yourself to stop freaking out and enjoy the evening. After all, how many times in your life will you get to dine at a fancy place like this, with a genuinely good guy like him?

“I took the liberty of asking the chef to prepare his finest, no specifics included. I hope that’s okay with you.” He looks away then, a sheepish blush spreading across his face.

“Of course. I love food surprises,” you giggle. Was that weird?

Xavier smiles at the sound of your laugh, and your breath catches in your throat. God, he’s so sexy. “Me too. I also sleep a lot, if we’re revealing fun facts about ourselves.”

You laugh at his “fun fact”, relieved. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a deep sleeper.” A lie. He looks sleepy already. But not in a way that implies he’s bored—more so that he missed his daily afternoon nap. “My turn. I think you’re very charming, Xavier.” It’s a bold statement, bolder than you would’ve tried with any other guy.

But he makes you feel safe, somehow. He’s not like the others. It’s a strange feeling; you’ve barely known each other a week and you already trust him with your life.

He blushes furiously, smirking. That was a really hot smirk. “I think you’re quite charming yourself, <y/n>.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room skyrockets. The air has shifted—at least from your point of view. All this flirtation has escalated things from zero to a hundred, and you’re shocked—maybe even scandalized—by the thoughts that materialize in your head. Slow down, you ravenous slut. The guy doesn’t even know your favorite color!

You decide to shove those thoughts aside for later tonight. This is your first date, for goodness sake. Why are you thinking about his—

“Where do you work?” he interrupts your train of thought, a favor you’ll have to repay him.

The two of you fall deep into possibly the best conversation you’ve ever had, switching from topics like movies to siblings and music to lifelong dreams. He’s an incredibly insightful person, yet he never speaks out of turn and waits patiently while you fumble for the right words. He’s a great listener.

It turns you on.

I’m a horrible person, you think to yourself, berating your cycle for ringing in ovulation week now. “Are you alright?” he asks, mildly concerned.

Fuck, he noticed you zoning out. “Yeah, of course! Sorry, you were saying?”

That little smirk again. “I asked if you wanted to get dessert.”

“I never say no to dessert.”

“Shall we drive out?”

…

You step into the passenger’s seat of his car and try your best not to gape. It’s the most beautiful car you’ve ever seen, maybe, all smooth surfaces and shiny metal plates. He climbs in next to you after shutting your door, and instantly you’re consumed by his scent; pine leaves and fresh herbs. It leaves you feeling thick and heady and pools right in your core.

Stop. Thinking. About. It.

“Ready?” He starts the engine and waits for your cue.

You nod, unable to form words. Think about dessert. Strawberry shortcake. Crème brûlée. Lemon sherbert. It works for a while, before you notice the thin veins on his hands and the way his side profile looks in the dim moonlight.

This is the most painful drive ever. “Where are we going?” you ask, hoping for a distraction.

“There’s this really good ice cream place not far from here. I was thinking I could drop you home after.”

“That sounds great. Thanks.”

You sit in silence for the next fifteen minutes, watching the trees pass as he expertly navigates his way through the darkness. You aren’t exactly in the most accessible of areas right now, driving from one town to another and all.

He slows down then, staring at his GPS. A crease appears between his brows. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to park in this corner for a little while to check if we’re going in the right direction. This GPS can be faulty at times.”

If it were anyone else, your suspicions would’ve been raised. But Xavier has a way of making you feel completely at ease. You know in your heart that he wouldn’t try anything on you. Besides, you told a bunch of your friends about your date tonight, and they know who to call if anything were to happen to you.

As he fiddles with the GPS, pushing all these little buttons you would’ve had no idea how to work out, you attempt to avert your gaze from his slender fingers and that annoyingly seductive scent. It doesn’t work this time. Thoughts of dessert can only get you so far when there’s a whole dish sitting right next to you.

On an impulse, you do something you would’ve never done before tonight. You lean in close and gently kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

It’s a small peck, but his eyes go wide. He straightens and looks at your lips, struggling to even speak. “I—You—”

“Shhh…” you whisper, suddenly feeling brave. You stretch over the gear stick to plant another kiss underneath his eye, then one on his cheek. You’re in an uncomfortable position right now, back arched across two seats with your ass up facing the foggy window, but you don’t care. You’re so turned on right now he’s all you can think about.

He doesn’t pull away from your advances, instead slowly running his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap. Every few seconds, a car zooms past. It’s exhilarating.

You settle inches away from his groin, placing your elbows on his shoulders and your hands on the back of his seat. When your lips meet, sparks explode from your chest, and your brain is flooded with him. The way his lips taste—feel. The warmth growing between your legs.

He kisses you back eagerly, his breath against your lips as he mutters, “What…about…dessert…”

“Fuck dessert… Later…” You grind against him, and he whines at the sensation. He’s hard as a rock, and he knows it.

Fucking on the first date? Why the hell not.

You reach for his belt, but he gets there first. He fumbles a little, too engrossed in your kisses, but he pulls it free with a single, devastatingly sexy tug.

Your hands grasp at his zipper and boxers next, and with one fluid movement his hard length is exposed to you. Fuck, he’s big. You clench at the sight of him, your clit throbbing.

Realizing that precious time is being wasted, you lift yourself up on your knees and pull your dress up to your waist. He pulls your wet panties to the side, drowning in the sight of your dripping pussy mere inches from his tip.

You slide onto him, feeling the length of his cock rub against your walls for the first time. It’s too much—the pressure, the friction. He throws his head back in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him.

Slowly, you begin to bounce on his dick, your moans echoing within the car as every pump sends your mind into a thoughtless spiral. His thumbs are digging into your waist, his fingers around your ass. “Fuck— You’re so—tight—” he bites out, his breaths belabored and strangled. He pushes the neckline of your dress down, freeing you tits and letting them bounce in his face.

It’s overwhelming. The feeling of your clit hitting the hard plane of his stomach. His tip planting wet kisses on the back of your cervix. The wet noises and vulgar squelches permeating the air. His cock pounding against your g-spot. The thought of you fucking a guy you just met in his car.

A guy you may or may not be falling in love with.

“I’m going to cum— I’m—” You both come undone at the same time, warm spurts of cum filling you up as you shake uncontrollably in his grip, your mind completely blank save for the blinding intensity of your first orgasm in ages.

When you’ve slid back into your seat, cum still dripping from your pulsating cunt, you’re both utterly exhausted. He’s the first to recover, his pants growing softer as he reaches for a blanket in the back seat and drapes it over your body. “Do you…need anything?”

You smile at him wearily, a warm glow emanating from every inch of you. He’s so sweet.

“I’d really like some dessert.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[xxfaithlynxx]

[xxfaithlynxx]

Wavering Heart

Word Count: 9k

BETA-READ by the wonderful Needle_Wand_and_Thimble!

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

I'd love to hear all of your thoughts. :P Comments are welcome and encouraged!

Thanks for reading! 😘❤️ On to the next one~~

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

Chapter 18:

…ZAYNE…

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

Just as I watched her turn to leave, I saw her stiffen, what remained of her laughter dying in her throat. She turned, her eyes wide with shock, and I followed her gaze. Sylus was striding  through the crowd toward us, his movements predatory, his expression unreadable.

“Ori,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a warning.

I quickly turned to look at her. What? How did Sylus know her?

She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, caught between us, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I could see the conflict swell in her eyes, the fear, the guilt . And then, before I could say anything, before I could even think, Sylus’ fist connected with my jaw. The force of it sent me reeling, the world spinning as I hit the ground. Pain exploded in my face, sharp and searing, but it was nothing compared to the shock of what had just happened.

I scrambled to my feet, my pride stinging more than my jaw. Sylus was already on me, his hands balled into fists, his eyes blazing with fury. We traded blows, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the room. Ori was still standing there, frozen, her eyes darting between us like a deer caught in headlights. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, the pain etched into her features, and it only fueled the anger growing inside me. Fuck!

The fight was chaotic, a blur of fists and curses and the smell of sweat and blood. Sylus was stronger, faster, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. Not for this. But then, strong hands grabbed us both, pulling us apart with a force that left no room for argument. Rafayel and Xavier, their faces tight with concern.

“Enough!” Rafayel bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Both of you, stop!”

Xavier’s grip on my arms was like iron, and I could see the same determination in Raf’s eyes as he held Sylus back. Slowly, the room began to quiet, the tension easing, but not disappearing. Sylus was breathing hard, his chest heaving, his crimson eyes still locked on Ori. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, and the silence between them was deafening. 

I tried to meet her gaze, to offer some kind of explanation, some kind of apology, but she wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes were fixed on Sylus, her lips pressed into a thin line. The pain in her expression was palpable, raw and unfiltered, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. What had I done? So much for a heartfelt reunion… it must be her, the one Raf mentioned, Sylus’ mate, but how?

Rafayel and Xavier were still holding us back, their presence a physical barrier between the three of us. The room felt heavy, suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words and broken trust. I wanted to say something, to explain, to justify, but the words caught in my throat. What could I say? That I hadn’t known who she was? That I’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame? That I’d do it all again if I was given the chance?

Sylus’s voice broke the silence, low and dangerous. “Get out,” he said, his eyes never leaving Ori. “ Now .” 

I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the right to, even as the owner of the club. I let Xavier’s grip guide me toward the door, my jaw throbbing, my heart heavier than it had ever been. As I walked away, I glanced back one last time. Ori was still standing there, her shoulders hunched, her hands clasped in front of her. Sylus was watching her, his expression unreadable, but the pain in his eyes mirrored hers.

The door closed behind me, and I was left standing in the cold night air, the sound of the club fading into the distance. I didn’t know what had just happened, or what would happen next. All I knew was that everything had changed. And as I pressed my back up against the brick wall, the weight of it all pressing down on me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

…ORIEN…

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

“Sylus, I–” I went to take a step toward him, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

Xavier, who’d just returned from escorting Zayne, that Zayne, from the building, his hand a warm balm to my chaotic nerves. “Give him a moment, Ori.” 

Siri was pacing back and forth in my head, she’d known something was wrong and I hadn’t listened. I’d just let whatever that was happen. No thinkin, no resistance. I’d just approached him, a man I didn’t know from Adam, an Alpha and danced with him. No , not even danced. He’d scented me, touched me, ground his hips against me… and I’d done it right back. 

My eyes drifted to the floor. ‘What have I done… What is wrong with me?’

Nothing is wrong with you, my Ori… 

‘Then what the fuck, Siri.. why did I do that?’ 

I blinked looking up briefly, seeing Rafayel gripping Sylus’ shoulder like his life depended on it, holding him still. He was speaking to my mate, but I couldn’t hear anything. The drumming of my heartbeat in my ears was beginning to drown out everything around me. 

I heard her sigh in my head, Do you… remember when Sylus and I told you about the possibility of having more than one mate?

I felt her words strike my chest like a cold blade, my eyes slid shut . ‘Siri… do I have two mates?’

His wolf did call out to me, I could hear him, and by the way you were drawn to the man… your instincts sought him out without realizing. 

‘Siri, answer my question. Please.’

He might be, my Ori. There’s a good chance… 

The guilt was overwhelming. I lifted my gaze, finding Sylus’ red eyes, filled with a sadness that I could feel . Our bond was quivering, shaking but still there. Was he questioning everything? I was. 

He’d had his eyes locked on me since he’d walked up, only looking away while he drove his fists into Zayne’s face. I could feel the weight of my betrayal, because that’s exactly what it was. It was Aurora all over again. 

My Ori, you’re spiralling, sweetheart. Deep breaths, little one. 

I couldn’t, I couldn’t inhale enough. My breaths weren’t even coming in short bursts anymore. I was losing control and my body started moving before I could grasp what was happening. My vision blurred at the edges, pulsing with my erratic heartbeat. 

Get out of there, my Ori! You’re bringing on a shift! 

Her voice sounded like it was under water. Garbled and fuzzy, but I could feel it. The bristling beneath my skin. The stretch that had started in the muscles of my legs, my arms, my shoulders. 

“Ori?” It was Xavier, furrowed brows as he called out my name, “Where are you going? Ori!” I couldn’t look back, not when the pain inside my chest was beginning to unravel me. 

There are humans nearby, my Ori…

I ran. 

Gasping through clenched teeth as I barreled through groups of people, pushing past the grunts of annoyance, past the shouts of displeasure from my behaviour.

I slammed into the door, feeling the first tickles of my legs beginning to change. The lengthening of my heel, the shift of my big toes. My shoes were long forgotten, lost somewhere between here and the dance floor of the club. Groaning, I shoved myself into the night air, trying to inhale as deeply as I could before I collapsed on the sidewalk of the still bustling city beyond.

I could smell other shifters now, I could smell him. The dark haired man who I’d found myself indelibly drawn to as soon as I saw him. Saw his eyes, green and gold. The same colors I’d seen flecked and reflected within my own while I held that mirror that afternoon. 

I heard several gasps as I clung to the door as it swung open. 

‘I need to get away… get away.’ I looked around almost blindly, looking for anything that resembled a tree line, somewhere I could run to and hide.

I heard a masculine gasp from my right, and quickly swung my head to look and came face to face with green and gold. “Ori…?” I blinked, it was him. He hadn’t left. 

I felt my stomach roll, a pressure at the base of my spine that sent a wave of nausea roiling through my system. Through clenched teeth and watery eyes, I pushed the only words I could out, trying to beg for something… I didn’t even know what. 

“ Shift… Hide.” 

His eyes, those fathomless green and gold iris’ moved over me suddenly, taking in my condition. I could feel it, squirming beneath my skin. The animal, the beast. His hands, once warm and pliant against my curves, now hovered above me as he swung around, scanning the area. “Come with me.” 

I felt my grip tighten on the metal handle to the club door. A part of me, Sylus’ part, begging me to remain, not to follow this unknown and yet known male. 

“ Ori,” He breathed my name, his brows pulling together over those eyes, “ We need to get you out of here. Now.” The soft flesh of his wrist touched my forehead. “Or, do you want to give the populace a show?” 

I glared at him. He was right, of course he was right. 

He held out a hand, and for a brief moment, I just stared at it. Remembering the feel of those slender fingers moving over my curves, the heat of his pressed up against my back, my front as we moved together like we’d been made for it.

I knew any reluctance could cost me, cost him. Meeting his eyes, blue on mottled green, I slid my hand into his, just as I heard a commotion from behind me, back inside the club. Yelling, and then my name. 

“Ori? Baby, where did you go?” Sylus. He sounded scared, ragged and broken. 

I felt the bile rising in my throat as I sucked in a breath, my eyes tearing away from the open doorway of the club, and back to the male in front of me. 

“It’s now or never, Ori.” He said, his voice soft, laced with worry. 

I snapped my teeth together as I felt the burn of pain at the back of my throat, and nodded. He simply nodded back before he stood, my hand in his, and pulled me up to trail after him. 

We wove through alleyways, passing less and less people and shifters alike before he pulled me around a corner, into an empty looking park. Trees, bushes, thin little trails leading deeper into the darkness. 

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The burn in my spine tore a cry of pain from my lips before I crumbled to my knees. Both my arms wrapped around myself like I could hold myself together somehow. 

A soft whine, not mine, sounded from beside me. Through slitted eyes, I saw him. Crouched, hands folded in front of his mouth, eyes narrowed but loaded with a familiar worry. Hair hanging listlessly over his forehead, drenched and dripping with sweat, like he had run a marathon. Which, by all counts, we both had. 

“It hurts…” I breathed through my aching teeth.

“I know, sweetheart…” His voice drifted over me like a mist. The pain ebbed, allowing me to finally take a breath. “I… could help , but I don’t think Sylus would appreciate that, not after…” 

He didn’t need to finish the thought, we both knew. 

I smirked up at him, blinking away drops of sweat that were falling from my hairline. “I’ve already started making a list of unforgivable shit… why stop now?” 

He looked at me, really looked at me. Taking all of my bent over agony in before he sat back on his heels and stripped his shirt off. Revealing a toned, broad chest. He was chiseled, similarly, if not more than Sylus. Strong abs rippled as he shed the garment down his thick arms. A single tattoo sat on his left shoulder, a flower of some sort. 

He rolled forward on to his knees and reached for the buckle of his belt. 

Are you sure you want him to continue, Ori? I can feel Stayrus’ presence getting closer. 

I cringed and curled in on myself again as another wave of pain wrapped around my middle. My arms fell away from me as I felt my chest heave, ribs snapping to expand and contort to accommodate. My shoulders popped from their sockets, sending a cold, wet feeling down my arms. 

Groaning, I felt my skin begin to tear, slowly breaking apart to make way for dark fur. A gag escaped me as I felt my throat begin to reform, my vocal cords contorting and forming new layers, while breaking apart at the same time. 

I tipped my head forward and felt the flesh of my scalp begin to bubble and tear, my hair falling away as Siri’s ears pushed forth. I knew she was also trying to help, so I didn’t have to rely on Zayne, or Sylus whenever he showed up. This was only my second shift, and it was not how I would’ve liked it to have been like. Not an ideal time, or place. 

You’re doing so well, my Ori… just a little longer. 

I whimpered as I felt my spine contract suddenly, feeling my vertebrae reshaping themselves, though that ache was soon replaced by the searing agony of my cheeks splitting down the length of my jaw as Siri’s jaw pushed my own beyond its limit. Forcing teeth, gums and flesh to tear, break and fall to the ground beneath me. Replaced by a longer, sharper form. 

Breath, my Ori. Breath. 

Her words were my rock, her presence in my mind as her form pushed and bled into reality somehow brought my mind clarity, during my first shift was complete turmoil. Fear and dread had encapsulated me through the pain. A part of me had almost forgotten this part, the suffering toll that a shift put my body through, the white hot misery that tore through me like knives. 

I felt something nudge against my side, sending a wave of warmth through me. When I looked up, I came face to face with an absolutely massive and devastatingly beautiful wolf. 

A dark muzzle, and solid black nose. Shifting into longer, nearly silver fur along his cheeks before a golden hue overtook the silver and black entirely. His ears were massive, his fur was a mottled mix of that same gold, black and silver. His broad shoulders forced a wide stance, on solid black furred legs, and huge matching paws. 

Down the length of his body was that black, silver and gold, in a thick looking pelt that looked like it could be silky soft to the touch. His tail curved through the air in a slow wag, even thicker fur encompassed the long length in black, tipped with a lighter shade of gold, almost tan. 

I’d forgotten all about my shift, the human part of my brain letting Siri take over. Letting the shifter side of my body instinctively take over. Though, his beauty couldn’t deter the change entirely. The part I hated, and loved the most, where my-Siri’s tail burst from the tender flesh at the base of my spine. 

I remembered what it was like during my first change. 

It’d been absolute torture, the pressure, the build up, but the release when the bone popped through the soft flesh, and the sensation of flesh, muscle, cartilage and sinew was euphoric.

It was no different this time, and instinctively, I knew it would always be the same. 

A soft, almost sexual whine escaped me as I felt the tail burst, allowing me some reprieve as my body finally collapsed on the ground. Shredded skin, blood and muscle tissue surrounded me and I did what Stayrus had told me to do the first time, to get some of my strength back. Chewing slowly on the remnants of my human flesh. 

Zayne’s wolf lowered himself slowly in front of me, stretching his head forward to snag a chunk of muscle as well. I assumed it was his way of helping clean up the mess. We’d both shifted, in the middle of the city. Shreds of clothing surrounded me as well, making me nearly groan from the thought of Rafayel’s wrath when he saw what I’d done to the dress….

His name is Alistair. 

I froze mid-chew. Her voice sounded louder now, like she was directly in front of me instead of behind me. ‘What is he like?’

Much like the man. 

‘That tells me literally nothing.’

Doesn’t it? Reach out, he wants to speak with you.

‘I thought I could only do that with my mate.’ I deadpanned. 

Do as you’re told, my Ori. You might want to hear what he has to say… 

I sighed through my nose, barking a small abrupt huff at the male in front of me. He’d looked up and off to the side somewhere, ears twitching as he listened to whatever he’d heard. 

When he looked back at me, the turn was slow, controlled. 

‘Can you hear me, Zayne…?’ I pushed my consciousness out, like Sylus and Stayrus had taught me, searching for another link, another presence. 

‘So, we can communicate.’ I watched as his massive wolf sat down, tongue lolling out the corner of his mouth after a moment of staring at me, ‘ Your wolf, Siri is it? She’s gorgeous.’

Watch it, buddy. I pushed my front paws into the dirt and sat up, curling my tail around my hips as I did. 

‘Spicy, isn’t she.’ I heard his chuckle in my head. A smooth sound that reminded me of a summer breeze. 

I snorted, ‘You have no idea. Why can I hear you? I’m Sylus’ mate, not yours.’

I watched Alistair’s eyes flash between a bright yellow and Zayne’s green-gold, and I felt my eyes narrow. ‘ So much for trust, hm?’ I said, remarking on his silent conversation with his wolf, while clearly he could hear mine. 

‘ He’s nervous.’

As am I. Siri added, pressing what I imagined as the top of her head against my mind. 

‘They have every right to be… I don’t understand what’s happening.’ I uncurled my legs and stood up, standing above his beefier squat form for only a moment before he shoved himself upright as well, his much bigger frame towered over me, glittering golden eyes narrowed as he watched me down the length of his nose. 

‘Neither do I.’ He responded, not angrily, not annoyed. 

He wasn’t as big as Stayrus I noted, but he was damn close. 

Alistair scented the air, making me flinch back. ‘Really? Was that necessary?’

‘Purely automatic. We are in the city, remember. There’s far more than just your delectable scent, sweetheart.’

I rolled my eyes, but found myself following the action; lifting my nose to the air and inhaling a few times. Everything from sewage running beneath the streets, exhaust from vehicles, perfume and cologne. Rats, cats, and dogs alike. It was a mess of smells that flooded my system, confusing my brain. 

There was a smug chuckle and Zayne crossed his arms. Purely in control of the wolf now, much like I was. ‘So, tell me–’

Three figures came barreling around the corner, making not only me jump but Zayne too. Neither of us had smelled or heard them coming. Our focus had been entirely on the other. 

Shameful, my Ori! But, I will forgive you this time… 

My hackles rose and I moved into a broader, wider stance just in case I needed to fight; only to freeze as Zayne put himself between myself and the three intruders. 

“Fuck, they shifted.” My ears twitched, I knew that voice. Blinking a couple times, I peered around Zayne’s shoulder and took a closer look. 

Looking disheveled, out of breath and exhausted was Rafayel, Sylus and Xavier. 

Xavier and Raf seemed more concerned about Zayne than anything else, which, I supposed, made sense given who he was to them. Sylus’ eyes, like they’d been in the club, were locked on me. 

The guilt, the raw betrayal that had nearly consumed me when I’d realized what I’d done in the club began to swell within my chest all over again. Making me lose the threatening stance and cower in on myself. A long, keening cry slid through my teeth before I could help it, my front paws coming up to cover my eyes before he could see the burning tears that had begun to fall through my fur. Ears pinning back over my head.

“Ori…” Sylus sounded broken. I heard someone take a step, but a low menacing growl followed directly after as Zayne’s wolf lowered himself into a crouch in front of me, warning off the other men. Did he hate me? Did he want to abjure our mate-ship? I could feel nothing down our bond, just a cloud of mist that seemed to block everything in its path.

‘Rafayel, hold him.’ Zayne’s voice was a command, I felt it before peeking through my fingers to see Raf nod; inserting himself between Sylus and the two of us. 

“I’m sorry, Cottontop. Alpha’s orders.” Raf turned to face a very surprised Sylus. His expression turned even, narrowed, tired maybe, but put together. 

Stayrus is reaching out to Alistair… they’re just as confused as we are. 

This made no sense… unless . My paws dropped from my face as I lifted my head fast enough to send a tense cramp down my neck. My eyes landing on Xavier. 

‘Xavier…’ I felt my body move, legs pushing myself to a stand before I took a lengthy step toward the silky blonde who looked nervous, but more relaxed than the other two. 

A large dark paw wrapped around my arm, halting me in my approach. ‘What about Xavier, sweetheart.’

‘As the resident book worm … would he not know more than any of us? Ask him.’ 

From my peripherals I saw Zayne turn his wolf’s big head toward Xavier, who immediately lost the relaxed look and stood a little straighter. 

‘Xavier, would you know anything to explain this… unprecedented situation?’ Zayne’s voice in my head was like silk, and I kept finding myself leaning toward him when he spoke. My eyes quickly flickered over to my mate, his eyes, red rimmed and staring back at me, filled with their own questions, their own confusion. Why was this happening?!

Xavier took on the expression of quiet contemplation, one hand coming up to brush three fingers over his chin, while the other curled around his middle, allowing the other to stabilize as he thought.

“It is fascinating. I can hear her in my head, just as I can hear any other pack member in their fur.” He looked up at me, those blue eyes filled with curiosity. “Can you hear Sylus still, Ori?”

I tilted my head, my ears flattening over my head before I pushed out with my consciousness, looking for his, and found a wall with his shape. ‘There’s a wall… but I know it’s him.’

Sylus perked up a little, and I felt a flutter, a soft graze of warmth down our connection. 

“I sensed her…”

Xavier furrowed his brows, “As mates, you should have your line of connection open. Did either one of you cut the other off recently?” Those blue eyes slid, knowingly, to Sylus. Who suddenly looked meek, subdued as a rush of pink flooded his cheeks. 

“This morning. I wasn’t in control of myself… so I cut her off.” 

Zayne growled, ‘ Fucking Hells, so what does that mean? What happened to make him do that?’ Those green-gold eyes slid from Xavier to me, a worried furrow to his wolf’s brow pinched his nose awkwardly. 

Rafayel spoke up at that, “We told him– them about your shift from Delta to Alpha after he’d left.” 

A ripple of animosity filtered through the air, making me shiver. Zayne took a step toward Sylus, glaring down at the still incredibly tall red eyed man. 

‘Why would that affect him?’

Sylus scoffed, reading the question in his friend’s eyes. “ Jealousy.” His eyes slid to me, then back to the big wolf. “I may have given you the role as the pack leader, but I also wasn’t expecting to be gone as long as I was, it was supposed to be temporary.” He inhaled hard through his nose. “And now…” Those eyes slid back to me again, pinning me in place.

Zayne growled low in his throat, ‘And now… what?’ 

Rafayel cleared his throat as his bi-colored eyes danced to our surroundings. “As much as we might need to continue this conversation, perhaps we should take it elsewhere … we’re gathering an audience.” 

As a collective force, we all turned our heads to see groups of shifters, and humans alike milling about. Watching, whispering. 

Xavier hummed, “I would be inclined to agree.” He raised his chin, “Might I suggest going back to Rafayel’s penthouse, Ori is familiar with the scents.” His blue eyes swept over each of us, landing finally on me. “She might feel less frightened in a familiar place.” 

I like him… he thinks about others’ comfort. 

I had to agree with her, thus far… Xavier had become a true ally, even though his loyalty to his Alpha seemed a little torn down the middle for both Sylus and Zayne. 

Zayne reached out a menacing black paw to me, and I found myself automatically reaching out to take it, but stopped as I saw Sylus’ eyes narrow and flash between Stayrus and him. Stopping my movement in its tracks. I felt the anger in the air, just as Sylus’ hands curled into tight fists at his sides. 

“ Don’t you fucking touch her. ”  

The weight of the command, the depth of his control, had my knees buckling beneath me. My chin nearly slammed to the ground, just as Rafayel’s, Xavier’s and Zayne’s knees struck the dirt. I glanced up at Sylus, and then at the others. Their foreheads were nearly touching the ground, each of their jaws were tight as they each grit their teeth. 

“Ori… please.” The gravity of his command lifted, and I felt the air, cold and vapid, draw into my lungs. Watching him carefully, I slowly lifted myself from the ground. This was the first time I’d felt the extent of one of his commands, and to feel the earth greet me sent a wave of fear through me. “ Please, sweetie. ” He offered a hand, and I found myself just looking at it. 

He is your mate, my Ori… but you can refuse him. I will keep trying to reach out to Stayrus, maybe the oaf has some idea what’s going on….

A whimper escaped me as I felt her presence drift. 

Sylus’ expression fell but he took a tentative step toward me, “ Please , kitten… I can’t bear this any longer. Please, I need you. ” His voice dropped its usual tone of control, and all I could hear, all I could feel was desperation. 

How could I refuse him? Not after everything . Even with the guilt laying siege within my gut, there was still a part of me that needed him too. He was– is my mate… we’d been through too much for that to fall apart, even after his silent departure this morning, even after the club, even after all of this.

I swallowed before slipping a paw into his hand. ‘I love him… he’s still mine. ’

There it is… It took me less than a second to feel it. The bond, reconnecting itself. The fog lifting and the impact of his emotions. The fear, the despair, loss, anger– all of it, slam into me with the force of a freight train, making me whimper all over again. His hand tightened around my paw as he too nearly buckled under the weight of my emotions, the flood of anxiety, guilt, sorrow, loss and my own anger that had been bubbling just under the surface. 

A small, slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth even though his cheeks glistened with tears. 

I stepped around Rafayel’s near prone form and lowered my head to nuzzle into my white haired mate’s neck. His scent filled my senses, and I felt the stress, the tension release from my shoulders. His forehead met mine, wolf to human, and I felt the air of his sigh ruffle the sensitive fur of my muzzle. 

“I am so fucking sorry, Omega.” He whispered, his voice stronger now, but still loaded with emotion. 

Reaching out to him, I brushed my consciousness against his and I felt him tense slightly but relinquish the threads of control to let me in. ‘If anyone here should be sorry, it’s me…’

He pulled back, looked up at me and shook his head. “No, I never should have left in the first place.” He reached up to cup my cheek, fingers combing through my fur. “I put you in this position, and…” His eyes moved to the three figures still shaking from the impact of his command, there foreheads still kissing the ground. “I was jealous, and worried… when I had no right to be.” 

The static in the air lifted and a collective gasp released from the two men and the wolf still on the ground. 

Zayne was the first on his feet, and I felt my body move, twisting to shield Sylus from whatever wrath might be directed at him. There was a small fraction of my mind that was curious why Zayne out of all of them had submitted to Sylus’ command, but for now… the answers to that particular question could come later. 

Alistair, with his bright gold eyes, glared daggers at me, and I found myself whining back. A soft sound that made his ears twitch, his eyes release some of the glowering tension. 

Movement to my right made me take an uneasy step back, nearly colliding into Sylus’ broad chest. Rafayel, ever the comedy relief, pushed himself slowly to a stand. 

“That was… unpleasant.” He brushed off dirt from his clothes before looking around. “Looks like that little command took out more than just the five of us.” 

Glancing away from a still glaring Zayne, I noticed a number of the onlookers that had gathered were also slowly getting to their feet, huffing like they’d run a mile, or were wiping an arm across their foreheads to catch some of the sweat of their brows.

Another groan came from my left and I whipped my head back around, moving an arm to cover Sylus’ other side. My ears twitched as I saw Xavier now getting up, a softer, more surprised chuckle was pushed through clenched teeth as he leaned his hands on his knees. 

“Well that answers that question.” He said softly, more to himself than anyone else; but we’d heard him. 

Zayne growled, a long low sound from somewhere deep in his chest. He’d yet to lift his gaze away from me. Why couldn't I hear him anymore?

“This morning, Raf and I found it curious that Sy could still use his commands on us. I’d assumed it was because of his lineage, and the fact that we’re pack… but,” his blue eyes settled on Zayne, “...to be able to command you . Well,” He huffed and pushed himself upright, puffing out his chest as he stretched, “it means that Sylus isn’t just any Alpha.” 

I felt the answer in my chest. Felt the realization hit me before Xavier even said the words. 

Zayne’s eyes finally drifted, from me to Xavier. Waiting. 

Xavier sighed and then turned to Sylus, “Sylus, it would seem that you are the Enigma .” 

—

As much as we’d wanted to continue that conversation, the amount of people– shifters– who had come towards our little group began to grow exponentially after Sylus’ command had taken down a much wider radius of our kind than we’d realized. They were gathering, coming from every which direction, having felt the immensity of the Enigma’s power. 

We’d, and by we I mean Sylus and Zayne, had managed to stow their pride for the moment so we could all get back to a safer, more private location; which turned out to be Rafayel’s penthouse, which was initially requested.

Now, I sat curled beside the hearth, arms hugging my knees, freshly turned back into my human form. Only a huge, long t-shirt that hung down past my thighs, courtesy of Xavier, hugged my curves as I stared off into the licks of flame, glinting off the mech and curved bars of the gate while everyone else fidgeted and tossed cursory glances between the others.

Sylus had placed himself on the garish armchair near me, hands drumming away against the arms while he stared daggers at the back of Zayne’s head, while the dark haired freshly shifted man himself stood stoically, back ramrod straight, staring out one of the massive windows, hands clasped behind his back. A t-shirt of his own hugging the broadness of his shoulders, pulled taut across his chest and abdomen, while a pair of gray sweats hung almost indecently low from his hips. 

Awkward… Siri whispered in my head. If she were beside me, I’m entirely sure she’d be hugged up against my side, whispering information into my ear like a conspiratory gossipmonger.

I could hear Rafayel’s anxiety hitting record highs as his foot bounced off the parquet tile floor as he sat on the edge of the persimmon colored loveseat’s cushion beside Sylus’ armchair. He'd just got done cleaning up the mess of fur and blood off his floor, mumbling his displeasure the entire time. He had both hands steepled in front of his face now, his elbows braced on his knees while his blue-pink eyes flipped between Zayne and Sylus in rapid succession

Xavier sat neatly on the orange sofa to Zayne’s left. He’d procured a number of books from another room in the apartment, several laid flipped open and layered on the wooden coffee table, while he held another on his lap, brows furrowed as he read. 

The silence was deafening. 

A single, drawn out sigh broke that silence after another moment, “ Jesus fucking Christ, Xavier… Please , say something .” 

Of course it would be Raf who would lose to the quiet game. 

The tension in the room was palpable. I could feel both Sylus and Zayne’s presence weighing against my mind. Sylus, with his vanilla scented embrace tickled softly against our connection, while I’d noticed when we’d been coming back to the apartment, another connection had been slowly emerging from the darker corners of my mind, a floral scented brush against my mind that had settled and remained, coiling around Sylus and my bond, not intrusively, but adaptively. 

I was curious, scared. Unsure what to make of all of this. Siri had mentioned that Zayne could be another potential mate, but this felt… different than what I’d felt when I’d accepted my mate-ship with Sylus. This felt… deeper. 

I wanted to speak up, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. My body and my chest felt they were encased in lead. Fear circled me like a predator as my insecurities settled within my chest. I was surrounded by males , and as I’d needed to remind myself of ever since I got in the car on the way back here, I was an unmarked Omega. 

As Xavier had put it, a sought after treasure . A rare breed, desired. Coveted. 

“ Kitten.” Sylus’ voice, soft but worried, pulled me from my crowded thoughts. 

I turned to face him, eyes slowly coming back into focus as I took in the dark circles of exhaustion curved under his bloodshot eyes, the waves of his disheveled white-silver hair. I felt very little of my anxiety lift away at the sound of his voice, his own filtered slowly back to me through our bond, so it just felt like an unending loop. 

“Hm?” I hummed, blinking tiredly at him. He gave me the tiniest of smiles before gesturing with his chin towards someone. Turning, I was met with Xavier’s deep blue eyes. 

“This must be very difficult for you, sweetheart, but… I need some information from you.” I watched him blink, a flash of soft blue– almost white eyes, before they settled back to the dark navy. “If you’re up for it, that is.” He quickly tacked on. 

His wolf, Lux , I believe his name was, must have said something to him. 

Letting my shoulders droop, I lowered my knees to stretch out in front of me as I slowly turned my body to face him, and inadvertently, Zayne. Who’d tensed almost instantly. 

“Do you remember, or recall anything about your father being the Enigma?” 

I felt my brows furrow, “Like?” I said, my voice cracking on the K. 

Xavier sighed, put the book down on the leather cushion beside him and stood, stretching his long arms above his head. As he dropped back into his seated position, he shifted, angling himself to face me more. “What I mean is…” He lifted and curled a hand around in the air, his eyes clouding over as he thought of how he wanted to phrase his next words.

Sylus sighed, “He felt the shift during a rut, saying it had been abnormally worse than previous cycles. His temperament changed, his agitation and mood were easily swayed, and he had to sequester himself to a safe room to keep his mate and his daughters’ safe.” 

Everyone, including Zayne, had turned as Sylus spoke. I blinked at him, hearing the truth in his words and recalling little flickers of the time when I didn’t see my father for some time, remembering how my mother would have us stay with her in their bedroom. Cassi and I hugged against her sides as she sang to us, read to us, and effectively kept us safe until she’d come back one day with a very sickly looking version of my father. 

I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but how did Sylus know about that?

Zayne was the one who asked my question for me, “How do you know that?” His eyes narrowed and filled with mistrust. 

“Do you remember when I went with my father to meet with the Alphas of some of our allied packs along the west coast?” His eyes moved between them all, waiting patiently as they all slowly nodded, “The Ashmourn pack was one of them.” Those red eyes met mine.

“Liam and my father had been friends at one point, and I heard the story directly from Liam Ashmourn himself. I found out later that my father had, had it in his head that I was going to be the next generation’s Enigma, and apparently the old man got that right.” He paused, his eyes still on me. 

“I felt the shift…” he paused again, leaning forward in his chair, “during my last rut.” 

Oh, fuck… I blinked, his last rut? But, that was…. 

I froze, trying to recall anything different about him, but came up with nothing. ‘Siri… do you recall?’

Stayrus and I had decided to let you experience it together, we weren’t present at the time. I felt her presence, heavy in my mind as she thought about it further. Though, Stayrus did seem more… reserved when things normalized. I will speak to him. 

Xavier had seen the conflict happen in my eyes, before asking, “You said Liam exhibited traits of aggression and mood swings, yet… you present none of that, how do you know it happened during your recent rut?” 

Sylus stood and eased up behind me, lowering himself down to extend his legs out beside my thighs and slide his arms around my waist. I could feel his need to be near me float down our bond, and I welcomed it, feeling my own desire for his proximity. Something to ground me. “Honestly, I can’t say with certainty… all I can say is that I felt… different afterwards.” His nose pushed into the hair just above my ear as he inhaled my scent. 

Xavier pursed his lips, “Could it not have been an affirmed bond connection with Ori? This was her first official heat, and your first rut as confirmed mates, yes?” 

I pressed my back against Sylus’ chest, steadying my breathing as I matched his. Waiting nervously, but quietly before he spoke again, “It very well could have been, but that doesn’t answer why a pack Alpha dropped to his knees upon my command.” I knew his eyes had moved to Zayne because the dark haired man shifted on his feet. 

Xavier looked down at the book he’d returned to his lap, chewing on the corner of his mouth for a moment before looking back up, “How many ruts prior to meeting Ori did you experience?” 

Sylus’ silence as he thought gave me time to glance up at Zayne, only to find him already looking at me. Something in my chest tugged.

There it was again, that pull . To go to him, to be near him. 

I dropped my gaze before my body could react how it did at the club, down to my hands, clasped tightly in my lap. ‘When should I bring that million dollar subject to the surface?’

Oh, I’m sure you won’t need to. 

‘You think?’

I know.

I took a deep breath through my nose before lifting my eyes again, only to find Zayne’s gaze fixed out the window. Why did that hurt so much? Not having him looking at me? 

It is an odd sensation, my Ori, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Xavier is knowledgeable and concise. He has many books squirreled away. I don’t normally like book worms, but I think I’ve made an exception for the sleepy blonde. 

“I can’t be sure how many there were, it's been seven years since I left. I didn’t realize I was supposed to keep track.” Sylus’ irritation could be heard in his tone, and his arms tightened around me, searching for comfort as I felt the sensation flow down our link, of him feeling ganged up on, cornered. 

Idly, I moved a hand to rest on his forearm, my thumb moving in slow circles over his skin, instantly settling his nerves. 

Xavier noticed the exchange, ever the perceptive one, but Rafayel, having been oddly quiet this entire time, finally spoke up. “One of those ruts could’ve been a catalyst, right Xav?”

Xavier chewed on his lip, eyes drawn down to a page in his book once again. 

“Sy, as much as this whole situation is stressful, not just your being the new Enigma– but also what’s happening between Zayne and Ori.”

I stiffened just as Sylus did, but Xavier continued, “...this information might be crucial to figuring out more about the Enigma presentation. If you met, and spoke with Liam, then I’m sure he mentioned how there have been little to no documented cases of an Enigma class in the past century, you could be the first.”

“He did.” Sylus sighed, resting his chin on my shoulder, I focused on his breathing as I felt Zayne’s green-gold eyes drift over to me again, sending yet another pang of warmth through my chest. 

I shifted, not uncomfortably, but because I was beginning to feel something deep within my core, something primal. The same desire I’d felt on the dance floor in the club, that draw that had compelled my body to move on its own, scent a male I didn’t know, touch a man who wasn’t my mate, and had yet felt irrevocably familiar. 

I turned in Sylus’ arms, pushing my face into his chest as their conversation continued above me, but my mind had tuned out. I couldn’t pay attention anymore. Not when whatever was going on between Zayne and me was beginning to bare its head again. 

Closing my eyes, I tried focusing on Sylus’ heartbeat. Listening to the even thump thump, thump thump as I began to match my breathing with his again. I needed to calm down, or else soon they’d be able to smell me, then they’d all know. If they didn’t already. 

Sylus’ abrupt movement tore me from my concentration as he suddenly stood up, squeezing my shoulder once before slowly striding over to Xavier and sitting next to him on the couch, eyes moving down to the book on the blonde’s lap. Eyes scanning the pages for… whatever it was that Xavier had asked him to look at. 

Something about a born Alpha’s rut, and Fate or some such nonsense. Fate has nothing to do with Mates... Fate is a Thread-barer, nothing more. I wanted to snort, even Siri didn’t sound interested in what they were talking about. To be entirely honest, I’d wanted to tune out after all of the talk about my father, having felt the despair and loss cradle my heart as memories of his face nearly overwhelmed me. His blues eyes that I’d inherited, the slope of his proud nose, and the curve of his smile and the low belted cadence of his laugh while he playfully chased Cassi and I around the front yard on a cloudless, sunny day while my mother watched from her perch on the porch, a book in hand and a wide smile on her face. 

I felt his presence settle beside me before I saw him. Zayne. I cast a sidelong glance up where Sylus was sitting, saw him eyeing Zayne out of the corner of his eye, but did nothing. Returning to his animated conversation with Xavier. I inhaled, feeling my shoulder brush up against the confusing man next to me.

“You’ve been very quiet.” Was all he said as he folded his knees, and draped his wrists over them. His head was tipped back, eyes not on me, but the ceiling. 

“I didn’t realize I needed to offer anything to a conversation that doesn’t involve me.” I found myself saying, a layer of sass infesting each word like a swarm of locusts. 

A soft, breezy chuckle came from the man, and I felt him shift, the weight of his gaze landing back on me. “ I would’ve liked to hear those two cents.” 

I could feel Siri on the edge of my mind, watching, waiting. Why had he come over here? Why sit beside me when I had nothing to contribute? Why any of this? All of this.

“I’ve been an Omega for less than two weeks, I have nothing to add to this conversation that would progress it.” I found myself saying, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I knew Sylus’ words about my father having to lock himself away was the truth, I remembered most of the time when he was away . Otherwise, I lacked any and all other knowledge to add anything substantial.  

Zayne’s hand suddenly moved into view, sliding underneath mine to align our fingers. “I think you know more than you let on, little love. ” His nickname, on top of the feel of his fingers, cool but enticingly warm against my own sent a shiver down my spine. I felt that pull, the air leave my lungs, and then our eyes met. Get a fucking grip, Orien! 

Pulling away, I pushed myself to a stand and stalked away from him, mumbling under my breath about needing to use the washroom. I felt Rafayel’s eyes following me, he’d been watching the entire interaction between Zayne and me the moment Sylus sat down with Xavier, I’d felt it. 

In the bathroom, as soon as the door clicked shut, I pressed my back against it. Grounding myself with the solid, cool surface. I wanted to scream, cry out to the heaven’s and shout a very condescending ‘what the fuck’ to whatever deity might be listening. 

I was no one special. Why was the universe suddenly focusing solely on me and adding these problems to my life?

Living, and hating my life in and amongst Ephraim’s pack, learning to move through life like a shadow. Unnecessary and easily forgettable… only to find a man who was the complete opposite of the men I was used to, a man who came to like me, care for me, and then love me. Helping me come to terms that not all men were like Caleb, or his father. I’d felt oddly drawn to Sylus in a similar fashion at first, as I now felt drawn to Zayne, but that's besides the point… what had I done to deserve this new, chaotic life? 

Reaching up with both hands, I scrubbed my palms down my face. ‘Fuuuuck me. Siri… has Stayrus confirmed anything? Said anything?’

He has not. Alistair, on the other hand, has. I blinked. Alistair was Zayne’s wolf. The gorgeous beast of a creature, who’s pelt looked more fox-like than wolf. What was it called. Right, he’d looked like a melanistic fox. Where there would have normally been white fur, there was black instead. Giving him an almost ethereal presence, and fuck … he was gorgeous.

‘What did he have to say?’ 

It’s not just what he has to say, my Ori… it’s what he says he feels. She sighed, It’s also what I have felt between him and myself, what I feel… My hands froze against my face. 

‘Siri… what are you saying?’

I feel it, my Ori. For both Stayrus and Alistair, it’s real. I could feel her fear, it mirrored my own, but I could also feel the truth in her words. My soul is connected to them both, and… in turn, yours is connected to their vessels, both Sylus and Zayne are your mates just as Stayrus and Alistair are mine. 

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

[xxfaithlynxx]

hi lovies i wanted to mention my ko-fi account or cashapp ( $ladykiwazee ), i'm currently $195 dollars short on rent for APRIL. it's already late, you don't have to go through ko-fi but $5-10 and i'll prioritize your request - i can't force myself to write everything but i will make an effort.

i will write for bucky barnes, joel miller and the love interests in love && deepspace

if you have questions just DM me or shoot me an ask. im really desperate tbh.

[xxfaithlynxx]

Chasing Your Shooting Star (9/19)

Pairing: Uni Student|Xavier x Uni Student|Reader (fem)

Summary: You are back in class and still have a decision to make about your future and whether you can risk making Xavier a part of it.

Content warnings: Adult language.

Length: 3700

Chapters: (First) (Previous)

Read on AO3

You cursed the fact that you had to get up the next morning for class. You could skip if you really wanted to, no one would blame you after what you went through. Then again, if you could get around then there would be no excuse good enough for your mother to miss class unless you were practically dying. So you forced yourself out of bed and gingerly limped around the room to get ready for the day.

It really didn’t help that you were moving so slowly partly because of your foot but also because of what happened last night. Your entire body felt sore after that. You really should have expected something intense from Xavier based on how you knew he fought. You weren’t sure why you expected him to be less intense or have less stamina in the bedroom. It was great, but by the gods were your hips sore now.

And last night…what else was there to be said about what happened last night? Other than that was a side of Xavier you had not seen before and it kind of freaked you out. For someone who was usually rather reserved and soft spoken and all around very sweet, he was foul mouthed and unrelenting in bed. You had a feeling that if he didn’t need to worry about hurting your foot he would have been tossing you around the bed like a rag doll last night.

Maybe you would have been able to go on with your day like normal if it wasn’t for the fact that last night was not just about sex. Xavier had come over with a hope that you would say yes to being in a relationship with him. Your heart stuttered just thinking about it.

He said he wouldn’t guilt you into being in a relationship with him, he didn’t want that. If all this was between you was a couple of friends fucking each other then he’d take it but it wasn’t what he wanted. And you didn’t want to go along with this just because it was what he really wanted.

What did you want? What was the right choice in this scenario?

If you decided to date Xavier then word would get back to your mother and you could already see what kind argument awaited you with that. The normal spiel about not being dedicated to your studies and all of that. Your brain decided to make everything worse by envisioning what other horrible things she may say about Xavier. He was a talented fighter but he was from a no one family out in the mountains. Hardly the kind of family she no doubt pictured you to end up with when you got older.

If you decided to keeps things with Xavier as they were then everything would be normal again…But you would feel like you missed out on something that could have been really nice.

As you hobbled your way to class on your crutches the world seemed to mock you and the decision you had yet to make. All around it seemed that couples were out in droves. You saw them everywhere in the walk from your dorm to the classroom. Something burned in the pit of your chest and it wasn’t until you walked into class and saw Xavier already there, sitting at the desk next to yours, that it was envy.

All those happy couples that strolled along hand in hand, reclining on one another, laughing and smiling and kissing out in the open. You had been surrounded by couples your entire life and you never felt this lonely. It was the kind of loneliness and emptiness that came with realizing that you never had someone that you cared about this much. And it was all Xavier’s stupid fault!

He just had to come in with his shy smiles and his fluffy hair and his unwillingness to stop trying to get to know you no matter how much you pushed him away. Not to mention he was no doubt the best lay you ever had.

This idiot that saw you walk in the classroom and his face lit up like someone had hit a lightswitch in his head. How were you supposed to tell him no when your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest every time you saw him? Even now there was a silly childish part of you that wanted to walk up and push your desks together and kiss him good morning. You wanted it so bad it hurt.

Instead you steeled yourself and sat down at your desk, keeping in firmly in place and trying your best not to let your gaze longer on Xavier. “Good morning.” he said.

“Morning.” you responded, keeping your gaze on your desk.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Fine. A little sore.” you answered honestly, not realizing implication of your word choice until it was already out there.

Xavier didn’t say anything but he did smirk. A new wave of heat rolled through you, burning up your neck and singeing your ears. “Maybe you should have stayed in bed today then.” he said. “I told you I’d bring you notes.”

“I’m not that sore!” you hissed, hiding your face behind your textbook.

As class began a note found its way onto your desk. You sighed and picked it up, carefully unfolding it out of sight.

Are you sure you want to bother with classes today? You look tired. You should be resting.

There was another little star signed at the bottom with a face of concern drawn on it. You rolled your eyes and scribbled a note back to him.

Need I remind you that it is your fault that I’m so tired?

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he read the note and his face tinted pink. He quickly jotted down another note.

I will gladly take full responsibility for that. But really, you should go rest up.

The star at the bottom of the note was winking at you. Seriously? How was it someone this big of a goofball was capable of being such a little pervert in secret? It was baffling and unfair that someone with that innocent looking a face could just flip a switch in their head and become someone unrecognizable.

You ignored his comment and went back to paying attention to the lesson. When class ended you gathered everything into your bag and mentally cursed how long getting across campus to your next class was going to be. Fifteen minutes felt like a long time but you weren’t exactly speedy on these crutches.

You reached to sling your bag over your shoulder but found that Xavier had already taken hold of it. “Come on, if you dally you’re gonna be late.” he said, striding to the door and propping it open for you.

The students that still lingered in the lecture hall watched the interaction, eyeing the bag on Xavier’s shoulder like it was a rotting carcass and glared back at you. You didn’t even ask him to do this! How were they getting mad at you for it? Whatever, you didn’t have time to worry about them.

You followed after Xavier. You were a little grateful that he had taken your bag since it wasn’t weighing you down and made moving around a little easier. “I thought you were going to take my bag as ransom to force me back to my dorm.” you said.

“I thought about it but I knew you’d use your crutches to shatter my shins if I did.” he said. “I can rest easy knowing that at least you won’t show up to combat training today. You can call it early and actually get some rest.”

You didn’t tell him you had still been planning on going to combat training. You knew you couldn’t fight but you could still observe. And you’d be damned if you missed the first training back after what happened in the wilderness.

“What about you? You seem bright eyed and bushy tailed for someone who was up just as late as I was last night.” you said.

“I can probably guarantee I was up later.” he said, then his eyes widened as he realized he had said more than he meant to.

“Why? What reason were you up so late?” you asked.

A bright pink color rose in his face. “No reason. Don’t worry about it.” he said, avoiding eye contact with you. You got to the building for your next class but instead of leaving you at the door Xavier followed you, riding the elevator up to the next floor where your class was.

“Xavier, why were you up so late?” you asked again, refusing to let the subject drop.

“Do we have to--”

The elevator came to a halt as you hit the emergency stop button. “Cough it up, star boy. I don’t care if I’m late to class right now.”

Xavier sighed, pulling his bangs down in front of his face to try and hide himself. “I um…I had a lot of energy left after we said good night so I was in the dorm showers for a long time.”

“The showers?”

All you could see were his red hot ears poking out from the sides of his head. “I have a roommate, I couldn’t exactly do it with him in the room and the showers are usually empty that late.”

You finally realized what he meant and your face went hot as well. After all of what you did last night that boy still had so much stamina that he had to go jerk off in the showers for gods only know how long? You didn’t know whether to be frightened, flattered, or impressed.

“Ah…” you cleared your throat and hit the button to get the elevator to go again. “Is that uh…normal?”

“Kinda. I have a lot of stamina.” he lowered his hands from his face, it was as beet red as his ears. “And finally being with you it gave me a lot to think about.”

“I see. But you didn’t say anything back at my dorm.”

“It was late and I could tell I had already worn you out pretty hard. We still had class the next day too and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.” he shrugged.

The elevator stopped and you got off. He walked you to your classroom and set your bag down at your desk in the back. Xavier didn’t take this class so you could tell the students that were already there were watching the two of you with curiosity.

“Well, thanks for carrying my bag here.” you said. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.” he looked reluctant to go but he did step out of the room, probably back to his dorm to get a nap in before he had to go to combat training. There was a part of you that was amused that he told you that you needed to take a day off when it was clear that he was the one running on much less sleep.

You tried your best to focus on the lesson but your mind kept drifting back to Xavier as it had been doing all day. You slid the notes he had written you today out of your notebook and looked at them, shaking your head at the stupid little star doodles at the bottom.

You promised him an answer today. What were you going to tell him?

After class you had a period of downtime before combat training so you dropped your bag off at your dorm. There was a part of you that was disappointed to find that Xavier hadn’t been waiting outside the classroom to escort you. Then you immediately felt ridiculous for thinking of such a thing. He wasn’t bound to you. He had done you a kindness by walking you to this class, he didn’t need to keep doing it when he obviously had his own life to live. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend or anything.

There was that familiar ache in your chest again. You swallowed it down and forced it out of your head as you worked on some assignment until it was time for combat training. You got quite a few confused looks from people when they saw you show up. Xavier was the only one that didn’t seem surprised. He just sighed and grabbed a pair of chairs, one for you to sit on and another for you to prop your foot up with.

He crouched next to you, talking quietly. “The instructor explained before you got here that Irene and Dean have been dropped from the class for the rest of the semester and it is going on their records as a failure. They’re not going to be able to graduate in the spring with the rest of the class and are going to end up having to take a summer course at the earliest to make up for the missing credit.”

“Good. It’s what they deserve.”

“I agree, but we may have a few targets on our backs now. Some of their friends are really mad.”

“They can be mad all they want, it was their dumbass friends that tried to kill me.” you grumbled, ignoring the daggers being thrown your way by the other students. “And you know all that hate is directed at me, you could never do anything wrong in their eyes. You’ll be fine. I’m the one that’s gonna have to fight off more petty revenge.”

Something dark settled in Xavier’s gaze that made you freeze. When he spoke a shiver went up your spine. “If they want you they’ll need to get through me first.”

You searched for something to say, some quip about not needing his protection but it fell silent in your mouth. That intensity of his that only came out while he was fight (and while having sex) was there again. You could almost see the shield going up around you with his statement. He was your partner and he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

Class began in earnest as everyone started fighting. You watched and observed as you intended, taking the time to really take in everyone’s fighting style. In your head you were there on the floor with them, finding ways to take them out and ways to improve their technique. For so long you only focused on Xavier that it was interesting to study other people for a change.

Finally what would have been you and Xavier’s turn to spar came up. Since you couldn’t fight the instructor decided to let whoever wanted to fight Xavier to come up and try their hand. It was embarrassing to say the least. Most of the students that stood up acting all cocky, throwing disdainful looks at you as they passed, soon found themselves disarmed and on the floor.

Yeah. Not so easy fighting Xavier, was it? Did everyone think that you were just half-assing when you fought him? It took a lot of work to get as good as you were. Even with your already pre-built skills it took half the semester to win a battle against him. That was just one battle! There was no guarantee that you were going to win the next one, you were just now on an even playing field in terms of skill.

As you watched Xavier take down opponent after opponent without any real difficulties it occurred to you. You work hard. You work harder than anyone at this school and that gave you an advantage. Your hard work is what finally let you beat Xavier in combat. You didn’t spend every hour of every day fighting him. All it took was some dedicated practice every week. It was never excessive though, like you were with your studies.

You had been working at two hundred percent all your life and for what? If you completed assignments and dedicated a set time to study you’d still do well in school. You knew what part of your studying was ultimately superfluous. You didn’t need all those extra hours, just like you didn’t need an excess of time to fight Xavier. The only reason you had studied so much and for so long is because you thought it was what your mother expected. She wanted you to be the best so you dedicated your life to being just that.

But you were an adult now. Your mother may be the dean but she wasn’t looming over your shoulder, coming by your room regularly to check that you were doing your work like she did when you still lived in the same house. You could do whatever you wanted. You had that freedom.

All your mother cared about it seemed was what you did wrong. You had been doing everything right for years but she only ever said anything to you when you failed. So long as you don’t fail, she can’t complain. She doesn’t need your study schedule, she just needs final posted grades.

The revelation that while she still stuck her nose in everything you did, you weren’t being monitored like you were before. You had a certain amount of privacy that she couldn’t impose herself on unless she wanted to take time out of her very busy schedule to regularly check in on you.

If she found out you were dating someone she’d still get mad but so long as she didn’t know there would be nothing for her to berate you over. You could actually take time to rest and socialize if you want. You could even…

Your eyes drifted to Xavier who just laid out another student. He glanced over at you and smiled in that shy boyish way of his. Class was called to an end and you stood up, gesturing for Xavier to follow you.

You surprised him by heading towards the stairwell instead of the sets of elevators. Because the building was so tall not a lot of people used the stairs, not for this floor anyway. It also didn’t have any cameras set up inside so it provided some additional privacy.

“Why are we taking the stairs?” he asked. “I’m not opposed to walking but I really don’t think you should be taking them with your foot like it is.”

“I brought you in here so I could do this.” you grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him down to kiss. He immediately sunk into it, holding you steady against him.

His eyes fluttered open as you pulled back. “If this is an answer to my question last night I’m not entirely sure what you’re trying to say.”

“Right. Should have started with that.” you cleared your throat. “I…I want to date you.”

His arms held you tighter. “Really?”

“Yes.” your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, “But for reasons I can’t exactly get into right now we can’t let people know we’re dating. Is that okay?”

He was caught between confusion and joy, “Do I get to know why people can’t know?”

“It uh…it’s kind of a long story and it has to do with my mother and everything else. Just trust me when I say it will be way easier for us if we keep this relationship between the two of us, for now at least.” You hated having to ask this of him considering that you hadn’t exactly made anything about your relationship easy. Now you were telling him you wanted a romantic relationship but even this couldn’t be simple because you needed to hide it from your mom.

Maybe this is what made him give up. You finally opened up and decided to trust him but still having to keep a distance between you. It’d hurt but you wouldn’t blame him.

“I can do that.” Xavier said. “If that’s what I have to do to have you in my life, I will.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Why is that so shocking?”

“I guess I’m used to everything being more of a fight.”

“Not this. Not me.” he kissed you again, slowly savoring the act. “Now how about we get out of this stairwell and relax?”

“That sounds nice.” you left the building and ended up sneaking Xavier back into your dorm. You didn’t do much besides makeout on your bed and talk. You were too tired for sex and Xavier looked like he was ready to nod off next to you.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Xavier said, drawing in a big yawn as he fought to stay conscious. “What made you change your mind?”

You sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, the more I thought about it the more I realized that I did want to have a relationship. I also thought about what you said that night in the woods, about me being scared that I’ll realize something about myself if I don’t spend every hour of the day worrying about being the best.”

“And did you?”

You nodded. “I’m lonely. And being with you makes me feel not lonely anymore. Even when I was being a jerk to you there was a certain thrill I got from seeing you because I knew you’d talk to me.”

“Sunshine…” his voice bled with sympathy.

“Why did you keep trying even when I pushed you away?”

“I find you fascinating and amazing and when I heard what everyone else said about you I realized what you may have really needed was a friend.”

You scoffed, pulling the neck of your shirt up to cover your face. “You really did have me all figured out, didn’t you?”

“I like to think I’m observant in that way.” he pulled your shirt back down so he could press a kiss to your forehead. “And look what it got me, a really cute and badass girlfriend.”

Your face heated once more and you shoved his face away. “Stop! You’re so embarrassing!”

“Well, if I can’t brag about having you as my girlfriend around school then I’m forced to lavish you with attention when we’re alone.” he pulled you onto his lap, keeping you locked against his chest. He nuzzled his face into your neck like a smitten kitten. “Try to get used to it, cause I’m never going to stop.”

[xxfaithlynxx]

Bad Decisions

Word Count: 10k

BETA-READ by the wonderful Needle_Wand_and_Thimble!

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Chapter 17:

I looked between them curiously before settling my gaze on Xavier, “Should an Alpha not be able to use commands on another’s pack members or something?” 

“There are a lot of things we don’t know or understand about pack dynamics, Ori. So, I can’t give you the proper answer.” 

I nodded slowly, before turning to look up at Sylus. He’d gone unnaturally quiet. 

Reaching over, I pressed my palm flush against his chest. “Hey, we’ll figure this out, right? Zayne’s your friend, isn’t he?” I glanced between Raf and Xav, they both nodded. “He’d let us stay here.” 

Nary a blip down our link, nothing but silence greeted me as I reached for him. His eyes were dark, narrowed. “Sylus…?”

I jumped as one moment he’s sitting beside me, and then he’s up and walking out of the cafe. My eyes trailing after him, my mouth parting in shock as I watched him stuff his thumbs into the pockets of his pants, hunch his shoulders and stride away. Disappearing across the street. 

Xavier sighed, reaching across the table to gently rest a hand on my shoulder, the same shoulder Sylus had just moments prior, been gripping like a lifeline. 

“He’ll be back, cutie.” Rafayel tried to assure me, his eyes still locked on the spot Sylus had disappeared across the street. 

“This wasn’t easy on any of us when we figured it out. None of us knew that presentations could change.” 

I thought about that for a second. My father’s presentation did. Should I tell them that? I looked down and wrapped my fingers around the base of the cup of, now, cold coffee that Sylus had brought earlier. 

A waitress walked up to our table, holding two plates of steaming food. I offered her a small smile as she placed them down on the table. “Is… your boyfriend coming back?” 

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, I had no idea. He’d shut out our connection, blocked me from feeling, or navigating what could only be a kaleidoscope of emotions going through him. “I….” 

Rafayel smiled at the young girl, sliding the steaming plate of… creamy looking noodles over to his side of the table. “Probably not, sweetheart , but if it’s paid for–” He winked at the waitress and I felt second hand embarrassment for the young girl as she blushed, more like nearly turned into a fucking tomato, before bashfully lowering her eyes, giggling and walking away. 

“You really can’t turn that shit off, can you.” I stated, resting my chin on my palm as I leaned against the table while I watched him.

“Are you calling my personality shit , missy?” Rafayel asked, dangling a fork above the dish of food, an eyebrow raised as he rolled his jaw. “You better not be.” He pointed the fork at me. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Xavier roll his eyes before reaching over and snaking one of the thick pieces of bread off the edge of the dish, stuffing it in his mouth while Raf threw him a glare. 

‘Siri… should I tell them?’

I can’t force you not to, my Ori. The choice is yours.

I sighed, looking back up at the other two as they bitched about sharing Sylus’ food. Looking down at my own dish, I noticed it was the same as what Raf and Xav were bickering over. Some creamy noodle concoction. With sliced mushrooms, minced garlic, shrimp, red pepper flakes, some basil and if my nose wasn’t mistaking me, there was smoke paprika blended into the sauce. 

I sighed once again, feeling a weight settling over me from my mate’s growing absence. 

I felt Xavier’s eyes on me before he spoke, but when he did his tone was loaded with care, but also worry. “He’ll be okay, Ori. He just needs a moment….”

“I know.” I responded, picking up the fork to poke at some of the noodles in my dish, “It just physically hurts to be away from him right now….” 

When I glanced up through my lashes at the two men, I could see their cheeks tinted pink, the color flowing into the tips of their ears. “When was your last heat– or I guess, have you experienced your first heat yet?” Xavier asked, his tone betraying a level of embarrassment from having asked. 

“His rut, my heat. They just ended.”

“When?” 

“Last night.” 

Rafayel choked on the mouthful of food he’d just shoveled into his mouth. He reached over and snatched my coffee, tipping it back into his mouth before replacing it on the table and coughing a couple times. Regaining some of his composure. 

“ Last night ? And the prick just left you? Why I oughta…” He fisted his free hand in front of his face, waving it around like he was in some imaginary boxing match.

“Raf.” Xavier threw the purple haired man a look, and Raf returned to what remained of his food.

I inhaled heavily through my nose, “I know it’s not exactly ideal… having to babysit me now that your former Alpha more or less just ditched the reunion.” I popped a mushroom in my mouth, chewing on it slowly, contemplatively. 

“Also having to explain things to me like I’m a pup… but I do appreciate you both staying, and not leaving as soon as he did. Even after my comment earlier.”

Xavier smiled, a genuine, toothy smile that had me blinking dumbly at him. 

“We wouldn’t abandon you, Ori. You’re part of the pack now. Sylus… will come around, like we mentioned, he’s been gone a long time. Things have changed.”

Rafayel was dabbing his mouth with a fabric napkin, rolling his tongue underneath his upper lip, cleaning his teeth before he agreed with Xavier. “Yeah, we'll be your faithful bodyguards while he’s away. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing!” He winked before he flexed an arm. Bicep bulging. 

I nodded, twirling my fork around a portion of noodles. Better not waste this… 

As Raf pushed aside the now empty and nearly polished clean plate, he leaned forward against the table. “So, what should we do once you’re done eating? How much of the city have you seen? Where did you two stay through your cycles?”

I felt some sauce go down the wrong pipe at Raf’s quick-fired questions, and had to hold a hand over my mouth as I tried to catch my breath again. 

“Jesus, Raf. Stow the prod, let her eat first. Hotel food during a rut or in her case, a heat was less gratifying than this, but maybe I’m wrong.” Xavier cast me a sidelong glance, watching my reaction to his words. 

“The hotel food was okay, and it was some place called Azure Peak, it was a really pretty place.. Though it looked like a bombshell went off when I woke up this morning.” I froze mid chew, realizing what I’d just said.  

When I peeked up through my lashes and bangs at them, they were both grinning from ear to ear. The sight caused a sweep of heat to flood through my cheeks. 

A couple undignified chuckles from the boys later, and they were both gossiping about something or other while I ate. Mentioning things about their salon, appointments and bookings. Schedule changes and other things about appliances and products that I didn’t understand. 

“She’d look amazing with red hair, or maybe a tattoo, don’t you think?” Raf suddenly said. 

“Raf, don’t start. You say to everybody.” 

“Oh come on, Xavy. I’m serious!” 

“You say that all the time too.” 

I looked between them as they spoke, bickering like an old married couple about this and that. Rafayel with his exaggerated gestures, and crudely executed expressions of annoyance or sulking. While Xavier was far more subdued, relaxed. Obviously comfortable in Rafayel’s flamboyant presence. 

Taking them in, I finally noticed some nuances about them I’d missed upon our first nerve wracking meeting. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but Rafayel had ink. Tattoos down one arm, the art stopping at his elbow. Still chewing, I tilted my head, trying to decipher what I was looking at. 

Water? Waves? Something to that effect. The ink covered his bicep and over his shoulder, leading up his neck and even behind his ear. With him moving his head so much, it was hard to tell exactly what the design was behind his ear, but it looked like cross hatching… a net, maybe?

Xavier on the other hand, looked like he’d just had his hair cut. It wasn’t painfully obvious, but I could smell the fresh scent of shampoo and conditioner on him, and I caught sight of the back of his neck when he bent his head over from Sylus’ command, freshly shaved up over his neck. 

He also had a tiny star tattoo in an odd green colour just behind his left ear. With his abundantly clothed outfit, I couldn’t tell if he had any other designs on him other than the one.

I was a little over halfway through my dish of pasta, it was surprisingly delicious. I’d never had something so… luxurious before, and certainly not something portioned like this all to myself. The shrimp and mushrooms were an odd combination, but they’d surprised me. I found I’d enjoyed it far more than I imagined I would. 

I covered my mouth with an open palm as I chewed and swallowed my last bite, feeling like my stomach might explode from being so full. “So, are you two together ?” 

Raf barked a laugh, and then paused. “Wait– how do you– we– are you serious?” He slumped back in his seat, throwing the back of his hand like a dramatic play act over his forehead. “She thinks I’m with this meathead… oh, what a world.” 

I glanced at Xavier, who was smirking but shaking his head at his friend’s antics. 

“We grew up together. We work together. We’re best friends; but we aren’t together. Not like that.” Xavier answered as Raf continued his dramatics, now faking tears with both hands covering his face, peeking between fingers to make sure he had both of our attention. 

“Has he always been so…” I gestured broadly with both hands at him. 

“Yes.” 

I smirked when all of Raf’s theatrics abruptly ended and he tossed me a pensive glare. 

“I’ll remember that, Missy.” Then he looked at Xavier and jabbed a finger against the blonde’s shoulder, “And you , puh-lease , I am not. ” 

Xavier’s and my eyes met and we both rolled them in unison, like we’d done it for years, and not just in the last hour or so. Xavier smiled again, “Sure, Raf. Whatever you say.” 

—

I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up here, but after I’d finished my food and let it settle. AKA- letting my tummy have time to realize it wasn’t about to burst. Raf convinced me that we needed to go shopping. 

So, now… we were inside some designer shop. My arms loaded to the tits, with brand name dresses, shirts, pants, shorts, jackets, hats. Xavier too, was nearly toppling over from how many pieces of clothing Raf had draped, thrown or otherwise tossed at him. 

I huffed, “Uh.. Raf, I really don’t think this is necessary.” Rolling the weight of the mountain of clothing I was holding down on to a nearby armchair.

“Oh, c’mon cutie.” He hefted the length of fabric he was holding over his shoulder before he looked me up and down, “First of all, you look homeless.” He stalked towards me, one hand tapping his chin while the other started hovering over me, making a point to articulate my apparent spectrum of depravity. “Second of all, you’re a princess now! And we can’t let our new princess look homeless, now can we.” 

‘Princess? What?’

Sylus might not be the pack’s Alpha anymore, but he is still the son of the former Alpha, the one who founded the pack itself, so, technically that would make him a Prince, and you… being the big jerk’s mate, makes you a Princess, my Ori. 

‘Are you mad at him, Sirius?’

Yes. Her answer, short and to the point. I suppose he deserved her ire, sort of. 

It was still a matter of confusion for me. I didn’t know why he’d just got up and left. I didn’t know how he was feeling. While the three of us had walked out of the cafe. 

It turned out to not even be a cafe, like I’d initially thought– but a full restaurant– much to Rafayel’s amusement and my shock. 

I’d felt embarrassed by mistaking it and was going to comment on it, but Xavier reassured me that with my lack of experience with the way the real world worked, now that I was free of the oddity that was the Sable pack, that it was fully within my right to be confused and a little lost in a place as big and strange as the shifter city of Vandre i Undring. 

I was also a little surprised that Xavier and Raf called it that, and not Grasslands like Sylus seemed to prefer. Although, personally… I thought Vandre i Undring was far more fitting. 

“Okay! Let's get out of here! Shall we, Missy?” I blinked, my train of thought stopping back at the main station. Rafayel was standing in front of me, arms loaded with bags. Xavier stood just behind him, shaking his head, but also holding about a dozen bags. 

My eyes blew wide, “Did you buy out the store?!” I nearly shrieked at him. 

“ I didn’t.” Raf grinned like a cat that got the cream, “ Sylus did.” 

“Wait, what? How? He’s not even here?” I’d been feeling the loss of his presence and his warmth since he disappeared, but it was surprisingly, yet slowly, getting easier to breathe the longer I spent with Raf and Xavier. 

“ Cutie , he owns this city.” Raf winked at me before turning to the door. 

My mouth fell open in my awe. He comes from THAT kind of money? Oh, fuck.

Xavier was biting his lip, failing to keep his amusement at bay as he stood there, waiting. 

“We better get going, or else we’ll lose him.” He said, nodding his head back towards the door. 

I just nodded and followed them, still mentally stupefied by this revelation. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you he was loaded.” Xavier quietly said to me as we walked side by side down the sidewalk, following a length of buildings and shops. 

“Well… no, he didn’t tell me necessarily… I just sort of assumed .”

“Oh? How could you have assumed anything pertaining to his wealth when, from what I understand, you two were wandering the wilderness for days before you found a highway?” Xavier asked as we approached a tall man in a black suit, with an earpiece, who stood next to the road and Xavier handed off all of the bags he carried off to this unknown figure before turning back to me, waiting for my response. 

“Take everything back to my penthouse, yeah?” I overheard Raf say to the man in black before returning to my side. 

“Uh,” I looked between the strange man and Raf for a moment before averting my gaze back to Xavier. “Well, when we finally broke off from the Sable territory, we walked down the edge of a highway for a bit… but it was when he bounded into the woods just off a side road and walked out with a far too shiny motorcycle that gave me my first hint.” 

Raf and Xav exchanged a look before rolling their eyes. “Of course he’d get a motorcycle.” 

I queried a brow, “He didn’t have one when he left?” 

“Sweetheart, he left with a duffle bag, boots and the clothes on his back.” Xavier said, resting his hands on his hips and tipping his head up to look at the sky. 

“Yeah, after…” Raf glanced at me, “... did he tell you about Aurora?”

I nodded as I chewed on my cheek. 

“Okay, that’s good.” Raf reached up and combed the fingers of one of his hands through his hair, “So, you know how devastated he was after her rejection, and then losing his father.” Raf sighed, his shoulders drooping, “It really took a toll on him.” 

I furrowed my brows, “Did he explain to you guys why he was going west?” 

Xavier answered that question, “Something about an old acquaintance he went to visit with his father when he was young.” 

I froze. An old… acquaintance? 

He did tell you that he knew your father, my Ori. 

She was right. “I think… he went to meet my father , only… he met with Ephraim’s pack.” I swallowed heavily. 

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly as he mulled my words over. “You said you were the daughter of Liam and Vivica Ashmourn…” I saw Raf give Xav a confused look, “Liam Ashmourn was his generation’s Enigma, Raf.” 

Raf turned to me so fast, it looked almost unnatural. “ You are one of the daughters of the Enigma?” 

I pursed my lips before nodding, “Did I not say that during my monologue?” 

“Not in so many words, cutie.” Raf winked at me before moving closer to my side and slinging an arm over my shoulders, “Well, that changes things! Xav and I are yours for the rest of the day, Princess! What would you like to do?” 

I sighed, my shoulders drooping, but not from the weight of his arm. “Am I allowed to request a search party for Sylus?”

“Nope.” He popped the P as he said it. 

“I thought not.” I looked around, taking in the tall glass buildings, the rushing traffic of humans and shifters alike, the shops and common named retail lines that lined the sidewalks. I chewed on my cheek again, “What would you guys recommend then?” 

Raf grinned, all teeth. Xavier made a face at him, like he knew what he was about to suggest. 

“Let’s go back to my penthouse, try on some of those new clothes that your mate so graciously bought for you, and then let's hit the town.” Raf trotted away from me, running back to the long black sedan, “Thomas! We require a ride.”

“Yes, Sir.” The man in black said from inside the vehicle. 

I tossed a cautious glance at Xavier, and he had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, but he didn’t say anything, he just sighed and gestured for me to walk ahead, giving me the slightest nod. 

‘What am I doing…’

—

Rafayel’s penthouse was… not what I expected. I wasn’t sure, but frat boy came to mind when I thought of him, with his flamboyant personality. His tattoos, how he dressed. 

The main room when you walked in, was aesthetically pleasing to the eye upon first glance. 

Dark parquet wood flooring, multiple spaced out floor-to-ceiling windows with gossamer curtains lined the far wall, revealing the city beyond. A long persimmon-orange leather couch sat backed up against those windows, strewn across the length of the couch were seven pillows. Some were longer, with an almost garish blue wave pattern across them while others were also blue, but solid and darker. On the floor in front of the couch was a wooden coffee table with a small looking cactus plant at its center, a crystal pitcher and a matching tall crystal glass, beneath the coffee table was what looked like a shag carpet in a lighter cream color. 

A massive metal art piece hung from the high arched ceiling in the center of the room, like a chandelier but bigger . 

Against the far right wall was a massive hearth, an intricate curved metal cover stood as the gate while a fire burned softly behind. Giving the room a very warm, homey feel. On either side of the fireplace were massive, bookshelves built directly into the wall with arched tops. Loaded with books, plates, things that looked ancient, and a very plain looking silver lamp. 

A matching persimmon-orange loveseat and armchair were placed closer to the hearth, each with more matching pillows, the armchair had a soft looking blanket in matching blue thrown across the back.

The walls, and spaces between the windows held large paintings, carrying the same, or similar colors as the couches and pillows. Otherwise most of them were greyscale, filling the space nicely.

All in all this main room looked like it’d walked right out of an eighties Sears magazine. Bright and chic. I found myself feeling quite at home here. 

“Yeah, no one expects this after they meet Rafayel.” I bit my lip as I turned to look at Xavier. “Now, go into any other room, and your stereotype will ring true.” He winked at me before stepping by me, walking further into the brightly lit room. 

“I heard that, asshole!” I smirked as I heard Rafayel’s voice ring from another room. He’d gone ahead with the plethora of shopping bags he’d wrangled, letting Xavier and me take our time. 

He’d wanted to know if I’d experienced an elevator before, seeming nervous about it if I hadn’t. He relaxed a bit when I told him I’d been in a couple, and may not necessarily like them, but understood their use. Something about being lifted off the ground into the air made my stomach roll. 

As I made my way deeper into Rafayel’s home, I peeked around a corner. It was a bedroom, much smaller than I expected to see in a place like this, but still bigger than anything I’d ever had. A large bed dominated the middle of the room, the headboard flat against a wall, tall dark wood frame with posts sticking high into the air at each corner. It looked almost similar to the one from the first hotel Sylus and I had stayed at, sans the canopy. 

I heard a noise from further in, craning my head around, I peered into the room without actually entering and saw Raf rifling through the bags of clothes, mumbling to himself as he went. 

“Do you want some help?” I asked softly, hands clasped behind my back. 

He looked up at me, freezing in place like he’d forgotten I was present in his home. 

“No, no. Go, ask Xavier to get you anything, he knows this place like the back of his hand. I’m trying to find something perfect for tonight, and… well, I wanted to surprise you, cutie!” He’d straightened and reached up to brush a hand over the back of his neck, shoving the length of hair to the side in the process. His eyes downcast as a blush crept into his cheeks. 

Why is he so adorable? I smiled at him, a genuine one. “Anything you pick out will surprise me, Raf. It doesn’t have to be anything special.” 

He grinned back at me, “It’ll knock his socks off, is what it’ll do.” As he bent to start going through the bags again, he tossed me another wink. 

I just shook my head this time, and turned away. Seeing Xavier sprawled on the long orange couch on his back, one leg tossed casually over the backrest, his phone in his hands. Oh yeah, he’s comfy being here. I wish I could feel that relaxed… 

Spend enough time with them and you will be, my Ori. 

I internally sighed, ‘Have you heard from Stayrus at all?’

I’m sorry, my Ori… I haven’t. They’ve shut both of us out completely. Bastards. 

I smirked at that before lowering myself down in front of the sofa, enjoying the texture of the area rug against the skin of my palms. I glanced over my shoulder at Xavier, he now had his phone resting on his chest, his hands crossed over his stomach. He’d shed the sweater and was now only in the loose white shirt and the plaid jeans. His bare arms were inkless. 

He’d tipped his head back a bit, his eyes were shut. The pose actually looked really comfortable. Given Rafayel’s personality, I was fairly certain he’d be searching for a bit before he found this perfect outfit. I leaned my head back against the leather of the couch cushion, eyes locking on the thing that I think was supposed to be a chandelier as it hung motionless from the ceiling. 

He’d need to find the dress, shoes… accessories, maybe? Did he even get those? I hadn’t been paying much attention after a bit while Raf shopped, I’d got lost in my thoughts, so if he did, I hadn’t noticed. He’d then have to do something with my hair… makeup? I shuddered at the thought of being dolled up, but… it also sounded fun.

“What’re you thinking about?” Xavier’s soft voice brought me back from getting caught  up in wandering thoughts. 

“Just thinking about what this magical outfit Raf wants to surprise me with is going to be like.” 

A soft chuckle and then, “Well, whatever it is… I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.” Fingers brushed through my hair suddenly, making me pause, “Would you let me do your hair?” 

I couldn’t help the little squeak of excitement that escaped me as I grinned. “Would you?” Then I paused, thinking further on it. “What would I owe you?” 

Xavier blinked, his blue eyes wide as he stared at me, “ Owe me? What do you mean?”

I tipped my head to the side as I turned to face him, my legs crossing as I dropped my hands to my knees. “Yeah, I don’t have money…” I could hear the tension in my voice, feel it down my back. “I could pay you back another way. Cleaning, cooking…” my eyes met his, because I knew the innuendo was there, as much as something inside me was barking at me to stop talking, to not dare finish that line of thinking, I still felt the words pass my lips, “...anything you want.” 

Xavier froze, “Are… you– wait. Ori… you’re not– are you ?” He’d sat up before swinging around to face me. Eyes wide, hands gripping his knees so tight his knuckles were white. 

I swallowed. “I– I.. don’t know.” I sighed, my brain catching up with my words, “I’m sorry. It’s just… that was how I had to do things before .” I peered up at him, seeing the blush across his cheeks, “It’s muscle memory to jump to that when I’m offered something, or given something, it wasn’t ideal… but it was how I survived.” 

Xavier didn’t say anything, but I heard him suck in a breath. 

“Well that’s bleak.” I turned, seeing Raf leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom he’d been in, a pair of high heels dangled from a finger of the hand he had crossed over his chest. Over his other crossed arm was a shimmery looking piece of red fabric. 

“You told us how they treated you… how you had to live, so I suppose, by that standard… your offering shouldn’t be so surprising.” He pushed off the door, his long legs striding across the room in their typical confident manner. 

Xavier cleared his throat, “Try not to do that, okay?” I turned to look at him again, he’d faced away from me and had a hand rubbing the back of his neck, “You need to remember, you’re an Omega now, an unmarked Omega… and that means something very, very different.” 

Right, shit.

“We may be Beta’s, cutie, but we’re still men. ” He slid the items in his arms onto the coffee table before crouching in front of me, his index finger pressing underneath my chin, “Sylus’ mate or not, you’re unmarked and thereby still available.” 

“I didn’t think Betas were interested in Omegas, those presentations aren’t compatible, right?” 

Rafayel scoffed before rolling his eyes. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that aside from our presentations… we’re still compatible as males and females . If you don’t want to bring sudden death down upon us or anyone else for that matter, try not to offer anything up that you won’t be able to get back later.” 

I couldn’t do much else but nod at him, my eyes wide. I should try and get some clearer idea of how things work here before letting my mind jump to drastic, unrealistic conclusions.

I glanced between them. “Okay… would you two be able to help me understand more about what I am then? Sylus hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming, then again I don’t think I’ve asked anything outright… I’ve just kind of back burnered it, thinking I’d go with the flow.”

Xavier perked up a bit, and Raf smirked at me before bobbing his chin in Xavier’s direction. “He’s the book worm, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to try and answer anything you ask him.” He moved to sit in front of me, crossing his own legs until our knees touched. “I, on the other hand, care more about blowing Sylus’ socks off and making him regret walking out on you like he did.” 

After that, Xavier sat on the couch behind me as he worked his fingers through my hair, he’d run to grab a small black leather case from the front entrance before he’d placed himself back on the couch. I’d never had someone else brush my hair, I’d always dealt with it myself, keeping it on the shorter side so it was easier to maintain. The length hung just past my shoulders now, longer than I’d ever had it prior.

Raf was hunched over, my hands resting over his knees while he painted my nails a sultry looking sparkly red that glowed gold in certain lights. His wavy purple hair smelled good, and I could see the different tones hidden within each strand. Soft lilac, dark teals, and the sombre indigo, even with him bent over, our height differences still brought the top of his head closer to my face than I’d anticipated. 

His scent reminded me of the ocean. The smell of the salted water rushing over the sand and dirt. It reminded me somewhat of home. Being on my father’s shoulders as he pointed out to the horizon as we watched the sun set over the endless expanse of dark water. Hearing his voice again in my head, about watching for the green flash, keeping my eyes peeled for signs of sirens or mermaids, sea serpents and dragons. The memories brought a heavy weight to my chest, over my shoulders, but they were also happy memories I’d thought I’d lost. 

So, to find them again, had that weight lifting, not gone, never gone. I found that after letting the two Betas, Sylus’ friends, care for me, it made me feel cherished in a way I hadn’t been since my mother, since my father. 

“Why are you crying, little Oreo?” I hadn’t noticed when Raf finished with my hands, looking up at me as he blew on the still wet red nail-polish. “Far off in thought?”

I only nodded, sniffing lightly, before giving him a small but real smile. “You smell like the ocean. It made me think of my parents.” 

Without any of his dramatics, his sass or usual quirky indifference I’d somehow grown accustomed to when it came to Rafayel, he surprised me by offering his own small, but very real, very unlike him, smile. Those blue-pink eyes softened to something relaxed as he wrapped a hand around my wrist, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s a pack thing, our scents can help when another is stressed, worried, sad– the list goes on.” He leaned forward and brushed his nose over my wrist again, this time I felt less scandalized by it, now knowing after Xavier explained it to me, that it was normal for pack members to be able to do that, as a sign of affection or care. 

“You smell calmer, that’s good. I know without Sy here, without your mate… it must be hard on you, hard on your wolf.” He nuzzled my wrist, but not in a sexual way, before looking back up at me, “I’m glad we can provide something to help you relax.” 

It was the most calm, most even toned he’d been since I met him. It was also a speech I expected more from Xavier than Raf. I smiled at him in thanks, “It is hard… before, I thought I was going to hyperventilate from the crushing feeling I felt in my chest, but now… it’s manageable, I can breathe. I can think about him not being here without wanting to crawl into a hole.” 

Xavier chuckled behind me, “That’s good. Now,” He leaned forward, grabbing a hand mirror off the coffee table, and held it up in front of me. His other hand rested light but warm over my shoulder. “What do you think?” 

In the mirror, I first saw my eyes. Their striking blue, lighter near the iris’ but darkened to a deep navy around the outer edges. What caught my attention about them the most now, was that there were flecks of gold and green spotted within the lighter blue color. 

Expanding my view of myself by reaching up to push Xavier’s hand away from my face a bit, I was able to switch my focus to what he’d done to my hair. 

The mousy brown color seemed brighter, amplified somehow. My typical side part seemed striated from one side to other down the middle of my head. Hair almost curled, falling like heavy curtains down the sides past my ears. He hadn’t cut anything, just styled it, but it was so unlike what I’d been used to, unlike what I typically saw in a mirror that it stole the breath from my lungs. 

“I’ll take her breathless silence as a good thing!” Rafayel said from behind the mirror, I could tell he was smirking by the way I heard his mouth move around the words. 

“I-I do.” I reached up to take the mirror from Xavier, only for him to give my shoulder a squeeze as he leaned back, “Thank you, Xavier. I… I truly love it.” 

“Good.” He said, before leaning his head in again, as his vibrant blue eyes met mine through the mirror, “Do not let anyone else touch your hair.” 

He wasn’t asking, but I nodded anyway. 

“Now, let’s get you dressed. Shall we?” Rafayel’s tone made me lower the mirror, my brows pulling together as he pushed himself back to a stand, reaching over to the sparkly red piece of fabric he’d dropped on the coffee table’s surface. 

“Cottontop won’t know what hit him when I’m done with you.” He winked down at me before holding out his free hand. 

—

“Come on, little Oreo!” I heard from beyond the bathroom door, “Come out, please , I need to know if I got the right size… though, I’m pretty fucking sure I nailed it.” 

I stared at myself in the mirror above the sink. ‘Oh Gods… This isn’t a dress, it’s scrap fabric they didn’t know what to do with! Siri! Help.’

My Ori, you look resplendent! Beautiful, gorgeous! Need I go on?

I cringed slightly, but felt a warmth swim through me from her words. ‘No… Thank you. I just… feel entirely underdressed.’

I felt her chuckle in my head. This is part of conforming to a new way of life, my Ori. You are a part of a new pack now, you’ll need to do this eventually. Plus, I think I like those two– they made you feel at home, they cared and are caring for you while your knucklehead of a mate isn’t here. 

I smiled at myself in the mirror, smoothing my hands down my sides. Feeling the almost smooth texture of the sparkly red fabric against the palms of my hands. Rafayel had made a note to show me the drawstring at the left hip, letting me know that if I so pleased, I could let the dress hang to my knees, or be drawn up into a rather salacious midi cocktail dress, baring an alarming amount of upper thigh but still remaining comfortable enough to feel like everything was still properly covered. 

You should enjoy yourself, my Ori. 

I wanted to, I really did. 

Yet, the empty cavern that had grown with Sylus’ disappearance had begun to fester. I wanted my mate, here, with me. I wanted him to see me, to see the look in his crimson eyes as they drifted over every nuance of my body. To watch the flare of desire, of need blow his pupils wide. I wanted to feel his touch against my skin, to feel his lingering kiss on my lips. 

I wanted my mate. Desperately.

“ Sweet little Oreo Cookie! Come out, pleeaase .” Rafayel’s voice was taking on that whine I’d associated with his personality again, and I sighed. Shuttering off the flowing cravings for Sylus’ presence and warmth to the back of my mind. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming out.” I called back, rolling my eyes as I pulled open the door. 

Leaning a shoulder against the side wall, was Rafayel. Behind him, perched against a doorframe across the hall was Xavier. Each of them looked up when I opened the door, and I watched with mild satisfaction when both of their eyes grew wide and their mouths popped open. 

“Wow.” Was all Xavier said, his cheeks and the tips of his ears growing pink before he blinked and stood up straighter, coughing softly as he seemed to look anywhere else but at me. 

“God. Damn.” Raf looked me over from head to toe, making me blush. “I knew that would look perfect on you.” He lifted a hand, sticking out a finger as he made a twirling motion. I stuck out my tongue at him before doing a little circle, hands pressed solidly against my hips as I did.

“Oh, he’s gonna blow a load as soon as he sees you, Oreo.” 

Xavier smacked the purple haired menace on the back of the head. “Raf, a little decorum. Please .” Through my burning cheeks, I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. 

When I glanced down, I noticed that both of them had changed. 

Xavier had on one of the lightest blue colored dress shirts I’d ever seen, that it almost looked white. Ribbons of lilac and gold designs climbed each sleeve, over the front, the same lilac and gold ribbons climbed up and over the shoulder. He’d left the first two buttons undone, showing off the indent at the base of his neck and an almost polite amount of collarbone. The shirt itself was tucked into his pants. A pair of gray slacks, pleated down the middle of each leg. Black belt and a silver chain with a star dangling off to the side clung around his hips. His look was completed with a pair of black and white dress shoes. A chic Prince.

The look was modern, but also like he’d walked off the set of some Disney movie. Cinderella came to mind. 

Rafayel looked like he had just come off the runway of some fashion show. An entirely white suit. Although, I guess it wasn’t all white. There was a black pinstripe down the center of his left pant-leg. White shoes with red stripes down each outer side. Near the cuffs of his sleeves were thick red rings, a wavy black line at each center. A flowing ribbon like line of red and black weaved over his left shoulder that stopped midway down. A straight red and black line followed the edge of the jacket's right hem, following up beneath the open lapel. Revealing a black turtleneck underneath. A gold chain was shown overtop the black, giving him an almost regal, yet fashion savvy look. In combination with his longer, purple hair- he looked really good. 

They both did. 

Raf looked back at Xavier with a knowing look before facing me again. 

“Come on, you can ogle us later. I want to do your makeup.” He said, stepping into my space, making me stumble back a step, nearly toppling over on the four-inch coral pink heels he’d provided. 

“Wh-what? Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. Now let the maestro work his magic!” 

Rafayel was meticulous, and paid attention to the littlest detail. If he wasn’t a tattoo artist, I’m sure his calling was some other form of artist. A painter maybe. His instructions were kind, not rushed. Patient and sure, like he’d done this hundreds of times before– for all I knew– he probably had. 

He was gesturing to the upper quadrant of my eyelid as he spoke, saying something about my eyes being heavily lidded, that I’d need to drag the brush in a certain way to make it look like they weren’t. 

Then Xav piped in with his two cents of advice, but Raf cut him off promptly, whining about how he was the artist, so he would be the teacher. Which made me giggle, a real giggle; which made both of them grin like fools for a long moment before continuing. 

“Since you have such devastatingly beautiful blue eyes, I’m going to give you a smokey look. That’s when you use– this brush.” He said, holding up a brush in my face before tapping it into the darkest color on the palette he held in the opposite hand, knocking it on the edge of the plastic edge twice before gesturing with the brush hand, “...eyes closed, Oreo.” When I did, he just barely touched the outside corner of my eye. Explaining how what he was doing was going to make my eyes pop.

When he was done he stepped back and stared at me. Examining his canvas like the proper artist he was. 

“I should do this professionally.” He said, a slow smile creeping over his face as his blue-pink eyes shone brightly. 

“You do , do this professionally, Raf.” Xavier said from beside him, smiling at me with a firm nod. “You look amazing, Ori.” 

I smiled up at both of them, “Thank you, guys. Really.” 

Rafayel almost seemed to bounce in place as I stood up from the stool they’d brought me before my glam-up. “I can’t wait to see Sylus’ face when he sees you.” He clapped his hands before rubbing them together maniacally, “this is going to be fucking amazing.” 

Xavier chuckled before holding out a hand to me, “He will most certainly be surprised.” I smirked and took his proffered hand, following between them as they led me to the main entry. 

—

The air was thick with anticipation when the three of us walked into the main room of the club, the kind of anticipation that clings to your skin like a second layer, electric and alive. Neon lights pulsed in time with the bass, casting the crowded club in a kaleidoscope of colors. Bodies moved as one, a writhing mass of sweat and desire, each person lost in their own world.

I was no different, my body started swaying to the rhythm like it was second nature, the music vibrating through my veins. The music was a primal force, a throbbing pulse that seemed to originate from the very core of the earth. 

I felt Xavier lean in beside me, his breath hitting my ear, “Have you drank before? Would you like something?” 

I hadn’t drank before, but… with the atmosphere the way it was, and the way I could feel the music in my soul. I was suddenly feeling adventurous, so I turned to him, “Something sweet.” I’d made cocktails before, my aunt loved them, something she called an Appletini and had me make them for her on a regular basis. I remember them smelling almost sickly sweet, but also delicious.

I felt his smirk against my ear, “How about something called a Pornstar , they’re sweet.” I met his eyes, blue on blue as the strobing lights above us flickered in time with the beat. 

“Sure! That sounds… interesting.” I curled a brow and saw his cheeks flush before he smirked, nodded and walked away. The beat was a siren song, drawing me deeper into the heart of the club, closer to the epicenter of the sound, pulling me in as I let my eyes drift shut.

I felt it before I saw him, a shift in the air, a disturbance in the rhythm. My eyes snapped open, drawn to a figure across the dance floor. 

He was a silhouette against the flashing lights, his body moving with a grace that belied the raw power emanating from him. There was something predatory in his stance, a coiled tension that spoke of untapped energy. Our eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled. The music faded, the crowd disappeared, leaving only him and me, connected by an invisible thread. It was as if some unseen force had reached out and grabbed us both, pulling us together across the sea of bodies. I felt a jolt, a spark of electricity coursing through me as our gazes locked. His eyes, a deep, fathomless green and gold, seemed to see right through me, stripping away my defenses, laying bare my soul.

Ori…? My Ori? What are you doing? Ori!

I couldn’t hear her, my mind was lost to reality. Focused solely on green and gold.. 

Before I could process what was happening, my body was moving towards him, drawn by an irresistible magnetism. The crowd parted, clearing a path for me as if they sensed the inevitability of our collision. Each step brought me closer, the air growing heavier, charged with anticipation.

He stood there, unmoving, his eyes never leaving mine. His lips curved into a slight smile, a knowing expression that sent a shiver down my spine. I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated.

As I reached him, the music swelled, the bass vibrating through the floor, up my legs, and into my core. Our bodies were inches apart, the heat radiating from him palpable. I could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, mirroring the rhythm of the music, a primal beat that echoed in my own chest.

Ori, something isn’t right… He’s… His….

Then, he moved. His hand reached out, his fingers, long and slender, brushing mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. It was a spark, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment our eyes met.

Our bodies began to move, not in a choreographed dance, but in a primal, instinctual rhythm. It was as if we were extensions of the music itself, our movements fluid and effortless, guided by some unseen force.

His hand slid down my arm, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine, the heat between us palpable. I could feel the hardness of his chest, the defined muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid rise and fall of his breath mirroring my own. 

The music was a tempest, a whirlwind of sound and light, and we were caught in its eye. 

His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. " Omega ," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the music, lost in each other.

His hands roamed my body, mapping every curve, every contour, as if committing me to memory. His touch was firm yet gentle, possessive yet reverent.

I ran my hands up his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart. His skin was warm, his scent intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat and something sweet and floral, something uniquely him.

The music changed, the beat slowing, becoming more sensual. He spun me around, his hands on my hips, guiding me in a slow, grinding motion.

I leaned back, my hair falling over my face, my eyes locked on his. His green-gold gaze was intense, hungry , yet filled with a tenderness that made my heart skip a beat.

" Who are you? " I breathed, my voice barely audible over the music. Yet, he heard me.

He smiled, a mysterious, enigmatic expression that sent a thrill through me. " Does it matter? " he replied, his voice a low purr.

The music built again, the beat accelerating, the lights flashing in time. He spun me around, his hands on my waist, his body pressed against mine. We moved as one, our bodies a blur of motion, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

I felt his hands slide down my back,  fingers curling into my hips, pulling me tighter against him, my head falling back, my hair cascading over my shoulders. He nuzzled my neck, his lips brushing against my skin, his teeth grazing my earlobe. 

" You smell so fucking good, Omega ," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

I smiled, a flush creeping up my neck. "You're not so bad yourself," I replied, my voice laced with sarcasm, but my eyes sparkling with amusement.

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through me. "Flatterer," he teased, his lips brushing my neck once again.

The music reached its climax, the beat pounding, the lights flashing in a frenzy. We moved faster, our bodies a whirlwind of motion, our breaths coming in short, desperate gasps.

I felt his hands slide up my thighs, his fingers brushing against the hem of my dress. My heart skipped a beat, my body tense with anticipation of the unknown.

" Do you trust me ?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through me.

I nodded because it was true. Somehow, I did . My eyes locked on his, my body trembling with desire. I felt Siri writhe at the back of my head, a purr like noise accompanied the warmth I felt low in my belly. 

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made my knees weak. " Then let go ," he murmured, leaning down close enough that his lips brushed against mine.

And I did. I let go of my inhibitions, my fears, my doubts. I surrendered to the music, to him, to the overwhelming emotion that consumed me.

His hands slid up my thighs, his fingers tracing the curves of my body, his touch sending shivers down my spine. I felt my jaw pop as my lips parted, my head falling back, my body arching towards him. 

The music began to slow, the beat softening, the lights dimming. He pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine, his lips brushing against my ear.

And as the music faded, the crowd began to disperse, we stood there, our bodies still pressed together, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating as one.

The world around us was slowly coming back into focus, but I didn't want to let go. I didn't want this moment to end. Why? He seemed to sense my reluctance, his arms tightening around me, his lips brushing against my forehead.

And as we parted, the crowd closing in around us, I felt an odd sense of loss, a longing for what we had briefly shared.

But as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

"Wait," he called, his eyes locked on mine, his expression intense.

I turned, my heart racing, my body still buzzing.

He smiled, another slow, enigmatic grin that made my knees go weak. "I never caught your name," he said, his voice a low rumble.

I smiled, a flush creeping up my neck. "It's Ori," I replied, my voice soft, hesitant.

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Ori," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like a promise. "I'm Zayne."

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

…SYLUS…

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

Raf:(9:36am) What the fuck  Raf:(9:40am) Seriously, dude?  Raf:(10:01am)She’s fuckin’ losing it here man.  Raf:(4:05pm)Fine, hope you don’t mind if we take her out tonight then!    Xav:(10:42am)Real mature Sy.  Xav:(4:14pm) We’re taking her to Zayne’s club.  Xav:(9:02pm) You should be here.

What those two didn’t realize was that Sylus had been at Zayne’s club for the better portion of the day. He hadn’t seen the man himself, but he knew he was there– somewhere . 

He’d wandered through the streets for a long while. Letting his mind wander just as far. 

Stayrus had nearly lost control in that restaurant that morning, and it took everything for Sylus to keep himself from bursting into his fur, so he’d done the last thing he’d truly wanted. He’d left. 

He knew what leaving would make him, make her feel, but he couldn’t handle the knowledge that another person he knew had changed presentations. What did that mean for him? 

For the very solid truth that something else had happened during his rut, he’d felt it. 

He’d tried to play it off, act nonchalant about it when he’d woken up that morning to her fiddling with his phone. Completely naked, riling up his already frayed control from the previous three days. 

When he got to the club, he sought out the furthest, darkest corner. Watching for his friend , the man who’d turned Alpha. The normally quiet, resolute, stoic and nearly emotionless man he knew, turned fucking Alpha.  

Sylus couldn’t even pretend to act like he was happy about this new situation. Zayne as a Delta made sense. He had the level head for it, the control and the even temperament. Yet, Sylus knew better… when Zayne got riled up, or angry… he got scary. Near feral. 

Now, to think that he was a fucking Alpha . Sylus felt the worry settle in his gut, what would that be like for a man like Zayne? Would he be more difficult to handle? Maybe he hadn’t changed. 

Through the day, Sylus drowned out his concerns, his considerable fear of the potential behind Zayne being the new pack Alpha. 

A part of him, he’d realized some time into the evening, after about half a dozen shots, was that he was jealous of Zayne. Arguably, he shouldn’t be. It was absurd to be jealous of a man he’d willingly let take his place. 

“ Fuck .” He mumbled to himself as he tipped back the remainder of the amber liquid he’d been nursing for the better half of yet another long hour. 

He’d seen their messages, he’d noted that they were bringing her here. Aside from his wandering thoughts, his– quite frankly– childish behaviour from that morning had taken up residence at the forefront of his mind. He was disappointed in himself that he’d simply gotten up and left, that he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t responded to her calls down their link. He’d felt her fear, her anxiety, but had kept the barriers firmly in place. 

He’d felt the emptiness that followed when he’d felt her presence drift into nothing. 

Pushing himself up from his chair, he made his way back to the bar. Snapping his fingers to the bartender behind the counter, silently requesting a refill. 

A body stumbled into his side, and he tossed whomever a glare over his shoulder, watching as the young male, whoever he was, held his hands up, before tipping his head to the side, showing his neck. 

Fuck off. Sylus begged with his eyes, feeling a burn at each corner, as he realized once the boy had slipped past another group of people, bodies moving together, that the club was packed. 

“Fuck! Sylus, there you are! Where the fuck have you been, man!” He looked up and saw Rafayel pushing his way past a dancing pair of females. He gave them a smile before he stumbled past them, up to Sylus’ side at the bar counter. 

“Here and there.” Sylus replied, pinching the tumbler the bartender had refilled, tipping the lip into his mouth. 

“Have you seen her yet?” The question was met with narrowed eyes. 

“No. You left her?”

Rafayel’s blue-pink eyes narrowed in the flashing strobes, “Pot. Kettle, dude.” He waved over the bartender, “margarita, and no– she’s with Xavier.” 

Sylus felt a modicum of calm move through him, at least she was with someone more trustworthy than the purple haired menace that was Rafayel Qi. 

Suddenly a very out of breath silky blonde slid up behind Raf, “Guys… we have a problem.”

Sylus froze, eyes scanning the immediate vicinity for his mate, even trying to sniff the air, checking for her scent, but only being met with sweat and a sickeningly heavy amount of cologne and perfume. “Where is she, Xavier?”

“Okay, look… I went to go get her a drink, when I got back, she was gone.” 

Sylus straightened to his full height, towering over many of the gyrating patrons as he swept his crimson gaze over the crowd, looking for her within the throng of dancers and drunks. 

“She’s wearing a red dress.” Rafayel said, mimicking the Alpha, although Sylus was sure that he had the advantage in scoping the venue. 

“I think I see her.” Xavier said suddenly, pointing in the direction of the middle of the dance floor. 

Sylus’ eyes followed and he froze. There she was, dancing, with a male.

“Whoa, hold on– Sylus, stop . Think before you do something stupid!” Rafayel moved before Sylus could take a step, his vision flashing red as he zeroed in on the male who had his hands on his mate. 

“He has his hands on her. He’s touching her, Raf.” Sylus could feel Stayrus rousing from the back of his mind, a rumbling growl spreading through his mind as he felt his control fracturing. 

“Sylus, fucking think for a second! Jesus, she’s with Zayne!” 

Sylus froze, Zayne… Zayne had his hands on her? 

“Zayne…” He murmured, watching them together, their bodies pressing against each other, grinding . Her smile. How gorgeous she looked in that dress, the makeup, her new hairdo… he felt the air coming in shorter and shorter breaths. 

“Sy.” Xavier said, putting a hand on the big man’s arm. “She’s safe. Zayne wouldn’t hurt her.” 

Stayrus finally made a noise in his head, a rumble of irritation, Hurt… no. Mark… yes.

Sylus was moving before either Raf or Xavier could do anything about it. He sidled through the crowds of dancers, the drinkers. Shifters and humans alike. His much bigger frame parted them all with ease as he made for the center of the dancefloor. Straight to her. For his mate. 

“Sylus, hold on a second, don’t do anything you’ll regret later!” Rafayel was nearly sprinting as he followed the white haired man’s strides. His comment had the desired effect as Sylus halted and turned to face Raf. 

“Regret? He’s a fucking Alpha , Rafayel… you said it yourself, she’s an Omega , an unmarked one… and now she’s danci– dance fucking him right there and you tell me to hold on ?!” His voice was rising along with his fury. 

He had the pleasure of watching it all click in Rafayel’s head. 

“Yeah, now… don’t fucking stop me again. ” Sylus let the command flood into his words and he watched as every shifter within a three foot radius flinched under the weight of his demand, including Raf, who bowed his head, showing the back of his neck. 

“ Yes, Alpha.” Raf gritted through clenched teeth. With a huff, Sylus pinned him with a glare before turning away, bee-lining to his mate and his former best friend.

Ω    ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶    Ω

[xxfaithlynxx]

♡♡♡ Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! xoxox ♡♡♡

Awww thank you!!! This is so sweet!!!! 🥹

[xxfaithlynxx]

Whatever It Takes

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Abuse, R4pe, etc....

BETA READ!

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Chapter 16:

Passing by that Welcome sign made everything real. 

My escape from (now) Caleb’s territory, Sylus killing Ephraim, actually having a title, finding my mate, and now making it all the way to his territory, a place even he hasn’t been in years. 

I wasn’t sure what I expected from a shifter dominated city. Maybe my mind was simply used to the mindset that packs were run by anger, entitlement and a knack for using fear as their motivators. Coming into Sylus’ territory, I needed to remind myself that not all packs were run like Ephraim had run his.

It was still early when we arrived at a hotel on the outskirts of the city. A place called Azure Peak. Tall, luxurious. Something more in line with what Sylus seemed used to. When we entered the lobby, I fully expected another hotelier like the one we’d encountered on our first hotel visit, only to be pleasantly surprised by a wonderfully attentive young man, a human, that ushered us in, quickly and adeptly took our payment and handed over the room key cards without any delay. It looked like he recognized Sylus, but as we approached the elevator, I couldn’t be sure. 

In our luxury suite, (of course) I stood looking out the window. Staring out over the expanse of the city, glowing a soft blue as the dawn ascended. Tall glass buildings stretched towards the sky, reflecting the light climbing from below the horizon. 

I wasn’t expecting an entire city. We’d actually done it, made it here in one piece. 

“Penny for your thoughts, kitten ?” I felt my cheek twitch from the nickname he’d started calling me on a regular basis. 

I turned, ready to give him a piece of my mind. Instead, I was greeted by a mouth watering sight. Sylus, standing there in nought but a towel, hanging low on his hips, giving me an adorable lopsided smirk before resting the smaller towel he’d been drying his hair with around his shoulders before he walked up behind me. 

He smelled of some sweet mint candy body wash, dulling all of the original scents I’d grown accustomed to in relation to him. The sandalwood, oud, amber spice, vanilla and leather. I inhaled deeper as I pressed my back against his chest, catching each individual scent now as they filled my senses, allowing some of the nervous tension in my shoulders to release.

“I was just thinking, I didn’t see a name on the welcome sign when we drove in.”

I felt him smirk against the top of my head as his arms wrapped around my waist. “It doesn’t have an official name, at least it didn’t when I left, and it doesn’t seem like it does after half a decade.” He kissed the top of my head, “my father used to call it Vandre i Undring .”

I tilted my head to look up at him, “What does that mean?” 

He smiled, “It’s Norwegian. It means Wander in Wonder. My old man used to drag my mother and I out to view the scenery every spring, I’ll have to show you one day..” He hugged me tighter against his chest, “Personally though, I just called it The Grasslands .” 

I smirked, resting my elbows and forearms overtop his, “Seems like an odd choice of name for a city like this.” My eyes skimmed over the plethora of trees that dotted the areas between buildings, and even grew from the rooftops of some of the ones that stretched into the sky.

Sylus chuckled above me, “We were an odd bunch. You’ll meet them soon enough.”

Another wave of nervous tension wrapped around my lungs as my eyes widened. “Right.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t meet them all at once, I don’t even think I could handle that after so long. We’ll ease into meet and greets one at a time.”

“Who are we meeting with first?”

“Rafayel. He’s a drama queen through and through, and honestly, I wouldn’t doubt he’ll bring Xavier with him, so we might not be able to ease into that one as much as I’d hoped.” He smiled down at me, “Xav and Raf work together at a salon, blew my mind when Raf told me, but they’re both Betas and best friends. I’ve known them since they were pups.” I felt a wave of nausea hit my stomach, rattling my nerves further at the thought of meeting two of Sylus’ packmates at the same time, not to mention, they were both men . I can handle two betas, right? I swallowed heavily.

“What are they like?” My voice sounded weaker, even to me, revealing my nerves.

“Well, like I was saying— Raf is the drama queen of the two of them, drives his wolf Kai up the wall. Xavier, well, he’s always seemed more like a bunny than a wolf. Docile, quiet, loves to eat and sleep. His wolf, Lux , is no different.” Sylus’ voice took on an almost sombre tone as he spoke about them. I could hear the care in his words as he spoke, just as much as I could feel the truth of them down our bond. He must have missed them after being gone so long…

I turned in his arms, tilting my head back to rest my chin against his broad chest as my arms moved to wrap around his waist. “When will we meet them?” 

Sylus smirked down at me before tipping his head forward, a rogue drop of water dripped off a strand of his white hair and fell on my nose, making me jump and scrunch my nose like a rabbit. He grinned before licking the orb of water off the tip where it had landed and stayed. 

“Well,” His arms, still circling my waist, pulled me closer to him, while his warmth dissolved into my nerve-chilled skin. “I was thinking … we’re on my land now, this hotel is shifter friendly, and I have my mate here to keep me… company. ” 

A wave of heavy masculine scent hit me blunt in the face as he slowly turned us, causing something inside me to ripple and burn, his near glowing ruby gaze flirting over every nuance of my face, like he was memorizing every feature before he leaned forward and brushed the length of his nose over mine. 

“I would like,” he kissed my nose, “...nothing more,” my cheek, “...than to lose myself,” my jaw, “...in my little Omega ,” my neck, “...for the next,” my shoulder, “...few days,” my collarbone, “...if she’ll allow me.” 

By the time he pulled back enough to look at me, his eyes were blazing. The depths of his pupils had nearly overtaken the glittering jewels of his iris’, leaving only a sliver of ruby visible. His lips were glistening, shiny and wet from his kisses. His breaths were short, laden with desire.  

I felt the degree of his need rippling down our bond and felt them like fingers dancing up my spine, making me shiver lightly. Reaching up, I cupped his cheek. “What about meeting with the boys?”

There was a part of me that just wanted to get that done and over with before losing myself in Sylus’ body, his warmth, his embrace for the next few days– or however long a rut or heat lasted. 

“We can worry about that later…” He was breathless, nuzzling that devastating nose into my hair, down my cheek, along my jaw.

My Ori, your heat will be upon you within hours. Can’t you feel it?

I thought about her words as they slid into my mind like butter, my body was thrumming. I was sweating, droplets dripping down the length of my spine. The weight of Sylus’ arms around me almost made the shirt I wore feel like rough sandpaper against my skin. 

‘Is that what this is?’ 

Yes, dear. Sylus’ instincts are already kicking in. His scent is incredibly strong, and it will kick start your heat if you do not prepare yourself. 

I felt another shiver run through me as Sylus suddenly leaned down to press his mouth against the side of my neck, ‘Prepare myself? It’s just sex, right?’

Oh, my Ori… I’m sorry I was so full of anger when we first became one, there is much I didn’t tell you, and very little time to fill you in on at present.

A shaky breath escaped as I felt his presence weigh down on me, his height, his broadness, the heat that seemed to now surround him like a cloak. His mouth moved over my neck, his lips parted on gasping breaths while his tongue drew lines and designs over the skin of my neck.. 

I could feel a mild panic bubbling up within my gut at Siri’s admission, ‘Just give me a broad idea of what it is that’ll happen then! I don’t want to fuck this up, Siri.’ I felt my knees hit the edge of the bed. 

I hadn’t realized he’d spun us around, not until the arm he had around my lower back gingerly pressed our hips together, his fingers digging into my hip as he eased the both of us down onto the mattress. My own hands were curled over his shoulders, unsure of what to do or where to touch. 

Siri’s presence seemed to dissipate within my mind as I felt a wave of heat crash into me. The soft roll of Sylus’ hips against mine, the scent of sex and desire permeating the air in the room. 

There’s no time, my Ori. All I can say is… you won’t fuck anything up, but… don’t fight your instincts. I felt her soft chuckle within my head, oh, and don’t forget to have fun.

My focus was brought abruptly back to the present as I felt Sylus’ hands drift down to either side of my hips. His fingers dug into my skin in a possessive, bruising way as his mouth clung to the side of my neck, lips latched as he sucked hard at a spot that had my eyes blinking white, flickers of light flashing behind my eyelids whenever I closed my eyes. 

Still clad in only the towel, something I was surprised still clung to him, he pressed a single knee between my legs. 

“ You’re all mine, Omega .” His voice was a growled whisper against my neck. Sending vibrations straight to my core, and then a soft barely there chuckle escaped him as he pulled back to look me in the eyes, “I made a promise, didn’t I.” 

I furrowed my brows, did he? When? 

“Oh?” 

“ Yess .” The tips of his fingers dipped beneath the waist of the fitted fabric shorts I wore. My hips twitched, but lifted without demand as I felt the drag of his fingernails over my skin while he peeled the garment down. My legs were anxiously bending at the knee before stretching out as he leaned back, hovering above my lower half as he rid my body of the piece of clothing. 

“ Mmm ,” he leaned forward to press his burning hot mouth against my hip bone, “So,” he kissed the other, “ responsive. ” 

It finally clicked. 

Oh. 

Oh.

I’d made a comment last night about how responsive he was. Oh Gods. I felt my cheeks flush a deep crimson as I recalled his response. 

“We’ll see how responsive you are when I have my head between your legs, kitten. ” 

My eyes snapped down to meet his lidded, needy gaze as he licked a trail across my lower stomach. He’d tilted his head, causing his hair to fall across his forehead like a curtain that nearly covered his eyes, the same eyes that were still locked on mine. 

My mind was bristling with pent up desires, and a part of me, the part that still clung to Siri’s words, was still fighting for control to stay coherent, to stay present. While another part of me wanted to let go, enjoy our time, simply allow our bodies to meet and become one in the basic instinctive way our kind could. 

The black briefs I’d stolen from his duffle the previous morning clung to my hips as he dipped those sinful fingers under the band, pulled down the edges so he could press light, open mouthed kisses over the further exposed skin of my abdomen. 

I swallowed heavily, feeling my tongue dry as I felt his heated breath against the thinner skin above my hip bone. I could feel the simmering heat coiling and drawing me in from somewhere deep inside me, and it felt so fucking good. My fingers curled into the sheets as his tongue graced the space of flesh just above my core. 

I tried, I really tried to keep my eyes open and locked on his as he continued to lick, kiss and suck along my hips, the soft plush of my upper thighs, over my lower stomach, but the heat of his breath, his lips all mingled with the heat radiating from my center, had my eyes rolling back in my head while my hips lifted off the bed, chasing his touch whenever he went to move elsewhere. 

I felt the elastic of the briefs stop and tighten around my knees, as he shifted to straddle his knees on either side of my legs. With his now free hand he reached up, gripping the hem of my shirt, before pushing it all the way up until the fabric sat braced above my chest. Releasing the fabric, he covered the nipple of my right breast. The friction against my heated skin made my back arch, shivering through a build in pleasure and pressure inside me. 

" You're trembling , kitten. " he rumbled, his voice a deep timbre that vibrated through me. It wasn't a question, but a statement, an observation that sent a shiver down my spine.  

I licked my lips, smiled and met his gaze, my voice coming out huskier than I intended. "Am I?"

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a dangerous curve that promised both pleasure and something wilder, something untamed. "You know you are, Omega.”

My title on his lips was a caress, a brand, a claim all its own. I felt it echo through me, a resonance that settled low in my belly, coiling tight with anticipation. "Then perhaps," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, "you should do something about it, Alpha. ”

His smile widened, a flash of sharp teeth that sent a jolt of excitement through me. My skin tingled where he touched me, a trail of fire that made me arch my back, a silent plea for more. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his voice a dark promise as he broke eye contact to look down.

I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet the vulnerability was exhilarating, a heady rush that made my pulse quicken further. His eyes, those burning embers, devoured me, tracing the curves of my body, lingering on the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist, before falling to the juncture of my thighs.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice rough with a hunger that mirrored my own.

I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound that sent a shiver of delight coursing through me. "Ori. Let me taste you."

His words were a command, a plea, a promise all wrapped into one. My breath caught in my throat before I nodded and he leaned closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I gasped, my fingers tangling in his white hair, holding him close as his mouth trailed upwards, a slow, deliberate path that left me trembling anew. 

His tongue was a hot brand, a silken caress that sent shivers of pleasure spiraling through me. He kissed his way up my thigh, his breath warm against my skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips. My hips arched involuntarily, a silent plea for more, and he granted it, his mouth finding the junction where my thighs met, his tongue delving into the heat that had been building, a slow, deliberate exploration that made me moan.

" Sylus …" I whispered, my voice a plea, a demand, a surrender.

He hummed against my skin, a vibration that resonated deep within me, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. His hands moved to grip my hips tightly, holding me steady as his tongue delved deeper, a relentless exploration that had me squirming, my breath coming in short gasps.

I was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, my body aflame, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. His tongue was a master, a conductor orchestrating a symphony of pleasure that built and built, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. My fingers tightened in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp as I cried out, my body arching off the bed, my release suddenly crashing over me in waves of ecstasy.

He drank me in, his mouth relentless, his tongue a relentless rhythm that milked every last drop of pleasure from me. I was boneless, sated, yet still yearning for more. He raised his head, his crimson eyes glowing with a satisfaction that mirrored my own as he moved to hover himself above me again.

" What delicious sweetness, you taste divine, sweetie. " he murmured, his lips brushing mine, a gentle caress that sent a new shiver through me as I tasted myself.

I smiled, a lazy, satisfied curve of my lips. "And you, Sylus, are a merciless fiend in disguise."

His laughter rumbled through him, a deep, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. He leaned back, his hands still resting on my hips, his gaze never leaving mine.

" Perhaps ," he conceded in a smirk, his voice low and husky. "But tell me, my little Omega, was it what you expected?”

I reached up, tracing the line of his jaw, my fingers lingering on the barely there stubble that rasped against my skin, a smile playing at the corner of my lips. “Sort of.”

His eyes darkened, cautious while another storm brewed in their crimson depths. "Oh? Tell me.” 

I smirked up at him, pulling my lip between my teeth before answering him, “It was better than I expected, Sylus. Way better.”

He’d looked almost stricken when he’d assumed I didn’t enjoy it, but the look was quickly replaced by a warmth that sent a shiver all the way down to my toes. “Then prepare yourself, kitten. We’re just getting started.”

His words sent a fresh wave of anticipation through me, a promise of pleasures yet to come. I smiled, a secretive curve of my lips, as I drew him closer, my body yearning for the touch of his, the heat of his skin against mine. 

To lose myself in him as he lost himself in me.

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

…THREE DAYS LATER…

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

I wasn’t even sure what day it was anymore. Let alone how long we’d been occupied and shut away in this hotel suite. 

Opening my eyes slowly, I blinked a few times as the low ambient light of the room came into focus. Then the warmth that surrounded me piqued my curiosity. I shifted slowly, feeling the dull but comfortable ache that radiated from all over my body. 

I felt surprisingly good for having just fucked my way through… however many days it’s been. 

Easing myself up onto an elbow, I slowly took in the state of the room. 

Blankets had been pushed into a semi-circle on the bed, along with every article of clothing we owned. Mostly Sylus’ I noticed. Pillows had, at one point, been thrown to the floor. Empty trays of food, and a plethora of empty water bottles covered the top of the desk against the wall near the window. The lamp that had been standing in the corner of the same desk lay on its side, and a flashback of Sylus fucking me over that desk came rushing into my mind. 

I bit my lip before moving on to scan the rest of the chaos. 

As my gaze trailed over other surfaces and walls, more images and memories came back of Sylus’ body covering mine, hips rutting against me. Lewd noises of our bodies colliding as we were lost to reality and consumed by each other. 

I swallowed heavily before turning to look at the other side of the bed. Finding the man himself sprawled out on his stomach, face turned to the wall, the sheet barely covering his lower half while his arms seemed flung out haphazardly, one underneath his pillow while the other dangled off his edge of the bed. 

Leaning closer, my breath caught in my throat. 

Even asleep, he looked ethereal. 

Long, dark lashes brushing his high cheeks. Plump, soft lips parted as he breathed evenly. Beneath the thin veined skin of his eyelids, I could see his eyes darting from side to side. Smiling, I was sure he’d be asleep for a while yet. 

Our cycles had lined up almost perfectly, his rut less than an hour before my heat. We’d nearly lost our minds, that much I remember, while we couldn’t seem to get close enough. It was almost like we’d simply wanted nothing more than to climb inside each other and simply exist there. 

I remembered flickers of words of love and endearing comments, the whispered words of affection and even the more lascivious breathed or moaned words of need and untempered lust as he pushed himself inside me over and over again. 

Looking at him now, he didn’t look like the kind of man to have begged anyone, let alone me, to have his pups. Though, another blush swept through my cheeks, he did repeatedly say that he was going to ‘Fuck a baby into me’ . That much I remembered clearly, and that seemed more like his style, even though I knew he was more like the former. Nearly too sweet, too kind for his own good. 

I stretched out a hand and carded my fingers through his hair, eliciting a low growl from him. 

Smirking, I leaned closer, letting my lips brush idly over the curve of his ear. “Sylus~” 

He groaned, making me smile wider, picturing a teenage boy mumbling ‘ Five more minutes, mom’ . He shifted slightly, turning his head into the pillow. Effectively cutting off my contact with him. 

“Fine, fine . Have it your way.” I rolled away and maneuvered into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Stretching my arms above my head and leaning gently from side to side. Feeling the muscles and joints pop from however long I’d lain in the same position through the night. Once releasing the stretch, I turned my head to glance out the window.  

The curtains were drawn about half way across the expansive floor to ceiling window, and I could see the lights of the city beyond; it was definitely night time. 

Pushing myself to a stand, I can feel every muscle in my legs ache. Similarly, it isn’t a painful ache. In fact, I’d go as far as to say I actually liked how this ache felt through my body. If this is how it would end after every heat, I was okay with it. 

I padded over to the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar as I relieved myself. Looking around at the continued chaos, towels everywhere, fingerprints smeared over the mirror, the shower curtain hanging off of several of the rings. “Good grief.” I felt the blush creep into my cheeks as more memories flooded my mind from the last couple days. 

Every surface. He’d fucked me on, against, over every surface in this hotel suite. I could smell both of us everywhere. Both of our scents saturated the air, settling over me like a calming balm. Sighing and finishing my business, I stepped back out into the main room and looked back at the bed. From my new vantage, I could see his feet dangling over the end of the mattress, the sheet had drifted lower over his back, revealing some of his plump lower cheeks, and the entirety of his sculpted back and shoulders in all of their glory. 

A light lit up the space under the dresser suddenly, causing my gaze to jump towards it like a cat with a laser. Crouching down on to my hands and knees, I pressed my cheek to the floor and looked underneath the piece of furniture. 

“What– How did his phone get under there ?” I slid my hand forward and squeezed it underneath the dresser and with two fingers, pinched the device before pulling it free. 

As I pushed myself back on to my knees, I glanced at the bed, making sure I hadn’t woken the sleeping giant with my muttering. The screen lit up again. Tilting my head, I leaned forward to get a closer look at it. 

It was a message… or messages . From Raf. 

Raf: Sy.

Raf: Sy. 

Raf: SY. 

Raf: OH MIGHTY ALPHA SYLUS!!

Raf: FUCKER. You better not be ignoring me. 

Raf: Where the fuck are you, pompom. I will track your big ass down.

I huffed through my nose. “Needy brat isn’t he.” 

I picked up the phone and stood up again, staring at the screen for a solid minute before I tried swiping my finger up like I’d seen Sylus do once. A touch pad of numbers appeared and I raised a brow. Password? Hm… so much for that I guess. 

“Six, seven, four, three, six.” 

My head whipped up to the sound of a rough, sleep filled voice. In the time I’d retrieved his phone, he’d rolled over and propped another pillow under his head. He blinked sporadically as he fought off the layers of sleep. 

“What?” My brain malfunctioned at the sight of him. One arm slung above his head to curl under the first pillow. His bedhead hair, sticking out in every-which direction. Bare chest, and abdomen. The sheets just covered the silver trail of hair that dipped down over his V line.. 

He smirked, “The password. Look at the letters underneath the numbers. Spell out your name, kitten. ” 

I blinked, then looked down at the phone in my hand. I mouthed along to the numbers as I picked out each individual letter to my name to the corresponding digit and felt my eyes widen when the screen faded to black for a second before glowing back to life to a screen loaded with little squares of images, and words that went over my head. When did he do that?

“Bottom of the screen, there should be a green icon that looks like a chat bubble. Tap it.” 

I followed his instructions, lowering my eyes to the lower portion of the screen and gingerly tapping the correct icon. 

Names and conversations popped up on the screen. 

“Tap on the one that says Clamshell , that’s Raf’s conversation.” I heard him shifting on the bed now, the sound of popping joints and a muffled groan before he sighed and yawned, “Is he begging for attention like a neglected goldfish?” 

I smirked as the words and slurs I’d seen pop up on the screen moments earlier scrolling up the screen, showing the full conversation. “Something like that.” 

My cheeks flushed a bright red when I lifted my head as a very naked Sylus rounded the end of the bed and stopped in front of me. 

He took the phone from me and scoffed at the screen. “Where does he come up with these nicknames? Pompom my ass , purple haired fucker.” Says the man who has the guy’s name in his phone as ‘Clamshell’….

I bit my lip as my eyes drifted over the full length of him. As usual, he towered over me, I was used to that. What I wasn’t used to– even after the last few days, was being nearly face to face with the third fucking arm between his legs. Even at my shorter height, I was closer to that than I was his face, or at least it felt that way! 

He was leaning heavily on one foot as he typed out some elaborate response. My awestruck ass just stood there, eyes trailing over every detail of his body. From his perfectly manicured looking toes, the muscles over his feet. His ankles. I wondered idly how a person’ ankles could be so attractive before moving on without furthering the thought. His calf muscles looked like he’d run right out of a sprint, or marathon. Even his knees were attractive. 

My teeth sunk harder into the flesh of my lip as my eyes drifted to his perfect thighs. Before a soft sound escaped me as my eyes landed on his cock and testes. Even soft the man was not small, and I had another moment of awe as I tried to comprehend how that had fit inside me. 

Swallowing the mouthful of spit that had pooled in my mouth, I forced my eyes to continue their perusal up his body. Gaping at the silver happy trail that led back down, before my eyes landed on those sculpted abs, my fingers twitching with a sudden desire to drag all of my fingers over each ridge, each bump. 

This man was a sculpture brought to life. A masterpiece of perfect proportions. I completely understood why those sorority girls back at that gas convenience place approached him, even though, thinking about it– I would never have been able to do that if I'd met him for the first time like that. Hells no. I already had issues thinking I was undeserving of such a man’s love, I didn’t have to tack on the fact that he was absolute perfection to look at.

“ Kitten?” Reality struck me in the lungs, battering all breath from me as he said my new nickname, one I was slowly getting more and more used to, even if I didn’t think it suited me. 

“I’m here.” Obviously! I gave myself a mental shake before blinking up at him, trying to act like I wasn’t just eye-fucking him for the last… however long. 

The way he was looking down at me. One brow arched, a corner of his mouth lifted. 

He knew.  

Fuck.  

“Well, I was going to say we should get dressed, but… ” the smirk turned into a full fledged grin as he took a half step closer to me, his body heat bleeding into my skin, “...we could just stay here a little longer.” 

I felt my jaw pop open as my eyes swung up to meet his. Crimson on navy. 

“Sylus.” If I couldn’t hear the conviction in my voice, then he definitely didn’t. 

“What?” He put the phone down on top of the dresser and took another, almost, threatening step forward. Pressing into my space, making my breath catch in my throat. 

He leaned down over me, prodding his nose into the hair behind my ear. “I can smell your desires, sweetheart. ” 

Oh, Gods. A shiver ran down my spine. His voice, still ragged and deeper from sleep clung to me while his breath whispered over my skin. 

Taking a deep breath through my nose and shoving aside the growing heat and need between my thighs, I reached up to press my palms against his chest, and pushed him back a step. 

“We… should probably get dressed.” 

He chuckled, dropping his chin to his chest before meeting my eyes again through the strands of hair falling over his face, nodding solemnly. “As you wish, kitten. ” 

—

My knee bounced underneath the little cafe table I sat at. I was nervous. Very nervous. 

We’d made decent time cleaning up the disaster, or nest as Siri called it, that was our hotel suite. She and Stayrus had shown up between the two of us at around the same time. Spouting comments and how it was about time we came back to reality, and that next time they get command and it better be out in a forest. 

I’d made a note to ask Siri about the insatiable desire to jump him whenever I looked at him, whether that was normal or not, and I’d felt her laughter at the back of my head as much as I heard it before she’d responded with an ‘ Absolutely normal, my Ori’ . 

It was constant. My body, burning for him. Thighs tight, even now– sitting here in tha cafe– anxiety hitting new highs, and yet. Seeing him standing at the counter. Leather jacket with red and white bolts down the arms that he’d just bought on the way here, matching leather pants with oddly placed zippers on either side of the front of his hips. He’d been a sight to behold before he got the jacket, walking around like he’d just come off a photo shoot in a tight black turtleneck sweater. 

Even with those seemingly casual clothes, I felt severely underdressed. I’d donned the black hoodie he’d given me, beneath I had a new black tank top, and a new pair of jean shorts, with a pair of lacy red boy short panties underneath that he’d got me from some retail and lingerie places on the way here. 

Hand in hand, he’d led me directly to the bathrooms when we’d arrived at the cafe, telling me to get changed as he did the same. We were only parted, a wall apart for less than five minutes, but I felt it down our bond. The barrier. 

Siri had assured me that being apart from him would get easier. With our first cycles together having just ended, our bodies were reluctant to be apart. Needing the closeness, the connection and warmth. So when I met him outside in the hall leading out to the lobby again, he’d shoved me up against the wall and devoured my mouth for a moment while our bodies reacclimated to one another. He’d whispered how he’d love to take me, right there, up against that wall– but we’d come here on a mission, and as much as it pained him– we needed to control ourselves. 

So, here I sat, nerves wreaking havoc on my stomach, lungs and heart, while he stood at the counter ordering drinks and breakfast– getting heart eyes cast in his direction by the general female, and looking closer, some of the male occupants.  

“Thank you.” I watched the girl behind the counter swoon as soon as he smiled at her. 

I know, hon. I. Fucking. Know!  

I smiled up at him as he returned to our booth and slid in next to me. The tall to-go cup being placed in front of me, steam and the scent of chocolate wafting from the vent in the lid. 

“They’ll bring over our food when it’s done.” He said, resting his hand over my bouncing knee, putting enough pressure to halt the movement and ground me and my nerves. 

“I know you’re nervous, kitten .” He leaned closer, pressing his mouth to the side of my head, “I promise they’re good people.” He paused, before sighing heavily, "Though, pack mates, friends or otherwise– I won’t hesitate to end them if they try anything.” 

My turn to look up at him cramped my neck, but I could see the truth of his words in his carmine eyes. “Sy…”

“ No , Ori. Don’t fight me on this… I love you, and I will not tolerate my mate being treated like trash, ever again. ” 

My breath caught in my throat, wet heat blurring my vision as tears filled my eyes just as he released my knee and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him in a tight hug. His cheek pressed to the top of my head while I buried my face against his neck.

“I love you too, Sylus.” I whispered against his neck, letting all of the adoration and affection I felt beating within my heart for him flow down our bond. His arms tightened around me momentarily before he loosened his hold, using his chin to nudge my head back. 

His eyes searched mine for a moment, before he smiled softly. His thumb came up to brush across my cheek, catching a stray tear. 

“Say that again.” He whispered, lowering his head to press his forehead to mine. 

I smiled as my eyes shut, his own love pouring through our connection to envelope me in its own form of a hug. “ I love you. ” 

The sound of a bell ringing out through the quiet lobby of the cafe shattered the moment as he lifted his head to look at whoever it was who had entered. I felt him stiffen for a second before a low chuckle sounded from within his chest. 

“Didn’t take you for the PDA kind, pompom. ” The voice that spoke was rich, smooth, and had a young, not quite boyish, but still young tone. His words were loaded with a certain level of sass that it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he used it often.

“Rafayel.” Sylus’ voice was loaded with his own level of exasperation, but one could easily hear the amusement hovering over the surface as he said his friend’s name. I couldn’t help but notice he pointedly ignored the use of the pompom nickname.

“Sylus. Jesus man, where the Hells have you been?” Another voice, another male. This one was even smoother than Raf’s, like spun silk. Airy, like a spring breeze, on the lower side, but also soft, almost calming. 

“Xavier.” As Sylus said this friend’s name, I felt an almost brotherly affection move down our bond. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if he was affirming that these men could be trusted, but it gave me the confidence to lift my head from the crook of his neck and peek out from under his chin at his pack brothers. 

Rafayel, I recalled Sylus calling him a purple haired fucker , so my eyes landed on the wavy haired one with his head tilted. Shoulder length deep indigo hair, parted down the middle and hanging over each side of his forehead. Eyes, a dual colored coral pink and ocean blue were looking back at me. He had a curve to his mouth as he smiled at me, curiosity and a welcoming warmth filtered off of him as he moved slowly to slide into the booth across from Sylus and I.

He wore a tight black muscle shirt with a high neckline. Broad shoulders, and bare arms showing off muscular arms. A swimmer’s build that tapered down to narrow hips and long legs clad in a loose pair of faded and ripped bluejeans. 

When my eyes moved on to Xavier, I had to blink a couple times. Thick looking ashy blonde hair that hung to just above his ears. A boyish, but structured face. A soft, almost tired looking expression curved his deep cosmic blue eyes as he returned my stare. The corners of his mouth just barely tilted upwards. A muscular neck that led down to a… I had to blink again, he was tall, not quite as tall as Sylus, and he had broad shoulders, but I couldn’t tell what kind of build he had. Was he muscular like Rafayel? Or toned like Sylus? 

He wore a cream colored sweater with a brown insignia of the brand on the left arm, unbuttoned, showing off the loose fitting white shirt he wore underneath. Blue and gray plaid jeans that lead down to a pair of pristinely white sneakers. 

He was stunning, in fact, they both were. 

“Is this her?” Xavier asked softly, sliding into the booth next to Rafayel. 

Sylus’ arm tightened slightly around my shoulders. “Yes.” He didn’t rush me, but he did give my shoulder a squeeze before continuing, “Guys, this is Orien Ashmourn.” I lifted my eyes to Sylus’ face, this was the first time he’d used my full name, and it sounded really good to hear him use it. 

“Rafayel Qi, pack Beta. It’s a pleasure to meet our Alpha’s true mate.” My eyes moved back to the boys across from us as they responded. 

“Xavier Shen, also a pack Beta. We’ve heard a lot about you, Orien.” 

I felt myself smiling at them, “I-it’s a pleasure to meet you both, and please, call me Ori.” My voice sounded stronger than I felt inside, but having Sylus’ warmth and strength flowing down our mate-bond helped to soothe some of the still high strung nerves that still clung to me like velcro. 

“Ori.” I watched Raf’s nostrils flare as he mouthed my nickname before giving me a wink, “It’s cute, like you.”

Sylus stiffened beside me, “Rafayel.” His voice was low, a warning. 

“Oh, relax . I wasn’t making a move on her…” Raf responded, leaning back in his seat, lowering one hand off the edge of the table while the other remained on its surface, palm down, fingers tapping one by one. “Though, any unmated male might mistake her as free game.” His eyes darkened as they moved to narrow at Sylus. “You haven’t marked her.” 

I flinched. Sylus felt it, and he sighed. 

“Sylus, you’re risking a lot bringing her here unmarked.” Xavier was less condescending about it, but there was an unease in his tone as he said it. His blue eyes drifted between Sylus and my face. 

I felt a wave of anxiety flow down our bond before it was abruptly cut off. “They’d be fools to try anything when she smells like me.” 

“They won’t care , Sylus. She’s an unmated Omega. ” Rafayel had raised both hands to the table again, fingers folding together as he leaned forward, lowering his tone as he spoke. 

I felt my brows pull together, my eyes flicking between all three of them. “I don’t understand, what do you mean they won’t care?” 

Sylus sighed again, raising his free hand up to rub over his face. 

Xavier was the one who answered my question, “As an Omega, Ori. You have certain pheromones that you secrete regularly. Until you bare Sylus’ mark, being his true mate means nothing, and those pheromones will continue. Alerting every Alpha, and Delta in an unknown radius that there's an omega nearby and available for the chase.” 

Sylus growled low beside me. 

Xavier’s eyes met his, “Don’t fucking growl at me, Sylus, she asked . I answered.” Xavier’s light colored brows pulled together, “She should know this stuff. In fact,” His eyes moved slowly back to my face, “How is it that an Omega doesn’t know this?”

Oh no… how do I explain that?  

Raf spoke up at that, one brow raised. Another smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, this one more threatening than the last, “ Yes. That is a good point. You look old enough to know this, why don’t you?” 

I looked up at Sylus, Xavier had said they’d heard a lot about me, but what? Had Sylus not told them I had just recently presented? That I knew nothing about my new gender? Looking at him now, I could see the flush of pink in his cheeks as he glared at the two men across the table. 

Rafayel hummed as he separated his hands and held one out. Removing my gaze from Sylus’ face, I looked between the indigo haired man’s hand and his face. He gave me a small smile before asking, “May I see your hand?” 

Sylus grumbled beside me, but didn’t make any moves to stop me, so I tentatively slid a hand from beneath the table off my lap and slid it into Raf’s. His palm was soft, calluses dotted the bases of each of his fingers. 

Curling them around, gripping me lightly, he pulled me closer to him as he leaned over the table. Making me suck in a shock of breath as he dragged his nose over my wrist. 

“The fuck are you doing, Raf.” Sylus slapped his hand away and I quickly retreated into his side, pulling my hand to my chest, casting my own glare across the table at the man. 

Raf had froze. Dual colored eyes wide and moving rapidly between Sylus’ face and my own. 

“You didn’t tell me that she’s recently presented,” He slapped his hand over his face, “For fuck’s sake… how old are you? Do you even have a wolf?” His voice demanded as he leaned forward again.

Excuse you, boy! Siri’s voice ripped through my head. She does indeed have a wolf. Can I slap him, my Ori? 

Internally I was beginning to feel the panic coiling in my chest. ‘Probably not a good idea…’

“She does, her eyes just flashed.” Xavier said soon after my inner monologue with Siri. 

Sylus pulled me against his side, hiding me from their investigative gazes behind the open edge of his leather jacket. 

“ Betas. I would ask that you stop this shit, now. You’re scaring her.” I felt the command in his voice, even though he directed it at them, but saw as soon as it struck them. Their pupils shrunk, their jaws tightened and they both sat up straighter. 

“Fuck, I didn’t miss that feeling… and strangely enough, I also did.” Raf commented, slumping in his seat as soon as the command settled. 

Xavier bit his cheek and I watched a shudder move over his shoulders. “You told us next to nothing about her, Sy. Other than that she was beautiful, which, yes I agree, she is.” he held his hands up in surrender when Sylus made another small growling noise before he continued, “You told us she was your mate, that your wolf knew almost immediately. Aside from those details, we know nothing about her. Her past, her people.” 

I pushed out of Sylus’ hold, glaring them both down as I leaned my elbows against the table. A strength I didn’t feel keeping me from curling in on myself. I felt Sylus’ concern flow through me, but I pushed it aside. They want to know? Fine.

“I’m thirty, and I just presented as Omega last week when I met Sylus.” I looked between them, their eyes glued to me, and taking their silence as my cue- I continued. 

“I was born to Liam and Vivica Ashmourn of the Ashmourn Pack, until Ephraim Sable and his son Caleb devastated my father’s pack and his territory and stole my twin sister, Cassi, and I. My sister, presented as a Delta when we turned thirteen and was pledged as Caleb’s future mate. I never did, so Ephraim– thinking as a twin I would make perfect breeding stock, kept me as a house pet. In that time, his son and his pack mates did unthinkable things to me… they beat me, they raped me but always promised I’d eventually outgrow my use, even though they continued to do whatever they pleased with me.” 

I sucked in a breath, I could feel Sylus’ anger simmering but I pushed on. 

“Ephraim did his own form of torture, of course. Neglect, his own beatings. Cigarettes and cigars being put out on my skin. Knives, the works. Until, he’d either get bored or just let his son step in, which he was more than willing to do. 

The two of them used fear, manipulation and intimidation to rule that pack and I wanted to die on any given day, until I was banished from the main annex of the pack housing and sent to a place they called The Pens, a medieval prison of sorts on the edge of the territory, the place I met Sylus.” 

The two beta’s eyes slid to Sylus, who was frozen beside me, his eyes locked on the side of my face, before they both looked back to me. Expressions empty as they listened, looking a little green. 

“Ephraim had sent me down to The Pens as an informant, he wanted information from Sylus, but at the same time– it was clear he didn’t care if Sylus, as what he’d referred to as a feral rogue, ended my life or not. I was no longer useful to him, even though I knew if I did make it out– that if Sylus had been as feral as they made me believe– they would’ve just sent me to the area where they keep their meager amount of females, where they kept their breeders . My being a twin increased my chances of birthing multiples, so Ephraim kept that as a high probability I would make the perfect breeder. If I survived.”

Sylus slid one of his big hands over mine, as they’d started to shake as I spoke. 

“I presented not long after meeting Sylus, and no… I didn’t have a wolf at first. She only showed up after my very first shift, when Caleb and Ephraim had come on a manhunt for us when they realized we’d escaped. Sylus killed Ephraim, and badly injured Caleb. Since then, we’ve been trying to make it here, and believe me… there has been some fucking confusing bullshit happen, and new emotions that I can’t make heads or tails of, but I’m learning and I don’t need two pretty boy Betas coming at me with their stupid and unjustified fucking commentary.”

I heaved a sigh once I was done and leaned back where I sat, my back pressing against the cushion, the sweet pressure keeping me from falling apart. 

Beside me, Sylus was silent, waiting. 

Xavier and Rafayel also sat silently, eyes wide, mouths parted. 

I’m proud of you, my Ori.

I could feel the heat behind my eyes, having gone through those memories. After leaving that territory, I didn’t think I’d have to go back to that history for a long while, if at all. 

I felt Sylus shift beside me, moving an arm up and over my shoulders again, pulling me into his warmth, his protection. I’d let my eyes drift, unfocusing as they stared into the void that was the speckled white of the table top. Feeling his breath, I heard him whisper in my ear. “I’m so proud of you, my love.” 

His words and his warmth were a welcome reprieve from the anguish that was beginning to spread through me, and the two Betas' silence was beginning to grate against my now frayed nerves, so I forced my eyes to look back up at them. The blonde and the purple haired men who sat in shock and an awkward silence as they processed what I’d told them. 

Remaining where I was, I crossed my arms across my chest, gathering more strength, more confidence from Sylus’ presence next to me. 

“So, what now?” I asked softly, feeling the quake in my voice. 

Sylus answered, “ Now we relax.” He squeezed my shoulder, “Zayne doesn’t know I’m back yet… but I’m sure he will soon enough, given how fast word spreads.” 

Xavier was the first of the two of them to finally break back into reality, scrubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes before focusing back on my face. “Uh… yeah, about that.” 

I felt Sylus groan, “I asked you not to tell him! Which of you let it slip?” Using his free hand, Sylus points an accusatory finger first at Rafayel, before shifting it between the two of them. 

Xavier held up both hands, folding one to point at the purple haired man. Who blinked, just now coming back to the present after my speech. “Don’t look at me.” The blonde said.

“Dammit, Rafayel!” The level of amused exasperation in Sy’s voice made the growing unease in my gut dissolve entirely. It’d sounded closer to a whine than an actual accusation. 

“I didn’t say a damned word.” I bit my lip as Raf started pouting, his bare arms crossing over his chest while his lips were pushed out slightly, his brows pulling together before his head turned away from each of us. “The motherfucker guessed .” 

I wanted to laugh, I’d seen some of this dramatic side through the messages he’d sent to Sy, but to see it first hand was truly comical. 

“How does someone guess something like that?” Sylus asked. 

“You know him, Sy. He’s a… perceptive motherfucker.” Rafayel started, trying to defend himself, even though it was a losing battle. Lost if anything. 

“Not that perceptive.” Xavier said under his breath, rolling his thumbs together, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

I leaned forward a little, releasing an arm from around myself. “Uh, who is Zayne ?”

“Oh, shit. Right.” Rafayel started, but then shut his mouth, blue-pink eyes flicking up to Sylus, “your Alpha can explain that one.” 

I looked up at Sy, he was shaking his head indignantly. The ruby of his iris’ flashing slightly before he slowly turned to me. “Zayne… is the male I left in charge when I left.” 

I tilted my head, feeling Siri stir almost uncomfortably at the back of my head. 

“Siri doesn’t seem to like something about that, should I be worried?” 

Sylus sighed, “Alpha’s don’t usually desert their packs, sweetie. Leaving another male in charge usually ends in rivalry and mutiny once the real Alpha returns; if the real Alpha returns.” 

“Do you think he’ll want to pick a fight?” I asked him cautiously. 

I heard Rafayel chuckle, same as Xavier. Sylus only snorted, “He might. If only to put me in my place for being gone so long.” 

“Is he an Alpha too?” 

Xavier and Rafayel started nodding, so Sylus shaking his head threw me off. 

“Soo… which is it? Yes or no?”

The boys stared at each other. Blinking rapidly. 

Rafayel, being Rafayel, spoke up first. 

“What the fuck do you mean he’s not ? Sylus, you left ! You offered him the role of Alpha of the entire Grasslands pack, before witnesses and people who can vouch on the matter.” Rafayel was cradling his head with both hands as his voice began to rise in his astonishment. 

Xavier piped up with his deceptively calm voice, “You’ve been gone a long time, Sylus. Zayne… changed. ” 

I felt a rolling wave of surprise pass over the bond just as Sylus sat up straighter. 

“What do you mean he changed?” I felt Sylus’ entire demeanor shift as his Alpha side took over for a moment. “You two will tell me everything. Do you understand me?”

The command rippled through the air, their heads canting forward, the backs of their necks becoming visible through their shifting threads of hair as Sylus’ words settled into their minds. 

They both threw each other a look before nodding. 

Xavier, ever with the calm, almost tired, demeanor spoke first. 

“You knew him as a Delta, Sylus. That is what you left him as. What you– what we all failed to realize… Delta’s are as close to Alphas as a presentation can get, but genetics shift once they’ve accepted a new role.” Xavier sighed before leaning forward, “His presentation shifted. He’s no longer genetically a Delta. Once he’d mentally and biologically accepted his standing and role as the pack’s new Alpha… his presentation followed suit.” 

“He’s an Alpha, he’s the Alpha now.” Rafayel said, surprisingly quiet now as he too twiddled his thumbs, his eyes on the table top. 

I sat, fascinated as Sylus’ dumbstruck expression settled into confusion, “Why do you two fold like cheap suits under my commands then?” 

Rafayel gave an exaggerated shrug, “Fuck if I know.” 

Xavier also shrugged, but more like a crow, moving only his shoulder blades awkwardly up and down. 

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω

[xxfaithlynxx]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Epilogue

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and his lover :) That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, finally some fluff lol A/N: I missed writing for Error!! God, deliver me from the shackles of schoolwork and capitalism pls (I wanted this, I wanted this....) Enjoy! <3

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

“When I look at you, I can't believe it's true You're all I ever dreamed of, and you love me (And you love me) And you love me.”

The two of you are holding hands as you make your way to the new café that just opened on 6th Avenue, near Darlington Square, your fingers woven into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You’ve heard great things about the place, and not just the usual noise from clickbait-y blogs desperate for engagement, but from people who actually know what they’re talking about. The hipster types—the new-age purist fucks who claim they can taste the "notes of apricot and the warmth of an abuela’s love" in a single-origin Santuário Sul pour-over, brewed with beans ethically scoured from the mystical depths of Carmo de Minas or whatever.

You think they’re full of shit. But for all their unbearable pretentiousness, they’ve never steered you wrong. So.

It still feels… unreal sometimes. Sylus, here, beside you. Present, in a way he never could have been before. In a way you two could only think of as a passing pipedream, not so long ago.

He’s here. Solid, tangible. And so, so warm. 

His thumb traces soft circles against your knuckles, an absentminded caress that sends a shiver up your spine. He does that a lot—little touches here and there, like he’s committing the texture of your skin to memory. Like there’s still a part of him that can’t quite believe that you two exist in the same space now. In the same plane of existence. 

And maybe you’re just as bad; sneaking glances at him whenever you could, half-expecting him to flicker out like a glitch in the system. Like some cruel error will right itself and erase him from this reality at any given moment, when you least expect it.

He never does. 

He’s still with you. Always with you. 

And day by day, the knot in your chest loosens; not all at once, but in slow, steady increments. Like frost clinging to the soles of your boots, melting under the first touch of spring. Day by day, the small voice in your head—the one that whispers warnings of borrowed time, of happiness slipping through your fingers—slows to a mum. 

Not gone, not yet, but it's quieter. Fainter now. Sounding more and more like the lingering echoes of a bad dream.

(You hope that one day, when you look into Sylus’ fathomless grey eyes, the reflection staring back at you will be filled with certainty. Of this. Of him. Of what you have. Nothing else.)

And whenever reality hits you – and what a novel thing it is, that this is what you now consider reality – it steals the very breath from your lungs. 

It’s an exhilarating kind of happiness; the way it makes you feel as if your heart's too big for your ribs, too much for your mortal body to contain. It spills over, bright and absurd—almost to a ludicrous degree, honestly. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. The utter magnitude of your bliss. 

And he’s just as lost in this as you are—though you suspect he’s just a tad better at making it less obvious.

He never strays too far away from you. He stays close to your orbit, always within arm’s reach; his fingers brushing against yours when they can, as if he doesn’t quite trust himself to let go. Your personal shadow.

It’s more than just physical proximity. There’s a gravity to him now, almost on a molecular level, like he’s in the very air you breathe. Inescapable, even if you tried.

(Not that you’d ever want to.)

Sometimes you think you’re not even consciously doing it, but when he moves, you move with him. You lean into him as if by instinct, finding the curve of his body and the spaces in between as though it was made just for you. It’s a rhythm that feels both thrilling and comforting, the kind of closeness that makes your heart thump a little faster; your cheeks a little redder. 

“Sweetie.”

Sylus’ voice breaks through your thoughts. It settles over the buzzing noise in your mind, soothing as ever. As it always has.

Has it really been four months?

You still find yourself mesmerised by the way he’s easily integrated himself into your world. His world now, too. All six-foot-five (!) of him; impossibly tall, broad-shouldered, and so naturally magnetic. 

It’s in the way he carries himself—not unlike the way he’s always done, back when he was no more but your impossible, sentient character. That presence is still there, the one you always thought was larger than life. But it's slightly more subdued now, toned down into something less intimidating. Something less… exorbitant. 

Something just for you.

And then there’s also the fact that he’s stupidly, ridiculously handsome.

It’s unfair, really. As if it weren’t already enough of a miracle that he’s here, real, flesh and blood, he had to step into this world looking just as breathtaking as his video game counterpart. And hey, maybe you’re a little biased, but you think the changes that came with his mortality only made him all the more perfect in your eyes.

Sure, you miss the silver hair from time to time. And occasionally, your brain still expects the sharp contrast of crimson when his gaze cuts to yours—only to be met with a monochromatic grey, deep and electrifying as a thundercloud in mid-July.

But then there’s everything else. The way his chest rises and falls under your palm, the steady heartbeat that lulls you to sleep at night. The way his hair sticks up in all the wrong places in the mornings, no physics engine rendering it down to a smooth perfection. The scratch of stubble when he steals kisses from you throughout the day, because body hair is a thing now (thank god). 

The off-key singing when he’s taking a shower—

Oh. Nevermind. 

The little imperfections that weren’t designed to be attractive but somehow make him even more so.

He isn’t all clean-cut lines anymore, no longer a carefully-crafted fantasy meant to appeal to an audience. There’s a rawness to him now, something that’s inexplicably human. He’s just some… guy. 

Granted, an extremely hot guy, but still. 

Just himself. Just Sylus.

And maybe… maybe, that’s what makes this version of him the most beautiful of all.

Because he’s yours. Completely and wholly yours.

“Sweetheart, we’re here.”

There’s laughter in his voice. You blink up at him, only to find that look in his eyes—amused and endearingly fond. You realize, a beat too late, that you’ve been spacing out for the last couple of minutes. 

Sylus tips his chin toward the double doors a few metres away, and he feels the way you startle slightly. 

You give him a sheepish smile. He merely chuckles, squeezing your hand in response. 

He’s used to this, revels in this. The way your mind drifts so freely when your hand is in his. It’s not unlike the way you used to depend on him, back when his existence was confined to a screen. 

But now, in this corporeal form, he can be more than a voice in your ear—do more than just watch from the sidelines. 

He can pull you back when you get too close to the curb, for one. Tuck you into his side when the cold bites too sharply at your skin. He can prevent you from walking straight into oncoming traffic whenever you get too lost in your own head… because of course you would. Carefree thing that you are.

He likes seeing you at ease; so completely trusting of the man who, in the grand scheme of things, has only truly been here for a fraction of a year.

As if he’s always belonged by your side.

Oh, how he adores you.

He’d take care of you forever, if you let him. His little dove.

You two enter the café, and immediately, your eyes are drawn to the eclectic décor of the place. It’s almost like you’ve entered a fever dream—or what you can only describe as a frankensteined aquarium. 

Circular faux windows line the stone-clad walls, imitating a sort of subterranean oceanic sanctum, drowning the space with an atmospheric blue. There are hanging lamps reminiscent of jellyfish floating at sea, casting vivid hues of bioluminescent purples and pinks across the room; the mix of colours gives off the illusion of something sunken, almost psychedelic. An abundance of plants of varying sizes can also be seen at every corner, from the creeping ivies to the potted lilies, as if they’ve simply sprouted into existence.  

The main kicker, though, is that – aside from the predominantly nautical motif – the owner seems to have a strange fondness for… the cabaret? 

Framed photographs of harlequin girls wink from gilded edges, and there’s a signage in swirly cabochon lettering that looks like it belongs outside a burlesque theater rather than in here. It spells out a cryptic phrase in a swirling font, in a language you don’t recognize.

You’re still trying to process the visuals of it all when you register the familiar notes of Paradise Circus filtering in through the speakers.

…They’re committed, you’ll give them that. 

"Woah," you can’t help but say, momentarily disoriented by the overwhelming interior of the unassuming—or at least, from the outside—café. "This is… definitely something."

Sylus glances around, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting a full immersion," he remarks dryly. "I was wondering what all the fuss was about. Glad to see they didn’t oversell it."

You snort. “I hope good coffee is part of the experience.”

You both amble toward the counter, third in line behind a girl with a bob cut who’s swaying to the music in a pair of silver bell-bottoms, and a shorter fellow wearing a flatcap and trench coat like he’s on the damned set of Peaky Blinders.

Clearing your throat, you quickly glance up at Sylus—just to see him watching you with a knowing look, an eyebrow arched.

You roll your eyes, pressing your lips to suppress a smile. Judgemental little shit. 

"It’s possible we missed a dress code somewhere," he says drolly. 

“Shh,” you hiss at him, trying to keep your voice low—or as low as you can manage—trying your hardest not to laugh. “You’re wearing leather pants. You don’t exactly have the fashion high ground here.” 

Sylus pinches your side in retaliation, and you swat his hand away. 

Tommy Shelb—rather, the cap wearing twenty-year-old-something dude—gives the two of you the stink eye, clearly unimpressed by your not-so-quiet banter. You can’t help but think that maybe he’s the type to take himself a little too seriously.

After a few minutes, you two are next in line.

You’re looking up at the hanging menu—an aged wooden board with elegant yet slightly smudged calligraphy, suspended by fibre twine that gives it a rustic feel without making it look too tacky. Your eyes skim past the more familiar offerings before landing on something called The Drowned Saint. 

It’s intriguing. You’re intrigued. 

Why not?

“Ready to order?” an easygoing voice asks, prompting you to tear your gaze away from the menu.

The barista in front of you is tall, with large, square glasses that sit slightly crooked on his nose, like they’ve been knocked askew one too many times. It gives him a friendly, bookish vibe, the kind of charm that might fool you into a sense of security… if not for the sly look in his eyes. 

Something that spells mischief. 

“Oh, hi—yeah, can I get The Drowned Saint? Just, uh, a regular.” You say, glancing down at the silver name tag pinned to his shirt.

… Red. Does everybody in this establishment need to have a certain degree of quirky to them...?

“–-and a strawberry muffin, too.” 

“And for you?” The dark-haired man seems to size Sylus up, his gaze sharpening with something you can’t put a name to. “Sir?”

There’s a pause. It makes you peek up at Sylus, and you’re surprised to see the same look of quiet consideration on his face.

You shift your weight awkwardly, glancing between the two men. Um.

Finally, Sylus lists his order in a measured tone. Red hums noncommittally, grabbing a paperboard cup from the stack behind the counter.

"Alrighty, and can I get a name for that?”

“... Silas.”

A snort; followed by a barely-restrained cough. 

Your brows lift. Okay. What’s this guy’s damage?

“Riiight, so do you spell that with an ‘I’?” There’s a deliberate smirk playing on Red’s lips. “Or maybe a ‘Y’? Sorry, still getting the hang of–” he makes a vague gesture with his fingers, “all this.” 

You squint, getting a little annoyed by the whole ‘cool guy’ act. Fucking hipsters, man. “Look, it’s not that complicated. It’s S-I-L–”

You feel the light press of Sylus’ palm at the small of your back—a silent reassurance while he cuts in, unperturbed. “It’s alright, sweetie,” he murmurs by your ear. 

Then, without looking away from the irritating barista, he languidly pulls out his wallet. There’s something almost amused in the way his brow lifts, the barest flicker of challenge. “Write it however you want.”

Red, looking unruffled for the most part, is already jotting something down on the cup. There’s no visible reaction; just that same ever-present ghost of a smile, which you’re starting to find… kind of weird, to be honest.   

After paying, both of you move to the side, settling into the wait. You narrow your eyes at the flamboyant man who's busy humming something upbeat under his breath as he moves effortlessly behind the counter. Steam rises in the air while he works the espresso machine like he’s done it a thousand times before. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if he started twirling a milk frothing pitcher mid-pour, like a performer in some kind of latte circus act. He seems like the type.

Finally, Red pings a tiny brass bell by the pick-up area, the tinkling chime almost mocking. “Order up,” he calls out, flashing the two of you a toothy grin. “Enjoy, lovebirds.”

Sylus scoffs, unimpressed. He doesn’t respond—just picks up the tray in one smooth motion, nudging you toward an empty table near the centre of the room, right below a floating indigo anemone. 

He pulls out a chair, and you drop into it with a huff. “The fuck was that guy’s deal?”

He takes his seat across from you, unbothered. To your surprise, instead of the ire you expected to be written on his face, he looks more fascinated than anything. 

He studies you, eyes flickering with something you can’t put your finger on. 

“Does he remind you of anyone?”

You frown. The question throws you. “Huh?” Your brows knit together, head cocking sideways in confusion. “Wait—you know him?”

He gives you an indulgent smile, but doesn’t say anything. He picks up his cup, gaze dropping briefly as he turns it in his hand.

Do you know him?

Sylus watches you, patient, the faintest curl of his mouth betraying nothing as you mull it over. It’s as if he’s waiting, trusting you’ll make the connection yourself without his help. But how would you know the owner of a newly-opened café—if he even is the owner? (He sure carries himself like he owns the place.)

You wrack your brain, trying to pin him down. Where else would you know a roughly six-foot-tall guy with dark, wavy hair and shifty-looking eyes the color of a dead aubergine? 

He’s certainly… a character. And he doesn’t pass off as local—maybe foreign, or at least mixed—so should be easily recognizable, right? 

Yet, for some damning reason, nothing’s clicking. 

It’s in the way he acts too, you think. The easy arrogance, the look of mirth lingering in his expression, as if he’s in on some inside joke you’re not privy to. It’s nagging at you, like an itch in the back of your brain. You’ve seen him before, right? 

You’re pretty sure you have… but for the life of you, you can’t figure out where.

“I mean, like, he does look kind of familia—” Wait.

Oceanic décor. Dark irises that glint into a near-violet hue under the dim, overhead lights. 

Red. 

Reddie.

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Wha—no.” You spin your head around so fast it almost gives you whiplash. 

And as if he’s already expecting it, Rafayel meets your wide eyes. 

He gives you a wink. 

Holy fucking shit. 

“So he found a way out, as well,” Sylus muses, his large hand comically dwarfing the coffee that he’s back to examining. When he meets your stunned gaze, he casually flips the cup around, revealing the name scribbled on the sleeve.

‘Sylus’ 

And just right below: ‘still got here first lol ;)’

You let out a sharp exhale, the dots starting to connect in your head. “Did you know?” Your voice pitching higher than you intended, brows scrunched up as you look at the calm man in front of you—the nonchalance to your overreaction. “Is that why you wanted to come here?”

He picks up your strawberry muffin, tapping the excess crumbs off the edge of the plate. “I had my suspicions,” he admits, cupping a hand beneath the pastry, angling the muffin closer to your face. “Ahh, baby.” 

With no small amount of frustration, you take a bite, your eyebrows still furrowed as you chew. The flavors don’t even register on your tongue as you try to wrap your head around this… unexpected development. 

Of course, that’s putting it lightly—inside you’re freaking out. What does this mean? When did this happen? Two of them now?

Are you losing it? Again?? 

It’s too much to process in one go. You’ve just come to terms with your very own freak of nature, thank you very much. 

Sylus tuts gently, dabbing a napkin at the corner of your lips. "No need to stress over it, my love," he rubs his thumb on your lower lip to draw your focus back to him. The corners of his mouth curl into a small smirk when he sees you nibble on it absentmindedly. "Careful now."

Suddenly, your ears pick up a voice calling out, “Raf!” from behind, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see someone step out from the small kitchenette. 

They’re wearing a navy blue apron over a glittery top, carrying a square pan of what looks to be a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls. 

On the taller side, standing only a couple of inches shorter than Rafayel, sporting a silver nose ring. Their hair is in a split-dye, parted down the middle, and styled into intricately braided space buns—likely a labor of love from the man himself. 

“Ah, that must be his partner,” Sylus notes idly.  

Rafayel reaches for the tray with all the confidence of someone who has absolutely no plan beyond offloading the weight from their lover’s hands. His partner, quicker and clearly wiser, snatches it away at the last second with a knowing look. "Cutie, I was about to get that," he whines in protest, lips forming a pout.

"And yet here I am, actually getting it," they reply dryly, maneuvering the steaming buns out of his reach.

Undeterred, he makes another attempt; only for them to sidestep, holding the tray higher like a seasoned veteran at dealing with his antics. 

Rafayel huffs but refuses to back down, making for another grab. This time, faster. 

He gets his fingers around the edge of the baking tray—only to hiss in pain and immediately jerk back. "Just let me– ow, fuck, hot!" 

His partner gives him a long, unimpressed stare. "You don’t say."

"You could’ve warned me," he accuses, shaking out his hand with all the theatrics of a man in peril. 

"I did. With common sense," they deadpan, but you detect a hint of laughter beneath the monotone.  

That earns a full-blown scowl, but it’s betrayed by the way his eyes soften—something unmistakably fond in the way he watches them, as if their amusement alone makes the now-forgotten burn worth it. 

You don’t miss the subtle shift in his posture; the way his shoulders loosens, the telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth like he’s biting back the urge to grin.

After a few more playful back-and-forths (one of which involves Rafayel attempting a truly ridiculous reach-around that gets his wrist lightly smacked in retaliation), they finally place the cinnamon rolls into the glass display, arranging them alongside the rest of the baked goods.

It’s the ease between them that sticks with you. The way he casually fixes the strap of their apron, how they don’t even flinch when he brushes a stray crumb from their cheek. 

It’s an old, familiar rhythm—one that speaks of something long-established. The kind of comfort built over time. Like it's already habit. 

It makes you smile. 

(In your periphery, you catch Sylus smiling, too.) 

You exhale a long sigh, sinking back into your chair, only now noticing the weight you’d been carrying—the one you hadn’t even realized was there—finally lifting off your chest.

Questions swirl in your mind, most of them aimed at the busy couple manning the counter. The hows and whens. The adjustment period. The hardships. 

And, honestly? Just the need to have someone to freak out with and scream say, Can you actually believe this? 

… But you suppose it can wait. There will be time for questions, for stories, for untangling the mysteries of it all.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy a normal weekend afternoon with your very normal boyfriend.

After all, they’re not going anywhere. Nor will the two of you.

- -

An errant thought pops into your head.

Before you can stop it, your mouth blurts out: “You think Xavier’s ever gonna come out of the game, too?”

A beat.

Sylus freezes for a split-second before his gaze locks onto you, wry and amused—like he’s debating whether he heard you right. 

You get the bad, bad feeling that you’ve made a mistake somewhere.

He lets out a low, throaty chuckle. “Xavier, huh?” he muses, almost patronizingly, eyes alight with an intensity that makes you squirm in your seat.

The nervous little action doesn’t escape his notice.

“Look at the time, kitten.” His voice drops an octave, deceptively calm and even, but there’s an undercurrent to it that has you squeezing your thighs together. “I think we’ve stayed here long enough. Don’t you?”

Uh-oh.

End A/N: Ok, so I’m a big, fat liar who lied about not including anything about the silly lil fishman ≽^-⩊¬^≼ I’m anal about spoilers if you haven’t noticed. 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira @writingmyladsdelusions @borkunlimited

[xxfaithlynxx]

💜

Calm and Serenity

Series Masterlist

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[xxfaithlynxx]

through the fire | sylus

synopsis : In a world where soulmate marks appear on your skin, yours arrives in red—the color of unrequited love. And the name written there is the last one you ever wanted to see: Zayne, your closest friend, the man you’ve loved in silence for years… and the one already destined to someone else. You learn to smile through the ache, to hide the burn beneath your sleeve, until a chance meeting with a silver-haired stranger named Sylus changes everything. When you pretend he’s your soulmate, he plays along without hesitation. His presence becomes a quiet comfort, steady where your heart is not. But when Zayne starts to look at you differently, to hesitate, to wonder, you’re left caught between the love you’ve always longed for—and the unexpected one who chose you without a mark.

content : soulmate!au, zayne x reader x sylus, zayne x non-mc!reader, unrequited love, angst (light or not, you decide)

You stared at the name scrawled in red across your forearm.

Zayne.

So small. So cruel. So final.

Your breath caught in your throat, a trembling whisper slipping past your lips.

“Why is it his?”

The question barely made a sound, yet it rang loud in the silence of your apartment, echoing off the sterile white walls and the clinical smell of hospital-grade soap still lingering on your skin.

You pressed your palm over the name like you could smudge it away.

But red ink never fades. It brands.

It condemns.

A red soulmate mark.

You had seen the pamphlets before—those rare anomalies that happen once in a few hundred thousand people.

The ones born defective, the ones whose soulmates were already claimed by someone else.

Fated to ache. Fated to long. Fated to never be loved back.

You always thought it was tragic in a distant, abstract sort of way.

Until now.

Until it was his name.

Until it was Zayne.

Your Zayne.

Your friend. Your colleague.

The man who offered you coffee the day you transferred, when everyone else couldn’t be bothered to remember your name.

The one who knew when your hands shook after a 12-hour surgery and would silently leave your favorite chocolate mousse in the breakroom fridge.

The one who walked you home after night shifts, even though his apartment was one floor above yours.

The one you tried not to love.

You tried.

God, you tried.

Because his mark had already appeared months ago—in black. Like it was supposed to. Permanent. True. Undeniable.

You remembered how he told you.

How he looked almost dazed, fingers brushing over his skin like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to find her.

You had smiled. You had said you were happy for him. You had even helped him pick out a gift for their anniversary.

And maybe you were happy.

A small, pure part of you had been.

But the rest of you was bleeding.

But you didn’t expect this.

You didn’t expect the universe to be so cruel.

Because months later, your body chose him.

As if fate wanted to mock you.

As if it wanted you to watch him belong to someone else, forever just one floor above you, one breath out of reach.

Red meant doomed.

Red meant defect.

Red meant you would love someone who was never yours to begin with.

Your fingers trembled as you traced over the ink again.

You imagined what it would feel like to show him.

To watch his face crumble, or worse—pity you. To be told, gently and with unbearable softness, that he loved someone else.

That his heart already belonged to the woman whose name was etched into his skin in perfect, black permanence.

You would never be that name.

You would never be enough.

So you rolled down your sleeve and turned away from the mirror.

The name still burned beneath the fabric.

And in the quiet of your room, you allowed yourself to break—silently, like you always did.

Because even the stars knew.

You were never meant to be loved.

Only to love.

—•

Day by day, you saw him.

In break rooms and bustling hallways, beside you during rounds, across you during late-night debriefs.

He was always there—smiling softly, offering you coffee in the way only he knew you liked it.

Asking about your day with that quiet warmth that made your chest ache.

He never noticed the way your fingers twitched when you took the cup.

Never saw how you always kept your sleeves pulled just a little too low.

Never questioned the stiffness in your smile.

It had been months.

You had become an expert at hiding the truth—an actress in your own life, wearing ease like armor.

You laughed when he teased you.

Teased him back when he tried to guess your soulmate’s identity.

“He probably doesn’t live around here,” you’d say with a light shrug, the same one you’d perfected in the mirror.

And he’d nod, gentle and non-intrusive, never the type to pry.

And maybe that made it worse.

That he was kind.

That he was always kind.

His soulmate didn’t make things any easier either.

She was bright, and sweet, and unbearably thoughtful. The kind of person you couldn’t bring yourself to hate, even if it would make surviving this easier.

She brought you takeout after long shifts, remembered your favorite boba order, got you a little potted plant for your birthday and left a sticky note on your locker that read, “For when life gets too sterile.”

Just like now.

You sit quietly at your desk, the hospital gone still with night, overhead lights buzzing low.

The sky outside is a deep, velvet black, rain tapping gently against the window.

She hums softly as she unpacks the sushi she brought, setting it out like you were her little sister she needed to fuss over.

“You need to eat properly,” she scolds, her voice warm, mothering.

You smile up at her, gratitude in your eyes.

You mean it. You really do.

Even as your wrist pulses beneath your sleeve—raw, restless, unbearably red.

Even as your soul screams a name it can never say aloud.

You thank her.

You eat.

And you pretend not to feel the burn.

“Any luck yet?” she asks gently, nodding toward your wrist as she takes a sip of water.

You follow her gaze, pulse ticking beneath the fabric, and force a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“No,” you say, voice light, practiced. “Maybe I’m just destined to be alone.”

A half-truth.

The kind that slips out easily when the full one is too cruel to name.

Because what could you say?

That the name on your wrist has been there for months?

That it burns with a devotion that will never be returned?

That it’s his name—her soulmate’s name—written in red?

That while she buys you dinner and worries over your health, your heart quietly bleeds for the man who kisses her forehead and saves his smiles for her?

So instead, you say nothing.

You stir the soy sauce into your rice and let the lie settle between you—gentle, unspoken, and unbearable.

She offers you a sympathetic smile, her voice soft with well-meaning hope.

“You’ll meet him someday.”

And there it is.

The ache.

Low and sharp, blooming beneath your ribs like something cruel and familiar.

You nod, because it’s easier than telling the truth.

Because she’s looking at you with such kindness, such sincerity—never realizing that her comfort is the wound.

She doesn’t know.

She can’t.

That you’ve already met him.

That he’s just down the hall, finishing up his reports, waiting to walk her home.

That the universe gave you a name and then watched you unravel.

So you smile again.

The kind that feels more like a wince.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe.”

—•

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She smiles, radiant and unaware, her arm wrapped easily around his as the two of you stand face to face.

Your mark flares beneath your sleeve, a slow, burning throb that pulls your eyes to where her hand rests—light, familiar, right—against his.

And Zayne—

He looks down at her like she hung the stars.

With that quiet kind of fondness that once lived in his gaze for you, before the universe chose to remind you of your place.

Before the mark.

Before everything changed.

He told you once, in passing, how they met.

At a park. A lost puppy.

He’d helped her look for it, stayed with her until it was found. Said it felt ordinary. Nothing sparked then.

Not until a week later, when her name bloomed black on his wrist.

You remember the way his voice softened when he said it.

“Shaiya.”

Like it meant something holy.

Like it made sense.

You had smiled back then too.

And you do it again now, a practiced expression, polished by months of pretending.

“Yeah,” you say, voice steady. “See you.”

She waves, content.

Zayne glances at you, just for a second—just long enough for your heart to betray you.

Then they turn.

And you’re left behind.

As always.

Your mark burns again as you watch them walk away—slow, steady, inseparable.

It always flares like this when you start to ache for him.

When you let yourself want him, even for a moment.

As if fate itself is reprimanding you.

As if the pain is a reminder: You were never meant to be his.

Just a defect. A flaw in the system.

But you ignore it.

You’ve learned how to live with fire under your skin.

Instead, you cling to the memories—the ones that feel softer in hindsight, even if they hurt now.

“I hope your name appears on my wrist someday,” he’d said once, offhandedly, turning his head to glance at you with a quiet smile.

You had laughed, heart skipping despite yourself.

“If I was your soulmate, you’d probably end up with a headache from dealing with me.”

It was meant as a joke. Lighthearted.

But now—

Now, it tastes like irony.

Because it did appear.

Your name did show up.

Just not where it was supposed to.

Not on him.

—•

You didn’t quite know how you ended up here.

Maybe it was the silence of your apartment. Maybe it was the way your wrist still throbbed beneath your sleeve like a wound that wouldn’t close.

Or maybe—just maybe—you were tired of pretending you were okay.

So you found yourself in a dimly lit pub, the kind where no one asked questions and the music was low enough to disappear into.

You sat near the bar, shoulders hunched in a way you hadn’t noticed until your reflection caught you in the mirror.

One hand wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey, the other idly pushing ice cubes in lazy circles.

“Here’s to unrequited love,” you mutter to no one, raising your glass like a toast to the cruel stars above.

You take a slow sip. Let the burn settle in your throat. Let yourself feel it—just for tonight.

Then—

A scent. Sharp. Clean.

Masculine and strangely grounding, like rain on stone.

It hits you all at once.

And before you can turn, an arm slides across the bar beside you—unhurried, confident.

He settles into the stool next to yours like it was always meant to be his.

You catch a glimpse.

White—no, silver—hair catches the low light. Almost too perfect. Almost otherworldly.

“Gin. On the rocks,” he says, voice low and smooth, like smoke rolling over velvet.

You glance at him, just for a moment.

And somehow, you felt drawn.

You let your gaze drift to the stranger beside you, curiosity outweighing caution.

He was striking in a way that demanded attention—dangerous, almost.

Red eyes, sharp and unflinching, stared ahead with the kind of focus that made the world seem like background noise to him.

His hair was a mess of white-silver strands, tousled and unruly, falling just above his brows like they had been kissed by moonlight.

And his mouth—curved in an easy, knowing smirk—looked as though it had never forgotten how to charm.

As if he was always just about to say something wicked.

There was an ease in the way he occupied the space, like he wasn’t merely sitting at the bar—but claiming it.

You stared a beat too long.

And then—

A sharp sting.

Your mark flared beneath your sleeve, searing hot.

You flinched, barely, teeth gritting as the pain sliced through the moment like glass.

Of course.

Even now—even with someone like him sitting beside you—the universe couldn’t let you forget.

You were still branded.

Still trapped.

Still hopelessly tethered to someone who would never be yours.

And the burn beneath your skin felt like fate laughing.

You cursed under your breath, the word slipping out low and bitter as the sting pulsed through your wrist like a cruel reminder.

You took another sip, letting the whiskey scorch its way down, hoping it would dull something—anything.

It didn’t.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him shift.

The stranger turned his head slightly, just enough for those crimson eyes to find you.

There was something unreadable in his gaze—sharp, deliberate.

Not surprised. Not amused.

Just… intrigued.

“Rough night?” he asked, voice low and laced with dry amusement.

You didn’t answer right away.

Just stared into your glass, watching the ice crack quietly beneath the amber.

“Something like that,” you muttered, not looking at him.

But he didn’t look away.

And somehow, you felt seen.

Not pitied. Not judged. Just… noticed.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long while, someone wasn’t looking through you.

He chuckles, a low, rough sound that wraps around the edges of your exhaustion like velvet trimmed in iron.

“Same here,” he murmurs, raising his glass in a mock salute before taking a slow sip of his gin.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then—“I’m Sylus,” he says, turning slightly to face you now.

There’s something in the way he says it—easy, but deliberate. Like his name is a secret he only offers to a select few. Like he’s giving you a choice. To take it or don’t.

You glance at him again.

That silver hair, those red eyes. The quiet confidence that radiates off him in waves.

He doesn’t ask for your name.

He just waits.

And for reasons you don’t fully understand, you give it.

“Y/N,” you say quietly, your voice barely above the clink of glass and the murmur of conversations behind you.

Sylus nods, as if the name fits. As if he already knew.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and somehow, it doesn’t feel empty.

Somehow, it feels like the night has started over.

You blink slowly, eyes fixed on the amber swirl in your glass.

“All my nights are rough,” you murmur, your lips curving into a tired, self-deprecating smile. “Not just this one.”

You take another sip, let the warmth settle into your bones like armor.

Beside you, Sylus raises a brow—curious, maybe, but respectful. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t press.

And somehow, that’s more comforting than if he had.

So you both sit there, shoulder to shoulder, in a silence that feels oddly natural.

Not forced. Not heavy.

Just… there.

The sting on your wrist begins to fade, slowly—like a held breath finally exhaled.

Maybe it’s the alcohol.

Maybe it’s his presence.

Maybe it’s just that for once, you don’t feel so unbearably alone.

A sudden courage bubbles up—liquid and reckless.

You keep your eyes forward, voice casual.

“What do you think of people with red marks?”

You feel him glance your way.

There’s a pause. Barely a second. But in it, something passes—something unsaid.

He seems a little surprised by the question, but his expression remains unchanged. Calm. Measured.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says after a sip of his gin. “Mine’s never shown.”

He shrugs like it means nothing. Like fate hasn’t touched him at all.

And somehow, you envy that.

“Good for you,” you say, a little too flat, a little too bitter around the edges.

A beat of silence follows.

Then—a chuckle, low and quiet, rumbles from his chest.

Not mocking. Not cruel.

Just… amused.

Knowing.

“Interesting,” is all he says.

The word lingers between you, heavier than it should be.

Like he’s already pieced something together. Like he sees more than you intended to show.

You don’t look at him, but you feel his presence beside you—steady, unbothered.

As if your pain isn’t a burden here.

As if your broken pieces don’t make you harder to hold, only more worth noticing.

And for the first time in a long time, your chest doesn’t feel so tight.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper and a pen—moves smooth, unhurried.

You watch as he scribbles something down, his handwriting sharp and elegant, like everything about him.

Then he slides it across the bar toward you, the paper curling slightly at the corners as it stops in front of your glass.

He doesn’t look at you right away—just takes another sip of his gin, eyes still trained on the bottles lined across the shelves.

“I am fully aware of stranger danger,” he drawls, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, “but do call if you need… company.”

His voice lingers on the last word, smoky and deliberate.

Not suggestive.

Not empty.

Just a quiet offering from one broken night to another.

You glance down at the number.

It looks oddly out of place between your fingers—this small, absurd lifeline.

But it’s there.

And so is he.

You give a small, tired smile, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes but feels a little more genuine than the others tonight.

“Maybe I will,” you say, tucking the slip of paper between your fingers like a secret.

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a glint in his crimson eyes as he raises his glass, as if to toast to unspoken things.

To bruised hearts.

To broken fates.

To strangers who feel a little less like strangers.

You both drink in silence after that, letting the night bleed slow and quiet around you.

No questions. No confessions.

Just the comfort of existing beside someone who doesn’t ask you to pretend.

When you finally step back into your apartment, the stillness greets you like an old friend.

Familiar. Too familiar.

You loosen your coat, kick off your shoes, and sit at the edge of your bed, the quiet pressing in.

The mark on your wrist is calm now—dormant, for once.

You pull the slip of paper from your pocket, smoothing the crease with your thumb.

Sylus.

You murmur the name to yourself, letting it linger in the dark.

As if, maybe this time, fate might finally listen.

—•

You sigh, long and weary, as you sink into your desk chair.

Every part of you aches—your back, your hands, your mind.

Eight hours in the operating room, eight hours of focus and tension and the weight of someone else’s life resting in your palms.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the silence wrap around you.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Soft. Familiar.

Before you can even answer, it opens just enough to let him in.

Zayne.

His dark hair falls slightly into his hazel-green eyes, coat still dusted with rain from outside.

He walks in with quiet purpose, holding out a paper cup—your usual coffee order, still warm.

“Long day?” he asks, voice calm and steady, like always.

Your chest tightens.

And then it comes—the burn.

That same, awful heat radiating from your wrist, seeping into your bones.

You clench your jaw, forcing a tired smile as you take the cup from him.

“Thanks,” you murmur, hoping your fingers don’t brush too long against his.

He doesn’t notice the wince you try to hide.

Doesn’t see how tightly you’re holding your sleeve.

Because to him, it’s just kindness.

To you, it’s agony.

You both sit in silence, the kind that would feel companionable if it didn’t ache so much.

The coffee sits warm between your hands, grounding you in the moment—keeping you from unraveling.

Then he speaks.

“I saw you out two nights ago.”

His tone is casual, but there’s something underneath it—curiosity, maybe. Concern, even.

You glance at him.

He doesn’t look at you. Just takes a sip from his own cup, as if the words don’t mean much.

“Were you drinking again?”

You pause, fingers tightening slightly around the paper cup.

The truth sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and unspoken.

You look down at your wrist, still hidden beneath your sleeve, the phantom sting of the mark pulsing like a second heartbeat.

So many things you could say.

Yes. Because pretending I’m fine all the time is exhausting.

Because I watched you walk away with her again and smiled like it didn’t kill me.

Because my mark won’t stop burning, and I don’t know how to live with this kind of love.

But instead, you offer a small shrug.

“Just needed some air,” you say quietly. “That’s all.”

A lie.

But it’s one he won’t press.

Because he trusts you.

Because he doesn’t know.

He gives you that small, familiar smile—the one that always undoes you more than it should.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” he says softly, like it’s second nature to worry about you.

Then he turns, footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving you with the smell of coffee, the echo of his voice, and the quiet devastation he’ll never see.

Your fingers curl around the cup.

Tight. Too tight.

As if holding on to something will keep you from breaking.

But your mark burns hotter now, searing through your skin like punishment.

As if it’s angry.

As if it’s jealous.

And for a moment, you wonder why it hasn’t bled.

Why it doesn’t just split open and spill all this hurt onto the floor where everyone can finally see it.

“Stop being so kind to me,” you whisper into the silence, your voice shaking.

But there’s no one left to hear it.

Only the sterile hum of the lights overhead, and the sound of your heart breaking—quiet and familiar—as tears trace down your cheeks, uninvited and unstoppable.

Somehow, without really thinking, you found yourself at his doorstep.

The city was quiet, the air cool against your cheeks, your coat clutched tight around you like it could hold the pieces of you together.

Your wrist still ached beneath your sleeve, raw and restless, but you had long since stopped trying to soothe it.

Sylus had texted you the address after your call—short, clipped, and straightforward, like him.

And now you’re here, standing in front of a door you never expected to seek out, uncertain of what you’re hoping to find on the other side.

Healing?

Distraction?

A place where your mark doesn’t matter?

You raise your hand to knock, hesitating for a moment as your breath fogs in the cold.

Then, before you can lose the nerve, your knuckles meet wood.

One. Two. Three quiet raps.

A pause.

Then the door clicks open.

And there he is—Sylus.

Silver hair a little messier than usual, a glass still in his hand, red eyes sharp but softer than you’ve ever seen them.

No questions. No judgment.

—•

He didn’t say a word.

Just nodded once, slow and understanding, and led you inside.

Now, the two of you sit on opposite ends of his worn leather couch, a respectful distance apart, the fire crackling gently between you like a heartbeat neither of you wants to claim.

The room is dim, shadows dancing along the walls, the only light coming from the flicker of flames and the occasional glint in Sylus’s eyes when he turns his head slightly to look at you—then away again.

You’re still.

Tired.

The kind of tired that no sleep could ever fix.

The tears have long since dried, leaving behind the familiar hollow ache in your chest, like grief carved a space in your ribs and decided to stay.

And your mark—

Still there.

Still burning beneath your skin.

You stare into the fire, your hands loosely clasped in your lap, and for the first time in days, you breathe—slow, deep, and unguarded.

Sylus doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t pry.

He just sits there, presence steady, like a wall you can finally lean against without fear of collapsing.

And in that silence, something shifts.

Not healed. Not whole.

But a little less alone.

You turn your head slightly, eyes drifting from the fire to him. His profile is lit in warm gold—sharp, unreadable, but not unkind.

“Sorry,” you say softly, the word catching at the edges of your throat.

For what exactly, you’re not sure.

For showing up. For falling apart.

For being the kind of person who calls a near-stranger because no one else feels safe anymore.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn to look at you.

Just gives a small shrug and takes a slow sip from his glass.

“It’s good company,” he replies, casual, like it’s nothing.

Like you aren’t a burden.

Like this—the silence, the ache, the weight of everything you can’t say—is somehow welcome.

You exhale quietly, some small part of your heart unclenching.

Maybe that’s what you needed.

Not comfort. Not words.

Just someone who doesn’t mind the quiet, even when it’s heavy.

“I can understand.”

His voice breaks the stillness, low and quiet—almost like an afterthought, but it sinks deep.

Your eyes dart to him.

Sylus is still facing the fire, his expression unreadable, the flames dancing across the sharp lines of his face.

“I love someone,” he says, slowly, deliberately. “But her name isn’t on my wrist.”

He takes a sip of his drink, his fingers steady around the glass.

“There’s another name on hers.”

The words hang in the air like smoke—soft, but heavy with weight.

And suddenly, you understand why his silence felt so familiar. Why he never asked questions. Why he didn’t flinch at your pain.

Because he knows.

He knows what it’s like to love without being chosen.

To look at someone and see a future they’ll never see with you.

To exist in the quiet spaces between their laughter—wanted, but not meant.

You swallow hard, the ache in your chest mirroring his.

Your voice is barely a whisper.

“Does she know?”

A pause.

“No,” he murmurs. “And I’m not sure I want her to.”

And for a moment, you’re not two strangers on a couch.

You’re two people clinging to the same kind of hurt.

And somehow, that makes it just a little easier to breathe.

“How does it work?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

Your eyes stay fixed on the fire, but your voice trembles with something deeper—something raw.

“Love. How does it work?”

There’s a pause.

Sylus doesn’t answer right away. He sets his glass down on the table, the faint clink of glass on wood echoing in the quiet.

You finally glance at him.

He’s staring into the flames, brows drawn slightly, as if the question has rooted itself somewhere inside him.

“I don’t think it does,” he says at last, voice low and unfiltered. “Not the way we’re told it should.”

His gaze flicks to you, slow and steady.

“Everyone talks about fate. About destiny. About names on skin and inevitability.”

He leans back, resting an arm on the back of the couch, red eyes glinting.

“But love—it’s messy. It’s inconvenient. It doesn’t follow rules or timing or marks.”

You swallow, something stirring painfully in your chest.

“Then why does it still hurt this much?” you whisper.

He looks at you for a long moment. Not with pity, but with understanding so deep it feels like a balm.

“Because you love honestly,” he says. “And honest love never goes unpunished.”

“I just want it to stop burning,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can take them back.

You’re not looking at him—your gaze stays fixed on the fire, on the flicker and hiss of flame. It’s easier than meeting his eyes.

“It’s not the unrequited part,” you continue, voice low and frayed at the edges. “I always knew it would be like this. I never expected anything more from him.”

You inhale shakily, pressing your hands tighter around your knees as if that could steady the tremble in your chest.

“But the mark—it burns every time I think of him. Every time I miss him, want him, remember him.”

The heat isn’t just under your skin. It’s inside your lungs, your throat, your heart.

A fire that reminds you with every spark that your love is a mistake written in red.

“I just want it to stop hurting every time I feel something.”

A quiet hush follows, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Then, Sylus speaks. His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Love shouldn’t feel like a wound,” he says.

You glance at him. And for once, there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk, no defense. Just something quiet. Something honest.

“And yet,” you murmur, “it always does.”

He doesn’t offer easy comfort. Doesn’t pretend to have answers.

Instead, he leans back, watching the flames for a moment.

“Maybe,” he says slowly, “the pain won’t go away completely. But it can dull. If you let someone help carry it.”

Your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not from the burn.

It’s from the way he says it. Like he means it.

Like he would.

He steps toward you—unhurried, deliberate. The firelight flickers across his face, catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the glint in his crimson eyes.

“I may not know you,” he says slowly, voice low and steady, “but I know your pain.”

His words settle over you like a weighted blanket—not too heavy, not too light. Just enough to be felt.

Then—

He extends a hand.

Open.

Unassuming.

Offered without expectation.

Not to fix you.

Not to save you.

Just to stand with you in the wreckage.

You stare at it for a moment, your breath caught between resistance and the aching need for something—someone—to anchor you.

And somehow, in the quiet of that moment, it doesn’t matter that he’s a stranger.

Because pain recognizes pain.

And for the first time in a long while… you don’t feel alone in it.

You hesitate—just for a breath—then slip your hand into his.

His grip is firm, warm, steady.

He pulls you gently to your feet, the motion smooth, careful, as though you might break if he moved too fast.

And then—

The mark flares.

A sharp, scalding pain radiates up your arm, and you flinch, breath hitching as the heat sinks into your bones like fire licking at old wounds.

But before you can pull away, his arms are around you. Solid. Certain. Anchoring.

“Let it burn for a bit,” he murmurs, voice close, low, and rough with something almost tender.

Then he guides your head to his chest, where his heartbeat drums slow and steady beneath your ear.

No rush. No pressure. Just presence.

And in that quiet, flickering room—with the fire crackling, your heart aching, and his arms holding you like a promise—

you let it burn.

—•

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

The sharp snap of fingers in front of your face jolts you back to the present.

You blink, startled, eyes locking onto Shaiya’s concerned expression across the table. Her brows are slightly furrowed, lips tugged into a gentle frown.

You’d drifted again.

Your thoughts had wandered—slipped away from her words, from the crowded café, from the clatter of cups and the warmth of the sun spilling through the window.

You were thinking about him.

About Sylus.

About how his arms had felt around you.

How steady his heartbeat was.

How you let yourself lean in, even when the mark warmed beneath your skin like a quiet warning.

“Sorry,” you murmur, straightening in your seat. “I was… thinking.”

Shaiya softens, letting out a small sigh as she reaches for her drink.

“You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she says gently, not accusing—just noticing.

You force a small smile, fingers curling around your mug to hide the slight tremble.

If only she knew who you were thinking of.

And how much it wasn’t her soulmate.

“Just… soulmate,” you blurt, the word tumbling out before you can catch it.

Your heart stutters in your chest the moment you say it, the regret immediate and sharp.

Shaiya’s face lights up, eyes wide with surprise and sudden excitement.

Her hands nearly drop her fork, and she leans in, voice hushed but eager.

“Did you find him?” she asks, a hopeful smile blooming across her face.

You freeze.

There’s a second—a split, breathless second—where the truth rises in your throat like a wave.

That yes, you found him.

That it’s not a matter of who, but how painful it’s been.

That his name is carved in red into your skin.

And that her name is written on his.

But you don’t say any of that.

You just force a smile, one you hope doesn’t look too broken at the edges.

“Not exactly,” you say softly. “It’s complicated.”

How do you explain being loved—held—by someone who might be more than a stranger… but isn’t quite fate?

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your shoulders—casual, confident—and your breath catches in your throat.

The scent hits you first. That same sharp, clean cologne.

Then the warmth.

Then the voice.

“Why don’t you just tell her you did?” he drawls, low and unbothered, his tone laced with a kind of amused defiance that only he could make sound like an invitation.

Your heart stumbles.

You turn your head slowly and catch the now-familiar glint of white hair falling just over crimson eyes that look too pleased with themselves for someone who walked into your unraveling.

Sylus.

Of course it’s him.

You’re frozen, stunned, as your mark flares beneath your sleeve—burning a little brighter, a little wilder, as if it recognizes the chaos he’s just dropped into.

Shaiya’s eyes widen as she looks between the two of you.

“Oh,” she breathes, lips parting in surprise. “Is this…?”

And still, Sylus doesn’t move his arm.

He just smirks.

And you—

You can’t decide if you want to run, scream, or lean into him and let the world burn.

Sylus doesn’t miss a beat.

He gives a small, deliberate nod, his expression unreadable but his voice smooth as silk.

“Yes,” he says calmly. “I’m Y/N’s soulmate.”

The words land like a strike of lightning.

Shaiya freezes, her eyes wide, mouth parting in shock as she looks at him—then to you—then back again, like her mind is trying to catch up with the reality laid out in front of her.

You feel the burn instantly—sharp, searing, a violent protest beneath your skin.

Your mark is screaming.

But you smile anyway.

You lie through the pain like you’ve always done.

With practiced ease, you reach for Sylus’s arm, pulling him down to sit beside you.

His body is warm beside yours, grounding and steady in a way that only makes the burn worse.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft, your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “We’ve been… keeping it quiet.”

Shaiya blinks, still stunned, still searching your face for some confirmation that she hasn’t stepped into a dream.

You glance at Sylus, who is already watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

And all you can do is smile.

Even as your wrist burns like a brand.

Even as your heart threatens to give out beneath the weight of the lie.

Because in this moment—right here, right now—you just wanted to be chosen, even if it was a lie.

“Oh, that’s great! How did you guys meet?” Shaiya beams, already clutching your hands in excitement.

You glance toward Sylus, your heart a tangled mess of gratitude and quiet devastation.

He smirks faintly, unbothered.

“At a bar,” he says smoothly. “She toasted to unrequited love.”

You laugh softly, a breath too close to breaking.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes on him. “And he didn’t walk away.”

Shaiya claps her hands, practically glowing.

“Oh, I have to tell Zayne!” she exclaims, already pulling out her phone.

Your breath catches.

You stare at her, helpless, your pulse thudding in your ears.

There’s a flicker of panic—of heartbreak—just beneath the surface.

And then you feel it.

Sylus’s hand, warm and steady, closing over yours.

Silent. Certain. There.

You glance at him, and he doesn’t say anything—just holds your gaze, letting you borrow his strength.

So you smile.

Small. Fragile.

But real.

Even as the pain coils in your chest and your mark burns beneath your sleeve like a wound that won’t heal.

After the café, Shaiya darted off, excitement practically radiating from her as she called over her shoulder about celebrating soon.

You could only wave, sheepishly, watching her disappear into the crowd.

Beside you, Sylus chuckled, that familiar, low sound that always managed to cut through your thoughts.

You turned to him, brows furrowed, voice soft.

“Why?”

He glanced down at you, completely unfazed, and shrugged.

“Would you rather people think you were lonely for the rest of your life?” he asked, smirking. “Because you were giving off tragic energy.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

—•

A week passed.

And somehow, Sylus was everywhere.

In the hospital lobby, leaning against walls like he belonged there.

In the café line beside you, pretending it was coincidence.

On your lunch break, slipping you your favorite pastry like it was nothing.

You didn’t complain.

Even when your mark burned with every glance, every word, every moment spent too close.

Because his presence—while painful—was constant. Steady. Like a shield between you and everything else you couldn’t bear to face alone.

Now, you were in your office, signing off reports, when the door creaked open.

Zayne.

You looked up, startled, your eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there—something frayed at the edges.

Conflicted.

Still, for the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled at him.

Your mark responded immediately, pulsing beneath your sleeve.

“I heard from Shaiya,” he said, voice calm, measured. “You finally found him?”

You nodded, sheepish. “Yeah.”

He opens his mouth—stops. Looks at you.

“That’s… good,” he finishes, but it lands flat. Like he meant something else. Like he almost said it.

You ask, carefully, “Is everything okay?”

He nods. Smiles. Too polite.

“Yes. I’m just… glad.”

And as he turns to leave, your mark pulses—not from yearning this time, but from something worse, realization.

You’re left in the quiet hum of your office, with the sting of your mark flaring and a new ache settling deep in your chest.

Because this time, it wasn’t just unrequited.

It was almost.

Sylus enters not long after, silent as ever.

The room doesn’t announce him—he simply is, like a shadow slipping into light.

His eyes find you instantly.

You expect the usual smirk, the dry remark perched on his lips.

But instead—

He just looks at you.

And something in his expression softens.

Like all the sharp edges of him have momentarily dulled.

Like seeing you—tired, unraveling, still trying to hold it together—matters.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to.

“Why was he looking at me like that?” you ask, your voice cracking under the weight of it.

The question isn’t really for Sylus, but he hears it anyway.

It slips out before you can stop it—raw, unguarded, aching.

You’re not sure what hurts more.

The look in Zayne’s eyes, or the fact that it came too late.

Too late, when you’d already chosen to pretend.

Too late, when someone else had stepped in to hold you through the burn.

Sylus doesn’t answer right away.

He just steps closer, his gaze steady—never pitying.

“Because,” he says softly, “he’s starting to see what he never let himself feel.”

And the worst part is… you’re not sure that changes anything.

“That’s worse,” you whisper, the words breaking as they leave you. “That means he knew.”

The realization crashes over you like a wave—sharp, cold, merciless.

All this time.

All those quiet moments.

All the silence between your smiles.

He knew—and still chose someone else.

The first tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, then another, and suddenly you’re unraveling—slow, quiet, but completely.

And without a second’s hesitation, Sylus is beside you.

No questions. No hesitation.

Just arms around you, solid and warm, pulling you into him like he’s done this before—like he knows this pain.

You bury your face in his chest as the sobs come, muffled and broken, and he holds you tighter.

One hand in your hair, the other against your back, grounding you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

And for once, you believe it.

You look up at him, eyes glassy, voice trembling.

“That means he had a choice,” you whisper. “That the soulmate mark… meant nothing.”

The words feel heavy in your mouth, bitter and raw.

Because if Zayne knew—if he saw your love and still turned away—then the mark wasn’t fate.

It was just a cruel joke.

Something to cling to while he chose someone else.

Sylus holds your gaze, his own expression unreadable for a moment—quiet, intense.

Then he speaks, voice low and steady.

“It means the mark doesn’t make the choice. We do.”

He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, gentle in a way that undoes you.

“And he didn’t choose you,” he adds, soft but honest.

“But I would.”

You choke on a breath, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat.

“But you… you don’t have a mark. Not yet.”

Your voice wavers, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

Sylus doesn’t flinch.

Instead, a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips—wry, almost sad.

“I had mine removed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like it didn’t once cost him something.

“Years ago.”

You blink, stunned. “Why?”

His gaze lingers on you, softer now.

“Because I didn’t want fate to decide who I could love.”

Then, quieter—just for you:

“I wanted the choice to be mine.”

“Then… the girl,” you murmur, barely above a breath. “The one you loved…”

Your voice falters, unsure if you want to know the rest. But the question hangs there between you, fragile and trembling.

Sylus’s eyes dim slightly, the usual spark giving way to something quieter—something older.

“She never chose me,” he says, his voice low, steady. “Even before the mark showed up, I think I knew.”

He exhales through his nose, gaze drifting somewhere distant.

“And when it finally appeared,” he continues, “I already made a choice.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating.

You feel it—the familiar sting of being almost enough.

And as he looks back at you, something in your chest eases.

Not because the pain is gone.

But because he understands.

You wanted to feel happy.

Wanted to let Sylus’s words wrap around you, ease the ache, soften the hollow in your chest.

But the mark burned—sharp and relentless—like it knew you were trying to let go.

Like it refused to be ignored.

A cruel reminder that no matter how gently Sylus held you, no matter how steady his presence or how kind his eyes—

your heart still belonged somewhere else.

To someone who never asked for it.

And never wanted it.

And that was the worst part.

Because for once, someone was choosing you.

And still, some part of you couldn’t stop choosing him.

Sylus watched you quietly, his gaze lingering not on your tears, not on your mark, but on you—the part of you that still hadn’t healed.

He saw the way your fingers twitched, the way your eyes dropped to the floor like you were ashamed of your own heart.

And then, softly—gently—he spoke.

“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to choose me now.”

No pressure. No expectation.

Just understanding.

Because he knew what it was like to love someone who couldn’t let go of someone else.

And still, he stayed.

Not to replace. Not to compete.

But simply to be there.

You didn’t say anything.

You just leaned into him.

And Sylus opened his arms without a word, holding you like he’d been waiting—like he knew you would break again, and he’d already decided he’d be the one to catch you.

You let yourself cry.

Not the quiet, hidden kind, but the raw, aching sobs that shook your shoulders and spilled everything you’d been trying to bury.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t pull away.

He just held you.

Steady. Solid. Safe.

And in his arms, for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel it all.

—•

You stared up at the white ceiling, its endless blankness strangely comforting.

Sterile. Still. Silent.

The soft, steady beep of the machine beside you was the only sound in the room, each pulse reminding you that time was still moving forward, even if part of you hadn’t caught up yet.

It had been three months.

Three months since you stood in front of Zayne and smiled through your breaking heart.

Three months since Sylus stepped into your life with his sharp words and soft hands and gave you something you didn’t know you needed—space to fall apart.

Three months since everything changed.

And Sylus never left.

Not once.

He stayed through the confusion, through the aching nights when you couldn’t sleep and the mornings when the mark burned so violently you thought it might consume you.

He was there when you made the decision—tired, trembling—to pack your things and leave it all behind.

Zayne.

The hospital that held too many memories.

The city that never stopped reminding you of what you couldn’t have.

You moved somewhere quieter.

Somewhere you could breathe.

And now you were here—lying on a padded bed in a clean, white room, moments away from erasing the mark that had defined you for far too long.

You weren’t doing it to forget him.

You weren’t doing it out of spite.

You were doing it to reclaim your skin.

To stop punishing yourself for loving too much.

To stop letting fate write a story you never agreed to.

There was fear, yes—lingering at the edges of your thoughts like a shadow.

But there was peace, too.

Because this time, the choice was yours.

And just beyond the clinic door, waiting in the hallway like he always did, was Sylus.

Waiting—not to save you.

Just to be there when you returned. Whole. Scarred. Free.

The procedure wasn’t just to erase ink from your skin.

It was to quiet the fire.

To silence the part of you that still, after everything, ached for Zayne.

The part that stirred when you heard his voice in a memory, that still wondered what if, even when you knew the answer.

At first, you were afraid.

Afraid of what you’d lose.

Afraid that without the burn, without the mark, you might feel nothing—or worse, that the emptiness would linger.

But then you thought of him.

Of Sylus.

Of how he stayed when he had every reason not to.

Of the way he never asked you to love him, only to let him stand beside you.

And somehow, that gave you strength.

You closed your eyes, letting out a slow, shaking breath as the doctors moved around you.

The bed shifted beneath you as they began to wheel you away, the lights overhead passing in soft, distant flickers.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t look back.

But just before you crossed into the next room, you whispered it—soft, steady, final.

“Goodbye, Zayne.”

And this time, you meant it.

[xxfaithlynxx]

fate | rafayel | drabble

synopsis : Who are we to stand in the line of fate?

content : rafayel x non-mc!reader, cannon/non-cannon, Shaiya is an OC, angst

(Very very inspired by this here.)

To you, he was the star, the moon, and the sky—the entire universe strung together in the shape of a boy who laughed too brightly and looked too beautiful in the sunlight.

To him?

You were background noise. A quiet, fleeting presence. Someone he could blink away and never miss.

You stare at Rafayel now, his smile too wide, his hands squishing his own cheeks as he pouts at Shaiya in that annoyingly endearing way of his.

He’s rambling—something about the lack of dessert in the break room or the injustice of early morning patrols—but his voice has faded into white noise.

You’ve been somewhere else for the past five minutes.

Somewhere darker, quieter, lonelier.

Somewhere where your heart isn’t being wrung out like this.

You ignore the way it hurts.

Ignore the way his laugh, meant for someone else, sits like broken glass in your ribs.

He once told you, voice soft and almost reverent, the story of how he gave Shaiya his scale in another life.

My heart belongs to hers eternally, he’d said.

You only nodded. What else could you do?

The other option was crying until your chest cracked open and all your feelings poured out in ruin.

You glance at Shaiya.

She’s everything you’re not—effortlessly charming, golden and kind, with a laugh that people lean toward and a presence that feels like sunlight after winter.

She’s the first person who ever looked at you at the Hunter’s Association and didn’t look away.

She reached out, befriended you, made space for you in a world that never did.

That’s how you met Rafayel.

And now here you are—watching him fall in love with the person who led him to you.

How poetic.

How cruel.

You push yourself off the table, fingers curling against the edge as the nausea rises in your throat like a tide you can’t hold back.

“Alright, guys. I’m off,” you say, forcing your voice to sound normal—light, detached, as if you weren’t quietly bleeding beneath the skin.

Shaiya turns to you immediately, concern softening her features. “Wait, already? You sure you’re okay—?”

But him?

He doesn’t even look up.

Just lifts a hand in a lazy, distracted wave, eyes still locked on her like she hung the constellations he dreams under.

That’s what undoes you.

Not the pain—the indifference.

You offer them both a small smile, the kind you’ve mastered over time—the kind that hides everything and says nothing.

Then you walk away, not daring to look back.

If you did, you knew you’d shatter.

Once outside, the cold hits you like truth—sharp and biting. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, but it does nothing for the chill burrowed deep in your bones.

You feel stupid. So, so stupid.

What they have—it’s fate.

Already written, already woven into the threads of the world long before you even existed in it.

A love etched into lifetimes. A bond sealed by gods or stars or whatever cruel thing governs soulmates.

You knew that.

You always knew that.

So then why—

Why does your heart still break like this?

Why does it feel like you’re standing in the ruins of something that never even belonged to you?

Why does it hurt so much to love someone who was never yours to begin with?

You clench your jaw, breathe in the frost-laced air, and blink up at the sky, hoping the cold will numb more than just your fingers.

But it doesn’t.

It never does.

Because nothing numbs the kind of ache that lives inside your chest when you’re the leftover in someone else’s love story.

—•

You tap your finger against the desk absentmindedly, the rhythm uneven, fading in and out like a heartbeat too tired to keep pretending it’s whole.

Your mind drifts—

To the curve of his face in golden light, the way his smile tilts crooked when he’s teasing, how his hair falls into his eyes when he’s sketching, utterly focused and beautiful in a way that feels unreal.

And those eyes—striking, impossible, burning with colors that don’t belong in this world.

You used to think they saw you.

Really saw you.

Not just the way you lingered too long in his shadow or how you always laughed a little too late at his jokes.

But the quiet parts. The aching ones. The version of you that never quite fit anywhere.

But maybe that was just another illusion you spun for yourself—another thread you tugged loose in hopes it might unravel into something real.

You press your finger harder against the wood.

When did your heart become so traitorous?

When did longing become your default state?

You’re not foolish enough to believe you’re the first to fall in love with someone unreachable.

But it doesn’t make the ache any less specific.

Any less sharp.

You wonder what it would’ve felt like—

If he had looked at you the way he looks at her.

If fate had been kinder.

If you had met in a different life, one where his heart wasn’t already spoken for by memory and myth.

But you didn’t.

And here you are, loving him quietly, like a secret you’ll never speak out loud.

Like a prayer that never deserved to be answered.

You’re broken out of your trance when Shaiya slides onto your desk, her voice lilting and warm.

“What’s up with you?”

She’s smiling—always smiling—but there’s something softer tucked beneath it. Concern, maybe. Or pity.

You blink up at her, disoriented by how suddenly you’ve been pulled back into reality.

For a second, you forget how to hold your own expression together.

What do you even say to that?

I’m in love with someone who will never love me back, and it just so happens to be the person you’re bound to for eternity?

You don’t say anything.

You just look at her. Really look.

And for the first time, you realize how cruel the universe truly is.

Because it didn’t just give Rafayel someone to love.

It gave him her.

Bright, kind, magnetic Shaiya. The kind of person people gravitate toward without meaning to. The kind of person who lights up a room without even trying.

Even you weren’t immune. You liked her the moment you met her.

How could you not?

There isn’t a single flaw to cling to. Nothing to resent. Nothing to hate. She’s warm where you are quiet. Effortless where you are struggling. She talks to you like you matter. Makes space for you even when she doesn’t have to.

And somehow, that just makes everything hurt more.

You offer a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Just tired,” you say, voice barely above a murmur.

She doesn’t press. Just swings her legs lightly and chatters on about something—about Rafayel, probably. You’re not listening anymore.

Not really.

All you can think is that maybe the universe didn’t create her to laugh at you.

It created her to show you just how deeply you could never compare.

You punch down the ugly, snarling thing inside you—the one with claws made of envy and teeth that whisper you’ll never be enough.

It writhes in your chest anyway, bitter and relentless, but you school your features into something calmer, quieter, safer.

You turn to her, your voice casual, even light. “Don’t you have a mission today?”

Shaiya blinks, caught off guard for half a second before her usual brightness returns. “I do—later tonight. Some rogue activity in Sector Twelve. Nothing serious.”

Of course not. Nothing ever seems serious for her. She always makes it look easy—missions, friendships, love.

Even Rafayel.

Especially Rafayel.

She stretches her arms above her head and hums, “Figured I’d hang around until then. Besides, someone’s got to keep you company.”

You give her a short, noncommittal nod, forcing your lips into a half-smile you hope passes for polite.

She stays perched on your desk, legs swinging, babbling about field reports and malfunctioning tech, her words drifting around you like static.

And you let them. Because it’s easier than the silence. Easier than admitting that the monster inside you isn’t just jealousy—it’s grief.

Grief for a love that never had a beginning.

Grief for a story where you were never meant to be anything more than a footnote.

And still, you stay.

Because it’s better to be near him—near them—than to be alone with how empty you feel without him.

You found yourself at the shooting range, fingers trembling as you loaded the magazine, one round after another. The metallic clicks were sharp, final—like closing the door on every hope you didn’t have the courage to voice aloud.

You raised the pistol, lined your sight, and fired.

Each bullet was an echo of grief you never gave a voice to.

Bang. You’ll never be enough.

Bang. You’ll never compare.

Bang. He will never love you.

Bang. He won’t even look in your direction.

The sounds reverberated through the still air like accusations, like truths carved into the bones of the room. Your heart thudded violently against your ribs, not from the recoil—but from the crushing, bitter clarity of it all.

You reload, slow and methodical, the movement almost ritualistic now. One last round. One last truth.

You take aim.

Bang.

Who are you to stand in the line of fate?

The silence that follows is deafening. The smoke curls like regret in the air, wrapping around your wrists, your breath, your chest.

And you stand there, unmoving, with hands that remember his warmth and a heart that remembers how it felt to believe—if only for a moment—that maybe, maybe you were meant for something more than watching him love someone else.

But fate is cruel.

And you are just a girl with a gun in her hands and grief buried beneath her skin.

—•

“Have you seen Shaiya?” Rafayel asks as he strolls into your apartment like he owns the place—like you aren’t sitting on the floor trying to hold yourself together with fraying threads and shallow breaths.

You don’t look at him right away. Just tilt your head lazily over the couch, eyes heavy with exhaustion you can’t name. “She’s on a mission,” you murmur. “Sector 12.”

You wave him off, dismissive. Hoping he’ll get the hint and leave before you break.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he plops down beside your legs with that same careless grace he always has, as if he belongs here, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The warmth of him seeps into your space, your solitude, your silence. Uninvited. Unbothered.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer now, dipping into something almost tender.

Your breath catches, barely, like his words had teeth. You stare straight ahead, not at him—never at him.

Because if you do, your mask might slip. And he might see everything he was never meant to.

You laugh under your breath, hollow and sharp. “Do I look okay to you?”

There’s a pause.

And still, you don’t look at him. You can’t. Because he’s here—he’s here—and all you want to do is scream Why now? Why only when she’s not?

Why not when it could have meant something?

You hug your knees tighter, pressing your cheek to the fabric of your sleeve, trying to keep yourself from unraveling.

“Rafayel,” you whisper, the syllables fragile in your mouth. “What are you doing here?”

And though you don’t say it out loud, the real question lingers in the air between you:

Why are you always here when it’s too late?

His eyes narrow, the usual spark of mischief dulled into something sharper, something dangerous.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, low and serious, like he’s ready to burn down the world for an answer.

You almost laugh.

Not because it’s funny, but because he doesn’t see it—because the irony stings more than it soothes.

You, you want to say. You did this. Without even trying. Without even knowing.

But the words die in your throat, swallowed by pride, by fear, by the pathetic hope that maybe he’ll stay if you just keep pretending.

So you swallow the ache like you always do and shrug, smoothing the cracks in your voice until it almost sounds normal.

“It’s just a bad day,” you say, brushing him off with a weak smile. “Forget about it.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

Just stares at you like he’s trying to unravel a puzzle that’s missing too many pieces. And still, you keep smiling, keep pretending you’re whole.

Because if he knew—

If he really knew—

He might never come back.

And even if it hurts like hell, you’d rather have the ghost of him in your life than nothing at all.

Naturally. Because the universe doesn’t believe in mercy—only in timing that wounds with surgical precision.

One minute, you’re curled in on yourself, trying to disappear into the quiet, and the next, Rafayel is sweeping you off the floor like it’s instinct.

As if your heartbreak is his responsibility now, when it never was before.

“What are you doing?!” you burst out, hands gripping the front of his shirt, more startled than anything else.

He barely blinks.

“You’re going to sit,” he says, already nudging open your bedroom door with his foot, “and I’m going to take care of you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

He lays you down at the edge of your bed like you’re made of something breakable. His touch is gentle, absurdly so. As if he’s trying to patch up wounds he can’t even see.

Your lips tighten, your breath catching at the back of your throat.

You look at him, really look—and the pain in your chest coils tighter.

“Why now?” you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it. Raw. Unshielded.

Rafayel freezes.

His brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face, like he’s hearing a language he was never taught. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice low, uncertain.

And gods, that’s the worst part.

That he doesn’t know.

That he truly doesn’t see what he’s done to you.

You look away, because it’s too much—his kindness, his nearness, his obliviousness.

Because in his world, you were never anything more than a friend with a quiet smile.

But in yours?

He was everything.

“It’s nothing, just…”

Your voice falters, cracking like thin ice under too much weight.

“Just leave me alone.”

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You already feel too bare, too close to unraveling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shift in his expression—hesitation, confusion, something close to hurt.

And for a moment, it nearly breaks you.

He looks hurt.

He looks conflicted.

You almost laugh.

Because isn’t that just the punchline?

Why does he get to be wounded when you’re the one who’s been quietly carrying the torch, burning for him in silence?

When you’ve been holding the candle for someone who never even thought to look for the light?

Your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into fabric to keep yourself grounded.

He has no idea what he’s done.

No idea what it’s like to stand this close to someone and feel a thousand miles away.

To watch him reach for someone else with the same hands you used to dream would hold you.

So you swallow the laugh. The scream. The truth.

Because what good would it do now?

“Please,” you whisper, barely audible. “Just go.”

And this time, you don’t look to see if he does.

You hear it—soft shuffling behind you, hesitant footsteps on the floorboard, the faint rustle of fabric. He hasn’t left.

You turn around, ready to say it again, sharper this time. “Raf—”

But the word barely leaves your lips before his face is right there, inches from yours.

So close you can see the way his lashes catch the light, the faint flush along his cheekbones, the way his lips part like he wants to speak but can’t.

And then—those eyes.

Those impossible eyes, glowing somewhere between dusk and dawn, blue and pink and something otherworldly in between, all of it filled with a concern so raw it knocks the breath clean out of your lungs.

He doesn’t say a word.

He just looks at you. Like you’re not breaking. Like you’re not pushing him away with everything you have. Like you matter.

And you?

You go still.

Because what do you even say, when the person who’s been slowly undoing you without even realizing it is suddenly close enough to memorize the shape of your sadness?

Your throat tightens. Words vanish.

You’re left speechless, caught in the gravity of him, wondering what it means that he’s finally looking—but you’re not sure your heart can survive it.

“Wha—”

The sound barely scrapes past your lips before he cuts in, his voice low, careful, like he’s walking across something delicate.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he says. “Shaiya told me you’ve been staring off into the distance at work. Not answering when people call your name.”

You blink.

The words hit like a pebble tossed into still water—small, but enough to send everything rippling.

Shaiya told him?

He asked?

You stare at him, stunned.

For a second, the ache in your chest forgets how to twist. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the fact that, somewhere in his orbit, your name had drifted into conversation. That he noticed.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You hadn’t prepared for this—for him to see through you, even just a little.

“I…” you try, voice softer, unsteady. “You asked about me?”

His brows furrow slightly, like the answer should be obvious. “Of course I did.”

And just like that, your world tilts—just enough to make you wonder what it would’ve been like if he’d looked at you like this before you broke.

You couldn’t breathe.

The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and his gaze—so full of something you’d wanted for far too long—was suffocating.

You needed to get out.

Your chest tightened, pulse racing as the weight of everything—his nearness, his concern, the unbearable hope clawing its way back into your throat—crashed over you all at once.

“I— I need some air,” you muttered, already rising to your feet, heart in your throat, limbs moving before your mind could catch up.

You didn’t wait for him to respond.

You couldn’t. You just needed to move. To run. To escape before whatever held you together came undone.

Because if you stayed a second longer, you might’ve said it.

You might’ve said I love you.

And that was a truth you couldn’t afford to let slip—not when he was still in love with someone else.

Rafayel stared at the space you left behind, still warm with your presence, still echoing with the sound of your retreating footsteps.

His fists clenched slowly at his sides, jaw tightening as something sharp and unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

You were slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know why.

He replayed every word, every look, every tremble in your voice—and it hit him, sudden and brutal, like the tail-end of a wave he didn’t see coming.

There was something wrong.

And he’d seen it too late.

The air felt heavier without you in the room, the silence deafening.

And for the first time, Rafayel didn’t know what to say, or how to fix it, or why it hurt this much to watch you walk away.

His fingers flexed.

Because if someone had hurt you, he’d burn the world down.

—•

Your phone rang the next morning, cutting through the hush of waves and the distant cry of gulls. The sharp vibration against your thigh jolted you awake.

You blinked against the early light, skin damp with ocean mist, mouth dry with sleep and silence. It took a moment to realize where you were.

The beach.

You’d fallen asleep in the sand, curled in on yourself like the tide might take you if you let it.

Your jacket was pulled tight around you, half-covered in grains of salt and moonlight. The ache in your bones reminded you of last night—the panic, the closeness, the way Rafayel had looked at you like he finally saw you.

The phone kept ringing.

You fumbled for it, thumb swiping across the screen with sleep-clumsy hands, heart already sinking at the name that might be waiting.

Part of you hoped it was him.

Part of you hated that you hoped.

Because even now—with your cheeks kissed by cold wind and your heart cracked from trying to outrun the truth—he was still there. Still in your thoughts.

Still in the space where love had no business surviving.

“Where are you?”

Shaiya’s voice bursts through the speaker, sharp with worry, echoing in the quiet morning air. It makes you flinch, like guilt has teeth and just sank into your shoulder.

“I—” you begin, but your voice barely holds shape.

Then his voice cuts through hers—low, urgent, too close.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Rafayel.

Rafayel.

“I’ll come get you right now.”

You go still, the phone pressed against your ear like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. The sea murmurs behind you, waves brushing the shore like it’s breathing beside you.

Your heart pounds, wild and disoriented.

“Is that the sea?” he asks, sharp, and then—

“I’m coming. Stay where you are.”

The line goes dead.

You sit there in stunned silence, the phone still pressed to your ear long after the call ends. The wind brushes your cheeks, and for a moment you wonder if you imagined the entire thing.

Because… why now?

Why did he sound like you mattered? Why did his voice shake like that?

Why did he suddenly care—when you’d already convinced yourself he never did?

You sit there, still dazed, the phone limp in your hand, the sea brushing gently against the shore like it’s trying to comfort you.

And then—

You hear it.

Your name. Carried over the wind, frantic and raw.

“Y/N!”

You turn slowly, like your body’s moving through water, and there he is—Rafayel—running toward you across the sand, hair windswept, eyes wide, breathing like he’d sprinted across the whole city to get here.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate.

He drops to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your frame in a crushing embrace, pulling you into him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Oh god,” he breathes against your shoulder, voice trembling. “You’re okay.”

And for one fleeting, trembling moment—you feel it.

Hope.

Soft and shimmering in your chest like seafoam, fragile and glistening. You close your eyes and let yourself believe—just for a heartbeat—that maybe he came for you.

Maybe he chose you.

But fate has never been kind.

“Do you know how Shaiya felt after she found out you were missing?” he says, pulling back slightly, his hands still on your arms.

And just like that—

the moment shatters.

His words echo, cruel and sharp, ringing in your ears like a bell tolling for your delusion.

Of course.

He wasn’t worried because you were gone.

He was worried because she was.

You smile—small, broken, empty—and nod like it doesn’t hurt.

Like you hadn’t just imagined an entire world where he ran for you.

And as if the world hadn’t twisted the knife deep enough—she appeared.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Shaiya gasped, breathless as she stumbled down the dunes, cheeks flushed, hair tousled from running.

Her voice was laced with relief, eyes wide and glassy as they landed on you. She looked like she had been worried sick—like you were someone she couldn’t bear to lose.

You stared at her, stunned, caught between guilt and something heavier.

She was panting, hands on her knees, chest heaving with effort.

And beside you, Rafayel stood quickly, like gravity had suddenly remembered who he was supposed to be standing next to.

He took a step toward her. Not you.

Always her.

And in that moment, you realized the world didn’t just forget you—it remembered you only in relation to someone else.

A side character in their story. A shadow at the edge of someone else’s light.

You pressed your hands to the sand to steady yourself, head bowed, heart splintering in silence.

Because it was never really about you.

And it never would be.

“I didn’t realize,” you say quietly, your voice barely louder than the wind. “I fell asleep.”

It’s the truth, and not.

You fell asleep, yes—but more than that, you slipped. Out of yourself. Out of control. Out of hope.

Before the words can settle, Shaiya’s already moving—reaching out, pulling you to your feet with a strength that surprises you.

And then she hugs you. Tight.

Arms around your shoulders, face buried in your neck like she was afraid she wouldn’t find you again. You freeze for a moment, caught in the shock of it—her warmth, her worry, the weight of how much she cares.

And for a moment, you let yourself be held. Let yourself pretend this closeness doesn’t sting.

But your eyes lift, instinctively, over her shoulder—to him.

Rafayel is watching. Quiet. Still.

His expression unreadable, but his body turned slightly toward her. As always.

And as her arms tighten around you, all you can think is that,

You’re holding the person who loves him.

And he’s watching the person he loves.

And you are simply—

There.

—•

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again,” Shaiya scolds, her voice stern, hands working deftly as she wraps the bandages around your scraped, sand-bitten feet.

You hadn’t even realized you were barefoot. Hadn’t felt the sting of the shoreline or the rocks beneath your heels.

You’d been too caught in everything else—your thoughts, your feelings, your unspoken heartbreak.

You look down at her—at the way her brows furrow in concentration, the way her hands tremble just slightly despite how steady she tries to be.

She cares. Of course she does. She always has.

“Sorry,” you murmur, offering her a small, worn smile. One that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Because you weren’t sorry for falling asleep on the beach.

You were sorry for wanting to disappear.

To the side, Rafayel stands silent.

He hasn’t spoken since she arrived. Hasn’t moved from that spot.

But you can feel his gaze on you—steady, unreadable, heavy with something you’re too tired to decipher.

You don’t look at him. Not this time.

Because if you do, you’re afraid you’ll start to hope again.

And you’re not sure your heart can survive another betrayal like that.

Soon, Shaiya is called away—duty tugging her back into the world, into action, into a place where she belongs.

She gives you one last look, lingering at the door, her fingers squeezing your shoulder with silent affection before she’s gone, leaving only the sound of waves and the hush of your shallow breath behind.

And then—

you’re alone.

With him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak right away. The silence stretches between you, tense and brittle, until he takes a single, tentative step forward.

You flinch.

It’s instinctive. Small. But enough.

He freezes.

And then you see it—the way his expression falters, confusion folding into realization. His brows knit together, not in anger, but in something closer to hurt.

As if it hadn’t occurred to him—not really—that you might be afraid of him. Not because he’s dangerous, but because he’s the one holding the dagger you kept running into.

He frowns, quietly. As if he’s only now starting to see the shape of the damage. The bruises he left without ever laying a hand.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Like he knows now that any closer, and you might shatter.

“Why?” he says, quietly. Barely above a whisper.

It hangs in the air like smoke, curling into your chest, choking before you even have the chance to breathe it in.

You finally look at him.

His eyes are on you—soft, searching, and so unbearably gentle it makes you want to scream.

Because he doesn’t get to be gentle. Not now. Not when your heart has already learned to ache in silence.

Feigning ignorance, you offer the easiest escape:

“What do you mean?”

Your voice is hollow, even to your own ears.

Because you can’t say it.

You won’t say it.

You can’t tell him that it hurts—god, it hurts—seeing him with her, the way he smiles when he’s around her, the way his voice softens just for her. The way his whole world shifts in her direction, like it never had to for you.

You can’t say that every time he looks at her, it feels like a thousand quiet deaths.

That there’s nothing you can do about it.

No fate to change. No mark to rewrite.

That he was never meant to be yours.

You clench your jaw, lowering your gaze again before your eyes betray you.

Because how do you confess to a man who was written for someone else?

And worse—how do you stop loving him, when even silence tastes like his name?

His jaw tightens—just barely, but enough to see the flicker of something shift behind his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Frustration. Maybe both.

And then he turns.

No parting word. No final glance.

Just silence—cold and absolute—as he strides toward the door.

And then,

Bang.

The door slams shut behind him, loud enough to make you flinch, to rattle the air in your lungs.

It echoes through the room like an exclamation point to a conversation that never really began.

You’re left standing in the quiet aftermath, staring at the space where he’d been.

You’d wanted him to leave.

But not like that.

Not so angry. Not so broken.

Not without understanding the why behind your silence.

But maybe that’s what you deserve—for loving him in secret, for hoping in spite of fate, for carrying a heart that was never yours to offer.

The silence stretches.

And all at once, you realize—

you’ve never felt so completely, devastatingly alone.

[xxfaithlynxx]

𝔻𝕀𝔼 𝕎𝕀𝕋ℍ 𝔸 𝕊𝕄𝕀𝕃𝔼 - Caleb × MC

inspired by and dedicated to @solifloris <3

[xxfaithlynxx]

This is gold.

intimacy | rafayel

synopsis : You and Rafayel have been dating for almost a year. He’s the perfect man for you, sweet, caring, a little aloof but he’s also very good at making you safe. However, he’s never initiated contact with you beyond just a kiss. One girl talk later, you find yourself wondering if it was time to give it a try.

content : smut(well it’s more romance than actual smut), first time, no pull out, a little bit of awkward ness, rafayel x non-mc!reader, Shaiya is an OC, fluff, MDNI

writer’s note : i have no idea how to write smut, but I decided I should try to learn now LOL

You’ve been dating Rafayel for over a year now.

You first met him at the amusement park one evening, when you overheard a particularly dramatic sulk-fest about a missing cotton candy.

Apparently, some kid had “stolen” it from him.

You later found out his lady hunter friend had given it away.

Willingly and with a smile.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. Out loud. Before you could slap a hand over your mouth, it was too late.

Two pairs of eyes landed on you.

One, vaguely confused and highly entertained.

The other, hopelessly love-struck.

He asked for your number five minutes later, pressured—or really, bullied—by his lady hunter friend, who gave him a not-so-subtle jab in the ribs and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “grow a pair.”

The next day, he brought you to the sea.

Just a chill, no-pressure, totally-not-romantic beach date.

Until he asked you to be his girlfriend with all the nervous energy of a schoolboy confessing to his crush behind the gym.

And things just… took off.

You had café dates where you tried, and failed, to beat him at Kitty Cards.

You endured constant third-wheeling by his lady hunter friend, who took it upon herself to be your official ship captain—teasing the both of you mercilessly and often.

Despite the chaos, you were genuinely happy.

Life was good.

You had a boyfriend who was equal parts adorable and infuriating, and a new best friend who always had your back when said boyfriend decided to be a lovable idiot.

Then came the day it hit you.

Like a truck.

Or a surprise test.

You were lounging in your living room with Shaiya, legs tossed over your couch arm, when she peeked at you over a bag of chips and asked with a smirk, “So… have you two done it yet?”

You choked on your drink. “Excuse me?”

But before you could even mount a proper comeback, something clicked.

Wait.

Hold on.

In the ten months you'd been dating Rafayel, he hadn’t initiated anything even remotely intimate.

You gasped. “…No…”

The horror in your voice only made it worse.

That was all the invitation Shaiya needed. Your loveable—albeit infuriating—lady hunter friend burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubled over.

“Don’t laugh!” you hissed, watching her wipe away tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I was just asking for fun,” she said with a smug grin. “You’re the one who took it seriously. That’s one point for me, zero for you.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You’re right. He’s sweet. He’s an adorable puppy when we’re out and about, but I’ve never… thought of that.”

Her laughter softened, and so did her expression.

“Maybe it’ll happen soon. Don’t let it get you down.”

You threw her a half-hearted glare. “Now I’m insecure.”

That set her off again.

She laughed, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry! But it’s part of my job, being your personal third wheel and emotional instigator. Besides,” she leaned in slightly, her tone more sincere now, “if I don’t talk to you about this, who else will?”

You paused. She wasn’t wrong.

There weren’t many women in your life you could talk to like this. And the old lady who sold potato sticks outside the café definitely didn’t count.

You let out a quiet sigh. “I just… never really thought about that.”

Your voice dropped as the weight of the thought settled.

Shaiya reached out and rubbed your shoulder gently. “Hey. I’m sorry if I went too far.”

You gave her a faint smile. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

Your words drifted off.

It wasn’t like you actually wanted Rafayel to be intimate with you.

Well. Maybe you did.

But it had never been the point.

You liked the playful arguments. The way he curled around you on the couch when you were sick or too tired to move.

The quiet comfort of simply existing beside him while he just… was.

And somehow, that had always felt like more than enough.

A knock tapped gently against the doorframe.

Both you and Shaiya looked up.

Rafayel stood there, casually leaning against the wood, his dusky purple hair slightly tousled, a paint-stained jacket slung over one shoulder.

His mismatched eyes flicked to you, then to Shaiya, one brow raising with practiced laziness.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth and low, “should I be worried, or flattered?”

Shaiya grinned. “You’re always worried and flattered.”

“I prefer revered, personally.” His gaze settled on you, softer now. “Everything alright?”

Your heart hiccuped.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just… girl talk.”

“Dangerous territory.” He stepped in, the scent of charcoal and citrus trailing after him. “I could feel the emotional tension from the hallway.”

Shaiya laughed. “I should go before I get accused of emotional arson.”

She rose and headed to the door, whispering as she passed you, “Think about what we said.” Then she tossed a wink at Rafayel. “Be gentle with her.”

He gave a mocking bow. “Always.”

When the door clicked shut, silence settled between you two.

Not uncomfortable, but charged.

Rafayel stayed near the door for a moment, watching you.

Then he crossed the room and lowered himself beside you with a graceful kind of stillness, the way he always moved when he wasn’t performing for the world.

“She meant well,” he said, voice barely above a murmur. “But she rattled you.”

You looked at your hands. “She just… made me think about things I wasn’t ready to think about.”

His fingers brushed yours. “Things like me?”

You didn’t answer. He didn’t push.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, eyes searching your face—not with judgment, but a quiet kind of curiosity, as if trying to see what you were protecting.

“I never expected you to be ready,” he said finally, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

There was no playful smirk now. No lazy swagger.

Just Rafayel, stripped of all the performative charm. Just him—deep and devastating and completely real.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way he didn’t demand anything. Or the way he offered the truth so gently.

But maybe—just maybe—you were starting to think about him after all.

“Well…” you began, turning to face him slowly, unsure where the words would land.

“I mean… we’ve kissed. A few times.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that same unreadable calm, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Yeah…?” he said. “That’s normal, isn’t it?”

You nodded too quickly, then froze, your thoughts catching up to you a beat too late.

The memory of those kisses—soft, fleeting, innocent—brushed through your mind.

But then your thoughts slipped further, imagining what could come next. What might come next.

And suddenly, your face burned.

You glanced away, unable to hold his gaze now.

The idea of anything more than those kisses… anything more than the safe rhythm you’d settled into with Rafayel…

It felt daunting.

Especially when you looked at him.

Your boyfriend, with his tousled hair and teasing grin, who always reminded you of an affectionate puppy curled too close to the fire.

It was hard to align that image with the heat curling in your stomach.

Hard to reconcile the softness he gave you with the weight of want.

Rafayel leaned in a little, not close enough to crowd you, but enough for his voice to dip lower.

“Are you scared?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “I don’t know.”

And that was the truth.

You weren’t scared of him. Not really.

You trusted him with your life.

It was the idea. The change.

The possibility of crossing that invisible line where intimacy stopped being soft and started becoming something raw, something deeper, something you couldn’t undo.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease.

He just nodded, like he understood.

“Then we don’t rush,” he said simply. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

And that, somehow, made your heart ache more than if he’d kissed you right then and there.

Because he meant it.

Because he saw you.

“I mean…” you trailed off again, glancing at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you have… needs?”

The words hung in the air like fog—equal parts awkward, honest, and unintentionally hilarious.

You watched his expression shift, not in offense or surprise, but in that subtle way he always did when he was trying to read between your words.

There was no malice in your question. No pressure.

Just confusion.

Because it had started to gnaw at the edges of your thoughts—this quiet, growing need to understand him.

To repay him, even, in your own clumsy way.

For tying your shoelaces without being asked. For picking up the things you dropped when your hands were too full.

For tucking you in during thunder-heavy nights and crawling under the covers just to be near, to be warm, to be something steady when your world wasn’t.

For all the ways he took care of you without ever asking for anything in return.

And that’s what made it strange.

That he had never once initiated anything beyond a kiss.

Never reached for more.

Rafayel blinked slowly, his lips quirking—not into a smirk, but into something softer. Something unreadable.

“I have needs,” he said eventually, voice smooth, but not flippant. “But they’re not more important than you.”

You felt your breath catch.

“But… I want to make you happy,” you murmured. “Isn’t that part of it? Like… giving back?”

A shadow crossed his features, fleeting but there. He reached over, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone. “I do those things because I want to. Not because I expect something in return.”

You looked down at your joined hands.

“I just… thought maybe you were waiting. Or holding back. For me.”

“I am,” he said, without hesitation. “But that’s not a burden. That’s a choice.”

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, warm and unhurried.

“You’re not a debt to be paid. You’re a story I want to keep reading, one page at a time.”

Your cheeks flushed hot, your heart thrumming in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

It was the way he looked at you—like you were already enough.

And that, somehow, made you want him even more.

“But what if… I want to?”

Your voice was barely more than a breath, but it was enough to break the quiet between you.

You hesitantly lifted your gaze to him.

Rafayel’s expression softened immediately, as if the weight of your vulnerability wrapped around him like silk. Not fragile, but precious.

You felt nervous—tingly all over, your skin aware of every inch of space between you and him.

He was the first.

The first guy you’d let this close. The first who made it past the walls you didn’t even realize you’d built.

You’d never actually done it before.

Never crossed that invisible line with anyone.

And now, here you were—sitting beside the man who looked at you like you were made of starlight and sea glass. Like fire couldn’t burn him if it came from you.

“I…” You swallowed. “I’ve never done this. With anyone.”

Rafayel didn’t move at first. His gaze lingered on your face, absorbing every word you didn’t say.

Then, gently, he reached up—fingertips brushing the side of your cheek, slow and featherlight.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For trusting me with that.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, close enough that his forehead almost touched yours, but stopped short. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

“If you’re ready, really ready… then I’ll be whatever you need. I’ll move at your pace. I’ll hold you. Kiss you. Worship every inch of you.”

A flush bloomed down your neck.

“But if there’s even a sliver of doubt,” he continued, thumb brushing your jaw, “then I won’t lay a finger on you. Because I want all of you. Not just your body.”

You nodded slowly, your heart thrumming in your chest like wings caught in wind.

Rafayel didn’t ask again. He didn’t rush.

He just waited.

And something about that—about him—made your fear melt into something warm.

Something that felt like love.

You stayed still, your breath mingling with his, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

Rafayel didn’t move any closer. He didn’t try to sway your decision.

He just stayed there—close enough to feel, but far enough to wait.

Your fingers twitched against your lap before finding his. You laced them together, slowly, tentatively, and he squeezed once. Firm. Steady.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” you whispered. “But I know I want you.”

His smile was soft, almost pained in how tender it looked on him. His eyes shimmered—not with fire this time, but something far more fragile.

“You already have me,” he said.

There was no heat behind his words. No hunger, no pressure. Just truth.

And for the first time, that truth didn’t feel daunting. It felt like a quiet, open sky.

You leaned into him, letting your forehead touch his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you like you were something precious, not breakable—but worth protecting.

His breath came slow, steady, and you felt it rise and fall beneath your cheek.

No more words were needed.

No promises, no decisions.

Just this—warm skin, slow breaths, the sound of his heart beneath your ear.

He held you like that until your nerves melted into calm. Until the tremble in your hands faded into stillness.

And outside, the night rolled on, untouched.

—•

When you woke the next morning, everything felt soft.

The light was dim, filtered through the curtains in streaks of pale gold.

The room was still, quiet, heavy with the warmth of sleep.

You blinked slowly, disoriented at first, until the familiar scent of smoke and citrus drifted through your senses.

You shifted slightly.

That was when you felt it.

Something firm, pressing lightly against your lower belly.

You froze.

Rafayel was still asleep, his arm draped around your waist, his breathing slow and even beside your ear. His body curled protectively around you, one leg tangled with yours, holding you in place as if even in dreams he couldn’t bear to let go.

And you realized, slowly, that you were still on the couch.

The two of you must’ve fallen asleep like that last night, somewhere between hushed confessions and shared stillness.

You swallowed.

You had never noticed things like this before. You’d always been so… innocent.

But after yesterday—after Shaiya’s teasing and the conversation that followed—you were suddenly aware.

Aware of the way Rafayel’s body was pressed to yours.

Of the heat between you.

Of every subtle shift in his breath when your thighs brushed.

You felt your heart stutter in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck.

Not from fear.

But from knowing.

From finally understanding the unspoken gravity that came with loving someone like this.

You tilted your head, just slightly, watching him. His hair had fallen over his eyes, his expression soft, almost boyish in sleep.

Still, there was something undeniably real about him like this.

Vulnerable.

Human.

And maybe a little bit yours.

You closed your eyes again, pressing your face gently against his collarbone.

You weren’t ready for everything.

But you were ready to hold this moment.

To feel.

To want.

And to slowly, carefully, let yourself fall.

You weren’t sure how to do it.

Your knowledge was limited to a blurry, awkward twenty-minute video from sex ed in high school, filled with sterile diagrams and uncomfortable silence.

Nothing about it had prepared you for this.

For the quiet rise and fall of Rafayel’s chest beneath your cheek.

For the weight of his arm still around your waist. For the strange, beautiful ache blooming low in your belly—tender, unexplainable, but insistent.

There was no plan. No clear thought.

Just a need.

Something stirring and restless and new.

You shifted carefully, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt as you tilted your head.

Your lips brushed his collarbone.

Featherlight.

A second kiss followed. Then another.

Each one just a little more deliberate. A little more brave.

You felt it when he stirred.

The faint hitch in his breath.

The way his muscles tensed slightly beneath you, as though part of him was trying not to move.

But he didn’t stop you.

He stayed still. Waiting.

You kissed your way higher, barely skimming skin, heart hammering in your chest. It wasn’t about knowing what to do.

It was about feeling.

Rafayel shifted, just enough for his hand to find the small of your back.

Not pulling you closer—just resting there.

Warm. Grounding.

His voice came low and rough with sleep.

“…Y/N?”

You froze, your lips hovering near his throat. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

“Sorry,” you whispered, already pulling back. “I didn’t mean—”

His hand tightened just slightly, not to stop you, but to hold the moment in place.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured. “Just… tell me what you want.”

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Hair tousled, eyes still hazy with sleep, voice like smoldering embers.

He looked breathtaking like this.

And vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before—waiting for your answer, for your choice.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted softly.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Then we’ll learn together.”

There was no urgency in him. No hunger that would push past your hesitation.

Only patience. Only care.

And in that silence between your heartbeat and his, you realized this was what it meant to be ready.

Not to know everything.

But to want to share the unknown—with him.

Rafayel’s touch was warm against your back, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing circles as if he were trying to calm not just your nerves, but his own.

You felt the way your heart stammered against your ribs.

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but you knew one thing.

You wanted him.

Not just in the way people talked about behind closed doors, not just out of curiosity or some shallow idea of closeness.

You wanted this.

This softness.

This warmth.

The reverence in his voice.

The way he looked at you like you were something sacred.

You tilted your head, brushing another kiss over his collarbone.

He exhaled slowly, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

Your eyes met.

And even though your chest felt tight and your fingers trembled, you whispered, “I want to.”

His expression softened.

Not with desire—but with something deeper.

Something tender.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

You nodded. “I don’t know how. But I want it to be with you.”

Upon hearing that, there was a subtle flicker of something in his eyes.

Something that resembled desire.

Rafayel leaned in and kissed you, slow and full of meaning, as if he’d waited forever to be told that.

His lips moved against yours with care, slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing the shape of your mouth with every kiss.

He gave you space to breathe between them, never rushing, never pushing.

But then, something shifted.

A warmth, low and unfamiliar, unfurled beneath your belly—soft at first, then insistent.

You found yourself leaning into him, seeking more, like your body was moving on its own.

And when you exhaled a quiet moan into his mouth, you felt it.

The way his body tensed against yours.

Rafayel pulled back, barely, his forehead resting against yours as he fought for breath.

“I can’t hold back,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “not if you sound like that.”

His eyes met yours, no longer just soft with affection.

They burned now.

Still full of love, but threaded with something deeper—raw need, and desire so carefully restrained it made your chest ache.

You could see it in the way his jaw tightened. In the subtle tremor in his arm as he held himself still.

You reached up, brushing your thumb gently along his cheek.

And with a soft, trembling smile, you whispered, “Then don’t.”

His lips found yours again—this time with hunger.

There was no hesitation now, no careful pauses between kisses. Just heat. Intention.

You startled slightly at the sudden intensity, but his hands were already there, grounding you, guiding you—and soon enough, you melted into him.

The kiss deepened, breath hitching between the spaces where your mouths met.

Soft, involuntary sounds slipped from your throat—quiet, breathy mewls that you couldn’t have held back even if you tried.

And that was all it took.

Whatever restraint Rafayel had left unraveled, unraveling with the delicate curve of your waist beneath his palms, the way your fingers clutched at his shirt like you needed more of him.

His hands roamed now—reverent, searching, hungry. Not to claim, but to feel.

Desire poured off of him, thick and tangible, warm enough to set your skin alight beneath his touch.

And through it all, he still moved with care, even in his urgency.

As if your body was a canvas, and he wanted to memorize it with every brush of his hands.

Every kiss tasted like longing.

Every breath felt borrowed from something sacred.

And still, you wanted more.

When his fingers found the hem of your shirt, he stilled.

The heat between you didn’t fade, but his hands—once so eager—held still now, trembling faintly as his eyes rose to meet yours.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

It was written all over him.

The reverence. The restraint.

The barely contained desire he kept shackled beneath every careful breath.

You nodded.

Just once. But it was enough.

His jaw tensed, and he exhaled slowly, as though the motion alone steadied him. Then, with hands that betrayed nothing of the fire he felt, he lifted your shirt—inch by inch, never rushing, never daring to look away from your face.

As if watching for the moment you might change your mind.

But you didn’t.

You let him undress you with that quiet devotion, every movement full of patience, full of care.

His touch never once felt greedy.

Only awed.

As though this was something sacred. As though you were.

And in that silence between heartbeats, you realized—he wasn’t just touching your skin.

He was memorizing you.

His lips found your collarbone, warm and open, pressing kisses that trailed lower with aching slowness.

Each one was deliberate. Soft. Reverent.

You gasped, the sound catching somewhere between surprise and surrender, as a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

It was a sensation unlike anything you’d ever known—foreign, yes, but raw and deeply, inexplicably real.

His mouth moved against your skin like he was learning it, worshiping it. Like this was something sacred to him, something he didn’t dare rush.

Your breath came shallow now, fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt, the weight of his body a comforting warmth above yours.

Rafayel paused only to look up at you again, his lips brushing just below your throat, his voice low and rough with restraint.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, as if the words weren’t for you, but something he needed to say aloud. Something he needed you to know.

And with every kiss that followed, you believed him a little more.

You let yourself explore him with trembling hands—fingertips grazing along his collarbone, then gliding lower, over the firm lines of his chest and the warmth of his skin.

He felt solid beneath your touch, alive and real in a way that sent shivers across your spine.

Your palms traveled along the curve of his back, tracing the dips of muscle, the heat of him burning beneath your skin.

Rafayel inhaled sharply, his hands catching yours in his own, gripping them tightly.

Not to stop you.

But to hold you.

As if anchoring himself.

As if grounding you both in this fragile, precious space between hesitation and surrender.

His fingers wove through yours, then slowly guided your hands back to him, encouraging, wordless, wanting.

He made you feel safe even in your uncertainty—made you forget the quiet fear of not knowing what came next.

Because with him, it wasn’t about perfection.

It was about presence.

And the way his body reacted to yours—the slight tremble in his breath, the way his muscles tensed when your touch lingered—made something ache sweetly within you.

His mouth returned to your throat, kisses hotter now, lingering longer, trailing lower.

When his lips closed gently around your skin and sucked, your breath hitched, a soft sound leaving you without permission.

The friction of your bare skin against his, the growing heat, the mounting need between your legs—it was all overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

And when his hands slid down your sides, drawing you flush against him, every inch of you humming, you let yourself stop thinking.

You just felt.

You moaned again, breath catching sharply, when his fingers found your nipple—already sensitive, already aching for more.

The contact sent a jolt through your body, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Rafayel’s eyes darkened at the sound, and in one swift, practiced motion, he unclasped your bra, letting the fabric fall away.

Then came the heat of his mouth.

Warm. Wet.

You almost cried out at the sudden sensation—his tongue swirling, lips pulling gently around the peak of your breast.

It was overwhelming, the way he worshipped you, the way his mouth moved with such purpose and reverence that your spine arched off the couch.

You felt his hands on your hips, steadying you, holding you in place as he continued—slow, focused, unrelenting in the way he tasted you.

Your hands threaded through his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body writhed beneath his.

Every flick of his tongue sent sparks scattering through you, every subtle graze of his teeth made your thighs clench, the heat building between them unbearable.

And through it all, he never rushed.

He took his time—worshipping you like you were the only thing that existed.

And in that moment, in his arms, beneath his mouth, you felt like you were.

“R–Rafayel…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

Your fingers tangled into his lilac waves, clutching them tightly as your body instinctively arched into his mouth. You pulled him closer, unable to help yourself, craving more of his warmth—his weight, his worship.

He growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling against your skin like thunder.

The way his name spilled from your lips—it undid him.

His tongue returned to your nipple, this time slower, more deliberate, tracing teasing circles before flicking softly across the sensitive tip.

The sensation sent your breath stuttering, your moans spilling freely now, raw and unrestrained.

You could feel him pressing against you, his arousal impossible to ignore—thick and straining against his jeans, the heat of it pressing right into the growing ache between your thighs.

Even through the layers of fabric, the pressure made your body tremble, made you more aware of how badly you wanted him—every inch of him.

Your legs shifted instinctively, parting just enough to invite him closer, to let him settle between them.

He rose slowly, lips trailing up your body, peppering your skin with kisses as he came to hover over you. His breath was ragged now, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire, but still watching you—checking, searching, waiting for your consent.

His voice, when it came, was rough and strained.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Anything, and it’s yours.”

“You,” you breathed, barely able to form the word. “I want you.”

And with that, whatever thin thread of restraint Rafayel had been clinging to snapped.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was nothing like before—sloppy, desperate, filled with the kind of need that had been simmering far too long beneath the surface.

You gasped into his mouth, startled and breathless, but welcoming it—welcoming him.

His hands fumbled at the button of his jeans, the motion rushed, clumsy in a way that made your heart stutter. This wasn’t polished or perfect. This was real.

Raw.

Human.

And it made your chest ache with affection, even as your body burned for more.

He kissed you through it—deep and unrelenting—and when your lips parted on a shaky breath, he took the invitation without hesitation.

His tongue slid against yours, slow and claiming, exploring you like he had all the time in the world.

You whimpered beneath him, hips lifting instinctively as your thighs framed his waist, inviting him closer, pulling him in.

The heat of his body pressed into yours, every inch of him now impossibly close, and still it didn’t feel like enough.

You wanted all of him.

Not just the weight, the warmth, the passion.

You wanted the connection.

The kind that set fire to your body and soothed your soul all at once.

And Rafayel—he gave it.

Every kiss. Every touch. Every breath.

All of it, only ever for you.

He pulled away from the kiss, breathless, lips swollen and eyes dark with heat.

“I have to prepare you,” he murmured, voice husky and low. “Is that okay?”

You couldn’t find your voice, so you nodded—your body already trembling with anticipation.

Rafayel’s hands moved with care, helping you out of your underwear.

Every movement was gentle, reverent, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this.

You nearly cried out when you felt it.

Hot. Wet. Unbelievably intimate.

His tongue pressed firmly against your core, slow and purposeful, and your back arched instinctively off the couch.

Your toes curled, thighs snapping shut on instinct, but his strong hands were already there, holding you open, steady, as he groaned into you.

The sound vibrated through your skin, deep and raw, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you.

“So… sweet,” he breathed between licks, his voice thick with hunger and awe.

He devoured you slowly, like he had all the time in the world, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

Each stroke of his tongue was deliberate—teasing, tasting, coaxing soft, helpless sounds from your throat that only seemed to spur him on.

And all the while, his grip never loosened.

Like he needed to keep you close. Like he wanted you to fall apart in his hands.

And slowly, piece by piece, you did.

The sounds—wet, lewd, unrestrained—filled the quiet of your living room, echoing off the walls like a secret you were no longer trying to hide.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when he was between your thighs like this.

Not when Rafayel, your purple-haired boyfriend who always held you like you were something fragile, was now tasting you like you were something divine.

He buried himself between your legs with single-minded devotion, tongue gliding through your folds, slow at first, then firmer—more confident—as he found the places that made you gasp and twitch beneath his hold.

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your hips rolling into his mouth without thought, chasing every flick and swirl of his tongue.

He groaned again, the sound low and hungry, vibrating against your sensitive skin as he mouthed at you like he was drunk on the taste of you.

And maybe he was.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open wider, grounding you while your legs trembled around his shoulders.

You felt exposed, undone, utterly vulnerable.

But with him—there was no shame.

Only heat.

Only want.

Only the slow, steady build of something that was about to consume you whole.

Something coiled deep under your belly—tight and burning, like a knot drawn taut with every languid stroke of his tongue.

Your breath came in shaky gasps, the tension building faster than you could keep up with. Your body trembled, hips rising instinctively to meet his mouth, to chase the feeling you were terrified and desperate to reach.

Your fingers found his hair, sinking into the soft lilac strands, gripping tight as your body began to shake.

“R–Rafayel,” you gasped, your voice high and breathless.

He growled softly at the sound, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you as he doubled down, tongue flicking and pressing with deliberate, perfect rhythm.

The coil inside you tightened to the breaking point.

You were unraveling beneath him, your entire body flushed, teetering at the edge of something you had no words for—only feeling.

“Just let it go,” he cooed gently.

Rafayel’s hands never left you, his grip firm on your hips as he kept you grounded, held you open, guided you through it.

You felt yourself shatter.

Quietly.

Completely.

With his name on your lips and his mouth still worshipping you like you were something holy.

You were still shaking, the aftershocks rippling through your limbs like waves on a trembling shore.

Before you could catch your breath, his lips were on yours again—urgent, hungry, claiming.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, warm and heady, as he kissed you with a passion that made your head spin.

Your moan was muffled by his mouth, your mind hazy and dazed from the high you had barely begun to come down from.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as you felt him slide into you, slow but unrelenting.

You broke the kiss with a choked cry, the stretch overwhelming, unfamiliar, real.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, not exactly, but from the intensity of it all.

The sensation. The closeness. The raw, unfiltered reality of finally becoming one with him.

Rafayel stilled immediately, his hands cradling your face as he leaned in close, lips brushing your temple.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he whispered, over and over, each word a soft litany, a promise.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

He kissed the tears before they could fall, his forehead resting gently against yours.

His voice was low, trembling with restraint. “Just breathe… we’ll go slow. You’re safe.”

And with those words—his warmth, his love wrapping around you like silk—you let yourself relax into him.

Let yourself feel.

Because no matter how overwhelming this moment was.

You weren’t alone.

You had him.

All of him.

You rolled your hips slowly, cautiously at first, adjusting to the stretch of him inside you. The ache was still there—sharp at the edges—but with every slow grind, it dulled, softened, giving way to something deeper.

Something hotter.

You gasped softly as your body relaxed around him, the pain melting into a slow-burning pleasure that made your skin tingle and your breath catch.

Rafayel groaned above you, his jaw clenched, chest rising and falling as he fought to hold himself still beneath your careful rhythm.

His fingers gripped your waist, firm but reverent, like he was anchoring himself with you.

“God,” he hissed through his teeth, voice low and wrecked, “you’re so warm… so tight.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

He dipped his head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You feel like heaven.”

You whimpered, your thighs trembling around his hips as you moved again, grinding just enough to feel every inch of him drag deliciously along your walls.

He shuddered, his breath stuttering as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing at your skin, kissing and biting gently as your pace gradually built.

Each movement became easier, slicker, the room filled with the obscene, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

You moaned louder this time, your hands running over the planes of his back, nails dragging lightly as your hips met his again and again.

The friction, the fullness, the stretch—it overwhelmed you in the best way, your body burning, trembling, needing.

Rafayel lifted his head, eyes meeting yours, completely undone.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, thrusting into you with a slow, deep roll of his hips. “So perfect around me.”

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure began to spiral inside you again, tighter this time, urgent and all-consuming.

And as he began to move faster, matching your rhythm, all you could do was hold on—moaning his name like a prayer, unraveling piece by piece beneath him.

“Let me,” he whispered, voice rough with desire.

His hands slid firmly to your hips, holding you in place as to still you, then began to move.

The first thrust was slow, deep, dragging along every sensitive inch inside you.

You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, your head falling back as your body trembled from the sensation.

He set the rhythm carefully at first, hips rolling into you with steady, deliberate strokes. Each one made your breath catch, your core fluttering around him with need.

He moaned into your ear, low and broken, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“God… you feel so good,” he groaned, pace beginning to build.

You moaned as he picked up speed, your voice rising with every thrust—soft gasps giving way to louder, breathless cries as pleasure rippled through your body in waves.

Your walls clamped around him, clenching with every stroke, the friction maddening, perfect.

“R–Rafayel,” you choked out, your body rocking with his, overwhelmed by how full you felt, how completely he claimed every part of you.

He answered you with a kiss—hot, desperate—his mouth crashing into yours to swallow the sounds spilling from your lips.

You kissed him back, open-mouthed and hungry, moaning into him as his thrusts grew deeper, harder, the slap of skin echoing with every movement.

His hands roamed your body—palms sliding up your back, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts—never stopping, never breaking the rhythm as he lost himself in you.

You felt it building again, that heat coiling low in your belly, unbearable and perfect, and with every breathless grind of his hips, it drew tighter, closer.

He felt it too, in the way you pulsed around him, in the way your cries turned into sobs of pleasure against his mouth.

And still, he didn’t stop. He gave.

All of him.

Your body tightened around him, trembling with the rising pressure that coiled low and hot inside you, each thrust sending sparks down your spine.

Rafayel groaned against your mouth, hips moving harder now, more desperate, his rhythm faltering just slightly with the intensity.

“Fuck—” he breathed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wild with heat, pupils blown, flushed skin glowing under the low light. “You feel… so good around me. So fucking perfect.”

You cried out, voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision blur.

Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, your body clinging to him as if you could pull him even deeper, never wanting to let him go.

He grunted through gritted teeth, his control unraveling.

“Don’t hold back, cutie,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And you did.

Your nails dug into his back, your head thrown back with a loud moan as your orgasm crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.

You pulsed around him, muscles spasming, hips jerking as waves of heat tore through you, leaving you gasping his name like a plea.

He cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering again as you clenched around him.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me—”

His mouth fell open with a low, guttural groan as he thrust deep, grinding into you once, twice more before he came.

You felt it—the sharp, delicious jerk of his body as he spilled into you, heat flooding your core as he buried himself to the hilt, trembling through his release.

You moaned at the feeling of each rope, filling you up.

“God… Y/N,” he gasped against your neck, lips pressing against your sweat-slicked skin, “I love you. I love you.”

He kept whispering it, even as his body slowly stilled, even as he collapsed gently onto you, careful not to crush you beneath his weight.

The only sounds left were your shared, heavy breaths, your heart pounding against his chest, and the soft hush of his voice murmuring your name like a vow.

The world had gone quiet again.

Not silent—but still.

The kind of stillness that settles after a storm, where everything feels washed clean, softened by the weight of what had just been shared.

Rafayel lay above you, his forehead resting gently against yours, eyes still closed as he caught his breath.

Your bodies remained tangled, skin damp with sweat, his warmth wrapped around you like a blanket. Neither of you moved to speak at first. There was no need.

It was all there, in the quiet.

The trust.

The vulnerability.

The love.

After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing your hair gently from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

His thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, and he leaned in to press the softest kiss to your temple.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hushed and a little hoarse.

You nodded, too full to speak for a moment.

Then, “Yeah… I’m okay.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. He looked at you like you were something fragile, sacred, something he could never take for granted.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” you whispered. “You were… perfect.”

You saw the relief in his face, the way his shoulders finally relaxed.

And then he tucked you against his chest, his arms sliding around you, holding you close like he never wanted to let go.

Your head rested against the curve of his collarbone, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” you murmured. “Like… I could break apart and still be safe in your hands.”

He tightened his hold around you. “You are safe with me. Always.”

You lay there together, your fingers trailing gently over his chest, his hand drawing lazy circles along your back. The room was filled only with the sound of your breathing, the occasional quiet kiss he’d press to your hair, your forehead, your shoulder.

“Was it okay?” you asked, almost shyly.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Okay?” He gave a breathless laugh. “It was everything.”

Your lips met again—this time slow, sweet, lingering.

No hunger now. Just gratitude.

Intimate. Love.

And as he pulled the blanket up around you, as you curled tighter into his chest and let your eyes flutter closed, you realised.

You hadn’t just given yourself to him.

You had found yourself with him.

And he had held every part of you like it mattered.

Like you mattered.

[xxfaithlynxx]

Ordinary Introduction, Wedding Bells

Masterlist Word count: 1.8k Zayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: After seeing his best friend getting married to the love of her life, Zayne can't help but be a little jealous. He never had this feeling before. It's almost like he's longing for someone to love. At the wedding, she introduces him to a colleague who instantly forces him out of his comfort zone. Could this be love?

“Might just be the only picture I ever post and it's not even my own wedding. Thank you @/Millennialgreyhater for being my friend and involving me in the most important moments in your life. It was a true honor to be your best man. I wish you and Sylus the very best and hope I'll get to see you shine for all the years to come. Love, Zayne.” 

Zayne looks at the post he made hours ago again. It was meant to be sweet gesture for a friend, but now it seems his own words are nagging him. "Might just be the only picture I ever post and it's not even my own wedding." 

No, because it is her wedding. Because he has written love off long ago. Because he keeps choosing his career over relationships. Because his work is important. With the insane hours he works, it might as well be impossible to keep a relationship alive. Every girlfriend he's ever had either ends up accusing him of avoiding them, accusing him of cheating, or just bore of spending so little time with him. He's not exactly an exciting man, he knows that very well, but he won't say no when he's asked to do something. However, none of them ever did ask him out. 

Seeing his best friend, the one who always made time for him, get married to the love of her life who quite literally changed his whole life around for her... it makes him jealous. Jealous? No, it is not quite jealousy. It's this strange empty feeling in his chest. Like his heart is there and beating, but there's no warmth inside it. 

It's not an unfamiliar feeling to him. Actually, it is a quite regular feeling for him. But right here, right now, it seems to sting more than usual. Especially seeing his friend dancing with her husband like they haven't been through hell and back together. It's almost as if their love has erased all the problems they've had. 

Realistically, he knows that's not the truth. Zayne knows better than others how much effort it has taken those two to get together again. At moments it has been like pulling teeth, but they made it through because they wanted a future together. It seems a little unfair that they are able to get all of that and he's barely able to get someone who texts him back. 

But the love they share, that is something he wants too. Forgiving, outreaching, helpful, affectionate. Is that too much to ask for? At this point he figures it might as well be. Either way, he's happy for them. Happy enough that it slips out of his eyes and rolls over his cheeks. 

When the song for their first dance ends, she approaches him with outstretched hands, inviting him for a dance. Zayne quickly looks over her shoulder to Sylus, her husband, who gives him a nod. He takes her hand, a warmth spreading through his body. Familial love, a different kind of love but just as appreciated by Zayne. Together, they sway over the dance floor with Sylus’ gentle eyes watching his wife enjoying herself, smiling contently. 

'Zayne, I don't think I can ever thank you enough for all you've done for me, for us,' she tells him as she pulls him closer, overwhelmed by the feelings of the day, 'but still, thank you.' 

'I'd do it a million times to see you happy.' She smiles knowing that he truly means it. Her head lays down on his shoulder and he feels the slightest bit of envy when he looks over at Sylus, who looks proud as can be watching his beautiful wife. The man has it all. Everything Zayne just can't seem to get for himself. Happiness, stability, a partner to rely on. 

The happiness that has been granted to them seems a gift from the gods, truly. He can only hope and pray he'll find something like that for himself someday. 

Just when a strangely green feeling starts spreading in his chest, she lifts her head off his shoulder with a cheeky grin and a glint of mischief in her eyes, 'Remind me to introduce you to one of my colleagues. I think you'll like her.' 

'You must be doctor Zayne.' 

Zayne turns toward the voice, startled by how close it is. He almost jerks back from the person, but then, for a second – just a second – it feels like the air is being punched out of his lungs. The woman standing next to him is positively radiant, shining brighter than the sunset spilling through the sheer curtains hung on the venue's windows. Golden hour could learn a thing or two from you. And then you have the nerve to smile at him, wide and unapologetic, like you know exactly who you are and what you're doing. He feels like he's lighter, floating almost, and that terrifies him. 

'The bride told me a lot about you,' you say, your voice warm and teasing, like you're in on a joke that he's still trying to understand. 

'She did,' he questions, his tone carefully cautious. He's suddenly reminded of the bride's promise to introduce him to someone, to a colleague of hers. Are you... her? You tilt your head, your eyes catching the light, and he feels his stomach drop. 'Are you one of her colleagues?' He tries to sound more casual but fails miserably. 

You nod excitedly, then stop very suddenly, as if to rethink your answer. 'Well, yes and no. I get hired for my serviced every now and then. I'm an artist, but art doesn't always pay the bills, so I also do murals for her company occasionally.' 

An artist? Zayne glanced over at his friend on the dance floor, having fun with her new husband. She's staring at the two of them with the biggest grin on her face, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question why she would send a woman like you his way. But she just shrugs as if to say, "You're welcome." 

He turns back to you and offers you a polite smile; the kind you'd give a stranger who strikes up a conversation on the subway while you've got your headphones on. 'That's interesting,' he offers, his tone friendly but distant. 

You tilt her head again, this time a little more taunting, a slight frown playing on your eyebrows. 'Interesting,' you repeat, your voice laced with amusement, 'that's all you've got?' 

Zayne feels a flicker of guilt, but he pushes it down. Here he stands with this beautiful radiant woman who is giving him the time of day, but he knows this will go nowhere. No matter how much he likes your smile or the way your eyes seem to see right through him. There is no way you'll be able to forgive that his heart belongs first and foremost to his work. How could you? You don't know him. 

But you're not giving up. You're not walking away. You don't even seem hurt by his cold words. Instead, you almost look like you've been challenged. And it looks like you like a challenge. 

'She told me you can be a little too serious sometimes,' you say, leaning in slightly. It almost sounds like an insult, but there's that same glimmer of mischief in your eyes that he saw in his friend's eyes earlier and your voice sweet as if honey drips right off your words. 

'Did she now?' Zayne replies, crossing his arms. He's not too sure if he's annoyed or intrigued, but there's a good chance that it's both. 

You grin, undeterred. 'She did. And I think she's right.' Then, you pause to study him for a moment. Your eyes run over his whole exterior, looking at the details of his neat, well-fitted suit, inspecting the details of his face. It almost makes him a little nervous. Almost. 'If you could paint your life, what color would it be?' 

The question catches him off guard. It's random, yet thought-provoking, and completely unexpected. Zayne opens his mouth to deflect, to say something safe and noncommittal, to protect himself, but the honesty in her gaze makes him stop in his tracks. 

'Gray,' he admits before he can stop himself. 

You laugh, a bright melodic sound, a heavenly sound that makes something in his chest tighten. 'Gray,' you repeat, shaking your head. 'We'll have to fix that.' 

Zayne blinks, unsure of how to respond. 'Fix it?' 

'Yeah,' you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 'Life's too short to be gray. You need some color. Some... chaos.' The way you look at him implies you mean yourself, as if you're the living embodiment of both. The color part he understands and the chaos part... it's making more and more sense to him with every word spoken between them. 

Zayne can't help but smile a little, just a little. 'Chaos, huh? I'm not sure I'm built for chaos.' 

'Everyone is built for chaos,' you counter, your eyes sparkling with excitement, 'you just have to let yourself enjoy it.' 

Before he can say anything else, you grab his hand, your fingers warm and he notices the colorful stains on them. He imagines they are paint stains of some kind. 'Come on doctor,' you say, tugging him towards the dance floor.  

Zayne hesitates, glancing at the bride once more, who is now watching them with an expression of pure delight. He sighs, knowing he's already lost this battle. She will call him in a few days and pester him about you, begging him to take her out. 

'Alright,' he sighs, letting you pull him into the crowd, 'but I'm warning you, I'm not a good dancer.' 

You grin over her shoulder. 'Good thing I'm not either.' 

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Zayne laughs – really laughs – as they stumble around the dance floor together. You must look like a bunch of children at a school party, but for, what feels like, the first time in his life he doesn't really care. 

When he gets home from the party, he realizes he hasn't even asked your name, nor your number. The whole night feels like a blur, like a happy lucid dream. He was on cloud nine and in a few days he's in a sterile hospital again. Strange how a night like this can feel so different from his everyday life. 

He sighs. At least it'll be a beautiful memory. Just when he wants to get undressed to take a shower, his phone buzzes. 

"Hey, I asked our beautiful bride for your number, I hope you don't mind. What are you doing next Wednesday?" 

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[xxfaithlynxx]

Cosmic Path

Word Count: 9k (9479) I am so not sorry.

BETA-READ!

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ �� ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Chapter 15:

SYLUS

Ω  ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶  Ω

‘Fuck… she smells so good.’

Now, now, Sylus. Deep breaths. This is neither the time nor place to lose control! 

‘Shut it, hound… I am breathing.’ He took a deep breath, ‘She just smells– so– good.’

Yes she does… but Sylus, you need to regain your control. You are scaring her.

That was enough to bring Sylus’ mind to an abrupt halt. The weight of his desire, his need for her snuffed out with four words. I’m scaring her? 

He’d blacked out when she kissed him, Hell… he’d partially blacked out when he heard her say that she loved him, and that she’d heard him say those same words the night prior. He wanted to tell her all morning, say it to her beautiful face directly instead of hiding behind the cloak of sleep, and then she’d asked about him biting her, and then Sirius had come barging into his head like a bull in a China shop, screaming about how something Stayrus had mentioned in passing had made her doubt her feelings, but now– after all of the chaos this morning– he knew she’d heard him, and not only accepted his feelings but returned them as well! 

When she kissed him, his mind went catatonic. All that powered him was her scent. It was an overwhelming sweetness that clung to him like morning dew. He’d felt the need for her, to dominate and claim her blossom in his gut when she’d tried to move away, and he’d found himself following after those glorious lips of hers, after that scent of hers, like the ambrosia of the Gods.

He was disappointed in himself for trying to push her too far. For nearly losing all of his normally trained control. Thankfully it had only been a kiss, and a few love nibbles and nothing that could tarnish their still new, still fresh connection. 

She’d managed to push past him, even keeping herself together better than he did. 

You have, maybe, seventy-two hours before your rut, Sylus. With her being here, and her pheromones being as chaotic as they already are when you are together, I would give her the same time frame. The two of your cycles are syncing up faster than I expected. As I have told her already, this will get harder before it gets easier. 

It took a moment, but Sylus recognized Siri’s presence beside Stayrus’. Her words were agitated, but soft. She’s worried about you. She will need to nest… even if it is out in the wilderness, before we arrive on your lands, Sylus, she will need you with her. This is non-negotiable, you know that. 

Sylus squeezed his eyes shut, hearing Siri’s voice, the concern etched into every syllable. 

‘We aren’t going to make it to my pack lands… I’ll try and get us as far as I can, but there is still so much land to cover.’

Do what you can, dear Sylus. She’s counting on you… just as much as you’re counting on her. Siri’s words brought him up short just as he’d managed to heave himself to his feet. The hand he had gripping the back of the chair tightened, what had she meant by that? That he was also counting on Ori? As in he was counting on her as a mate? To stay beside him? 

No, the way the wolf had said it, she’d meant it as something deeper. 

He’d dwell on that later. Right now, he had to get himself together and then they needed to leave. 

Giving his head a shake, and taking a couple more deep breaths, he finally turned to his mate. She stood beside the bed, his duffle slung over her shoulder, the heavy weight of the pack hanging low against her hip. It almost dwarfed her. 

The moment his eyes met hers, he saw the fear there, only seconds later felt it down their connection. He had scared her… and that made him feel sick to his stomach. Disappointment flooded his mind, his nerves, and he slammed a wall down over their connection. She didn’t need to feel that. Grinding his teeth, he took a step toward her and watched as she took a tentative one backwards, causing her knees to brush the edge of the bed. 

He bit his tongue and lowered his gaze before nodding lightly, silently. He schooled his features into the ones he’d used before meeting her, before . 

Keeping his eyes away from hers, he stepped forward and slipped the bag off her shoulder. Somehow doing so without even brushing his fingers against her. He heard Stayrus whine in his head then, he didn’t need to shut down emotionally… but that was what he chose to do. 

‘I scared her, Stayrus… I did. I never wanted to scare her. You saw the way she looked at me, I may as well have hit her.’ His wolf quieted after that. If doing this also kept his rut at bay, then so be it.

He stepped towards the main door, knelt down to pull on his knee high leather boots and turned to half face her. Keeping his tone even, “We’re running out of time. Let’s go.” 

He didn’t wait for her, as soon as the words were out of his mouth– he turned, opened the door and walked out. 

—

It was killing him already to feel so separated from her. He knew she felt it when he’d cut off their connection. He knew this must be so confusing to her, not only that… she must feel like he was rejecting her. 

He was seated on the Harley when he saw her trudge through the main doors of the building. Those squealing sliding doors gave her away. Unbidden tears sprang to the corners of his eyes when he saw just how torn apart she looked. Her arms tightly wound around her middle, her hair hidden beneath the hood of the hoodie. He breathed a shaky sigh, this was going to kill him. Her pheromones were everywhere, but so were her emotions. Leaking into the atmosphere around him just like the now subtle scent of her impending heat. 

Stayrus had been blissfully silent, but as he watched her approach he could see she was talking with Siri, even from beneath her hood, he could tell and then her eyes flashed red and he knew where his wolf was. Group chatting with his mate… wonderful. He knew that if he tried to explain this situation to her, he’d break down. Tear down the barrier he’d placed between them, take her then and now. He only hoped that Stayrus and Siri could explain it enough where she didn’t feel like he was betraying their bond, and rejecting her. 

That was the last thing he was doing, or wanted. 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he silently handed her her helmet. He ground his teeth together as he watched how mechanically she took the glossy black protection and slid it over her head.

Without thinking, he reached out. Tipping her head up as he fastened the clip under her chin. It’d been an automatic response, but when his fingers brushed over the curve of her throat, he felt his body respond to the heat of her skin. His back twitched and he gasped. Fucking Hells… This was going to kill him. 

As the speakers kicked on and the bluetooth walkie-talkies connected, he heard her voice. Soft and almost lost say, “Thank you.” Sighing, he reached behind him to fold down the foot pegs for her to maneuver herself up and onto the bike. When he felt her small hand grip his shoulder, he froze, but remained in place as she hefted herself up and over, straddling her thighs on either side of him, causing yet another coil of heat to curl within his gut. 

“Hang on, sweetie.” He rolled the bike backwards, and when he was sure he could make the U to get back to the highway, he geared the machine and rolled the accelerator, her arms sliding around his waist as they sped forward. 

Once out on the open road, Sylus let his mind wander. Trying not to focus on his little Omega seated directly behind him. Her little arms tightly hugging him, the soft breaths he could hear through the com system. The pressure of her chest against the surface of his back. 

Instead, he retreated further into his mind. 

Sirius’ words coming back to him. Does she know? Had Stayrus told her? 

There’d been many reasons why he had wandered this way as a loner and rogue. He loved the west coast, and Liam’s pack had been just north of one of the western most cities. From his vantage on the property his father and he had visited long ago, one could easily see the shocking deep blue color of the ocean. The calm serenity of it, just watching the waves lick the shore. The silence of the night on that pack land. There was very little, or no smog in the atmosphere and one could see the beauty that filled the sky. Every dot of light, every star. The milky way, bright and majestic as it stretched over the expanse above. The glowing auroras on Liam’s land far surpassed the ones he’d seen on his father’s. 

He’d seen the Ashmourn twins exactly once, and only in passing. Being three years younger than he was, he’d seen them flit down a hall while he and his father were conversing with Liam about how things on the pack lands were going, a truly dull conversation- hence why Sylus had seen the girls run by. One with white blonde hair, while the other had golden blonde was what had caught his attention as they streaked by, giggles and laughter following them down the hallway. Followed closely behind by their mother, a beauty of a woman. Tall with braided blonde hair and sharp dual colored eyes, one a sky blue- the other a striking emerald green. Alpha Liam introduced her as Vivica Ashmourn. She bore an alarming reflection to his mother, and only after asking did Sylus learn that she was in fact related to his mother, her third cousin on her father’s side. That information had mattered little to him at the time.

It’d been before he presented when his father first took him to see the Ashmourn Alpha. Sylus had known there was a reason behind the visit, though his father had never told him, at least… not until the man was on his deathbed, taking his remaining breaths. 

Liam was an Enigma. The only one of his presentation, for there could only be one at any given time in the world. Sylus had later learned his father’s thoughts that if he hadn’t felt the bond with Aurora, that the old man had hoped that he would find love with one of Liam’s daughters, to strengthen the legacy, the blood line. Much like Sylus’ mother had done when she mated Aksel , his father. Liam had explained the situation where he had presented as the Enigma. 

It’d been several years since he initially presented as an Alpha, he’d presented early at the age of eight. It was his thirty-third birthday. After looking after his pack, after finding his mate, and siring his daughters. He’d woken up one night in what he felt like was an average rut. He’d mentioned how it had come on early, or so it seemed. His mate did her due diligence in trying to alleviate his body’s needs and desires, but he said that she even knew something was amiss about the entire event. 

He’d said how their cycles had been synced for more than a decade. That as she helped him through the ordeal, how it wouldn’t seem to cease. He had to remain secluded in a room in their house that had been fortified and armored to protect the girls and his mate because of his aggression and mood swings. 

Sylus learned that Liam strongly believed that the Goddess had chosen him as the Enigma, and that he’d done some research into that presentation, only finding that there hadn’t been many written or visual accounts in the last hundred years. Liam had presented as the first documented Enigma in over a century. 

It was when Sylus had asked the question of why his father had brought him to meet Liam that Sylus learned something else. His father had it in his head that the next Enigma– was him . 

As he thought about all of that now, with the littlest of the twins, his and an omega, clinging to him on the back of his bike. After the experiences and the knowledge that he’d learned. He never expected things to turn out this way. For fate to not only bring most of his father’s words to fruition, to also find a mate within one of the Ashmourn girls, especially after Aurora. 

Everything that had transpired between Liam and Sylus’ father seemed like a fever dream now. They’d been friends, the two men… Liam and Aksel. Though Sylus could never understand how and why his father got it in his head that his son was the next Enigma, had he known something then? There could only be one in a lifetime, had he known that something was going to happen to Liam? If so, how?  

Giving his head a shake, feeling the helmet sway slightly from the movement, his mind focused back on reality. His eyes flitted over the passing scenery– he’d zoned out, but managed to follow the traffic, and road laws without issue as he’d driven. He could feel the warmth of Ori pressed up against him, though the pressure of her head laying heavily against his shoulders told him she was asleep. Looking down, he noticed that she’d tied the ends of her sleeves together around his waist as a ballast to keep her in place and upright. He was thankful he’d gotten the backrest to the passenger seat last minute after having the bike fully customized. The backrest itself would keep her on the bike as it almost hugged around a person’s hips and lower back while riding. 

Sighing, he looked down at the gauges and saw he was already getting low on fuel. Checking his six, he switched on the blinker, shoulder checked and eased into the left lane. A station that didn’t look too busy was in view, and he wanted to get it over with now, before needing to worry about it later. 

He was preparing himself mentally for the onslaught of Omega pheromones as he turned into the lot, and up to one of the six pumps. He rarely glanced at prices, but somehow found himself doing so now. The prices had gone up, drastically, since that little gas bar in the boonies. 

He tapped on Ori’s knee as he folded the kickstand out, “Sweetie, hey…” He rubbed a hand up and down her knee and thigh, “Ori~” He sing-songed her name through the mic. Hearing the soft sound she made as she woke up, he felt a part of the wall he’d put up between them melt a little. 

“Mmn, Sy?” He felt her head lift off of his shoulder and the momentum of her head swinging from side to side as she looked around. “Where are we?” 

“Just stopping to top up, sweetheart.” His resolve to stay cold and distant shattered the moment he heard her voice. She was by far the most adorable little kitten right after she woke up. Making little squeaks and soft mewling noises as she stretched and rolled her shoulders. 

“Think you can balance while I fill her up?” He asked, untying her sleeves from around his waist. He knew the hoodie probably would be stretched a little now, but he no longer cared. As long as she was comfortable, that’s all that mattered. 

He felt her nod, the jaw of the helmet smacking him on the shoulder as she swayed slightly, making him chuckle, “Really? You sure?” He swung his right leg up and over the windscreen, before swiveling left on the leather seat to look at her. 

She was leaning heavily on the backrest, even though it only came up to just below her mid back. Her visor had been pushed up half way, and he could see her eyes. Blinking slowly as her head bobbed and swayed in little increments from side to side. 

“I’ll be…” She suddenly yawned, making his eyes widen slightly as they followed the motion of her mouth from inside her helmet, “...fine.” she finished after her mouth snapped shut. 

He smirked, “I’m sure I can get you something to help wake you up while we’re here. Would you like that, kitten ?” The new nickname fit her, he realized. Deciding right then and there that he’d start using it more often, even though he was sure Sirius and Ori would have something to say. 

Speaking of their wolf spirits, they’d been abnormally silent, absent even. He couldn’t feel Stayrus at all. Having finally formed their own cosmic bond, they were probably together… doing whatever it was that Spirits of their caliber did when they found their other half. Which, Sylus guessed, wasn’t very far off from what the shifter or human did when they found theirs. 

He focused on Ori again, seeing her still swaying slightly, but also nodding to his question. Obliviously, she seemed too tired to make a comment about the new nickname, but he was sure after a few times of using it, she’d eventually make a comment about it. 

“Okay, stay put. Try not to fall off, or I’ll buckle you down next time.” He gestured to one of the saddle boxes, where he kept a couple ratchet straps for mechanical use or if he needed something strapped down that was slightly bigger than one of the boxes or if he had a trailer hooked up. 

The softest giggle came through the coms, making him smile as he reached up to rest a hand on the top of her helmet. Stabilizing her head upright as she’d started to lean to one side. 

“I’m serious, kitten. If you fall off…” He moved his hand down to grip the edge of the helmet, forcing her to look at him, the motion jarring her awake a little more. When he was sure he had her attention, he smiled, “...I will tie you down, and I will spank you . Got it?”

He saw her eyes widen, and a spark of defiance and if he wasn’t mistaken challenge flashed over those blue iris’, but she only nodded in response. “O- okay.” 

Releasing her, he noticed that she was indeed far more awake than she was barely a minute ago. He winked at her before turning to start the process of uncapping the tank, grabbing the correct dispenser nozzle and slotting it into the opening of the tank before pulling the trigger to start filling it. Unlike four-wheeled vehicles, a person needed to watch for the gasoline level in a motorcycle. Could spell disaster if there was an overflow– which he’d experienced before with one of his first bikes from years ago. 

Once that was completed, he reversed the process. Replacing the dispenser nozzle, before turning back to twist the gas cap back into place. He glanced up at her, and found her watching him; causing him to smirk, as she was no longer swaying. “Have you decided what you would like? Or would you like me to surprise you?”

“Coffee.” 

He chuckled, “Coming right up, kitten. ” Tossing her another wink, he unstrapped and popped open the box with the duffle and retrieved his wallet before closing it, locking it and turning to head into the building. He was about to pull open the door when he heard her call out from behind him. 

“Wait, did you just call me kitten ?” 

His only response was a boisterous laugh before pulling the door open and stepping inside. 

Inside the building, he took in the shelves of snacks and junk food. The small row of cheap condoms and bottles of lube. First aid and medical items. Racks of magazines of all types. Porn, vehicle, beauty, health, you name it. More tall spinning racks of cords for charging electronics, and sunglasses. 

Along the closest wall, pressed up against the front window was a thin white counter, situated behind that was a large counter with coffee and tea stations. Napkins, creamers and sugars of all sorts were bunched around those. 

Looking to his left, he found the cashier counter, small as it was, before further down had heating implements to keep the cheaper fresh (he used that term very loosely) foods like taquitos, hot dogs and pizza warm. Along the far wall was a long slushie machine with at least eight different flavors. Beside each side of the machine were tall racks with straws and lids. 

And, finally in the far corner beyond all of the shelving was what he was looking for. The cooler units. He’d taken a moment to stretch as he’d come in, scanning the building. He noted the cameras in each corner of the lit room, even though he was sure two of those weren’t meant to be easily seen. 

“Good afternoon, Sir!” Sylus nodded a greeting in response to the cashier’s call, before stepping around the last shelf, heading directly to the energy drink side of the coolers. Standing in front, he was sure she’d probably never even heard of some of these, let alone tried any. The contemplation had him with one arm crossed over his chest while the other bent to tap a finger against his temple. 

She’d said she wanted coffee… He thought to himself, running his thumb over his chin. Eyeing the contents of the freezer. He sighed at the meager choices before swinging the door open, the cold chill hitting him in the face as he reached inside, settling on a bottle of Starbucks Mocha frappuccino for her. He remembered them being decent. For himself he squatted down and retrieved a large can of green Monster energy. Typically he wouldn’t dare touch this shit, but today he was making an exception. They needed to get to his pack land, and fast.

With the drinks tucked under his arm, he proceeded back to the front of the store. Snagging a couple small bags of chips and a few chocolate bars. 

Stepping up to the counter, “Forty on pump,” he turned his head to look outside for the pump number but also to check on her. “Pump four.” The last word tapered off as he saw she was now standing beside the bike, arms crossed over her chest as her head was shaking furiously from side to side. 

His brows pulled together as the cashier rang him through and bagged his purchases before tapping on the screen a few times. “Will that be cash or credit, Sir?” 

Without looking, he pulled his card from his wallet and held it up between two fingers. He heard the cashier make a noise before punching something else on the screen, “Whenever you’re ready, Sir.” He tapped the plastic square over the machine, and immediately grabbed the bag upon the confirmation beep, not that he thought he’d have a problem. 

His eyes, narrowed and steely, were glued to the woman outside, what was happening? 

“Thank you, Sir. Have a good day.” Sylus couldn’t help but think that this guy needed a raise, alone in this building and still able to keep the customer service voice even though in the fellows eyes he’d noticed with one glance that the man was not having a very good day, if anything, Sylus could smell something off about him. He smelled sick, not like an immunity sickness… something else. 

“Thank you. You too.” Sylus quickly responded as he stepped towards the door. Normally he would get quickly annoyed by the tone of a person’s customer service voice, but this man… he didn’t want to make the man’s day worse, so he responded in kind. His mind was more focused on Ori than it was focusing on something like that anyway.

Once he’d shouldered his way out the door, he heard talking. Not her voice, but a man’s. His brows pinched together immediately. 

“C’mon, baby. Come have a good time with me!” Suddenly Sylus saw a hand reach out to grab her by the shoulder and everything in his vision pulsed into a layer of red. He felt the growling growing within his chest, and the palpable fear rolling off of her in waves. 

“I will ask you not to touch me, thanks.” He heard her voice say, strong. Without a beat of the fear he felt coming off of her. 

“Don’t be like that, doll. I could show you a good time.” Sylus saw her raise a brow in one of those smooth, attractive ways he’d seen her do when he’d first met her, and it caused him to slow down as he watched, but not stop. 

He heard her snort, the coms kicking in as he got closer. “Just a good time? Please , my boyfriend will wipe the floor with you for a good time. Back the fuck off, asshole.” Sylus had never been more proud of her in that moment. 

As he rounded the pump, he came up on the scene. A stout man with a beer gut hanging over overly tight jeans, tightened by a leather belt. A half tucked faux silk shirt, partially buttoned, showing off an obscene amount of chest hair mixed with sweat and upon closer inspection- crumbs. He looked like he’d walked straight out of Tiger King. Pathetically bleached, and permed hair hanging haphazardly out from beneath a torn and well used ballcap, with a color matched Orange County Choppers Paul Senior mustache that had exposed his chin, but swept down his throat in an unattractive way. 

Sylus wanted to laugh, this man clearly had just walked out, or had been kicked out of somewhere and needed an ego boost. 

Sylus had been standing within view for a solid moment, arms crossed over his chest, bag of snacks dangling off his elbow, a quizzical tilt to his brow as he just watched before Tiger King finally peeled his eyes off of her. Grating an already frayed nerve further. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Tiger King slurred, curling a hairy, sweat damp arm up to swipe over his top lip. 

Sylus tilted his head, looking down his nose at the pathetic excuse of a man. “I’m the boyfriend .” 

It was three words, but Sylus saw when Tiger King's alcohol-addled mind caught up. His down turned brown eyes widened and he stumbled back a step. Those eyes swept Sylus up and down, taking in the height, the bulk. Sobering enough to mentally do the math of how fucked up he’d be if he poked the proverbial bear further. 

“You can fuck off now.” Ori’s voice was still strong, but he could still feel the layer of fear entangled within her chest. So, Sylus did what any protective boyfriend would do. He stepped towards her, handed her the bag he’d slipped off his arm and placed himself between her and the asshole. 

Nodding back at her, Sylus let the disdain for the man drip heavily from his next words, “Yes, fuck all the way off, and then keep going. If you think you’ve gone far enough, you probably haven’t.” With one hand and four fingers, Sylus made the motion to back off. 

Tiger King scoffed, but didn’t argue. Grumbling under his breath, he stumbled backwards and turned away, disappearing around a copse of trees that followed a side road beside the station. Sylus shook his head and sighed, turning back to her. 

“He didn’t… try anything other than touch your shoulder, right? Are you okay?” 

Ori let out a shuddering breath before looking up at him through the visor, “Thankfully no. Thanks for coming to my rescue, again .” She reached out to take Sylus’ hand before giving it a squeeze. 

“Of course, I am your boyfriend after all, kitten. ” His smirk lingered as he saw her eyes narrow. 

“Why kitten ?” She completely disregarded the boyfriend bit and jumped straight to the nickname.

His smirk grew into a full smile, “Because you remind me of one.” 

“As a wolf shifter… I take offence to that.”

“That’s fine, kitten .” He leaned the forehead of his helmet against hers as he searched her eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but after a moment, he watched a blush appear over the bridge of her nose and the portions of her cheeks he could see.

“Anyway! Now that that distraction has been dealt with! What on Earth did you buy? I thought you were only getting drinks.” She hefted the plastic bag up onto the seat of the bike before rifling through it. 

“I did.” He reached past her and retrieved the monster energy drink, watching as her eyes followed the massive can of liquid sugar and cavities with curiosity. “The other bottle is for you.” He reached past her again with his free hand and picked out the bottle of frappuccino for her. When she saw it, her eyes widened. 

She eyed the label for a moment before taking it from him, turning the bottle in her hands a couple times. “ This is coffee?” She paused, tipping her head to the side, confused. “Is it supposed to be cold?” 

He figured this would happen. 

“Here. Take off your helmet and try it. You might like it, if not– I’ll drink it.” He reached up to unclip the belt beneath his chin, lifting his helmet off with one hand before curling his arm through the visor and neck hole. Shaking out his hair after being in the piece of equipment for so long. 

As he’d been removing his, she’d removed hers in record time. 

“Eager?” He asked, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he watched her set the helmet down on the leather seat before picking up the bottle again just to twist off the cap. 

“Thirsty.” She responded, before tipping the now open bottle back against her parted lips. 

He popped open the can he still held and watched her experience her first cold coffee beverage. A smile appeared on his face as he watched her eyes get big, glowing with a childish delight. Before he knew it, he was reaching out to stop her from downing the entire bottle in one go. “Slow down, I can get you another one if you really want.” His chuckle made her blush. 

“Sorry, I just… I really liked it.” Her response was bashful as another blush crept up into her cheeks. 

“I could tell.” He grinned at her, tipping his own drink into his mouth. The almost too sweet flavor nearly undid him as he’d forgotten what these drinks tasted like. Strong and tart, pure sugar. The thought of Zayne loving one of these came to mind as he shook his head free of the buzz from the carbonation. 

He looked around momentarily, his senses picking up on a group of people coming down the same lane the drunk had gone down. This place must be the gathering spot for this area . He held out his hand with his drink, “Hold this. I’m gonna roll the bike so we aren’t so in the way.” 

She nodded, took the drink and held it below her nose to sniff. He bit his lip as she whipped her head away from the carbonated bubbles hitting her nose, either that or the intense sweet smell the drink itself gave off. “What the fuck is that, Sylus?!” Her voice was a pitch higher as she nearly shrieked. 

“It’s called an energy drink.” He said through laughter, leaning over the bike after he’d slid the stand back up, while pushing the machine forward and away from further prying eyes and attention. 

“Well, energy or not… that is foul. Is that even good for you? It smells like pure sugar.” She was following alongside the opposite side of the bike as he pushed, eyeing the can in her hand now with something akin to contempt.

“Given a chance, sweetie, that drink could probably melt your teeth.” He said, casually halting the bike near the curb and kicking the stand back in place. He wasn’t lying, he’d seen some of the videos people use the stuff for, and it was all shocking. The fact that so many put that junk in their bodies was astounding, but he couldn’t complain. Between him and Zayne, they used to indulge every now and again, just as he was now. 

“Why do you drink it then?” She asked, offering the can back to him as she leaned against the butt of the bike. 

“Habit, I suppose.” He took the can, but didn’t lift it to his mouth. He wanted to wait until the weird carbon sizzle over his teeth fully went away before taking another dose of the acidic beverage. “The group of males I hung out with, we all used to do stupid shit together.” He held up the can, “This included.” 

“Was your friend Rafayel a part of that group?” She asked, grabbing a bag of barbecue Fritos from the bag and opening it. Reaching her little hand into the opening before popping a couple pieces into her mouth. 

“Yes. He was.” He watched her eat, taking another small sip from his drink. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?” She asked, he didn’t think her question was meant to jab, but it did. He thought about it, far longer than he’d meant for, that was for sure. 

“A while.” He lowered his gaze as he leaned back against the bike, lowering the drink to hang listlessly at his side. “I hadn’t heard Raf’s voice in almost a decade before calling him the other day.” 

“What made you call him?” Her voice was curious, not in a prying way, just pure curiosity. 

“You.” He looked at her, seeing her confusion pull her brows together, a wrinkle forming between her eyes that made him want to lean over and kiss it away. “Your presentation, the fact that you would no longer be safe there. Another fact was that Stayrus had basically just confirmed certain emotions I’d felt… stirring. ”  

She contemplated his words for a moment, snacking slowly on the bag of chips. 

“Stayrus knew, didn’t he. Before you did. That, our souls were connected.” Sometimes her perceptiveness amazed him. 

“Yes. He did.” Sylus’ eyes fell to her lips for a moment as they parted on a heavy sigh. “Wolf spirits are more in tune with our souls than we know. It’s amazing, to be honest.” He gave her a soft smile when she looked back up at him. 

She snorted, “They’re also cryptic as fuck .” 

He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him before he answered, “That they are, kitten.”

He glanced up as a gaggle of girls rounded the corner of the copse of trees. Their giggles and raucous chatter cut off as their eyes drifted and caught sight of him. Oh Gods… here we go.

“ Oh my fucking God, Trina… do you see that guy?” Sylus shook his head as they all started tittering and commenting about him in hushed voices. Sometimes he hated his enhanced senses. 

“ Holy , walking sex idol!” Another girl commented. Followed by, “Look at the size of him, do you think he’s packing?” Oh for fucks sake. Sylus took another sip of his drink and rolled his eyes, glancing down at Ori, who had her eyes locked on the crowd of simpering women as well. 

“Ori~” He sing-songed her name like he’d done earlier to wake her up, and when he saw her turn her head before her eyes, he knew they should probably get going sooner than later. He was beginning to lose the battle of senses as her pheromones had begun filtering through the area, thick and heavy. “Do you need to use the little girl’s room before we go?” 

Her eyes finally focused on him as the group of girls sauntered into the convenience store. “Is it inside the building or outside?” 

He looked back at the building and saw the side door, Thank Fuck. He pointed out the door to her and could visibly see, and even feel the rolling annoyance beat off of her. She wanted to go in… He smirked down at her and grabbed her wrist as she took a step. “Ori… I’m yours , remember? You don’t have to worry about them.”

Her eyes met his and he felt her relax at his words, “Doesn’t change the fact that they didn’t even register I was here.” She inhaled hard through her nose, “If I come out of there… and they’re over here, I will not hesitate to fuck a bitch up.” 

His jaw popped open in shock as she pulled free of his hand and walked to the washroom. Fuck she can be feisty… He swallowed heavily, why was that so bloody attractive? 

He watched her the entire way until she disappeared through the side door. Flashbacks of the gas bar where they nearly ran into Caleb came back to mind. He hoped to the Goddess that this bathroom was in better condition than that biology experiment.

It didn’t take long for the group of girls to appear once Ori had left. Sylus sighed as one of them tore away from the pack and headed straight for him. He’d swallowed back another mouthful of the monster before tossing it in the nearby trash bin that he’d parked near. Please, dear gods, take no for an answer. 

“Hey, handsome.” The girl said, walking directly up to him, throwing him off a bit from her boldness. “Never seen you around here before.” 

Sylus queried a brow at her, “I would think not.”

He knew how women perceived him. He heard their comments regularly, although not recently– with being out in the wilderness searching, and more recently finding Ori. He inwardly cringed as he caught the scent of this girl’s arousal just from his voice. Of course. 

“Would you like the stick around? Hang out for a bit? My sisters and I are having a party tonight, if… you’d like to join us.” Oh, wonderful– college sorority girls. Yeah, no thanks. 

“No.” He deadpanned. 

She seemed taken aback by his blunt response, “Uh, excuse me? Come on, I promise you won’t regret it.” 

He smirked and shook his head, a wave of annoyance bubbled within his chest at the girl’s tone, eyes flickering up to see Ori watching from afar, leaning against one of the pumps with her arms crossed. “Look, I’m sure you’re not used to hearing the word, but I said no . So, you can leave anytime.” 

“What the fuck , asshole.” She spun on her heel and stomped like a petulant child back to her sisters . “Come on, he obviously doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He watched all of them turn at once, their eyes falling on his mate, who was just smiling. Her eyes daring them to try something. 

The one that had approached him glared daggers at Ori, which itched a nerve, but he held off from snapping and just watched his mate, seeing what she would choose to do in this situation. He didn’t really care what she did, he’d haul her off the little princess if he had to. 

He nearly snorted when they all broke eye contact with Ori at once. Sniffed, and turned their noses in the air like the haughty, entitled bunch they were and stomped off back from where they came. He breathed a sigh of relief as their repulsive perfume and scent of entitlement went with them. 

Ori’s pheromones on the other hand were running on max, nearly choking him with the need to drag her back to that bathroom and fuck her until she screamed his name. He felt his body respond in kind to that idea, and adjusted accordingly to ease the tension at the base of his spine. Fuck… I might need to use that bathroom.  

“No was definitely a new concept for her, and probably the rest of them too.” Ori said, her tone coming out like a cat that got the cream. 

He smirked and tried to take short breaths, attempting to calm himself before he grabbed her and folded her over the seat. Of course she’d notice, he’d lowered the wall between their bond the first time he’d gone into the convenience store, and now she could feel everything he was experiencing. 

How he was rock solid underneath the black satin shorts he wore, how he wanted to fuck her right there and then, how he could smell her arousal even though she wasn’t meaning to be aroused. How his need was beginning to overpower him. 

She stepped towards him and took his hand, giving it a squeeze before she pulled him towards her. In his moment of shock, it took him an extra second to realize she was dragging him back towards the bathroom. Oh, fuck… He blinked and swallowed. 

“ Orien.” He made a point of emphasizing her name in a dull warning, his voice dipping into a gruff baritone. 

“Let me help you, Sylus. You clearly need it.” She made a point of glancing down when she’d said that. 

“Just… give me a minute and I’ll calm down, we need to get going.” He rasped, swallowing around the desert that his mouth had become. 

She hauled him in front of her, perching him in front of the open washroom door. Her head tilted as she looked directly up at him, her hands slipping from between his fingers before sliding like a feather up his arms, his shoulders, his clavicle and up his neck, making his mouth part on a gasp. 

“Do you trust me, Sylus?” She whispered and shoved him, not painfully, but hard enough to make him stumble backwards, into the bathroom. Eyes wide, pupils dilated and lips parted. 

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶  Ω

Ori

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶  Ω

He was so adamant as soon as I had him in that washroom. Thankfully much cleaner than the previously experienced one. 

“Ori, you don’t have to do this– what if I can’t stop? What if it causes my rut to start? I don’t want to spend the next week in a roadside convenience store bathroom!” His cheeks were flushed and the tent at the front of his shorts told me everything I needed to know. 

Sirius had explained to me as we left the hotel this morning that my pheromones were affecting him, and even if I got emotional, they would get worse. I had tried all day to try and remain aloof and calm while we rode. Eventually falling asleep from how hard I was concentrating. 

His gentle touch had surprised me after how shut down and almost rude he’d acted at the hotel. Both Stayrus and Sirius had been in my head, full of reassuring words and reasons for why Sylus would act like that. When I started blaming myself, they both told me that our cycles were nothing to be faulted over– that they both were perfectly natural. The biggest thing that Stayrus had mentioned, and Siri had vehemently agreed upon was that until I bore Sylus’ mark– my pheromones would drive him, and potentially any other unmated male within a certain radius absolutely feral. 

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, so I’d done everything I could to keep myself in check, and just hoped I’d succeed for the rest of the trip. 

I hadn’t expected to stop at another gas station. I hadn’t expected the asshole who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and I certainly wasn't expecting the posse of girls to infiltrate my mate’s personal space. Sure, I’d watched his reaction to the one who’d broken from the group and approached him, even after he’d told me that he was mine. 

I didn’t expect to feel the wave of jealous rage that weighed down on me, and inevitably set off my pheromone levels too high. I’d seen it when they’d hit him. Watched his reaction and felt it through the bond he’d opened again at one point. 

Closing the washroom door and flicking the lock in place, I turned to face him. He’d pushed himself into the furthest corner, almost cowering. His eyes were worried, and lined with moisture, causing them to shine brilliantly in the dull light glowing from above the sink. I lowered my voice, asking him again, “Do you trust me, Alpha ?” The moment his title left my lips, I saw some of his resolve falter. 

“ Fuck , Ori…” His hands came up to comb through his hair, “you’re going to destroy me, sweetheart.”

I smiled at him, “I mean, only if you’ll let me.” 

I held out a hand, palm up; and waited. When his eyes just stared at my hand, I sighed softly before taking a slow step towards him. “This won’t just go away , Sylus. Will you please let me help you?” 

His eyes swept up to mine, those crimson iris’ burning with nearly unfettered desire as he slowly, oh so slowly, reached out and pressed his hand against mine. He seemed to be considering all of what I’d been saying to him, and I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “I– I do trust you, Ori… I’m just panicking about this. We should really wait until we’re on my pack lands ....” 

I tipped my head, a smirk pulling the corner of my mouth up. “Who said we needed to have sex?” His brows knit together, and only when I had positioned him in front of the sink, I dropped to my knees. Making those same brows nearly hit his hairline. 

“Omega… ” His tone was a warning, an attractive one spoken through clenched teeth. 

I reached up, keeping my eyes locked on his, my fingers brushing over the solid ridge of his bulge. He’d been in control last night, but tonight, I could see he was teetering on the edge of his control. His hands had retreated behind him to grip the rim of the sink, his knuckles nearly white from how hard he was holding it. 

Leaning forward, I brushed my mouth over the swell of his cock from above those satin shorts, and watched as his chest heaved as he started panting. “Ori, fuck – please baby…”

My body responded to his plea as I felt a wave of hot moisture gather between my legs. I begged my body to back off a bit, I wanted this about him, not me. 

Creeping my fingers up over his thighs, his hips and along the visible section of his V line, I nuzzled my cheeks over his bulge. Relishing in his reactions, and the way I could feel his cock twitching and jumping underneath the fabric. 

Slowly, I curled my fingertips over the edge of the waistband, easing them and his boxer briefs low enough for him to spring free, hard and long enough to slap back up against his lower stomach. The head was narrow, a deep shade of vermilion as a bead of precum oozed from the dimpled opening. The dorsal vein was thick, and swollen on the underside, pulsing as the blood flow increased from his need. 

I hadn’t had a moment to appreciate him when we’d had sex, so I took my time while I had the chance. The shaft itself was thick, and long. If I fisted my hand, I didn’t think it would hold the same circumference as the shaft of his cock did, he was that big. How did this fit inside me?

My mouth filled with saliva as my eyes met his again, he was biting his lip as he waited. I’d never done this to anyone, not even with… No , you’re here with your mate, don’t think of that place. 

When my fingers inched up to wrap around the thick girth of him, he hissed in a breath through shuttered teeth; his head tipping up while his eyes fluttered shut. “And you say I’m responsive.” I smirked up at him through my lashes as I angled myself and him closer, parting my lips to let my breaths fall over his flushed skin. 

He released a sharp breath as he chuckled, “You a-are. ” He released the edge of the sink with one hand, bringing it forward to cup my cheek as his starstruck crimson iris’ met my blues. 

“We’ll see how responsive you are when I have my head between your legs, kitten. ” 

I smirked up at him before pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his cock, feeling the smear of the warm sticky precum over the plush of my lips. He shuddered, his hips twitching as he obviously repressed the urge to rock forward. 

“Tease .” He gasped out through wet panting breaths. 

I eyed him through my lashes again, parting my lips and pushing my tongue out to drag over the underside of him. Right over that sensitive vein that connected the shaft to the head. I kissed him from the base all the way up before kitten-licking into the dimpled tip, tasting the salt of his precum for the first time. 

“Just have to live up to this new nickname of mine, don’t you know. Cats are notorious teases.” I winked up at him. 

He groaned, the hand he had against my cheek moving to comb through the hair on the crown of my head. “You’re killing me, kitten .” 

I repeated the lick to the indent at the tip before circling my tongue over the mushroomed top, “I guess I’ll have to kill you slower then.” Winking up at him again, I parted my lips, and drawing back my teeth, I sucked him into my mouth. 

Keeping my eyes locked on him, his head fell back as he faced the ceiling, a long, low drawn out moan escaping him as he sunk in further, inch by slick inch. I’d never tested if I had a gag reflex, but as I took his cock deeper and deeper into my mouth, I quickly realized that I didn’t have one. 

“ Fuck, baby. ” He tipped forward to look down at me again, his mouth hanging open as I pushed him down my throat. “You don’t have a gag reflex? O-oh f-fuuuck.” 

Breathing through my nose, I sucked in my cheeks and wrapped my tongue as best as I could around the thickest part of his shaft. Pressing the wet organ up the length of the underside. 

The hand in my hair tightened and I felt his hips begin to rock forward, pushing the last of his shaft past my lips. Tightening my throat around him, I swallowed, and the sound he made nearly had me cumming on the spot. It was a choked sound combined with the most sultry, pathetic moan I’d ever heard. 

As I felt my throat ease into his size, I took a deep breath through my nose and looked up at him. I could feel a strain in my jaw, causing a sheen of tears to form over my water-lines, but I didn’t care. I want to please him, and focus on him.  

Pulling back slowly, I retreated until the swollen head of his cock sat solid and pulsing against the flat of my tongue. He shivered, before I sunk down quickly, hearing the heated squelch of my saliva coating his shaft as I pushed back down my throat. I kept up that rhythm, seeing how his body responded, and feeling just how much he was loving this down the bond. 

There was something about giving pleasure that had my body coming undone. Seeing the pleasure on his face, feeling it down the bond and in my mouth as his cock twitched and bucked in my mouth as I repeatedly bobbed over him, using my tongue and even, as lightly as I could, using my teeth over his length– causing him to cry out. 

I didn’t have much experience, but I felt like I was doing something right as I felt his hand pull my head forward, his back arching forward as his head fell towards me. His hair draped almost elegantly over his forehead as I felt his cock swell before tasting him on my tongue as he exploded into my mouth, down my throat. He tasted divine. There wasn’t a thing on the planet I could compare the taste of him to, all I knew was that I swallowed everything he gave me, sucking, licking and bobbing my head in that continued rhythm until he was gasping for me to stop. 

When I did pull back, I released him with a lewd pop before sitting back to look up at him while I licked my lips. My jaw was a little sore, but similarly to how I felt this morning, manageable. 

He was still panting, leaning almost languidly against the counter. Eyes shut for a moment as he regained his composure. When he opened his eyes, our colors met and I smiled at him. He exhaled shakily before reaching down to grip me under the arms and haul me off the floor. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me high enough that my feet dangled off the floor. (Not a difficult feat.) 

He looked at me with wet, adoring eyes for a mere moment before he leaned his head in and captured my mouth with his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned his kiss with as much fervor as he gave me. 

When he pulled back, he was gasping for air just as hard as I was, leaning his forehead against mine, he whispered, “What did I do to deserve you? You’re perfect .” 

I smiled, “You lived .” 

He seemed so much more at ease once we cleaned up, and returned to the bike. At first he was concerned someone might have stolen the vehicle, but when we returned everything was surprisingly still there and intact. Thankfully.

He seemed back to his lighter, buoyant self. Singing random tunes he’d called earworms , as he drove. I laughed and commented on each of them as he sang them, saying how odd, catchy or even horrible some of them were. 

We drove through the night. We passed by three cities, one he’d called a capital, before he tapped my knee and pointed to a far off glow on the horizon. 

“There, see that, kitten? ” When I caught sight of what he’d pointed at, I nodded against his shoulder. “That’s my territory.” 

 We’d crested a hill as we approached a town he’d said had over half the population as shifters, while the remainder were humans who knew, didn’t care and had lived peacefully amongst our kind for several generations. The idea of humans and shifters living in harmony had a smile curling my lips. 

At one point, clinging to his back, I looked up at the sky and saw a shooting star just before we entered city limits.. 

“Sylus! Make a wish.” I said, rubbing a hand across his chest, resting my palm over the spot where I could feel his heartbeat the heaviest. 

I heard him chuckle through the helmet, “I don’t need to, sweetheart.” His left hand came down to rest over mine. “It already came true.” 

Ω   ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶   Ω