28 - Longing Less

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I have to focus to unbuckle and to push the car door open when I see Milo doing it. He's already on my side by the time I put even a foot on the ground. He pushes the door open the rest of the way, arm casually leaning over. One of his eyebrow is raised in a permanent manner, I catch him rubbing his forehead once he closes the door behind me.

I don't think it's the nerves, he looks more annoyed than anything. I don't get why he wanted me here if he doesn't want to be here himself. I see his tongue work over his teeth when he pushes an open palm to me. The guards around us still don't acknowledge our presence, out of fear or hate I'm not sure. I'd rather not look at them.

Yet I can't help but to be mindful of them, push my hands in the pockets of my jacket with heated cheeks. Milo doesn't react, he pushes me forward with a bump of his torso against my back. I have to keep my head low to hide the blush because his body doesn't leave mine even as we move forward.

We're in the queen of the wolves' place yet all I can think about is his warm, almost scorching chest against me. Is that why he's doing it ? Maybe it's just a wolf thing, or he's mad I didn't take his hand, but somehow it doesn't feel like it. We move inside and I'm met with a much cooler air.

I thought these guys never used the heater. My shoes squeak over the shining white stone floor. The walls are lined with light wood and golden swirls around the edges, somehow it reminds me of the parliament, but grander and better maintained. Century-old furniture too wealthy for humans and guards every few meters stay put.

I can't help but to look up at Milo when he secures a hand around my stomach, his thumbs skimming over the expense of my shirt and fingertips clutching around my side. He doesn't even look back, not Milo is glaring at a wolf soldier we pass by. I can tell his pressure is rising because my neck turns the slightest bit numb.

Did he look at me wrong? At Milo ? I understand it would be delicate to reject him here. I don't want fuel the hate towards him, to urge them to pity me more than they already do. So I simply pull a hand out to rest over his, pinch the skin of wrist just enough for him to notice me. But he doesn't, not Milo continues to push me forward with his body.

When doesn't even look at me I can tell it's useless, so I let my hand limp over his warm wrist. I don't want to be mean to him here, don't want to hurt him when he's among his pack, even if they see it otherwise. I wonder if he'll be treated differently when the son takes the throne, maybe it'll be better with a leader that likes him.

He leads me down a series of corridors that make me think this place is much bigger than I initially thought. I let him, and merely pull my body with his blindly, too focused on his warm hand and mechanical skills. I seriously need to spend time with other people than him. I miss Lise. We stop at the junction, only a way on ether side of us. A cream sofa right in a middle, carpet of the same color that looks brand new and too soft to be in a hallway.

I finally let my head look around because we haven't met any other wolf for a while now. The ceiling is lined with intricate designs and the soft light comes only from evenly placed small chandeliers. I almost jump when Milo's face comes down to lean into my neck, tickling my skin with his breath. The fingers on my side push in just enough for me to slightly have to bend in response.

Milo's fingers have pulled up my shirt unintentionally but I can't help but to shudder when one of his warm digits skims over the exposed skin of my waist. He's gotten cocky. I pinch the top of his skin and turn my face to glare at him but Milo's eyes are already on me, face blank but glance heated. I wonder where his confidence is coming from, or maybe he could tell my thoughts on the way over.

He suddenly pushes his lips fully onto my temple and I can feel his kiss turn into a smirk when I pinch down harder with a strangled groan. Definitely cocky. He finally lets go, body finally leaving mine and though I should feel the cold, I only register the irritation. I turn to face him and throw the back of my hand at his chest. I can tell he lets me when his face cracks with a low laugh, barely audible.

I walk to sit down on the sofa to get away from him with a huff. I feel like every interaction with him is exhausting, both mentally and physically. I sigh at the comfort the couch provides, it's almost thick enough to feel like I might never get up. I see Milo crouch in front of me with a frown. His smile has left too quickly for my liking, like maybe he remembered where we were.

When his knees touch the ground and his palms lay flat on my spread legs, Milo's back continues to bend until he has to crane his neck to look up at me. I'm tempted to ignore him, because I feel like he might be playing with the fact that he knows I won't be mean to him in public. But I know it's not that, too far from his personality when he gives an another blank stare, yet with a visible blush.

I always knew that I could have en effect on him, but never to the point where I think maybe, just maybe, I affect him more than he does me. Along with his heated cheeks and reddened ears comes a longing look. It's not desire this time, not need or lust. It's plain want in the way he does, shy and hopeful. Maybe I've forgotten to the fear the man when he's just a boy.

It's the promise of lost freedom and softness all at once and I bite my cheek to stop myself from reaching out, from diving in right into him. I manage to pull myself back, to push my back against the sofa and he frowns with a hidden pout. Yet the hope never leaves his eyes, even after months, even after tears and anger, shame and hate. Milo hopes as if it was engraved in his blood, in every of his breaths.

« There he is. » The voice is loud and demanding. I tear my eyes from Milo's face to turn towards the sudden interruption. It's a tall man on the older side but you can never guess their age. He stands tall and proud, only a few feet away from us where he's stopped. His clothes are bland in color, almost blending in the room, but I recognize the fabric on his skin. Slick white shirt over cream slacks. Forgotten dressing shoes.

When I look back at Milo for answers, I find his eyes still on me. His face betrays nothing, but I feel the tremor of his fingertips shake the bones of my knees. But the unknown man has changed nothing, it's not fear, not anger. Milo is nervous and it's starting to get to me too. My stomach starts to churn with discomfort, my tongue suddenly heavy and Milo's body leaves mine too quickly for my liking.

« You must be Marshall. I'm Grant. » I stand at the man's voice. There's something in the way he demands - he orders attention. The sounds barely echo off the luxurious walls. He's smaller than me and while he adopts a gentle smile, Milo's reaction tells me everything I need to know.

I don't know if it's for himself or for me, but I read into his warnings anyway. While I nod a the man, Grant, with what I try to be a polite smile, I can't help but to move by Milo's side. Even if it's reassuring for reasons I can't decipher, even if I shouldn't, I stand by him enough for my right shoulder to bump his chest. Enough for his warmth to calm my nerves.

Milo's head comes down to lay on my shoulder, cheek leaning into mine for what I assume is reassurance. But while I wait for the man's next words, his friendly face falls just for a second. In the split of the second, his smile turns to fear, to horror. His business smile comes back just as fast but now it's almost constricted, too mechanical to have the same superior effect.

I'm temped to look back at Milo's face which must have done something because I couldn't feel his pressure change. But his warm cheek is still flat against mine and too comfortable to move anyway. I don't know why he stopped Grant in his tracks, for being too snooty or superior. But we both tower over him anyway. I push my lips together to stop a smile from forming on my own face.

Grant gathers his composure easily enough to make me think maybe he's used to being pushed around a little, just maybe not by Milo. I probably boost his ego too much, or having me around does just that, even if I don't feed into it. Yet, there's something too familiar with him. And I can't help but to empathize anyway, I've been pushed around by Milo as well after all. I've been scared of him too. Am I no longer?

« I'll be your companion while our mates converse. » He announces with too much ease and I feel his confidence growing back with every word. Even though his posh vocabulary feels too forced, the weight of his words hits just the same. The mate of the queen of the wolves.

It somehow feels like I shouldn't be here somehow. Like I'm trespassing, because Detroit always assumed the queen was mated because wolves seem to gain in power in pairs. Because the army used to look for her mate to kill, to weaken her before the treaty. Maybe they still do. I don't know why it slipped my mind that she may have one when I saw her son, when Milo told me we were going to see her.

Even as we exited the car, I never thought we might run into him, even less when they apparently planned he would keep me busy when Milo came for business matters. The most protected person in the pack is standing only a few feet ahead. But I don't see anything in him, not the strength of the queen, not the charm of her son. I couldn't even tell they were related when they look nothing alike, when the queen's red genes must have overpowered his.

« Please be at ease, after all, I'm a human mate just like you. » His words are tainted with something dark, something poisonous. I can't help the curiosity of meeting someone like me, but I can't scrape away the discomfort of his glinting eyes. That explains it.

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Surprise update, kind of. I felt like writing.

Take care :)