m e k h i (incomplete)

t w o

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t w o

The male doesn't look up from the table he's sat at, eyes drawn hard and firm to the old and cheap wood, marked and dented over time. His arms are splayed out across the table, tattooed hands turning into fists, clenching tight. Blue veins become prominent on his mocha skin, form becoming tense all over. He doesn't move a single muscle, defying every fibre of his being dictating otherwise. Teal hues are flared, bright and erratic in colour, mirroring how the nerves in his system act. Wild, spontaneous, unpredictable.

Dark-coloured lips are parted, thick brows furrowed together. He refuses to move an inch, refuses to turn his head back to her. His throat is dry, voice thick and no words falling from his lips.

His chest rises and falls with the even inhales and exhales he draws in, trying to calm a raging mind. The creature within him causes havoc, each tantrum becoming harder and harder for him to restrain, to swallow down and keep in check. The beast is torn, cursing the Moon, but also thanking her.

The thoughts blazing through his head is undecipherable. He can't piece them apart, can't think carefully, not when this has set fire to every inch of him. He can't think about how this couldn't be possible. The moon only ever gave you one mate. He can't think about what sort of betrayal this is to his first.

Why would the moon take his first, but give him another?

It made no sense to him, cruel of her to do so, on both parts. He'd never love her the way she needed, and the female didn't deserve someone who wouldn't worship the ground she walked on. He knew that.

His head stays low, dark waves falling before his eyes. He doesn't see, only feels.

His heart cracks, a lone tear curving from the inner corner of teal, dissolving before being spotted by his people. His eyes are like pools, whirling and basking in light colour.

The King has too many questions, but no answers. He can't think right now, head just shutting and instead becoming a blank slate, not giving him the trouble anymore.

It's worse.

He now has to think about his heart. It's beating. He didn't think it could ever beat again. It's beating . The action is unthinkable, and he hates it. It was only meant to beat for one.

A gout of emotions have been unleashed by the beast within him, filling his blood and taking up his air. It was suffocating. He had been without them for so long, he didn't know what to do with them. Didn't know what to make of them, or how to act on them.

Eyes close firmly, but all he can see is her. The few seconds of glimpsing at her, had her permanently etched into his brain, the old image fading. He didn't want that image to face.

But now, all he sees are amber eyes. The shape was wide, upturned and foxy, with thick long lashes. Her skin was porcelain, mirroring the colour of cream almost, just slightly tinted with the hue of pink as her undertone. She has the darkest of freckles upon the highest point of her cheeks, curving inwards to the bridge of her nose. They were dark black, like the shade of her hair. Thick curls had been put up, but he can already feel them in his hand, soft and shiny.

His jaw clenches tighter, feeling warmth spread all over him, pooling down to a region that it shouldn't have. He shouldn't want her. He shouldn't lust her.