Bound to love |BxB|

Chapter 12

The fury sparked within me again the second I saw him.

Peyton towered over me by half a head, his shy, reddened eyes studying me cautiously, a pinch of worry in them. I could barely see them through his curls that fell to his forehead, the hood of his grey shirt pulled loosely around his face as well, covering most of the scars that littered his defined cheeks.

But they were there.

And the one that went across his jawline, to the top of his lips and the curve of his nose, until it reached the corner of his eye and the tip of his brow, couldn't be hidden.

I clenched my cane so hard that my knuckles turned white, and as much as I tried to come off unbothered, the tightness in my smile didn't disappear.

"I-I'm sorry... y-you've been standing there for f-five minutes and..."

Peyton broke the silence, carefully peeking at me before lowering his gaze to the beige tray he was holding. It was full of food and based on the hot steam that whirled in the air, he hadn't sat down to eat yet.

His words snapped me out of the trance I had been pulled into, though still, I couldn't fish out the words to say.

Who did this to you? What did they do to you?

It was what I wanted to say, but looking at his tense, rigid stance, I knew it would scare him off. He was already flinching at the occasional loud sounds that bounced in the canteen -like I was- and he seemed... more agitated than usual. Dark circles framing his eyes, his features twitching, and darting glances thrown all over the place– I knew something was wrong. I didn't want to add on that by bringing up things that most likely were the base of his edginess.

"... I-I just... n-nevermi–"

"You were watching me for five minutes?" I forced a wider smile on my lips, tilting it to the side like I did every time.

Perhaps he'd feel more comfortable if I acted like the usual.

The werewolf's cheeks flushed maroon-red, and I heard his breathing hitch. A bit of sincerity caught my smile when I saw a glimpse of the adorable hunk I had become familiar with, that which only made my blood boil meaner.

Whatever was done to him...

"N-No, I... y-you don't look too well..."

He stared at his food that trembled on his platter; the stack of meat, vegetables, and mash piled up into a big mountain.

To hurt someone so innocent, so... pure? What kind of monster did you have to be?

I pushed those thoughts out of the front of my mind, focusing on the present instead.

"Yeah, I think I should hold off drinking for a while," I chuckled dryly, grimacing inwardly at the hot wave of pain that washed over me when I propped myself better against my cane, "And stop trying to challenge a warrior black-out drunk, more so a Royal."

The other corner of his mouth fell, "I-I'm sorry–"

"No, I deserved it," I interrupted him softly, "and I'm not complaining about the hospitality I got in exchange either. No one has ever picked me up after a beating, so props to you."

There was a playful nuance in my voice, even though I was closely inspecting his reaction. I was hoping to see him smile or give any signs that'd tell me he was feeling these same things I was. That he would not have regretted it if our lips would've so much as graced each other. But, only for the growth of my qualms, the same look I had seen on him just before he had charged out of my room emerged.