Night Alpha

24 - Hurt Hunt

The mood leaves playful for calm after that. We stay in his study in the dead of the night, Milo working and I still pretending to study. He got up to get his desk cleaned up, collected the parts of the broken pen, tried to wipe the stacks of papers clean. We're basked in the light from his desk he turned on when the sun left us.

My mind has been wondering about, think of home, of Milo and family. He stays collected behind his desk, relaxed shoulders and plain expression. It only changes when he goes over the end of certain pages or when he scrolls on his computer. I still haven't told him about the stain on his cheek, have to keep my eyes away so that I don't end up laughing again.

When my eyes settle to the window behind him, to the dark forest and even darker sky, I somehow think of loneliness. I wonder who else might be awake at this time of the night, if he talks to anyone aside from Lise and the alpha to be. Maybe because it's a moonless night, I feel more secluded than before, yet somehow more at ease.

I wonder if Milo would rather be alone than hurt. But it hasn't always been the case, couldn't have been. But the fact that I haven't seen his family or that he never mentioned them, drags my question under. I feel my fingertips dig into the cover the slightest bit and Milo raises his head.

I can't bring myself to ask the question under his calm gaze, can't bear to imagine crushing him today again, crushing him once more. I shut the book to scratch my forehead, wipe my eyes under his questioning one. He frowns when I move my lips but no word comes out.

I pinch my lips when he gently shuts his laptop, clears the desk so he can lay his forearms onto the wood. Milo leans in, posture still relaxed but I don't miss the tension in jaw. I don't miss the slight jump of his fingers, even thought he tries to appear calm he is anything but.

Yet he doesn't push, he doesn't ask when I have to bit the inside of my cheek. I don't think it was his vocabulary that held him back from answering. Maybe it was the situation, maybe because he felt I betrayed him. This time I'm afraid to ask because he might get hurt, because I might fear him more than I already do.

But he extends a hand over the wood, palm up and calm, because he's Milo. And it feels more alright than seconds before and this time I lay my hand on his, not for him but for me. I feel his warm and rugged fingers under my colder ones, then his rough palm before I let the weight of my hand fall onto his.

His expression doesn't change this time, no he stays collected and focused. I hear his chair creak when he leans even more, chin placed on his other forearm and eyes on our hands. It feels even more alright than before, maybe because his face is bellow mine for once, maybe because he's relaxed yet attentive.

His hand doesn't move under mine, my fingertips barely reaching the sweater he still hasn't taken off, though it had been his first. So I clutch the red cover to my stomach, fingers going over the soft edge in an effort to calm my nerves. I don't think it works a lot because my tongue feels like it weight a ton.

« What is a night wolf? » the words come out of my mouth too quick and too strangled. I have to swallow back the acidic spit that gathered in my mouth right after, think I might throw up if I don't. I'm too scared to look at his face, forget to listen in for his answer when a cold sweat creeps up my back.

But Milo brings me back to reality with a gentle stroke of his thumb over my hand. His frown has left for something more gentle, for something soothing and even tough I see the apprehension in his eyes, Milo continues to smooth away my panic. There's a strange relief coming over me, not only having asked the question but for the first time without hoping it would gave me a reason to hate him.

I can breathe again when he does, loud inhale that sounds like relief. I wonder what he thought I would ask, what his fears were. Milo raises his head to grab his chin, massages his jaw before he scratches at his own forehead. He wondering wether to answer or what to ? He casts a quick glance at the light on desk, turns his neck just enough to gaze over the dark night outside.