Mistletoe (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 3

The four of us sit in the living room. None of us making an act to speak. All of us are still shaken up by tonight events.

Braxton was dead. We all saw it. We even smelled it. He was dead and then, he just stood up possesing unconceivable magical abilities. He's a werewolf, so where did these powers come from?

"Someone please speak!" Mike shouts, the silence having pushed him even further off the edge. "What the hell happened out there?"

"I don't know, Mike," Colt says, his voice low. "He was like a bomb out there. He was moments away from blowing and taking all of us out in the procces."

"My question is how the hell he got those powers," Killian snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

I stay silent allowing them to speak their minds. I'm still trying to figure it all out.

"Jamie, you're far too quiet. What do you think," Mike asks.

I look over to him, my jaw clenched painfully tight. I shake my head.

"We have to find him. Before, he hurts somebody."

Without a word to any of us, Mike rises from the couch before, leaving through the front door. I want to go out after him, but he needs time to himself right now. Braxton is his mate, none of us can even imagine the numerous emotions coursing through him.

*

Mike walks the street of the inner city. He keeps his guard up, wary of any possible surprises from Mosea or any other creature that may be lurking in the cover of night. He comes to the water fountain, taking a seat on the rim.

Braxton wasn't himself. Mike tracked the others from the trees, their search blinding them to his scent. By the time he joined them, he'd witnessed Braxton's new abilities. He hadn't seen the entire thing, but he saw enough to tell just how different he moved and carried himself. He was like a madman, prepared to snap the neck of anyone stupid enough to cross his path.

"It's not safe to be out here alone." The voice shocks the Corti. He jumps up, prepared to defend himself until his eyes train on the voice's owner. "I was hoping you'd come looking for me."

Braxton sat on the rim of the fountain, a sly smirk on his lips. He's no longer bare, but clad in a black T-shirt covered by a black leather jacket, aswell as a pair of tattered black jeans, and matching biker boots.

"Braxton," Mike speaks, testing the waters before he engages his mate.

If this was still his mate.

Mike shakes away the thought, taking notice of the pull deep within. The bond between them was still very much present.

"Braxton is currently taking a little nap. It's just me," He says.

"Then who am I speaking to?"

He rises to his feet, taking a big stride toward the southern male.

"Call me Neo," He says, his voice sounding distorted, but still recognizable.

Mike watched in awe of Braxton, or Neo as he'd declared himself. He was Braxton in physicality, but that appeared to be the only resemblence. Unlike Braxton, Neo reeked of fury, but even through it, he felt that familiar comfort.

This was still the man he'd fallen in love with. Only now, with a darker edge.

"The pack wants you to come home." Neo scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Home," He chuckles dryly, "That shithole is not my home. Braxton may tolerate it, but I will not even entertain the idea." The way he spoke was entirely different, the vulgarity of his sentence sounding so foreign, as it was still Braxton's mouth saying them.