Milan clenched his hand. “It is solitude that is the punishment.”
A heavy quiet fell over them. Milan could hear a clock ticking out in the hall. He was thankful that Larry or any other servant was not present, for it was time that Milan bare something of himself in order to make this marriage work.
“I am alone in a strange land, far from everything and everybody I know. My family, my friends…I came but with mere trinkets to remember them by. You are at a complete advantage in this partnership. This is your house, your people, your culture. You are my only link to this place. Without you, I am lost.” Milan’s gaze was steady. Raphael was finally looking at his eyes. “By accepting this marriage, we are accepting to do our duty. Do you oppose to do it with kindness?”
Milan saw his words had stirred something in Raphael, who looked away, knuckles white around his knife and fork. His eyes were hazy, as if his mind were somewhere else. When Raphael spoke, it was so quietly that Milan would have missed the words if he hadn’t been so focused.
“You are not the first Omega to have such sweet words for me.”
Milan sat back, stunned. Bond-breaks were a painful business, but they weren’t unheard of. In truth, despite his curiosity, Milan had not spent too much time thinking about Raphael’s past marriage. There were many reasons why partnerships dissolved and, though not seen well by society, such things happened. Milan had not wanted to judge Raphael for that.
Now, Milan knew that he had missed one vital thing that explained these past few days perfectly.
Raphael was in love with someone else.
“I see,” Milan said quietly.
Raphael’s previous husband must have broken his heart, and when Milan had barged in and began to get too close—involving himself in Raphael’s affairs as if they were already married—it had caused him to bite as wounded animals often do.
Milan twisted the cloth napkin he had subconsciously picked up between his fingers. “Are you’re sure that you’re willing to go through with this marriage? This bonding? I understand the pressures that are on us, but…”
“Are you?” Raphael countered. Milan gave the question due thought. Envisioned his family, and the consequence of his returning.
“Yes.”
“Then so am I.”
Milan nodded, pushing his plate away, knowing he would be unable to eat anymore. He had hoped otherwise, but Milan had known this was a possibility—that he would be caught in a loveless marriage. Bonded, yes, and eventually bearing children, but loveless nonetheless.
The reality of it was much more depressing than simply imagining it.
“All right. I hope, then, that despite the fact that I do not have a place in your heart, we can at least be partners in this.”
Raphael’s eyebrows twitched, but he nodded slowly.
The silence that fell between them was suffocating.
**********
Milan never used to pay much attention to the minutes between waking up and getting out of bed, except perhaps to luxuriate in the ability to doze off when he did not have a busy day ahead. Now, however, it was as if this small moment of time were an obstacle he had to climb over every morning.
Milan lay there, listening to the bustling noises outside. His wedding day was approaching. It would be a play he had to participate in, with not one familiar face in the audience. His family had too many of their own duties, and this land was too far away to attend. He would be, once again, alone.
As the week dwindled down, it became increasingly difficult to dissolve his maudlin thoughts. Milan would amble around the house, attempting to help but being shooed off by the servants. He would eat dinner with Raphael every evening, trying to make conversation, but Raphael became colder and more closed off as the days passed.
The idea that this could have led to love, or even a close friendship, suddenly seemed terribly naïve.
“Have preparations been made…will our wedding night take place in your room?” Milan asked during the dinner before their wedding.
“Yes.” A brisk, cold reply, eyes turned away, as always.
“Will I keep my current rooms after the wedding?”
“No. You will be moved to the room adjacent to mine.” Raphael didn’t sound particularly happy about it. Milan was indifferent. One door or a dozen—it was all the same.
As he lay in bed that night, Milan was convinced that surely, some people must feel excited the night before their bonding. Perhaps they would be sleepless with giddiness or afloat in fantasy. Despite knowing this was true, however, Milan could barely imagine it.
All he knew was the cold ball of his body as he curled in on himself, shivering in the shadow that had been cast over his future.
CHAPTER FIVE
Milan had expected to be nervous on his wedding day, but there was only numbness.
“You look very handsome, My Lord,” Melissa said quietly. Her kind face peered from behind him as she fixed the line of his shoulders, both of them staring at his reflection in the tall mirror.
Milan couldn’t disagree. The suit was of a rich, velvet mustard, with a patterned silk shirt and a shimmering vest. The clasp at his throat boasted his house sigil—the Pryor bird—a stubbornly untraditional addition that Milan would refuse to take off even if he was told to do so. Milan would not leave himself behind in this marriage. Not if he could help it.
Melissa had looked at it with a resigned expression but only smiled at Milan in response. Maybe she understood.
“Not a lord,” Milan responded. “Not yet.”
“Almost.”
Yes, almost. A different person, almost. Even then, as he looked at himself, all the pieces seemed to be there: his round face, his large dark eyes, the way his curly hair was shorn short, his thick lips and brown skin, and the beauty spots under his right eye. But as hard as he stared, the pieces failed to make a familiar whole.
When it was finally time to go down, Melissa guided him unnecessarily to the ballroom. The rest of the house had been decorated as carefully as Milan himself. Waxy-looking flowers in marriage white were everywhere—flickering candles making light and shadows dance across stone and rich red carpets, banners in the blue colours of the House of Ledford. His own colours, of course, were absent.
Still, it was stunning.
“Here we are,” Melissa whispered as they stopped in front of two massive, wooden doors. He was glad he had insisted it be Melissa and not someone higher up, or an entourage, to guide him to that moment.
“Thank you.” With a nod, two servants pushed the doors open.
Light. Candles everywhere, flickering ominously as if by magic—there wasn’t a window open in the whole place. Milan stepped forwards, and stepped forwards, and stepped forwards again. A solitary violin played an unfamiliar song. The numbness melted in the heat of the nervousness that had started to rise. Row upon row of chairs filled with strangers flanked him. He felt his face flush under the scrutiny, but his head remained high.
Milan let out a slow breath as he finally stopped in front of Raphael. Milan had to admit that he looked good. Perhaps even one of the most handsome Alphas he had ever seen, despite his brooding expression.
A sudden, delicate moment unfolded itself just as the violin silenced. It was Milan, and it was Raphael, and it was the odd intimacy of what was about to happen. It was the knowledge that they were about to be joined, not only in the eyes of the law and the monarchy but of nature as well, once night fell and their bonding began.
The moment was broken as the officiant began to speak. The words washed over him. About care, devotion, loyalty. Love. They were sounds without meaning. With each second of the droning voice, the impulse to run, to save himself, rose. But he did not move. He would not be a coward, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
Instead of the handfasting tradition of his own land, signifying walking together through the journey of life, this land seemed to symbolise unity with a ring for each spouse. Milan’s hands, to his embarrassme
nt, were shaking so much that he was afraid he would drop them, but he managed to slip it, without accident, onto Raphael’s finger.
That the ring was cold when Raphael did the same to him was no surprise. It was the jolt of sudden knowledge: Milan was married now.
He looked up at Raphael and could parse no expression from his features. The man was a complete stranger to him.
“And now you may kiss,” the officiant proclaimed.
Milan stared at Raphael with wide eyes and did not dare to move as the Alpha leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. Warm, unlike the rings. Soft. Milan closed his eyes.
It was done. Or, almost done.
There was still the wedding night—their bonding ritual—to come.
**********
The banquet that followed was slow and tedious. The guests were apparently a collection of nobility and business people—not a working-class person to be seen. It was no surprise then, that they were loud and uncouth, draining the wine supply at an alarming rate. Milan hoped someone had the foresight to water it down.
Milan tried not to shrink into himself as he ate slowly. All he said to Raphael was, “Don’t get drunk,” earning him a cold look Milan ignored.
Now that his nerves had been awakened, they were difficult to settle again. Milan’s mind did not wander far from what was to come. His wedding night. Milan had been kissed before, but no more than that. As is appropriate of an unwed Omega, he scoffed internally.
Now was not the time for that particular rant.
As the meal ended and the formal congratulations with it, Milan sat quietly, looking at the darkness outside the window. He tried to ignore what was happening around him, but it was impossible to do when the Alpha a few seats down slapped the table drunkenly, unsettling one of the cups. Judging by the baying of “Omega!” Milan guessed he was the one being addressed. It wasn’t as if his name hadn’t been mentioned in the ceremonies or anything.
“Yes?” Milan responded. His chilly tone seemed to go right over the man’s head.
“Eager to get to your wedding night, eh, lad? Not too frigid, are you?” A few of the others laughed around them.
“Look at him. He’s stiff as a board! Raphael, you’re going to have to break this one in,” another one cowed.
Never in his life…Milan had no idea if it was anger or humiliation that won inside him, but the battle had him frozen to his seat, only flinching as Raphael stood up, scraping his empty plate away from him. For one incredulous second, Milan believed Raphael was about to come to his defence. Of course, that was not the case.
“I think it’s time we retire. Please, enjoy the rest of the feast. There is plenty more wine.”
A cheering roar swept over the hall, as lewd as it was happy for more drink to redden their faces with. Milan hoped they all ended up in a ditch on their way to wherever they had crawled from in the first place.
Milan stood from his seat with all the dignity he could muster. He could feel the heat of Raphael’s hand on the small of his back, just brushing his suit. The muffled quiet that came with the shut doors as they stepped out of the room was a relief like Milan had never known.
“I…apologise for their behaviour,” Raphael surprised him by saying as they started walking. Milan looked at him askance.
“If that is true, then why didn’t you defend me in there? It’s all well and good to apologise but to do nothing in the moment…or did you not want to admonish your friends?” Milan couldn’t help but bite out. Instead of annoyance, there seemed to be real guilt on Raphael’s face.
“They are not my friends. I had no more control than you as to who to invite. I…you’re right. I apologise.”
Milan stared at him until he had to look away to ascend the stairs to the second floor. There he was, the soft version of Raphael again. The one without a sneer or a scowl to offer. Soft-spoken, humble. Milan did not know what to make of it.
“All right. I do not want to begin this marriage cross. You are forgiven.”
“Thank you.”
There was silence until they reached their rooms, adjoined now that they were married.
Milan licked his lips, the buzz of nerves starting up again. “I’ll…freshen up. I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready.”
Raphael nodded, but before Milan could turn fully again, his hand was clasped softly. Milan stopped, turning in surprise to look at where Raphael’s fingers were holding his.
“Milan…I just wanted to say…thank you. You have been patient. I hope that tonight is…that you are not afraid. You are not afraid?”
Milan looked at the man before him. Tall, broad, and yet hunched slightly, curled as if expecting a blow.
“No. I am not afraid.” For a reason that Milan couldn’t quite comprehend, it was the truth.
The smile that Raphael offered in response was small but no less potent. It took Milan’s breath away, the way it cast light on his features, his eyes.
It felt like a loss, the way their hands parted. Maybe tonight he would have the soft version of Raphael. Maybe now that they were married, things would get better. Not love, perhaps, but respect. Partnership.
Milan gave a smile of his own before slipping into his new room.
Melissa, of course, was waiting inside. She gave him a bright smile. Milan was thankful that he had grown fond of her, for the process of getting him ready for his wedding night would have been humiliating otherwise, as brief as it was. Off went his wedding clothes, his skin covered in an odourless cream so that he glowed faintly in the candlelight. With reddened cheeks, he stimulated the gland at his neck manually so that his scent filled the room. He was left dressed in only an almost entirely sheer shift. As he stood in front of the mirror, his body was an enticing shadow beneath the gauzy white.
“You look ready, My Lord,” Melissa said. This time, Milan could not correct the honorific.
“Then I must be.”
Melissa left. For a moment, he was left alone with his body and pounding heart. He took a deep breath before moving slowly towards the adjoining door. He knocked.
Despite being muffled by wood and stone, Raphael’s voice was clear. “Come in.”
As the door opened, Milan’s stomach clenched, but not just from nerves. Raphael stood tall and proud in his room, dressed in just his shirt and trousers. His feet, again, were bare.
Perhaps this did not have to be so complicated. Yes, it would be a joining of souls through the bond, but the act itself would be a joining of bodies. Surely, there was nothing so simple as that.
The door shut quietly behind him, leaving them in soft intimacy. It was rare that Milan could scent himself, but it was as if he were borrowing Raphael’s senses, seeing through his dilated eyes: his dark skin teasingly covered by the shift, the flora of his scent blooming from him, calling out to the Alpha in a primordial voice.
“I know we have our differences,” Raphael started, making Milan jump slightly, “but I want this to be good for you. If…have you ever done this before?”
“No,” Milan said simply.
Raphael swallowed. “If I do anything you don’t like, please. Tell me.”
Touched, Milan arched an eyebrow as he smiled. “Even in our brief time knowing each other, have you known me to do anything else?”
Instead of the frown he was half expecting at the reminder of Milan’s wilfulness, he was rewarded with another of Raphael’s small smiles.
“No.”
Silence. Heat, anticipation. Then Raphael was moving towards him. Milan was rooted to the spot.
Slowly, Raphael took his hand and lifted it until it brushed against his lips. Raphael closed his eyes. His breath was a suggestion on Milan’s skin as Raphael scented him. Milan couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine, the heat that flared inside him.
When Raphael opened his eyes, his fingers wrapped lightly around Milan’s wrist. As if it were a sign he had always known, Milan stepped forwards until there was almost no space between them. The ni
ght and cold and party raging downstairs were inconsequential. All that existed were Raphael and him.
Milan couldn’t help but gasp as lips pressed softly against his. Raphael did not take advantage of his parted lips, pulling away for only a moment before granting another kiss. It was a wonder how that mouth could be so gentle. Milan’s closed eyelids fluttered.
When their lips started moving, it was as if they knew a dance Milan wasn’t aware he’d been taught. His previous kisses had not been like this: a sweet tension, an inescapable heat. Raphael’s scent was heady, rich, and Milan felt himself sway with it.
At the first hint of wetness, Raphael’s tongue smoothing slowly over his bottom lip, slipping inside the warm breath of his mouth, Milan couldn’t stop himself from raising his hands and clinging to the front of Raphael’s shirt. He opened his mouth to let Raphael in further, but he barely licked inside, a tease that had Milan only wanting more.
That seemed to be the invitation Raphael needed. He moved closer, making Milan wrap his arms around Raphael’s neck so they could fit together. Even that wasn’t enough, the warmth of Raphael’s hands suddenly scorching below Milan’s shift, brushing against the back of his thighs, his ass, his back. Milan made a broken, desperate noise as heat and want flared wildly inside him. He could feel the wetness drip between his legs.
Yes. Maybe this would be very simple after all.
Milan squawked with indignation as he was suddenly lifted, his legs wrapping around Raphael’s waist, but the noise ended in a laugh. There was a certain amount of tradition in being carried to bed, despite any objections Milan might have been able to make at the thought of Omegas needing to pass a threshold on anything but the power of their own two legs. Still, when he was placed on the bed, everything was soft beneath and hard above him, and he was lost.
They looked at each other for a moment as Raphael caged him with his body. His face was flushed slightly, blue eyes bright. His lips were wet from Milan’s mouth, and a shiver of need went through him.
Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega Page 4
