Melissa gave him a bemused smile before nodding.
Milan entered the study without knocking. Anger had replaced the fear of last night, but he used it to propel him forwards.
Raphael got to his feet quickly—a strange reaction that Milan ignored. They stood some meters apart, simply staring at each other for a moment as if the previous night had lasted years and they were now reunited, little more than strangers.
Then again, perhaps that was what they had always been.
“I believe we need to talk,” Milan started.
Raphael nodded.
“It has become quite clear to me that it is not love, or friendship, or even companionship that you sought in this marriage. I hope you can forgive me for hoping otherwise in the beginning. I assure you, I have been thoroughly disabused of those notions.”
Lord Raphael flinched. Milan couldn’t say he was unhappy to see that he at least partly regretted last night’s actions.
“I would be happy to be civil with you, as, despite how much you dislike the idea, we will have to remain tied for the rest of our lives.”
Lord Raphael opened and closed his mouth before simply nodding.
“However, I believe we should still eat dinner together. It would not do to be such strangers as to not recognise one another down the street. We will have to attend some balls and public functions and will have to keep appearances—not for vanity, but for morale. You understand?”
Lord Raphael gave him a long look. “Yes. Dinner is fine.”
Milan was a little surprised at the easy agreement, having prepared more arguments, but he nodded. The truth was that Milan was exhausted after a sleepless night, and although he had not wanted to delay the conversation, he didn’t want to fight either. However, this was not all Milan had to say.
“There is one more thing I need to make clear.” Milan took a step forwards, and although practically the whole room was still between them, it felt good to take some control over their proximity. “You will never speak to me the way that you did last night,” Milan said, his voice hard.
Lord Raphael’s eyes widened. Milan forged on.
“I understand anger and expressing it. But speaking to me like I am beneath you, looming over me, banging the table—I will not tolerate that. I would like to remind you that you agreed to this marriage. I did not trick you into it. You do not want me. Fine. But it was your decision to have me here, so do not suggest I have invaded, or that I have the power to infect.” Milan kept his voice level but could not help narrowing his eyes on the last word.
Lord Raphael looked away in what Milan hoped was shame and not anger at being admonished. “You are right. I apologise. I should never have spoken to you that way, under any circumstances. I will make sure it does not happen again.”
“Please do.”
There was a moment of silence. “I am leaving today for business,” Lord Raphael said, surprising Milan.
“For how long?”
“Four days.”
Milan nodded. He did not think the bond would show signs of strain in that amount of time. He walked towards Raphael, ignoring his expression and stiff posture as Milan grasped his hand for a second before stepping back.
“Safe trip, then.”
Lord Raphael tilted his head.
Without anything else to say, Milan left Lord Raphael to his work.
**********
Milan took Lord Raphael’s departure as the perfect opportunity to find a routine that would ensure good mental and physical health. He made sure to go outside every day that was not drenched in rain, even if for just a brisk walk. He rode into town and then visited Katerina on the second day. He would spend hours studying from technical books or enjoying the vast collection of fiction in the library.
On the third day of Lord Raphael’s absence, the accountant, Mister Gale, arrived at the manor, not having been aware of Lord Raphael’s trip. It only solidified Milan’s suspicions that it had not been a planned journey, but a hasty retreat.
“Come in. would you like some tea?” Milan offered.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—I’ll wait for Lord Raphael’s return.”
“There’s no need, I would love to hear about what news you bring. I am also lord of the estate—surely you’re not suggesting I’m not fit to hear what you have to say?”
“Not at all, My Lord, I only meant—”
“Perfect, let’s go to the library, then. I’ll call for some tea.”
Milan listened with avid interest about the financial workings of the estate, happy not to have Lord Raphael glaring over his shoulder.
By the time Lord Raphael returned, Milan was sure he could have at least a content life without his husband’s company. Lord Raphael seemed tired but no worse for wear when he arrived, Milan greeting him at the door as was proper. Lord Raphael even managed a small smile and didn’t even flinch terribly when Milan grasped his hand.
Maybe some distance between them was what he needed.
As seemed to be normal with Lord Raphael’s mercurial nature, the peace did not last long.
“You talked to the accountant,” Raphael bit out almost before he was inside the library.
Milan raised his eyes from the book he had been reading. “Well, I let him talk to me, more like. What is the matter?”
“Those issues are none of your business!”
Milan scoffed, closing the book just to hear it bang. “How can you say that? We are married now—we share the estate.”
“No!” Lord Raphael denied, making a cutting motion with his hand.
“This again. You are being ridiculous. Just because I am an Omega—”
“It has nothing to do with that.”
“Then what is it about?”
Lord Raphael growled. Milan was not impressed.
“I’m busy. I’ll see you at dinner,” Milan said, giving him a pointed look. Lord Raphael stood there for a moment before stomping out.
Milan sighed. It was like dealing with a child.
*****
Milan couldn’t avoid feeling a little smug as they both ate dinner in stubborn silence. It felt good to make clear to his ridiculous husband what was appropriate and what wasn’t. Milan refused to cave to Lord Raphael’s wild mood swings.
Perhaps it was those self-congratulatory thoughts that left him unprepared for Lord Raphael’s next chess move, although Milan knew that even if he had thought the very worst of his husband, he would not have expected this.
Milan had been so absorbed in his thoughts throughout dinner that it was only when he dismissed himself from the table and went to grasp Lord Raphael’s hand that he noticed the dark, leather gloves that stopped him from doing so.
Milan froze, mind blank. The desperate thought that perhaps Lord Raphael was cold and odd enough to wear gloves to dinner passed his mind. As Milan looked up to see Lord Raphael staring back, however, he knew that was not that case. This was a deliberate message.
Despite Milan’s wilfulness, he was dependent on Lord Raphael in a way that was not reciprocated. The bond between them—which Milan barely noticed most days, it was so weak—could be a great joy, but it could also be a great danger. If left to decay without touch, it was Milan who would suffer. Not Raphael.
I own you. You will do as I say.
A chill went through Milan. Helplessness, fear—he was at the mercy of his husband. This, he would not be able to fight his way through.
Clinging to anger, Milan tried to touch Lord Raphael’s face, but his wrist was caught in a tight grip. Lord Raphael could, and would, overpower him.
Milan wrenched free before practically stumbling into the hallway.
He hid in his room, not even letting Melissa attend to him. This was the first fight in his life that he saw lost before it had begun.
He sat on the floor by his bed. What would Lord Raphael make him do? What would he deny him? Would he control his whole life, keeping him weak and malleable through lack of touch?
&nb
sp; Milan buried his face in his hands.
What was he to do?
**********
Once, when Milan was a child, he was witness to the consequences of a neglected bond. It had taken a long time to take full effect, but the result was an Omega that was no more than a shadow. Thin, small, curled into herself as if trying to protect something within her. It was like something had eaten her away until she was nothing. Nothing.
Milan, a boisterous, active child, had been struck still and terrified at the sight. Even then he had known the horror of being diminished. Of being made to die from the inside out.
There could be much more to dying than death.
Milan refused to end up like that.
He lay in bed the following morning as he seemed to do these days, searching for a way to fight.
His first scheme was to tell somebody, but who could he go to? Not the staff—they were loyal to Lord Raphael. And besides, they would see it happening—if they cared, they would do something about it.
He couldn’t tell the police—it wasn’t actually illegal to commit an Omega to such a slow death—of course an Alpha would never do such a thing, so why put laws in place to prevent it? He might have been able to accuse him of abuse, but who on earth would believe his word against that of a lord?
Nor could he tell Katarina, for what could she do? Lord Raphael would deny it, and it would discredit her, embroiling her in a scandal that would damage her prospects forever.
He could not tell his family—they were too far away. By the time the letter got to them, and they to him, it would be too late. Why worry them needlessly?
Milan could try and use physical force, but where would that get him? Not only could Lord Raphael overpower him physically, but the thought of forcing himself on someone was abhorrent.
Manipulation was doomed to fail, for Milan had nothing that Lord Raphael wanted, nothing to use as subtle force.
What was left? Begging? Or maybe simply waiting and hoping that what everybody said—that Lord Raphael was a good man—was true.
Surely a good man would not kill his own husband. Surely, there had to be a way out. Someone who would believe an Omega over a Lord Alpha who had such a sterling reputation.
Milan simply couldn’t see who, or how.
**********
Any hope Milan had that Lord Raphael had simply been bluffing or firing a warning shot were dashed when he wore the gloves the next night, and the next, and the one after that.
Despite the fear that was ever-growing in Milan, and his complete lack of solutions, he tried to maintain a schedule that would keep his head above water.
He would become immersed in reading about mechanics, especially the advent of the crawler—how there had been many prototypes that had failed before the final form. It made Milan hopeful that things might seem hopeless, but they would turn out all right.
One of the things he enjoyed doing the most was riding into town and speaking with the people there. His favourite day to do so was on Saturdays, on which he would enjoy walking through the market, admiring the fresh produce the lands produced.
It was there that he found out about the ball—hosted by a countess, no less. When he asked Lord Raphael, it was confirmed they had to attend. Milan tried to keep calm, but all he could think about was the possibility that Lord Raphael would take his gloves off for the occasion.
It turned out not to be the case.
Milan was starting to hate the sound of the leather creaking slightly when Lord Raphael made a fist. As much as he wanted to deny it, Milan was starting to feel the effects of the neglected bond, and the sound of the gloves nauseated him further, a mockery of his declining state, especially when Lord Raphael held out a hand to help him into the crawler.
Milan ignored it, getting into the machine himself.
The ride, of course, was silent, but Milan was soon entertained by the arrival of other guests, both in hackneys and crawlers. Milan jumped out of the vehicle eagerly when they reached their destination.
The manor was splendid. The great hall, where the ball was being held, was enormous—even bigger than at Ledford Manor. Great, coral-coloured marble pillars seemed to hold the towering ceiling up, no less than four chandeliers hanging from above. There was a raised platform at the end of the room where a band played merrily, and in between them and Milan were more people than he could have expected, all dressed in lavish clothes. Milan was glad he glad thought to don his best suit—a stylish, moss green with a lightly patterned, cream-coloured silk shirt that went perfectly with his skin tone.
Foolishly, Milan turned to seek his husband, but shouldn’t have been surprised when he saw Lord Raphael disappear into the crowd. He felt a moment of panic at being left alone, but Katarina swooped in as if she had been waiting for him.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Katarina said. “I was deathly bored.”
Milan laughed, knowing she was jesting, but it felt good to be appreciated anyway.
“And where is your husband?” she asked.
Milan shrugged. “I don’t keep him on a leash.”
Katarina raised an eyebrow but said nothing further on the matter.
Despite how much Milan loved Katarina’s company, he found he was not so fond of the rest of the high-born crowd. Unlike his friend, the rest seemed to speak in carefully constructed sentences that alluded more than told. It was quite tedious, especially for the amount of time they spent making the rounds.
There were, however, some gems amongst the rubbish. One Mister Jason—as he insisted Milan call him, instead of by his surname, mentioned a machine that was being used to lift and place the metal pieces of the train tracks that seemed to be such a topic of conversation.
“Have you seen the machine yourself?” Milan asked eagerly. Jason nodded, smiling wide. He was quite a plain-looking man, thin and of average height for an Alpha, with light-brown hair and similarly coloured eyes.
“Indeed—it looks like a big huffing beast, what with the streams of steam coming out of it every few seconds. I’ve heard they’ve had to alter how the steam is released, for it was burning passing workers.”
“How interesting. Do you know who invented it?”
“It was a group initiative, but Clara Poeny led it.”
“Oh, yes! I’ve read about her.”
“Have you read her book, The Future of the World?”
“No. What a curious title.”
“Yes—the book is magnificent. We’ll have to get together, and I’ll lend it to you. I don’t live here—I’m staying with a friend for a while—but I brought it with me for my stay.”
“Couldn’t part from it?” Milan teased.
“Indeed,” Jason laughed.
“Well, that sounds wonderful. I would be glad to make a friend with whom to speak about these things.”
“My pleasure. How about a dance to celebrate?”
Milan stiffened slightly. Jason seemed nothing more than friendly, even if he had been the one to approach Milan, but he didn’t want to give the wrong impression.
“Well, I think my husband may be waiting for a dance…” he lied, looking around.
Jason smiled. “I would not hold you captive—you’d be free to escape my company after.”
Milan looked at Katerina, making sure it would be proper to dance with another Alpha. She nodded subtly.
“Then it would be my pleasure,” Milan said, and let himself be guided to where other couples danced as the next song started.
Milan had to admit, it was pleasant. Milan did not know the steps to the dance, but it was easy to pick the rhythm up with such a skilled guide. Although their contact was friendly and appropriate, it was nice to be held by an Alpha, to be smiled at and not made to feel repellent.
In the end, they danced for two songs before Jason bowed out gracefully and let him return to Katerina.
She was accompanied by a tall, stiff looking alpha, and a short, plump, and very beautiful Omega which Katerina coul
dn’t seem to look away from.
Well. Things had just gotten a little more interesting.
“Hello. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Milan said as soon as he arrived. Katerina shot him a look but immediately smiled at the other Omega.
“This is Lord Milan Ledford. And this is Gianna. I mean, Miss Gianna Fetcher.”
Miss Gianna looked at him, her green eyes a startling contrast with her short, dark hair. “Oh, please call me Gianna. I can’t stand all these formalities.”
Milan smiled. “They are quite tedious, aren’t they?”
Gianna laughed, but the Alpha they had ignored until now did not seem so impressed.
“Such norms are there to promote order,” he said.
Milan raised his eyebrows at his chiding tone, as if he were dealing with children. “Then you must be at the brink of chaos, having not introduced yourself to me already.”
The Alpha clenched his jaw. “Mister Edwin Mason.”
“Well, Mister Edwin. What a pleasure,” Milan said, purposefully using his first name. Edwin’s eyes narrowed. Milan ignored him.
“We were just speaking about how talented Gianna is at painting,” Katerina cut in.
Gianna blushed. “Oh, we were not.”
“No, but we could be. Why won’t you let me commission you?”
“Because you would ask for something scandalous.” Gianna looked at Katerina knowingly.
Milan laughed. “Katerina, I have known you a short time, and even I know Miss Gianna is exactly correct.”
Katerina put her hand over her heart. “You both aim to tarnish my reputation.”
“And what reputation is that?” Gianna smirked.
“You wound me.”
Gianna laughed, placing her hand lightly on Katerina’s arm to show she was jesting. Milan grinned at the familiarity in the gesture.
“Miss Gianna, I cannot tell you how glad I am about having made your acquaintance. Perhaps you will let me make a commission,” Milan said.
“Oh, of course,” Gianna answered immediately. Katerina gasped, and Gianna had to cover her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega Page 8
