Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega

by Marina Vivancos

“Then you admit it.”

  “That, yes—please, I will tell you every truth, but I did not know the bond would harm you this way.”

  “Then why? You have been bonded before—you know what a healthy bond feels like!”

  Lord Raphael flinched.

  “Yes, I have been bonded before,” Lord Raphael said quietly.

  Milan waited.

  “My previous husband…was not a good man.”

  Of all the things Lord Raphael could have said, that was not what Milan was expecting. He opened his mouth but thought better of interrupting. The truth was…Lord Raphael did not look well. Not only due to fatigue—he was hunched over himself, eyes lost.

  Milan let him tell his story.

  “As you know, my marriage to Jack was arranged, just like this one, but I quickly fell in love.”

  Milan ignored the numbing jolt of pain that went through him.

  “Jack was…charming. He was funny, witty. He would keep me on my toes. You have said before that I wish for a docile Omega, but that is not at all the case. Quite the opposite. As a foolish boy, I would dream of a love just like the one I thought I had. Someone who would challenge me. Who would make me better. But Jack…Jack did not make me better.”

  Milan watched Raphael’s face contort in the sort of pain that was deep and old.

  “I must admit that I was happy, for a while, but I soon discovered that no man can hide their true nature for long. Slowly, Jack revealed himself to be ruthless. Cruel. That charm—it was a tool he used for his own gain. The way I fell in love was not organic, but premeditated by him. Our coming together was not just chance—he had picked me.”

  “Picked you? He influenced the arranged marriage?” Milan asked, a little incredulous. Raphael laughed humourlessly.

  “It sounds absurd, doesn’t it? You and I know what unmovable powers decide who weds and to whom. Of course, it was much later that I found out how talented he is in the art of manipulation.”

  Milan felt a little sick to his stomach. If Lord Raphael was being truthful, this could be verified. Why lie about something like that?

  “You will think me pathetic, for what Alpha is taken advantage of by their Omega? Some think it impossible. But Jack…all he sought was to slice the spirit out of me with such small cuts that I didn’t know it was happening until it was too late. Every word, every action, it became…”

  Milan’s stomach roiled. Lord Raphael’s voice—Dr. Kensington was right. No one was that good an actor. And yet Lord Raphael went on as if he were purging himself. As if, now that he had started, he was unable to stop.

  “Will you believe that there came a point that all I wanted to do was please him? Everything I did, even if it was exactly what he asked for, was flawed. I was flawed. And even as I noticed the decay of my soul, I believed every word that came out of his mouth. I did not see the truth. When he convinced me to fire my accountant and hire one of his choosing, I did so. When he started becoming overly involved in the business of the estate and it started declining, I did not blame him. I was a fool,” Lord Raphael spit out.

  Milan couldn’t help but tighten his hand around Lord Raphael’s, but it only made him flinch.

  “His touch, his—even when I did not want—” Raphael took a heaving, panicked breath.

  Milan covered his mouth with his free hand. An image of their first and only night together—the strange moment when Lord Raphael had tensed and paused when Milan had kissed his neck. At the time, Milan had thought it was due to pleasure. He had not even considered that Lord Raphael would be as frightened and unsure as Milan himself had been.

  “And the bond. The bond. No. I do not know what a healthy bond feels like, for he only used it to manipulate me, to…”

  Milan could see that Lord Raphael was shaking now. He wanted to stop him but knew it would be unwise. Lord Raphael did not even seem conscious of Milan’s presence anymore. The library had been filled with ghosts, and they were all Lord Raphael seemed to see.

  “It was not until that trip—I could not understand why Jack was so against me going. But, of course, he knew what time and distance would do. His honeyed tongue, the sway of the bond—once that was removed, it was like waking from a nightmare. I could not believe…it was as if someone else had been living in my skin for years. I contacted my associates, and indeed, my suspicions were correct. Jack and that ‘accountant’ were swindling money from the estate. The villagers, the workers…they were paying the price whilst I let myself drift in a fog. With the evidence I had, and thanks to Orson and Ingrid—the only ones in my current staff that were there then—I was able to throw him out. I haven’t seen him since.”

  Milan sat, stunned. He could not speak. His mind was reeling. Slowly, Lord Raphael seemed to come back to himself. He looked at Milan, his face flushing suddenly.

  “I’m sorry. I-I know that may have been a lot to take in. I just…I knew if I stopped…”

  “I understand. Lord Raphael…”

  “Milan.” Lord Raphael’s hand, having gone limp, clutched his again. “Please, know that I do not tell you this to seek your forgiveness, for I don’t deserve it. All I want is for you to know that I will never—I will never…the suffering I have put you through…”

  Milan choked on a breath. He didn’t know whether to comfort Lord Raphael or to agree.

  “When the marriage arrangement to you was pressed upon me, I thought I could do it. Or, at least, I wanted to. I was selfish. I wanted to prove to myself that I was not ruined by him. Instead, I became a replica of his cruelty.”

  That, at least, Milan knew was not true. “Do not say that. Whatever your actions brought, they did not intend to harm me.” It was only as Milan said it that he realised he had been swayed by Lord Raphael’s story.

  Lord Raphael shook his head. “What does that matter? What does it matter, what my intentions were? Whether I did it intentionally or not, you suffered just the same. Even if I didn’t know exactly how much I was harming you, I knew that you were miserable. That you were alone and that I was foiling your every attempt to make a home here. I showed you nothing but disdain and mistrust when you…”

  Lord Raphael covered his eyes with a trembling hand. Milan was again struck speechless. He felt, after all that had just been revealed, that he should defend Lord Raphael, but how, when it was the truth?

  “I cannot tell you how much I regret what I have done. I sought to prove that Jack no longer had any control over me, and all that has become obvious is that I am as much under his control as I ever was.”

  Milan took a shaking breath. That could not be true. “Raphael,” he started, for it was not the time for honorifics. “I am very sorry, Husband, for what happened to you.”

  Raphael revealed his eyes from under his hand. They were wide and wet with suffering.

  “I cannot absolve you completely. I don’t even know if I have the power to do so. My body…it still fears you, somehow. It still…”

  “I let my fears torture you. I tortured you.”

  Milan shook his head. “It does no good for us now to describe what has happened in such a way. You say that your intentions don’t matter. Perhaps it won’t change what has happened—but it will affect our future. And what counts more than that, now?”

  Raphael shook his head again. Milan persevered.

  “I…I don’t have the ability to sort through everything in my mind and emotions and come up with who is wrong and who is right. What I have gone through has been…trying. What happened to you was horrific. The will of man…perhaps we expect too much of it, in such circumstances.”

  “How can goodness prevail if we don’t expect it of people?” Lord Raphael demanded.

  “How can goodness prevail when we expect it of people regardless of the cruelty of their situation?”

  Raphael opened his mouth to fight back, but Milan cut him off with a shake of his head.

  “We cannot start philosophising now. All we can do is figure out where to go from here. If
we become entrenched in the past, we will go nowhere. Let’s forget about forgiveness for a little while. Let’s just…”

  Lord Raphael looked at him for a moment. “In the beginning, you said that, even if there could not be love, maybe there could be companionship. I do not deserve to ask anything of you now, but if I did, it would be for you to let me prove myself to you—that I will no longer put you in danger. That I will do all I can to never let anything like this happen to you ever again,” he implored.

  Milan remained silent for a while. “It is not that I do not believe your conviction, but how are you so sure that what you say will be possible? Your actions were guided by the fear of being truly bonded with another. Of letting me into you, of allowing me to feel you like no other, and for you to feel me. How can you expect that fear to disappear?”

  Raphael took a bracing breath. “I do not expect the fear to disappear, but that is why I am responsible for what has happened. One can conquer fear to do what is right, something which I failed to do. Seeing you there, dying, because of me…my fear of that happening again is far greater than allowing the bond to grow. What you have said in the past is right—you did not choose this. I agreed as much as you to marry, I lay with you and bit you to create the bond. What’s done is done. This is the only option I have left.” Raphael’s eyes were beseeching, pleading with Milan to believe him.

  What else could Milan do but accept what he said for now?

  Milan smiled weakly before nodding. “All right.”

  As if that agreement had cut all his strings, Milan felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. That conversation had been far more than his body was ready to handle.

  “I know I have just dragged you all the way here, but perhaps you were right—I overestimated my ability to stay awake. I think it is best if we rest. As much as I abhor the idea of returning to my bed, I believe it’s become a necessity.”

  Raphael sat up at once. “Of course.”

  The walk back to Milan’s room was filled with an odd, ringing silence, as if Lord Raphael’s words had been so loud that it left the quiet trembling.

  They both paused in front of the bed, trepidation crawling up Milan’s spine. Lord Raphael seemed to notice it at once.

  “I will sleep on the chair, of course. If it’s all right, I’d like to tie a soft piece of cloth I have there around our wrists, so that our hands do not separate in sleep.”

  “All right.”

  Milan felt guilty leaving such a worn out Lord Raphael to rest poorly on the chair, but even with all he had learnt, he couldn’t quite face having his husband in his bed.

  Despite all that was churning in his head and the strangeness of sleeping tied to another person, exhaustion took him quickly.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After a fitful night of sleep, Milan and Lord Raphael organically agreed on a routine. Lord Raphael made it clear that he would abstain from working outside for the time being and suggested that they spend their time together in the library, knowing, of course, that this was where Milan had previously spent his days.

  Even if they rarely talked, it was strange to spend so much time with Lord Raphael. To see his frown of concentration as he worked or how he would sometimes mutter to himself, numbers and odd words as he tried to figure something out.

  Sometimes, Milan would pretend to read even as all his attention was on Lord Raphael. Or, at least, on thinking about him, and all he had revealed about his past. Milan wished he could see the whole thing, his story included, play out at the theatre. To divorce himself from the situation and watch as an observer instead of a participator. That, however, was impossible—he could not evaluate what had happened with only logic. Emotions would seep through, both for the abuse that Lord Raphael had gone through and for his own experience.

  Were fear and trauma enough to excuse the way that Lord Raphael had behaved? He hadn’t controlled Milan, had not isolated him from anybody but him—Milan had been free to do as he wished, except to forge a relationship with his husband. But Lord Raphael’s actions had gone beyond coolness. He had been cruel, at times, in his suspicion of Milan’s character and intentions. Part of Milan wanted to forgive him—for the sake of peace in his own house if nothing else—but it was not so easy.

  However, it was obvious that Lord Raphael was trying.

  “Did you read anything interesting today?” he would ask at dinner. Milan would smile and tell him and listen to Lord Raphael’s stilted explanation of what he had been working on that day.

  It was a vast improvement from before. But was it enough?

  After a week, it was apparent that Milan’s claustrophobia from not leaving the manor was reflected in Lord Raphael, and he suggested they take walks around the estate at least once a day. Lord Raphael agreed quickly, and that first day they set out into the cold, hands awkwardly clasped together.

  “Do you think it will snow soon?” Milan asked, filling his lungs with the frigid air.

  “Not too soon—in a month or two, perhaps.”

  “That’s soon!” Milan laughed, looking up at him as they walked. Lord Raphael gave him a small smile.

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right. I guess I was thinking of all we have to do before the first snow.”

  “A lot?”

  “Yes—once the earth freezes, all cultivation stops except for anything that grows on trees, so we have to ensure that all our winter crops are collected by then.”

  “None? I guess that makes sense—I thought you might have had some magical plants that grew even when it was that cold.”

  Raphael chuckled—a noise that was new for Milan to experience. “You do not have snow in the South, yes?”

  “None whatsoever. I’ve never even seen snow. They say it is white.”

  “Never?” Lord Raphael asked, sounding surprised.

  “Never. You find that quite odd?”

  “Well—no, I should have known. But…I can’t imagine a year without snow.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Lord Raphael paused. “Yes and no. I used to love it as a child—to play in it with school friends, or even alone.”

  “You can play in snow? Don’t you freeze?” Milan exclaimed, aghast. He had heard it was quite pretty, but he was so averse to the cold, he couldn’t imagine doing anything but sitting in front of a fireplace until it disappeared.

  Lord Raphael laughed, and even now, after all that had happened, Milan felt a little thrill at hearing it. “Well, not if you’re clothed as you seem to always be,” he teased. Whereas Lord Raphael was only wearing his normal attire and a coat on top, Milan was wrapped in layer after layer, even his head wrapped up so that his ears avoided the cold. He knew that he was just a dark little face swamped in furs. He was thankful for Lord Raphael’s large, warm hand around his, for it had to be bare to ensure they did not go too long without physical contact.

  “Yes, I have to admit that I’d crush Saturnus if I tried to ride her,” Milan said ruefully.

  “You are quite fond of the mare,” Lord Raphael observed.

  “Yes. She has such a good character.”

  Lord Raphael laughed. “Not many would say that.”

  Milan scoffed. “You just have to get to know her.”

  Lord Raphael looked pensively at Milan for a moment, a soft smile on his face. It was truly disconcerting, how different this man was from the one before Milan’s heat. Milan had to wonder if almost dying was what Lord Raphael had needed to prove that Milan was not going to hurt him as Jack did—if this was not a change but who he was with everybody he was not afraid of.

  “You mentioned you liked snow in your childhood,” Milan said, returning to the earlier subject. “And now?”

  “Well, it’s not that I dislike it, but it brings complications. I worry about the villagers, especially the elderly or those with young. The animals, too, have to be well insulated. We’re used to it, of course—our homes are fit for the cold. Still…”

  “You worry.”

  “Yes.
I worry.”

  “They’re lucky to have you,” Milan said truthfully. He had thought so all along.

  Lord Raphael flushed, a fascinating thing he always did when complimented.

  “Well, I don’t know about that.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Milan said haughtily. Lord Raphael laughed, and Milan felt something warm inside him.

  **********

  “Right. That’s enough of this,” Milan said at breakfast, which he had taken to eating with his husband. “It’s been more than two weeks—you need to attend to your duties outside the manor.”

  Lord Raphael winced, not denying it.

  “If you do not object, I will go with you,” Milan declared, feeling a little deflated as Lord Raphael stared at his plate. “Please—believe me. These are my people now too. I would do nothing to harm them. Or you.”

  Lord Raphael took a deep breath, looking at Milan. “I know. I know.” He gave Milan a small smile. Milan decided to take his words at face value. There were still doubts between them, but all they could do was forge through.

  After more than half a month since Milan’s heat, he could stand to be away from Lord Raphael for at least twenty minutes, so they mounted different horses after breakfast and set out.

  Lord Raphael kept an easy pace, pointing out different fields as they passed, still seeming determined to include Milan, despite the discomfort it appeared to cause him to speak so freely. Milan couldn’t help but admire Lord Raphael a little for going so against his instincts in order to take care of him.

  “These are perpetual spinach. We’ll have to harvest them this week. Over there are potatoes. Oh, and see that tree there? I got caught on it once when one of the worker’s dogs chased me. I was sure I would be mauled to death.”

  Milan laughed. “What did you do to the poor thing to incite such anger?”

  “Nothing! I was completely innocent.”

  Milan snorted.

  “Here, we’re almost at the pea trees—wait until you try Ingrid’s pea soup. She puts cracked pepper in it—I can’t describe how delicious it is.”