Page 15 of Honeythorn
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 mein 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.
