Page 3 of Honeythorn
As the door shut, Milan felt his smile drain away. He looked around the room again.
His new home.
Without thinking any further, Milan turned to unpack.
**********
Milan dressed for dinner early, impatient to finally say more than two words to the man he was supposedly spending the rest of his life with. It was not just marriage that awaited him, but a biting bond. Not easily broken once created, the bond would unite them, mind and soul. Each person had a role and an advantage in the partnership. The Omega was capable of affecting the Alpha’s emotions, helping to calm and guide them. Alphas, on the other hand, brought stability to the Omega through touch.
The beginning of the bond was a very delicate stage which had to be nurtured through touch and company. This was known as far as history could remember. What was more recent to come out into the light, was that neglecting the bond would mean an unstable Alpha but, more worryingly, it would cause the decay of an Omega, eventually leading to death.
Not that this was something Milan had to be concerned about, of course. Those cases were incredibly rare. After the bond, it would take a strong will to counter the protective instinct of both Omega and Alpha in order to cause such malicious harm. It was simply all the waiting around that was making Milan’s mind go wild with uncertainty.
A knock on his bedroom door startled Milan out of his dark thoughts. He took a second to make sure he looked presentable and hadn’t winkled his attire—a deep-red suit and white cravat—with all his pacing. His hair, shorn close to his skin, needed little maintenance, and he had left his face untouched by the products some Omegas used to highlight their best features.Really, Milan thought,my plump lips and dark eyes speak for themselves.
Deeming himself presentable, he rushed to the door, startling Melissa as he yanked it open with enthusiasm.
“Dinner?” He smiled widely.
“Yes. The dining room is downstairs.”
Milan followed her eagerly, eventually stopping in front of a large, wooden door. He waited for her to move onwards, but Melissa’s knock on the door marked their final destination. He looked at her, confused, for there was noise coming from the other side—several voices talking over each other, and the sound of glasses clinking or being placed down.
Before Milan could even begin to conceive what awaited him, the door opened.
“Thank you, Melissa,” Raphael said quietly. He was still wearing his black suit, although without his overcoat, and cut an impressive figure, but Milan was too distracted with what could possibly be happening inside the room to be moved by Raphael’s appearance.
Milan barely noticed Melissa curtsying and leaving as Raphael stood aside, gesturing for Milan to enter. Milan did but stopped short at the sight of the dining table. Instead of an intimate dinner for two, the table was host to six Alphas, who ceased talking to look at Milan curiously. He was stunned out of all reaction. Surely, this could not be due to ignorance. To book what he guessed was a work dinner, to not even warn Milan ahead of time…that struck Milan more as malice than anything else.
Milan looked up at Raphael and, for a single moment, their eyes met. Milan did not know what he expected from him. Arrogance? A challenge? A sneer? All he got was a refusal to accept the consequences of his own actions as Raphael quickly looked away.
“My associates,” he began and introduced each Alpha in turn. Two men, four women. All pale and nearly indistinguishable, as far as Milan was concerned. He managed to nod and perhaps even smile, but each name was lost to him.
Finally, Raphael introduced him as his betrothed. Milan looked at him again, surprised by the acknowledgment, having half expected to be referred to as “Omega” or “the Omega from the South.”
The dinner was a blur. Milan sat stiff and straight in his chair, forcing himself to eat despite his stomach being a tight knot. He nodded and replied to questions about his travels and his impressions of the North. Milan lied diplomatically, despite the urge to say what he really thought of this cold land, and the cold man he was to marry.
When the last of the dessert was finished, the Alphas headed in unison to a small sitting room for drinks. Milan watched them leave for a moment before looking up at Raphael, who had stopped beside him.
“You must be tired. You may return to your room if you wish.” Despite the veneer of concern, it was a clear dismissal. Raphael didn’t even look at him as the pause between them stretched.
For a moment, Milan wanted to acquiesce. The last thing he wanted right now was to converse with strangers. All he had wished for was a quiet dinner with his husband-to-be, to discuss topics of little importance simply to spend some time with each other. But Milan had been stubborn from birth, if his mother was to be believed, and he would stand his ground at the impertinence he was faced with.
“No, I believe a drink after my long travels would do me well,” Milan said with his nose in the air, not waiting for a reply before striding into the adjacent room.
Despite Milan’s fatigue, he made himself seem merry, talking to each guest in turn. The diminishing use of coal, the train tracks being built nearby, the local crops. Milan wondered aloud about what plants could grow in such cold and was told about the vegetables that remained buried underground until it was time to pull them up to be washed and consumed.
It fit the people there not to grow on trees, exposed.
Raphael said little throughout the evening. Milan had no idea if he was being taciturn or simply reserved. He seemed to forget Milan’s presence completely, barely glancing at him, but Milan kept up his cheery revolt. If this really was a message from his future Alpha, he would respond in kind.
He would not be cowed. He would not be kept in his room like a trinket to be pulled out and shown about when it pleased his husband.
Despite the haziness that was overtaking Milan, his eyelids drooping and posture slumping no matter his attempts at remaining alert, he stayed until the last guest had left. The room seemed terribly cold and silent when only Milan and Raphael remained. Milan looked at him for a moment. Why was there so little defiance in his expression when his actions spoke loud and clear?
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Milan lied. “I will retire now if there is nothing else you want from me.”
Raphael shook his head, still not looking at him.
