Fraternity

Chapter Twenty

"You're broken," I decide, my gaze curious and analytical, unpicking every thought, every idea of why he is the way he is. His eyes glimmer back with amusement. He stares at me like he wants to hear every thought in my head. Wants to understand every inch of my being, leaving no rock unturned.

He's a man that's bottled up his desire to fuck other men for so long, he's almost convinced himself that he enjoys the touch of another woman. It's all about his pride. He's more than just an Alpha, he's an Alpha King, but most importantly, he's a man. And men only care about what other men think. He's a man who trains day and night with other men and listens to them talk about the sex they have with other women. Sat and observed the women these men talk of, not being able to understand the lack of appeal. He's admired their curves and talked about the wet folds between their legs. It's all he's ever known. It's familiarity.

He knows he should like women and so he forces his narrative and convinces himself to be normal. Why? Because he doesn't feel like a man if he fucks another man. By every other man's standards, you are only a man if you fuck women.

"I'm broken am I?" His voice is amused, but I can tell he's curious. His voice is questioning, he wants me to go on, he wants me to reveal every thought that's crossed my mind about him.

"A man who likes to fuck other men can only be broken. Right?" My voice stings through the air, my eyes watch him so carefully, the slightest movement wouldn't be amiss from my gaze. The amusement in his eyes simmers away, only a cold gaze, free of emotion, piercing back. The slight smirk against his lips falls away, straightening to a firm line, his shoulders tense and brow furrows.

I stand up, striding towards his desk, across the cold office floors, and press my hands against the stone top. His eyes are intensely captured with mine, only the desk between us. "I want to mark you," I state, my gaze unwavering and I can feel his animosity towards the idea. The idea of being marked to another man, bound to them for as long as he lives, well, that's not how he works.

He's the type of man who owns you. Nobody owns him. He's an Alpha. A King. No one should have power over him, nobody is more dominant or influential. It's the reason my cock aches for him. You see, I like the chase. Who knows, maybe I enjoy being fucked by men who act straight. So, maybe I am broken too.

But I know that toxicity isn't healthy. To love this man unconditionally, I have to know he wants me for who I am. Not just for the sex. Not to just scratch the itch that only a mate can relieve, but in a way that has him relishing every second that he's in my company. So, if he wants a second chance, he has to prove it. He has to be mine as much as I am his.

"We'll talk about this another time," he says, his voice has no room for questioning as he unfolds his arms, straightens his back, and returns his eyes back down to the page.

"You can think about it as much as you like, but if you don't let me mark you, I will leave. And this time, you won't convince me to come back," I say, his eyes snap to mine, searching for even a small amount of hesitation. He wants to convince himself my words are a lie and honestly, they might be. I'm not convinced I could ever leave him, it might be a toxic circle of leaving and coming back until the message sinks in. But I don't know who for. Will it sink in for him? Will he realise he could lose me? Or will it sink in for me? That I chose to love the arrogant prick who struggles with his sexuality? Who knows.

I wasn't sticking around to let him argue with me. That I can't leave, that I'm his. I step away from the desk and I feel his gaze across my skin as I leave his office. We'd been back in Los Angeles for only a few days. Back in his mansion on his mysterious island. Nothing had changed much, he still hesitated around me, still acted as though a mistake had been made and I wasn't the mate he should have. We slept in the same bed each night, but he doesn't touch me. He should give me loving kisses each night or hold me close to him like he's scared to let go. He's scared of showing his emotions to me.

But, it takes two to tango. Maybe my expectations are higher than they should be. I know the kind of man I'm with, so why do I expect him to change overnight? Perhaps I'm selfish to demand more from him. I'm the first man he's been with and he said it himself, he wants to learn to love me, so, maybe I need to teach him. He can't read my mind and know what to give me. If I want to see progress, I need to be the one to initiate it.

By the time I'd pulled away from my thoughts I found myself outside. The growling and grunts coming off from the right, the metallic smell of blood in the air, and the saltiness of sweat. I stepped down away from the house and found the warriors congregating in a circle between a break in the tree line. They were fighting, both in human form and wolf form, training and keeping up their health.

I'd learned a lot in the few days I'd been back. The house is full of books on wolves, the history, mates, packs, it was a lot to divulge but I'll get there eventually. The number of rogues is increasing. More are struggling to find their mates, their wolves so in distress, they take over and push their humanity out. I get it. I truly believe our purpose is to find happiness on this planet. With love, comes unimaginable happiness.

I approach the circle, my presence lingering in the air. "Who invited the Alphas bitch," the tall brunette on the other side, amongst the wall of wolves, snickered to the wolves beside him. There was an air of disrespect. I hadn't proven myself. To them, I'm just a human that happens to be a white wolf. They don't know of my powers they don't believe it and neither did I. I didn't feel powerful, I didn't feel like anything had changed. I still feel like the same Jackson I was before. Or so I thought.

As I processed his words, I felt this rage click in me like a switch. I'd felt rage, but this was unlike anything I'd felt before.

"What the fuck did you just call me," I growl out, I could see the glow of gold in my eyes, if I was in my right mind I'd have been scared, worried that I could see my own eyes glow. I could feel my canines elongate from my mouth and the aura of complete power roll off of me in waves. The fighting ceased, the forestry silenced, so eerily quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone fell to their knees, the circle remaining, you could smell the fear in the air from those around me. The brunette knelt in the center of the circle, his knees firm in the grass as he's surrounded by his peers, soaked in sweat, his fingers clawing at his throat, his body convulsing as he tried to take in any breath of air. His eyes begged me to stop. Why? Because I was the one suffocating him.

I didn't stop, the rage had taken me in its grasp. Engulfed me in ways my bones ached to hurt the man before me in unimaginable ways. The anger over the comment was unknown to me. I might have broken his nose, bruised him up, but right now, I wanted so much more than just a minor injury.

It's like the disrespect had struck a nerve, a nerve that has never been struck before. I wasn't anybody's bitch. How dare he call me someone bitch. My mind wasn't in its usual place. It wasn't rational or reasonable, it was filled with only rage. That's when the crack sounded the forestry. His neck twisted, his body sat up before folding in and collapsing to the ground, limp and unmoving.

"Any of you dare to disrespect me. Question my authority. You'll end up the same way," my voice didn't sound like my own, it didn't feel like my own. It was deeper, angrier, filled with malice. Then the glow disappeared and the world was only black.