King Micajah

t w e n t y - f o u r

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t w e n t y - f o u r

"Your food is fuckable," Adah says, licking the tips of her fingers, after ravishing the last piece of her chicken, and forking the last amount of the pasta salad into her mouth. She finished the mash ages ago.

The chicken was warm, soft and cooked perfectly, tender in her mouth. The batter it had been fried with was rich, made with buttermilk and just the right amount of heat to it. It was golden and crisp. The pasta salad was the perfect accompaniment. It was cool and light, made from plain pasta, sweetcorn, and cabbage all mixed in mayonnaise. The mash was creamy and smooth.

Micajah looks at her curiously, a deep laugh rising from his throat.

"It's almost as fuckable as the chef who made it, my love," he says slyly, a dark look coveting his features. He had cleared his plate long ago, and was enjoying watching his mate devour his food. Adah rolls her eyes, hiding her chuckle.

"Almost, but not quite," she murmurs with a wink, before leaning back. Her stomach was full, belly satisfied and content. Even so, she still plucks a strawberry from the basket, putting it into her mouth.

"I'm glad you liked it," his tone is lower, more serious. His eyes are warm as the look upon her. Adah just gives him a soft smile in return.

"I think we'll have to wait a little before the tiramisu though," she tells him, patting her stomach through the hoodie. Micajah just snickers, packing everything up.

Adah's eyes stray upon the night decorated with the stars and the moon. The night was blackening by the second. She sighs, before her eyes slide to the fire a few feet away from her. It's flames were tall, dancing in glee, and warm. Micajah's form slides behind her, and she sits up to readjust, so she's resting on his torso. His arms wrap loosely around her, and his lips kiss the top of her head.

The two just talk, about everything and anything. They don't stray into any hardcore topics, not pressing any harder than they need to, respecting the limits.

"Really?" she giggles, after hearing one of Micajah's tales of Uriah when they were both children. Micajah stifles his chuckle.

"The Queen wasn't always happy with Uriah. But, Uriah's own mother died whilst giving birth to him, and his father died before he was born. So, Uriah was always like the Queen's son, like my brother," Micajah tells her, his voice soft.

"What was she like? The Queen? I mean, your mother," Adah asks, eyes stuck on the fire before her, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. He sighs.

"She was different to most mothers. But, I guess that was because I was different to most sons," he takes a deep breath. Adah listens intently.

"She was very stern. She always kept me in check. I don't blame her. Not at all. I wasn't an easy wolf growing up. And, she was a Queen. A lone ruler. Things didn't work out with her and my dad after she got pregnant," Micajah says, and Adah's heart swells with the fact that he's opening up. She remains quiet, paying full attention.

"I don't really care about him anyway. Mama was the one who made me the way I am. She was the one who taught me control, and how to put my Kingdom above myself. Yes, she didn't show me love and warmth, but I knew she loved me. It is why she did things the way she did. Why she didn't let me leave the palace. Why she made our pack the strongest. It was all for me," he murmurs.

"Why weren't you an easy wolf?" Adah's voice is sinfully low, eyes looking up. Micajah doesn't face her, features stoic.

"I was four," his tone takes no emotion, and she grips his hand tighter.

"I was four when I first killed someone. It was a maid, her name was Lena. She wouldn't let me out of my room, and I was getting angry. Through my tantrum, I shifted and took her throat," his voice is low. Adah doesn't say anything.

He was four. A pup. A pup had no business spilling blood.

"It was incidents like that. That showed how out of control I was. It wasn't all of the time, but there was just these moments my wolf thirsted for blood. Mama tried to contain them as much as she could. It got worse when I hit puberty. My hormones were all over the place," he shakes his head.

"Eventually, my wolf got detained. Mama had to break him into submission several times, just to keep him down under. As I got older, I understood more, and the more I wanted to not lose control again. It got better a little," another sigh.

"But, I have felt at peace with him, since marking you. Mama always said that, she always said it would be fine once I got a mate. A true mate,"

Adah's brows furrow.

"She thought you'd get a true mate?" her voice is soft, and Micajah nods.

"She never believed in the prophecy – well not all of it. She thought I had someone out there," Micajah utters.

"Why wouldn't she believe in the prophecy?" Adah asks.

"I think deep down it hurt her to know, that I would never have another half. Never have someone to unconditionally love me after she left the world," Adah's heart dims, her eyes narrowed.

"And if there really is a true mate for you out there?" she asks, her voice wavering. His form tightens.

"You are my true mate Adah. You," his voice dips to her.

"I have fallen in love with you Adah. You. It doesn't matter if it is the case. I can't live without you. You bear my mark. I chose you, and I chose to love you. That's it," a kiss to her temple, and she closes her eyes, relishing in the touch. 

"I love you too," tone quiet, eyes earnest. Micajah blushes, and Adah laughs, before pulling his head so their lips could meet.

"How about that tiramisu now?" she asks with a grin. 

A/N - idk how i feel about this.