My heart is racing; the pounds of every beat almost steals my ability to hear, the way it's overwhelmingly loud. My breathing is all over the place; it almost feels like there's a lack of oxygen.
I see the mansion. Matter of fact, with my eyes filled to the brim with tears, I can still see how close I am. My tired feet keep running towards what I feel, in the moment, is safety. Still, my sobs can clearly be heard.
I almost fly up those stairs and straight into the back of the house, wiping my face roughly as I spring to the front, where, to which I'm not surprised, I see Julius seated reading a newspaper. His attitude towards my disorientation and being soaked with tears is nonchalant, so it's clear he lacks interest. Still, he raises an eyebrow as he gazes at me over the lining of the newspaper.
"Yo—" I choke a bit but don't let it stop me from saying; "You have to take me home! You have t-to— I need to get out of here, Julius! Please!"
He lowers the newspaper. "I need permission to—"
"You do not need permission!" I yell, marching towards him and, without a second thought, I grab his arm to try pull him up. "Please, Julius! Where's my bag? Get up, let's go!"
He does let me get up, but it stops just there. With his obviously unnatural strength, he takes hold of my own wrist and makes me release my hold on him. "Miss Gertrude, you need to calm down—"
Immediately, I pull away from him and glance around, aimlessly marching here and there. "Where are the keys? I'll drive myself home, I swear it, Julius! I'll walk home!"
So, with every temerity I find after looking at him and realising he won't do as I say, nor is he phased by my outburst, I find not the slightest bit of hesitation to march to the front door. The back of my hand wipes my cheeks and rub my eyes to rid obstructing tears. I quickly grab hold of the door handle and forcefully pull it open, practically sprinting out when freedom calls my name in the distance.
The Range Rover is still parked where it was first parked, and I forcefully try opening any of the doors but, or course, it's locked. Without a second thought, I decide I'll just walk.
Come hell or high water, I won't stay here any longer than needed. My feet almost run down the driveway without hesitation, and I refuse to turn back when I hear Julius basically demanding I stop.
My black ass was never cut out for this.
Then, as though it is meant to play out like this, two big wolves emerge out of nowhere and confidently stride to block off the drive way. No doubt, I can see there's still much space, yet the closer I get, the more on guard they become.
So there I am, sobbing as I shake my head and grip onto the material of my shirt. Tears well up as they snarl at me, perhaps signalling their desire for me to stop and not come closer. I quickly come to realise that the two wolves, peachy-brown in colour, could potentially be Matthew and Andrew, simply because they look exactly alike.
"Mate." My heart sinks.
"Please!" I whisper, taking more steps towards the wolves. "Please just let me go home—"
"Mate."
He's close behind me. Not only can I hear the closeness when he called me that word, but my body tensed up at the familiar feeling of having him be close enough. Then, I feel his hand touch the back of my arm, and instantly, I turn around and raise my hand up almost in surrender, taking a step back.
"I just want to go home. That's all. Julius doesn't want to take me home so I don't mind walking. I just don't want to be here—"
"Listen to me." He frowns a bit. His dilated pupils watch me, surrounded by his blue irises that don't calm me down this time, but spark up more fear in me. His hair is moved back as much as possible away from his face though stubborn strands remain hovering over his eyes. I have to shudder at his height.
Not that I was never used to it, but there's something different about it now — or maybe it's just fear.
"I promise!" I whisper-hiss at him, pressing my hands together as though pleading with him. My wide eyes can't contain any more salty water, so I feel another round of tears slip down my cheeks like they are racing. "I... I promise! I swear, I won't tell anyone what I saw! I wasn't even supposed to be here, I know that now. So let me— let me just go home and—"
"You're not going anywhere. Before we cause a bigger commotion and attract nosey wolves, let's just go to my room and talk about—"
"No!" I'm not surprised that I scream it, but I am surprised I find the strength to do so.
Micah is surprised; how his eyes widen slightly accompanied by a low growl from one of the wolves behind be, I just know none of them expected my out burst.
"I'm not going back there! I... Micah please! I'm not—"
"Mate, mate. Look at me." He speaks above my rambling, taking even more steps closer and tries to take hold of me. He succeeds — his strength helps him and reflex has me dodging his hands and pushing him away. He has my dominant hand gripped into his, and his other hand firmly holds my jaw so my head is facing him.
"Micah—"
"Look at me, Gertrude." Sternly, he speaks and I do just that; fearful eyes lock in on his hooded orbs. "We're going to my room, and we'll talk about this. You're not going home in this state."
There's so much authority in his voice, much like that of his father's. Hell, it's even lowered as though he only wants me to hear him. Still, it's like whatever sense of control, adrenaline and the likes that I had in my body, quickly fades into nothingness.
My resistance quickly slips away and my body becomes still. It doesn't stop my eyes from producing and letting out tears, or the sobs escaping me every other second. It's the dominance; that wolf authority of his that he once swore he didn't have over me, yet is able to get me to cooperate against my will. Now of all times is the worst.
Micah looks past my head — considering I am short and we are on a downhill pathway — at the two wolves behind me for as good as a few seconds before I hear them huff and puff about, then heavily footsteps follow. During this, he spares me a second's glance before he then bends down to scoop me in his arms ever so effortlessly.
Despite my sobs turning to whimpers, I can find no strength in me to resist or fight against him. Almost like I'm a sack of potatoes being carried, I fearfully watch as Micah walks back to the mansion; my heart squeezes when I look back at the driveway over his shoulder, watching my freedom remain staring back at me almost mockingly.
Julius simply stands inside close to the kitchen. The both of us make eye contact; my tearful eyes watch his dead — nonchalant, really — eyes as he watches Micah lead me away from the front of the house.
"P-please... please." I mutter. Not because I choose to, but because it's almost like there's something holding my voice back from raising it any higher in decibel.
He says nothing. Not a word escapes him as his feet heavily stomp on a step at a time, taking us from the first floor to the second. It sinks in very quickly that I could quite literally be kidnapped right before my eyes, and have no power over this weight sitting within me. He could quite literally force me to do what I don't want and I can't fight him. Not with this supernatural energy and strength he seems to have over me.
I try by all means to take in as much detail of our surroundings as possible, and mentally tell myself to prepare for the worst, if and when I decide to make a run for it when I regain the strength to.
"Micah?"
His body stiffens at the call of his name, and I instantly turn my head to gaze over his shoulder for as long as I could before he turns to her, Sarah, who stands a good distance from us. With the little I see, she stands holding a device in her hand and a confused expression on her face.
"Go back in your room, the ritual isn't over." Micah speaks up.
His young sister tilts her head. "Is she okay—"
"No—"
"She's fine, Sarah. She's just going through something." He immediately turns around and continues walking. "Go back in your room. Now."
I can't tell if she does or doesn't, because he steps right into a room unfamiliar to me, and kicks the door shut. The loud bang jolts me with surprise.
After walking a bit, I am gently placed seated at the foot of his bed. Then, he drops down to his knees, hands placed on either side of me on his bed as he gazes up at me. With a deep sigh, he raises his hand to move away the strands of his silk hair from his face.
There I sit, still heavily restricted from doing much movement, looking down at him for a hot moment as I will myself to calm down despite the fear still pumping in my veins. I sniff, blinking what I am hoping is the last of my tears.
"I won't tell a soul—"
"Whether you tell them or not, I doubt they'll believe you." He breathes out softly, reciprocating the decibel I speak at. "I am so... so sorry you had to see that, mate. I can't imagine walking into something like that having not expected any of it. Trust me, you're fine. You don't have to be scared."
I don't? "I... you're doing that thing again. I can't move much."
He raises his hand to my face, but now, because I'm restricted, my reflexes are delayed. His index finger wipes up my tears before his thumb lightly rubs against the skin under my eyes to dry up my tears. "You would have went frantic if I didn't. I'm only trying to help you."
"Against my will?" I whisper. "Stop it, then. Release me."
Micah sighs. "I'll release you when I'm certain you won't try and run away. Gert, what... how did you— why did you come here?"
"You called me."
"I didn't."
"You did. Julius said you were requesting me."
"I didn't request you." Micah shakes his head, rubs my cheek as if removing the last remains of my tears. "I would have called you myself, or contacted you or came to fetch you or something. I would have never requested Julius to get you unless it's an emergency and I can't fetch you. Even still, I would have sent Matthew. I didn't request you to come here, of all places, at a time like this."
Well. I can't find words to express my thoughts about it. All I know is I was picked up for campus under his name. He can sort it out himself.
He frowns, blinking his blue eyes away before he gets to his feet with a groan. "Who found the audacity to lie on my name?"
"Please release me."
"Not yet." He simply answers as he moves towards his window.
I take that as an opportunity to glance around his room as much as I'm allowed to. It's very... clean. Oddly clean, if anyone asked me. As I sniff, I take note of how everything in this room is either black or beige. The walls are beige. His table is black— maybe a dark brown but it appears black. The wooden floor is a beige colour, and his sheets are beige too. His curtains are black.
There's not one picture frame on the wall. On the table, there are a few books, one picture frame that isn't too clear from where I sit, and a weird looking lamp. The stool — a backless stool, might I add — is black.
I wonder if this is his room, now.
My eyes shift to him, watching how he pulls off the hoodie he had on. It leaves him in simple grey jeans and a matching grey short sleeve that holds him a little too tight if I do say so myself. His muscles voluntarily flex as he runs both hands through his hair repeatedly, letting out another low but vibrating growl.
"What... what was he doing?" I mutter with a clogged nose a slightly raspy voice. My heart pounds as I recall the woman's screaming and the whipping sound. "Your father? That man was your father. He was hitting her. Why was she chained—"
"Gertrude—"
"S-she was screaming. She was chained and screaming and he was hitting her. And the— the other two people by that side. I saw them. The man was dead, wasn't he? The lady was crying and screaming and your... your father was beating her." I watch as he rubs his hand through his hair again as he approaches me. "You guys just stood and watched."
"It... this? This is part of us. It's part of our tradition, culture or whatever the hell. Okay? This is normal."
"That ceremony—"
"It's not exactly a ceremony." He shows in. "I wouldn't call it a ceremony."
Whatever the hell it was. Ceremony, ritual, the likes. "So Natasha was right?"
"Yes. What?" He tilts his head and furrowed eyebrows. "Natasha?"
"She saw me. She told me this is all normal. How is this normal, Micah? That's... that could be attempted murder—"
"Gertrude. This is my world and there are somethings I can explain and others that I can't without it sounding... animalistic. I know what it looks like from the outside but this is—" he huffs, shaking his head as moves to his desk to lift the stool.
He shifts back closer to me and settles himself on the stool. Both his hands now rest on my knees and even if I want to move away from him or his touch, I quite literally can't.
His blue — I'd be lying if I said I didn't see hints and hues of grey — eyes drop to my thighs for a moment as he tries to come up with words. I figure that much out since I see him take in air and part his lips as he is ready to speak, then sighs softly. I gulp at it; just how vulnerable he looks in a sense, how he seems like he has internal conflict happening. How hesitant he is, almost as of this is the last thing he wants to be doing.
He licks his lips. "It's a cultural practice, for lack of a better word. Long story short, those three people were responsible for illegal activities that go against the pack values and wolf values and such. It's a lot to explain. On top of that, the woman who was chained, she threatened the Luna— my mother. She threatened my mother's unborn child. Also, yeah, my mother is pregnant which is—" he deeply sighs, rubbing the side of his face. "That's something along the lines of... my father is just breeding her at this point and I don't understand why. I don't even fu— I don't know, okay? So anyway, that's what happened. It's their punishment. Public humiliation. They chose it. It could have been worse, like going rogue and such. It's to spread awareness and warn the rest of the pack about disobedience and such."
So I take a moment to process his words. From beginning to end, as he sits there staring at my thighs.
Public humiliation. Beating people up in front of a gang of wolves is tolerated and acceptable in his culture? How come none of them seemed affected by it? How many members of their pack did they have to publicly humiliate like this that almost everyone watching seemed desensitised to the scene before them?
This is normal to them. I can't begin to imagine what isn't normal.
"Release me, Micah." I whisper this time.
Now, he raises his head up to look at me. He takes a good few seconds to contemplate my request. "You won't try run away? Because I'll just catch you." I shake my head slowly. Micah frowns at this, so I drop my gaze to his hands on my knees. "You can't lie to me."
"I won't run." I mutter.
After another couple of seconds, he lifts his hand to my face, takes hold of my chin and lifts my head up. I look right into his eyes. His dilated pupil intensely look into mine, and before I know it, he lightly sighs and the heaviness within me simply... evaporates. Just like that.
I don't take the chance to explore it better, to see how much power over my own body I have — I simply wiggle my toes in my shoes discreetly, just so he doesn't think I've suddenly changed my mind and am about to make a run for it. I simply suck in air through my lips and exhale softly.
Now, I can feel the lingers of the adrenaline that's long left my body. It makes me feel even more tiredness. So maybe, after all, him having that control over my body has benefits at times like this. Because I feel like sh—
"Tell me your thoughts." Micah breaks the silence between.
I lick my lips and shrug — I can do that too, that's good. "Julius... he was right." I blink at the boy. "They were right. Him and Natasha. They were right."
"About?"
"Me. Like, being Luna and stuff. Accepting your world and getting used to it. They were right." I sniff a bit. "This isn't for me. I'm not cut out for—"
"Gertrude." He squeezes his eyes closed. The way he says my name comes off almost as though it's laced with warning.
"I'm not, Micah. This is beyond my understanding. You can't even expect me to simply nod my head and accept the things you guys do. Telling me you guys being wolves exist and all of that? That was one thing. But what more do you guys do that's beyond me? I was never cut out for this. I'll just keep running away when weird things scare me, like what I saw. I won't just accept it. I get it, your Goddess doesn't make mistakes but... this one—"
"We're not a mistake."
"I don't want to keep putting on a facade. A Luna shouldn't do that, that's what Julius said and he's right. I told you I—" I drop my eyes the moment he opens his and gazes at me. For that split second, I note how his eyes are now completely grey. "I'm not meant for this, Micah. It's the truth and if we didn't believe it before, we should now. We can... we can be friends. It's like you said, no one would believe me anyways. Imagine how embarrassing it is for your pack to know their future Luna ran away from what's custom to them? I can't. I'm not worthy."
Catching me by surprise, he grips both knee caps and pulls them apart, before he gets up to his full height, so I look up at him. His steps as close as can be between my legs, then takes hold of my face with both hands. He's clearly upset, his eyes gives him away, and there's a slight flare of his nose. Since his looking down at me, intensely might I add, the front section of his hair fall down over his forehead. His thumbs rub my puffed cheeks for a bit as he takes in the silence to probably think of what he wants to say.
Imagine my absolute stunned expression and gasp when the boy actually finds the temerity to shove me backwards onto his bed by my shoulders. It's not a long fall nor is it painful, but I immediately try sit up. He's a step ahead; both hands are on either side of my head so he's completely hovering over me.
Then, he drops almost all his weight onto me, so I gasp again. With one hand, he takes hold of my chin and technically forces me to look onto his eyes. Grey, dilated, framed with dark eyelashes. Rather than having his index and thumb pressed against each jaw joint, they press into my cheeks so in a sense, my lips partially pucker at him because of the pressure.
"M-Mi—"
To shut me up, he lowers his face right up until his nose is against mine and his lips are firmly pressed onto mine. My eyes widen, because how can he find the time and when did he think it was the best idea to kiss me at a time like this?
What makes it worse is neither one of us close our eyes. We're both staring into each other's eyes.
I'm sure this is his way to assert his dominance over me. How he pulls away and immediately starts placing harsh pecks against my mouth before moving down my chin. Then, it's my jaw and to the left side of my neck. Every temerity he finds, he uses — he shamelessly licks my neck before he nibbles on my skin.
Dare I say, I feel his canines scratch my skin ever so slightly to announce it's presence. Even still, he then presses his lips down on that one area that instantaneously has my tensed up body relax without a second doubt of a thought. My eyes immediately become hooded and I exhale lightly.
My hands? Oh, they grip the bed covers.
Then, he says; "I remember me telling you as clear as day, that I don't ever want to hear you say anything like that again, Gertrude." His hand, the one the held my face, now holds my face to the one side to expose my neck fully.
"You said—"
"So understand my frustration, at the fact that it seems like we're back to the very beginning." He pecks my neck once again. "The same talk about how you feel you're not cut out for it, that you can't do it, that it's a mistake, that you're not worthy. Gertrude, it only takes one moment to imprint you," he nibbles my neck this time, so I understand the weight of his words with the fresh memory of his canines pressed against my skin harder than before. "And this talk about worthiness wouldn't matter, because then, by force, you'd be imprinted and then deemed Luna of this pack, like it or not. Does that make sense? I could imprint on you right now, Gertrude."
"Please don't." I whisper quickly, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling above us. "Don't."
"Why not? If you don't believe you're worthy, why not imprint on you to see otherwise? The time is now—"
Quickly, but all in vain, I push against his lower abdomen to try get him off of me. "Don't imprint on me! I— I haven't given you permission!"
He pulls back fully, enough for him to look into my eyes but close enough to keep that dominance over me. "I am your Alpha. I do as I please. I'm allowing you to ease into it rather than be forced into it by the goodness of my heart. Understand that. If I desire to imprint you right this minute, then I could. That's how much power I have over you."
I press my lips tightly as I try come up with something on the spot. "I'd never forgive you."
There's a moment of silence. In it, he takes on my words, blinking as if he didn't hear me correctly and is waiting for me to rephrase or possibly say it again.
I don't. He heard me good enough. He's got a great sense of hearing, after all, according to Little Red Riding Hood.
Micah squeezes his eyes closed for another moment. Then, he says; "You're the future Luna, mate. You're my Luna and mate. I know I told you that I'd be here with you and help you, didn't I? We can and will figure this out. I am sorry for what you saw today, and I'll handle it and find who's responsible for all of this, but I can't hide it. This is culture, it happens. You... I'm not saying get used to it but..."
He stops his mutters, leaning down so his forehead presses against my own.
"I am saying you can overcome this. This is not a train-smash and... it will never be you doing any of that. I'm not losing you to that. To me, you're worthy. You're cut out for it. It's yours. I am yours and I am obligated to ensure you are safe in and out this pack. I failed today, I know that, and I am terribly sorry you had to see that without a sense of preparation. I am begging you, Gert."
Once again, he opens his eyes and pulls away to clearly look at me.
"I need you. The pack will need you. Because of that, I will not let you go. I won't. You're my soulmate and that will be forever. You're going to be the future Luna, I'll make sure of it. All I ask is for you to please, please... don't let this get in the way of us. Beyond all of that, it's just me and you, not? It's just us. It goes beyond being an Alpha and a Luna. It's our lives and our feelings and emotions and, our thoughts. It's everything. I won't let history repeat itself and lose you. Not again. I can't go through that again."
But before I could question it, or even break in and interrupt the thoughts he shared, that he clearly needed to get off his chest, Micah kisses me hard.
Despite it all, a part of me thinks that maybe... just maybe, Micah isn't sane.