ALASTOR NYX:

Not even ten minutes later, a freshly-showered Alastor half-skipped, half-walked down the stairs with a merry hop in his step, whistling an upbeat tune as he looked around.
He was too much in a good mood; he couldn’t even find it in him to fidget with his borrowed clothes–a dark gray hoodie matched with black joggers, probably the only comfy outfit of her brother that would have fitted his considerably larger frame and never mind the way William’s faint scent still clings… it kind of reminded him of his mate’s honeyed scent, though this one feels more subdued– Alastor was practically bouncing up and down in joy as he moved.
It’s fine, he already knows that the two of them are related (so William’s basically family too), personally they even looked-alike; the Veils both have the same serious gaze, same lithe stature and now that he had both of their scents to compare, it was just as good as a DNA test.
That made him happier.
(He was almost afraid of the drop.)
When Alastor got down, he opted to follow her scent to guide him around the fairly large house (which felt honestly too big for two people, now that he actually thought about it)… where he found his mate seated on a chair by the dining table, leaning on it casually with her arms and ankles crossed.
Across from her, a pair of buttered toast, bacon and sunny-side up eggs rested tantalizingly on the plates, completed with a–what he can tell by scent alone–freshly squeezed, glass of orange juice by the side.
The domesticity of it all almost made him want to ignore the way his stomach grumble at the sight of the food longingly in favor of immortalizing the view in his memory.
He doesn’t want to forget this.
Winters raised an eyebrow, barely turning to look at him over her shoulder, “What are you doing, standing around there for?”
“Uh… is this for me?”
As soon as he actually said it, Alastor suddenly felt like kicking himself. It sounded way better in his head. Because of course it is, moron. Thankfully, his mate was too polite to call him out for his stupidity and simply gestures for him to sit down without another word.
And when he hurriedly settled down on the seat in front of her, Alastor immediately notices that she didn’t have anything in front of her.
Everything was seriously for him.
“You… aren’t you going to eat anything?” he tried to ask, feeling suddenly very shy that he’s the only one eating while she’s most likely going to sit there and watch him stuff himself full.
(Maybe she wants to be spoon fed?)
“I just ate,”
…okay, ouch.
Still, it didn’t deter Alastor, especially his curiosity, “Wait, does this mean you can still eat human food?”
Her eyes crinkled around the corners in what seemed to be restrained amusement as she stared at him for a beat, idly pointing at one of the plates, her lips twitching as if meaning to smile, “Start eating already. And yes, of course I can.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite food?”
“I like anything sweet,” she says, not even stopping to think as she slowly uncrossed her arms to clasp them neatly on her lap, like a princess, he thinks, giddily, “…ice cream, cake, chocolates, you know.”
Alastor almost wanted to fist-pump in the air, “I’m not much of a cook but I’m confident with my baking skills. You want to try? See for yourself some time.”
She seemed to have some sort of mental debate… until she inclines her head to the side with a slight nod and despite her wordless response; Alastor couldn’t quite stop himself from beaming, obediently digging in, “Thanks, the meal’s delicious by the way”
When Winters didn’t said anything to that, other than nodding again as she seemed to resign herself with just watching him eat, Alastor tried so hard not to stare right back at her, opting to focus on the yummy in front of him instead of gushing at the attention he was having right now.
He almost didn’t hear her voice, quiet and pleased:
“…you’re welcome.”

At this rate, Alastor’s sure he’s going to die young with cardiac arrest… and he doesn’t even have any heart problems to begin with!
. . .

When he finished, Alastor hurriedly stood up to place everything on the sink before Winters could even move to stand up, one of her gloved hands reaching out as if to reach for the nearest plate. Ha, not on his watch.
Despite his rough demeanor, Alastor still liked to think that he’s not that crass, his dad raised him to be a gentleman, after all.
(Although he preferred to be a gentleman only to his mate exclusively…or towards her mother, too, now that he thought about it.) And his mate has already done so much for him since last night; he’s not going to let her wash the dishes too.
Alastor also kind of thinks it’s some sort of crime to let a goddess–and a princess, to boot–do housework unless they seriously wanted to do it.
When he finished (rather quickly since it’s only him who just ate) Winters suddenly asked: “Be honest with me. How much do you remember last night?”
He frowned thoughtfully as he made his way back to his seat, “Seriously? The last thing I remembered was screaming the lyrics of a fucking pop song out of my lungs,”
“You must have liked Taylor Swift very much,” she remarked.
“So what if I do? I grew up listening to her songs anyway, no thanks to my classmates,” Alastor informed her, tilting his chin up, staring at her defiantly, “…not to mention, she’s awesome.”
She didn’t even blink, “Okay.”
“And she’s hot!”
She only stared at him.
“Alright, let’s move on,” he immediately mumbled, scratching his cheek a bit, feeling sorely disappointed at the lack of reaction, maybe she’s a fan too? “Last night, I was sure we’ve talked and kind of agreed about something… serious, I just can’t remember what it was.”
Winters pursed her lips as she leaned forward to rest her chin on her interlocked fingers, gaze peering up at him, unblinkingly. For a moment, her actions suddenly reminded Alastor of a certain demigod.
“I figured as much…” his mate muttered tonelessly, jarring his train of thought, “it’s fine, though.” He was pleased that she sounds like she’s comforting him but…
“It is?” but you don’t look like it, Winters, “Well, okay, I think it will come back to me naturally, anyway. Still, that talk feels kind of really important, I don’t know, I can’t help but think…” Alastor trails off, staring right back at her face.
She remained quiet.
He narrowed his eyes, “You weren’t drunk last night.”
“…I’ve sworn off alcohol.”
“That’s…” Alastor winced, suddenly feeling like he was somehow responsible for that, “okay, fine, whatever. I respect your life choices but that’s beside the point!”
“And your point is?’
“You were sober from the get-go so you know what went up last night,” Alastor paused, to let her speak, let her defend herself, thinking smugly to himself, ha, checkmate… but when the silence went too long on her end, he frowned, realizing something else entirely, “So you’re seriously just not going to tell me anything–at all?”
Her lips twitched but didn’t curl into a smile, “No, I don’t think I will.”
“Why the hell not?!”
“You said so yourself,” she retorts, sitting up properly again, “You’ll remember naturally… and as it happens, I’d like to see if you really mean it when the time comes.”
“Mean what?”
“Our agreement,”
What?
Wait, what?
What the hell did he just agreed into?!
The panic in his face must have been visible because her expression softened, “I just told you, Alastor, its fine. You can worry about it once you remember–”
He flailed his arms to stop her, “But haven’t you thought that if I think about it all the time, then maybe I’ll remember what it was quick–”
“Don’t you have something else to ask?” his mate interrupts brusquely, voice laced with a tone of cold finality, and Alastor knows that was just as deliberate.
“Oh… oh yeah, right,” Alastor tried to smile, trying to file away that one worry behind for later, he’s not one to waste chances, after all, especially the ones handed on a silver platter, “So I guess your interrogation is on session?”
“It can go both ways.” she conceded.
He blinked, feeling like his had buffered and glitches for one good second, “What?”
Wait, he didn’t hear that right, right?
There is no way Winters just implied that she wanted to get to know him too because even though Alastor wasn’t sure how it all went up last night between them that it actually ended with him on her bed but it couldn’t be possibly that good that she’d be interested to hear more about him as in, him, personally.
“Did I stutter?”
“No…?”
She sighed, most likely expecting than sensing his apparent–and in his defense, justified–confusion, “As you put it earlier, this is to get even. It wouldn’t be considered an equivalent exchange if I know next to nothing about the other half of my soul.”
“Uh, right…” his eyes widened, realizing something else, “Wait, Winters you… YOU ALREADY KNEW?!”
She gave him a look as if to say: well, DUH!
“I thought you were in shock when that leech, you know, ratted me out,” Alastor reminded her, wincing at the memory, “…William was the one who told you, didn’t he?”
“I’ll start then,” Winters muttered, crossing her legs and Alastor forced himself not to stare at the way the darker strings seemed to contrast so vividly against her porcelain-like skin because that would be just plain rude, not to mention creepy, “Who else knows?”
Alastor shifts uneasily, sensing that she was back to business again and that its probably better if he looks at her in the eye again, “No one just… just two of my closest friends; Harry and Sean–he’s the Northern pack’s beta by the way, don’t worry, they’re trust-worthy and I made them swore not to tell anyone. Also, there’s my twin brother, Alistair, the alpha.”
Her eyes narrowed, “I thought you were the alpha?”
He couldn’t stop himself from frowning, “That’s not fair. I thought you said this interrogation goes both ways?”
She clicked her tongue, once, a sharp noise.
“…Fine,” she muttered.
“Um…”
“Well?’
Now that Alastor actually thought about it, he didn’t really know what he specifically wanted to ask. He had wanted to know everything about her, learn about her interests, her dislikes as they naturally carried on with their lives along the way.
But with the way things are going between them, he doubted it will be like any normal couple. And he thinks, with a twinge in his chest, that they might not even be a couple at the end.
“What’s your…” he squinted, “favorite color?”
This time, it was his mate who gave him a more or less confused stare, looking like she was deciding if he was messing with her or being for real… and Alastor doubted he can embarrass himself more than he already did so he grinned and faced her head on with the full-force of it.
She shook her head at him, resigned, “…it’s black.”
If possible, his grin grew wider, “Hey, mine too!”
Her lips twitched, looking as if to smile again but she abruptly turned her head away and cleared her throat behind a gloved hand, “My question remains the same.”
Alastor felt his face beginning to ache at how much he’s smiling, “Well, yeah, I was the alpha just a few days ago. Kind of, for ten years, actually… but when my twin returned, the position naturally falls back to him, he’s older and the rightful alpha, anyways. Besides, I didn’t even want the position.”
“I may not be familiar how it works for werewolves but I know most would be dismayed at the sudden loss of the highest rank in the community,” she comments, her tone detached, observant.
And Alastor instantly felt his traitorous heart sigh admiringly at how perceptive she is. His mate is so smart, lucky, lucky him~
Cut it out, a part of him scolded, get a grip, you simp.
Still, he found himself chuckling, “Good thing I’m not like most people.”
She nodded, “It does make you interesting.”
Alastor physically felt himself jolting at the unexpected compliment, the back of his neck instantly feeling ridiculously warm as he tries so hard not to melt on the spot. Hopefully, it was just his imagination that his face feels also like it was about to spontaneously combust too.
Had it been any woman, he would have naturally assumed they were trying to flirt with him but the calm look on his mate’s face didn’t even faltered in the slightest, her voice still soft… and come to think of it, didn’t she said back when they first met that she hadn’t flirted before, like, ever? Maybe Winters just didn’t realize that she sounded flirty right now? Or maybe it was because she was too pretty for her own good and he was too attracted to her to function properly?
But gods, with a face and a body like her’s, how could his mate be so freakishly dense after all this time?!
Fortunately, Winters was too oblivious to the sheer effects of her words on him, “Next question?” she prompted when Alastor couldn’t find it in him to speak for one, good moment.
He cleared his throat, “Interests?”
“That’s too broad of a topic, can’t you be more specific?”
Alastor clumsily took this chance to rub a hand on his face, hoping his cheeks aren’t as red as he feels right now, “Yeah sorry, what are your hobbies?
He can tell she most likely didn’t see that one coming, judging by the way she stared at him like he had suddenly grown a tail (hah). And Alastor found that he liked it, he liked being surprised and surprising her in turn like this.
It felt like a game between them.
“…I like travelling; I always have to be in a lot of places, after all,” she finally says after mulling over it, “other than that, I enjoy eating lots of sweets without worrying if I’ll get sick or something. I suppose another is watching my brother play video games, especially the scary ones. His reaction to jump-scares never fails to amuse me.”
The way her eyes immediately softened at the mention of her brother, particularly the obvious fondness lingering in her usually calm voice kind of made Alastor jealous again at how much she really cared. Still, Alastor couldn’t stop himself from smiling, “So you guys are close, huh?”
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that your next question?”
He flails his arms in panic, “No! I was just–”
“–kidding…. but yes, I like to think that the two of us are close,” a shadow seemed to pass over her face, her gaze still on him but looking like she was not even seeing him at all. A thousand yard stare, “We went through hell and back together, after all.”
Alastor bit his lip to keep himself from literally asking what could she possibly mean by that, but he had a feeling she doesn’t want to talk about that, maybe someday she’ll come tell him... still, he couldn’t trust himself to break the ice, especially with something that felt like the tip of the iceberg that took down the Titanic.
“What are you going planning to do after this conversation?” she suddenly asks, and when he stared, concerned, it was as though the shadow was never there in the first place.
“I was planning to… stay…?” when her expression didn’t budge, he hurriedly added before she can hurt him with another resounding ‘no’, “I mean, I still want to get to know you better… if that’s okay with you?”
“…smart answer.”
Alastor tried not visibly sigh.
“I try. So what changed?”
Her brows furrowed.
He immediately cleared his throat, “I mean, I know you didn’t… well, you weren’t really interested with anything that’s got to do with me before, and I’m sure having a werewolf around, especially a mate wasn’t in of your bucket list so… what changed?”
“I’ll give you a hint: your compromise,” she answers, cryptically, “…you just have to remember what it is.”
He sunk his teeth on his lower lip again, this time, to keep himself from actually pouting.
“My turn,”
Unlike him, Winters seemed to already know what she wanted to ask. Does she have a list out of what she wanted to ask him from the start?
“Does it have any adverse effect if werewolves are separated from their mate?”
Alastor froze.
Then, he frowned, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously which she countered with her usual calm gaze, “Why do you want to know?”
“Is that your next question?”
“No, seriously, why do you want to know about that? Winters, what… what are you planning–?”
When his voice began to steadily rise into a half-shout, her eyes hardened almost instantly into a thin glare, one that made the hair on the back of his neck stand to attention.
“Is that your next question?”
Alastor grimaced, grinding his teeth.
“…most of our kind usually has no need to stay away from each other. Very few are blessed to meet their mate, after all. A one in a million chance. But on some instances that they have to separate, for example: to work or study somewhere far away, it’s been observed that they all seemed to have developed some common issues.”
“Issues…?”
He waved a hand, “You know–insomnia, depression or eating disorders with or without having a mark. Sometimes, they turn to become fixated with one thing or the other to cope like alcohol, drugs… worst case scenario is either suicide or a slow, descent to madness.”
Her brows furrowed.
“Now do tell me, Winters,” Alastor forced himself to meet her gaze with a glare of his own, “…why do you want to know?”

. . .
“It’s a paradox of progress: the better things get the more anxious and desperate we all seem to feel.”
–Mark Manson
. . .

Winters clenched her jaw, “I was just thinking,” she finally grounded out. “…of what might happen to you when I leave.”
When, not if… so she really was only here, with him, on borrowed time–probably to indulge him or herself–he wasn’t so sure if he should be appeased or be dismayed by her answer. To be fair, with Winters, he couldn’t be just so sure about anything.
A dry laugh escaped him, “So you are going to leave, huh?”
“Of course,” she didn’t even wavered, not even an ounce of hesitation at the idea of having to be away from him.
And Alastor tried so hard–really, he did–not to be so hurt by that. He didn’t want her to see just how badly that hurt, how badly their initial separation had brought him hell. His mate isn’t a werewolf, after all… she’s a being higher than him, a literal immortal with lifetimes ahead of her, and she couldn’t possibly comprehend what it was like, how physically painful and draining it was, being away from a mate even when the fates decided that they were each other’s half.
He abruptly lowered his gaze, feeling them suddenly blur with tears and he didn’t want to cry, damn it. He’d already done it while he was drunk, he didn’t have that excuse right now.
But the sound of a chair scraping loudly as it was unceremoniously shoved backwards was Alastor’s only warning when a gloved hand suddenly gripped his face, forcing him to look at her in the eye, making him gawk at impossibly darker than black eyes bearing down on him with all the weight of the void.
She frowned; thumb wiping at his cheek, “…but it doesn’t mean I like the idea of you getting hurt, let alone going through any of that. Isn’t there something we can do about this?”
Alastor blinked, taken aback, because here, up close, the scent of vanilla and honey seemed to intensify, not to mention, the apparent concern in his mate’s voice was effectively turning his brain into mush.
“You… you just said ‘we’–as in–” he swallowed, “…plural?”
Winters gave him a very strange look. The grip on his jaw faltered, “Should I consider us a singular being then?”
‘We’ she said at first, now it’s an ‘us’?
“Uh, yes please!”
She rolled her eyes, tapping his jaw almost playfully with her finger once before releasing him as she leaned away. And had he got no shred of shame left, Alastor would have whined in protest at the loss of contact.
“Hey, what if…?” he bit his lip, an idea forming, “What if I come with you?” her head snapped in his direction, so fast he was almost worried she got herself whiplashed with her hair, her brows furrowing almost instantly and before she could hurt him with another no, Alastor immediately spew the next words out: “It’s not like anyone really wanted me to be here. I’m sure if I talk this out with my twin, he wouldn’t mind!”
And while there was a part of Alastor that was immediately saddened that he’d be most likely away from his twin again, he quickly reasons out with himself that this time around, his brother wouldn’t be really out of reach.
If Winters agrees, Alastor might as well be leaving the pack–for good. But hey, it’s not like he couldn’t still call or visit them...
Okay, getting ahead of himself.
Winters let out an audible sigh, “Fine, but please talk to your brother first. If it ends well, then do whatever you want.”
Alastor felt like he zoned out for a moment there, “…huh?”
She pushed her hair off of her shoulder, “Honestly, I wouldn’t consider this plan of yours but it is worlds’ better than leaving you at their mercy.”
“What? Who’s they–who are you talking about again?” Alastor demanded, his mind still reeling, “You got more enemies? Do you want me to kick their asses?”
She scoffed, “My father’s cronies, most probably, so no picking fight with them,” and with that, she turned as if to walk away.
“What the hell?!” he gaped at her retreating back, “Winters what–? What the hell is going on?! Winters, do you have a fight with your dad? Was it because of me? Oh, shit I’m so sorry–”
“Stop apologizing” she hissed, turning to glare at him over her shoulder and Alastor immediately felt goose bumps forming on his skin at the restrained anger on her voice–he wasn’t sure if it was directed to him though, “…stay out of it, Alastor. I am not letting him take you too.”
He mouthed, “What…?”
Winters scowled, mistaking his confusion for something else, turning to face him fully, “You are my mate, are you not?”
As if possessed, Alastor found himself nodding along.
“So that makes you mine,” Winters snaps, the words sounding almost ominous had it been with anyone else because those were the words he had always longed to hear from her.
Almost instantly, like it was a magic word–because he was so sure it is–all the sadness, shock, frustration Alastor had felt accumulating like a pile of boulders weighing down on him ever since she left him behind days ago suddenly flushed right out of his system like it was never even there in the first place.
It felt like it was being swapped with something else; something even better–a joyous giddiness that reverberated pleasantly in his very bones, making him feel light and airy, making him feel like he was floating way up high amongst the clouds because oh gods, yes this acceptance, this acknowledgment pouring right out of her lips was practically coating him inside out was the best high ever.
He never wanted to go down from this feeling.
It was all he ever wanted.
Sure, Alastor still has no idea what the hell happened last night but if it made his mate look out for him like this, made her want to talk to him too, then no amount of embarrassing memories could stop him from giving last night’s events a kiss for letting this happen!
Heck, Alastor couldn’t even find it in him to care that they might be making an enemy out of Hades right now–
He’ll worry about that… maybe, later.
For now, Alastor stood up, having a hard time wiping the definitely huge grin that was on his face, “Wait… wait a minute, Winters, does this mean I can come with you? You’re bringing me along, right?!”
Winters gave him an annoyed look, “What are you so happy about, idiot? I just told you Hades might be after you–”
But Alastor’s on a roll now, “Still, this means you’ll let me hang around, right? I can stay, right? Where are we going? Oooh, are we going on a plane or a ship?”
“Quit smiling, this is not a field trip–”
He faltered, “You won’t ditch me again… right?”
She closed her eyes, releasing a measured breath, but when she spoke again, her voice was softer, gentler: “No, I swear on my name that I will not do that again so please, go to your brother and–”
“Oh hell no,” Alastor snorted, ignoring the way his heart pounded at her vow as he immediately whipped out his cell phone out of his borrowed joggers’ pocket, not trusting himself to look at her face, “…still not taking any chances.”
He can feel the intensity of his mate’s stare bearing on him as he hurriedly dialed Alistair’s number. Hopefully, his twin was already awake by now...
But her voice, no louder than a mere whisper, felt like a thunderous roar to the silence, a beginning of many storms to come:

“…Neither am I.”

With a shiver running up on his spine, Alastor looked up, mouth parting, only to find Winters had already disappeared, the scent of honey and vanilla still wafting pleasantly around him like a second shadow.