Butterfly wings.

"Why did you keep coming back?" I ask him. It is a question that keeps forming inside my throat even though I keep gulping it down many times. But I can't anymore.

    Arlo's eyes find mine, "Here?" 

    I nod. "Yes." 

    "I don't know" He shrugs his shoulders, his lavender orbs flickering back to the waves. 

     Arlo isn't much of a talker, once we take our seats on the balcony, then it's a long stillness. Yet it is peaceful. I never liked the music of silence as I do with Arlo. 

    "You said you liked it here," I say as I keep my eyes on him even though he kept his own on the rushing waves glistening under the evening specks of sun. 

       "I really do"

    "Then will you keep coming back?" The words escape me before I realize what I am saying. 

        "Do you want me to?" He asks.

        My heart is at his feet.

     Arlo laughs, a laugh that keeps ringing in my chest. "Maybe only on Fridays." He is flashing his perfect pearly white teeth at me, blinding my eyes and senses. 

    Suddenly the oxygen is rejecting me and my lungs are screaming for a whiff of it. 

     "Why?" I suck in cool air. "Why only on Fridays?"

     He chuckles, "Maybe I like company."

     Maybe. I. Like. Company. 

  That means he likes having me here, yes?

    A thousand flowers bloom in my heart and a hundred thousand butterflies flutter their wings in my stomach. 

    My skin tingles. 

    "Arlo…" I whisper his name. Loving the way it feels on my tongue more than I want to. 

    He smiles at me, "Yes, Zera."

  Butterflies. Flowers. Lavender. Strangles me. 

     "Who are you really?" 

     "I'm Arlo." He chuckles. 

      I gave him a look. 

   He takes a deep breath and says, "Arlo Ryd." He said carefully. "And I'm from the Lawzey Mountain." 

      My eyes are as wide as they can get. 

      Lawzey Mountain? Oh my God. That must be the reason he looks like a God walking on earth. 

        It is the only place where people don't die because of poverty. They never got a taste of it. Always get whatever they want by their feet. 

   Lawzey Mountains screams Money and Power. 

    It is where Zephyr palace breathes. The kingdom Where only pure-blood alphas rule.  The kingdom I only heard about in stories and read about in magazines. A kingdom everyone strives to live in. And there are no Grays. A kingdom blessed by the Moon goddess. 

       I blink away the clouds of envy fogged in my eyes and ask, "Why are you even here?" 

 The sigh which leaves his lips is melancholic. 

  "Because I'm tired. Tired of…never being able to hold the beauty of freedom in my arms."

   I don't understand what he says. I squint my eyes at him but he only looks away at the waves.

    "Ah, And I'm an Alpha." He says out of nowhere as if the realization of not revealing his identity suddenly hits him.

         He is an Alpha. I knew. 

      But I'm scared of the question awaiting to roll out of his tongue.  

       Please don't ask me about mine. Please don't ask me about mine. Please don't ask me about mine. Please I don't have a wolf—

      "What are you?"

       A chill swooshes in my veins. 

    "Omega." The lie that has built up in my throat pushes out of my lips like a harsh blow of wind. I couldn't resist. 

      Arlo chuckles, "I guessed it right."

     His soft voice cut through my heart, guilt bubbling in my gut for lying to his face. Why did I do it?

     An Omega? 

     Would I even live as one before I die?