First Night (2)

Mikael could hear the measured steps of the Marquess into the room. Time seemed to drag on, and with each thump of his heart ringing in his ears, he felt the Marquess' lingering gaze at him.

He sensed he had sat on the edge, just waiting there. He could imagine the Marquess watching him closely like he was meticulously assessing every nuance of him. Minutes stretched on, and Mikael fought the impulse to open his eyes to meet the Marquess' gaze.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the Marquess' voice sliced through the silence. "Lady Mikayla," he uttered.

Mikael lay motionless; he held his breath, waiting to hear what the Marquess would say next.

"You can stop pretending you're asleep now," the Marquess' voice came again with unwavering certainty. Before long, Mikael felt a hand squeezing his face.

"I already know this is one of your tricks," Marquess Nicolaus continued, his grip gentle but firm as he held Mikael's face between his hand. His thumbs brushed lightly against his cheeks. "I can see your eyelashes batting."

Although already stuck in a situation and exposed before the person he least wanted to know, Mikael refused to open his eyes. He was desperately thinking of a way to salvage his circumstances.

The room seemed to close in as he realized he couldn't fake it anymore, but he was scared of how the Marquess would react. It looked like he was trying hard not to follow the tradition of spending the first night together.

As seconds dragged on forever, Mikael's heart jumped at the following rustling noises. It was… like the sound of moving from the bed and of shifting fabric.

Mikael's mind raced as his thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion. What was the Marquess doing? Was he finally leaving? Mikael clung to his act even harder, his lashes fluttering while they were closed as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

Then, just as Mikael believed the Marquess was preparing to leave, a noise cut through the room, shattering his conviction. It was a sound that sent a jolt of fright through him.

Clothes were falling to the floor, proving that the Marquess was getting undressed. Panic surged within him immediately because of this.

Suddenly, Mikael's eyes popped open. He looked around with big eyes, his heart beating fast, and his mind was also trying hard to catch up with the sudden shift in the situation. He had to confirm if he was right.

And he was.

'What is he doing?!' Mikael managed to exclaim in his thoughts as he caught on the Marquess' topless back. His gaze unintentionally lingered on the muscles of the Marquess' back, noticing how the light and shadow that hit his skin accentuated the contours of his body.

And before he knew it, his eyes were drawn to a prominent wound that marred the guy's smooth skin, looking like it had come from a fierce encounter with a massive bear.

The Marquess turned toward him, his expression a blend of surprise and amusement. "Look who finally decided to wake up," he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Mikael felt so embarrassed that his cheeks turned all red. It seemed the Marquess was playing around with him, only undressing his top.

He thought, 'Damn it,' in his head, then he hurriedly looked away and acted like he was going back to sleep. Because he understood that if he didn't sleep now, he knew what would happen later.

He clenched the blanket and tucked himself in. What was with this man, looking stoic on the wedding day, and now he could joke around and give teasing looks? Or because the Marquess bought that Mikael was his twin sister.

"It somehow irritates me that you are not talking," Nicolaus complained.

Mikael tried not to focus on the Marquess and pretended he had fallen asleep again. But as he closed his eyes, he felt a grip on his arm.

Caught off guard, Mikael looked back at the Marquess, their eyes meeting while a big hand was holding his arm. Mikael's breath stuck in his throat as he somehow found himself in an unintended staring contest.

And it happened again, that familiar pull that drew Mikael's attention to the Marquess' eyes. They were as yellow as the moon, like an ethereal hue of gold dancing within the irises.

Mikael's heart started pounding as he stared into those eyes, his thoughts going into unfamiliar places. Those eyes had a depth he could not decipher. And for a second, he felt a connection, like this invisible thing was tying him to them.

Only when he felt the warmth of a hand touching against his thigh snapped him back to reality. "S, Stop, my lord!" he stammered, tearing his gaze away from the Marquess' eyes.

"...You are–" Nicolaus paused, his grip on Mikael's arm loosening slightly.

Mikael hugged himself and leaned on the headboard of the bed. He couldn't keep up the act anymore, couldn't continue pretending to be his twin sister.

"I, I'm not Mikayla," he confessed, his voice shaky as he spilled the truth from his lips. "M, My sister eloped with her lover last month."

Mikael shut his eyes, preparing for whatever the Marquess might do next. But when he blinked and opened his eyes again, he found Nicolaus staring at him, his jaw slightly hanging open. The room seemed frozen in time for a moment as the weight of his revelation hung in the air.

Then, promptly, Nicolaus got up from the bed, his features contoured with anger. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice a low growl that resonated with intensity.

Mikael also got up from the bed, his heart racing as he faced the Marquess' anger. He looked at Nicolaus, his knees shaking. He confessed, "I, I don't k, know, my lord."

"Fuck!" The Marquess' expletives punctuated the air, his frustration palpable.

Simultaneously, he released his pheromones, and their strong smell spread all over the place. The pheromones of an alpha like Nicolaus' felt scorching, their intensity resonating in the air around them.

Mikael took a deep breath, feeling those pheromones hit him like a wave of heat, reminding him of how dominant the Marquess was. Mikael was also an alpha, but he was so scared his knees were trembling.

Trying to open the stage for negotiation, he stumbled out, "W, We need to talk, m, my lord." The nightgown on him clung to his skin as he became sweaty, suffering from the pheromones.

The Marquess' gaze was fierce, his eyes locked on Mikael's. "Talk?" he snapped. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Do you even know the mess you've done?"