(ACT 02) Well, then

Three days later, as per agreement, Alastor had returned to the clearing where he first caught sight of his mate. This time, he was dressed in what he hoped to be was a presentable attire.

Kind of hard to do considering most of his wardrobe was usually composed of casual wear like basic tee, sweaters, jeans and comfortable jogging pants (oh, and some hiking gear), a fact that nearly drove his friends, especially Sean, to aneurysm when they realized that–

(“...What? Why are looking at me like that, Sean?” Alastor finally asked, a bit put off with the blatant staring. Sean had been staring at him for a whole damn minute. And he looked like Alastor had run over his cat or something. Or that he had told the older man that Harry had eaten the last piece of pizza.

Like… last night.

“Is... that really what you're planning to wear?”

Alastor looked down at his clothes, a bit confused and suddenly feeling a bit... insecure. He was wearing what he usually wears: plain shirt and jeans.

He had dressed himself casually and in all black, though—aside from black being his favorite color, it was actually a subtle nod to his mate being a goddess of the shadows or something, he actually thinks it's kind of fitting since his mate seems to favor the color too since she wears too much of it.

That, and he was just being himself.

“What, you want me to wear a fancy suit in a forest or something? Or do you want me to go for a different color?” Alastor demanded, crossing his arms defensively, “No thanks, Sean. My mate wears a lot of black so I'm calling it.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Alastor stared at his friend, suddenly not knowing what to say. Wasn’t Sean the one who’s been harping all about ‘act normal’ and the classic ‘just be yourself’ advice?

What the fuck happened to that?!

“B-but –!” he spluttered, “We match!”

“No, you don't. You two looked like you're going to attend a fucking funeral with all that black like it was some inside joke and it's not even funny!” Harry complained, tossing a dark blue hoodie his way, “Wear this instead and look like Jack Frost!”

He grunted, “Why do I have to look like Jack Frost?”

“Well, duh!” Harry stuck his tongue out, “Because he’s hot!”

Sean sighed loudly at them, massaging his temple with one hand, “Harry... enough. The problem here is not even about the color–”

“No way, man. I’m way hotter than him!” Alastor yelled.

“Hm, maybe… but he’s way cooler! Get it? Like–”

“Don't you have anything else to wear?!” Sean exploded.

They all went quiet.

And Alastor pointedly decided not to look at Sean's somewhat resigned and unsurprised look... the older man looked every bit like a disappointed educator.

“Fuck man, you're so hopeless…” Harry muttered, even having the gall to actually try to walk out of the damn room. Dramatic prick.

“Unlike you, I'm a simple guy with simple tastes, okay?!” Alastor yelled right after him, chucking the hoodie on the floor and stomping on it for good measure.

Harry paused by the doorway and gave him a look, “Screw you man, you mean you have no taste. No taste at all!”

“Can you please try looking presentable at the very least?!” Sean exclaimed, stopping Alastor from charging after the idiot like an angry bull and start a fight, “Mate or not, you're still dealing with a goddess!”

“Dude... this is not your first date with a girl, you know?” even Harry, of all fucking people, somehow looked disappointed as he lingered by the doorway—and Alastor felt himself growing even more embarrassed at that.

“You mind your own business–”)

...ahem, anyway–

While Alastor had allowed Sean and Harry—the former a bit worried that Alastor might mess this up without them but all too happy at the idea of going home with the latter trying to sneak in condoms in Alastor’s pocket which he proceeded to throw the rest at the moron's face (not before making sure he had at least one with him)—to return to their pack that morning right after their... interesting talk with the demigod.

They've been amazed at how little their kind actually knew about the gods. Not that their kind really cared about the gods, especially their messy affairs in general for all their fickle nature save for their moon goddess of course, but still, it was kind of an… eye-opener, more so for Alastor who eagerly soaked in every bit of information about his mate like a sponge to water.

...fucking hell, all of that information hadn't mattered in the end, anyway. Still, it was actually kind of nice to learn some things about her.

It would have been nicer to hear such things from her, though.

‘But she's not here…’ Alastor thought dully, bitter disappointment welling in him as he watched the numbers change from 10:59 to 11:00 in his mobile phone.

He had been loitering around the area, even went from the open field and up to the last place where they talked, hoping that he'll pick up her scent or her presence as he watched some of the splaying shadows since—much to his embarrassment—six in the morning to no avail.

Had he come across as too eager? Too desperate?

...she’s never planning to show up, is she?

What Alastor didn't know or understand was why she'd lie at his face and go back to her own word... which is actually kind of an irony since her own father seems to disapprove of such behavior from what he had gathered up on myths.

A part of Alastor believed he should have expected to be stood up like this. He should have not put all of his faith in her words, even if she is a goddess. He should have demanded an oath, for her to swear on her name or something at the very least before he let her leave.

Yes, he knows for a fact that the gods considered his kind no better than animals. But then again, they looked down at everything. And yet…

Despite her words and cold demeanor, Winters didn't seem to treat him differently than she would to any mortal on her path (who wouldn't leave her alone) which he had suspected that she just simply didn't care who or what he is. Alastor didn't know if he preferred her indifference or her annoyance though. Still, he was kind of worried.

...and not to mention, anxious.

If word somehow got back to the elders that the mate of their would-be alpha is an actual goddess... well, it would be disastrous, to put it bluntly.

And Sean might seriously develop Marie-Antoinette's syndrome within a span of an hour with all the shit they'll be put through for keeping something as important as this a secret and Lizzie is going to seriously slap the ever-living shit out of him for all the stress he’s putting her mate through.

And Alastor just might deserve it.

Just thinking of the pressure of him pursuing and marking the goddess, of Alastor taking his place as the Northern alpha for real and then having heirs—since the Nyx family is all but extinct with Alastor as the remaining alleged survivor at this point—would be ten times worse than what he had been facing growing up. And quite frankly, he didn't really want (even for his mate or future children) to deal with any of the elders’ shit right now or for the next lifetime.

His friends had agreed that his decision was wise, that no one could know about his mate, not yet… not until the goddess was bearing his mark…or accepted their bond, at the very least.

That would be a start.

Turning his phone off, Alastor thought back over all that they had learned about his mate... which was not admittedly much of what he wanted but at least it's better than nothing.

(“The youngest goddess of Olympus...” or so Nick had called her, “As a deity, nothing else is unique about Proserpina other than being close to Dionysus and Demeter, and being the patron goddess of the monster hunters.”

“Wait. She’s your patron goddess?” Harry blurted out.

“Sort of,” Nick shrugged casually, like this information was already common knowledge, “She likes helping our cause, like a lot or I guess she just has a thing for hunting down monsters…” Those bright silver eyes gleamed, knowingly, “…especially vampires.”

That was all his mate was known for? A father's prized daughter, a patron goddess to the monster mercenaries and now… some sort of a notorious vampire hunter?

Somehow, the more he knows about her, his mate just keeps getting mysterious... he love it. “What else?” Alastor immediately demanded, “What else do you know about her? What about some of her interests or…her hobbies?”

“Huh…? Not sure, I mean we're really not that close but…” Nick shrugged, “Interest? You just literally called him an hour ago.”

“...huh?”

“Your beta's friend…” Nick clarified, raising an amused brow, “He's allegedly the reason why Proserpina decided to become our patron. She won't stop shadowing him around the first few years he showed up”

Alastor can feel his blood growing cold, ignoring his friends' worried looks weighing heavily on him. No. No way. Did he mean…? That mercenary…?

VVV.)

Alastor stood and slowly turned for the direction of the nearest base that the son of Athena gave him. Quite suspicious that the demigod had given it without much further prompting in hindsight, but Alastor had gladly taken it regardless.

It was better than nothing.

Though he had Sean check the address afterwards (just to be sure) and they were surprised to find out that the so-called base was actually a private resort owned by someone under the name of S. Veil.

Alastor glanced up to the pale moon.

Not a full moon tonight fortunately but then again if the situation arises (which he hoped not) and worse comes to worst... Alastor can still perform a half-shift for tonight.

See, if there is one thing that humans got right, it's that the werewolves do need the full moon to shift into their wolf form which was a stronger, faster body than what they usually have. Though there are those who were blessed by their goddess to change without relying on the moon, rare though they were.

Half-shifters they were called, almost considered as a myth amongst their kind… but fortunately, Alastor Nyx was someone who was able to perform such a feat.

Because–

If you won't come to me, my sweet... I'll come to you.