(ACT 01) Only fools rushed in

. .

“Desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving.”

—Nayyirah Waheed

. . .

At his revelation, her pretty pale face instantly flushed with a vengeance, a bright pink along high cheekbones and Alastor resisted the urge to cackle out loud at such an endearing sight.

His mate was fun.

Talking to her was so fun, too. Ah, but gods help him... teasing her was also becoming his favorite hobby rather quickly. Someone send help.

“Maybe I was interested…” Winters relented, a mirthless smile on her lips as she tilted her head slightly to one side, his eyes immediately zeroing on to her pale neck, he briefly wondered what it would be like littered with bites on such a lovely slender neck— “...to one of the other werewolves or maybe some of the nymphs back there. Who knows?”

His smile faded.

What.

WHAT?!

Aaaaand just like that Alastor can feel his own mirth vanishing like it was suddenly sucked out by a black hole, leaving nothing behind but an ugly, burning feeling in its wake that he vaguely realized as jealousy.

It burns. It hurts.

Never had he felt anything like this.

Before Alastor could think twice, he was already upon his mate before she could even think to raise her sword, his palm wrapping around her delicate nape so easily, the bewildered look on her pale face grounding him somewhat to reality as he brought their faces close enough that their noses brushed.

“What do you think you’re doing-?!”

“Take it back, princess.”

Despite what he had shown during the game, Alastor had actually been holding himself back because Sean's nagging was freakishly annoying, and he had been keeping his temper in check. With more difficulty, at the face of his mate, he forced himself to calm down.

She glared, “Or what?”

“What? You really want to know?” Alastor laughed then, a dry sharp sound that made the dark shadows gathering at her feet to waver for a moment, “…I think I will just kiss you for it—kiss you over and over until you couldn't think of any man or woman ever again.”

Just as he uttered those words, lightning struck, somewhere nearby. The goddess flinched at the sudden sound, shoulders tensing, her gaze darting upwards.

There was a bit of fear in her eyes now.

No. Look at me.

Look at me.

Alastor leaned then, resting his head on her shoulder, nuzzling his face against her neck and hair. The scent of something sweet, something that reminded him of home flooding his senses pleasantly and he closed his eyes, breathing her in. Just as quickly his temper had flared, he can feel it fading away.

He felt rather than heard Winters releasing a gentle sigh against him, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “Ah, so the princess likes that?” Alastor purred, nuzzling her neck again.

If Alastor had been told years ago that his mate was actually the goddess Proserpina, he would have gladly kicked the bucket if it meant finding her soon… even if it meant meeting his mate in the underworld. Now that would be a new brand of Elysium.

The moment he felt his mate trying to untangle herself from him, Alastor directed her towards the tree, planted his hands on each side of her head, keeping her right where he wanted.

The goddess gritted her teeth, glaring at him.

“Alastor Nyx, I am giving you one last chance–”

Hm. Nope.

Alastor kissed her on the neck there and then, tongue darting forward.

...Sweet.

She tasted sweet too.

The words instantly died down on her throat with a startled gasp. Alastor felt Winters shivering against him as he peppered her neck with open-mouthed kisses like he had planned the moment she tilted her head and all but presented her neck at him.

Then, he felt Winters grabbing at his skin blindly before they quickly began pounding on his chest, weakly, “Let go. Let me go now!”

He growled, “No.”

Alastor felt another shiver from her just as he opened his mouth again, aiming to plant a bite, to paint that lovely pale skin red and purple when Winters—as though realizing what he intended to do—suddenly focused on his wound, her fingernail burying itself in his flesh, blood pooling down his skin.

He can feel his claws digging into the tree at the pain, but he didn't dare to voice out his complaints, didn't dare release her neck from his lips lest she try to flee from him again.

When pushing him or aggravating his wound didn't help—at all, Winters attempted to physically pull herself away from him again but this time, Alastor held her nape in one hand and pulled her close to him with the other, any space lingering between them smothered to oblivion.

If anyone somehow walked in on them and saw what was happening, they would have assumed they were a couple with the way he was embracing her.

That is, if one could overlook the fact that Winters just wouldn't stop squirming and hitting his chest, her feet kicking and stomping at his feet, deliberately digging the heel of her shoes on his bare feet, “You will let me go right this instant or I swear to all the gods, I will make you regret–!”

His lips descended on her's, effectively shutting her up.

Sadly, Winters was hardly his first kiss.

But kissing his soul mate topped any kiss he had ever shared with another… it was nothing like the stories he had heard from the elders.

He had never felt something so right, so natural… it felt like he had done this a thousand times before from another time in another life and would gladly do it all over again and ah, his soul seemed to sigh in bliss because there you are. I’ve been looking for you.

Against her unmoving lips, Alastor felt himself finally calming down, his kiss slowly became gentle, almost pleading as his death grip on her nape loosened, his hands moving to cradle her face against his with a tenderness he did not know he could possess, allowing her to move away if she so wished it.

But she didn’t.

To his relief, she didn’t. He can feel an arm slowly wrapping around his neck, drawing him in and he eagerly allowed her to pull him in–.

Something sharp suddenly pricked his neck, drawing a bead of blood on the skin but not enough to actually cut him just yet. His eyes shot open.

And the dream ends.

Although the wonderful sight that was his breathless mate with her lips and cheeks flushed a lovely shade of red as she panted so seductively against him made her look like something out of a day-dream. It almost tempted to kiss her senseless again but the cold presence of a blade, no, a god—Thanatos—made him still.

Lightning struck the tree right behind her.