Just One

Myranda froze and looked up to Metas'. He too, was still as their eyes locked for one beautiful moment.

The Alpha looked over to Jyriah with disappointment - but not because he had failed to distract her, it was because she had become injured in her fall (only a little, but that didn't matter to her mate).

"Your arm," he started and nodded his head towards the raw, red skin on her forearm. "You should clean that wound before it gets infected," he finished as though directing her. It physically hurt his chest to see the disappointment and betrayal in her eyes as he turned to leave quickly.

"Hey!" Syrana shouted from the doorway. She was not one to be ignored - and never had been. As soon as Metas jerked his face to her, she marched right up to him and held out a rag she had dampened.

"What, are you too good to help one of us lower citizens up from the ground?" She challenged and glared directly into the deeper gold hues that nearly mimicked hers.

"Help her up, and offer her this towel - like a real male would when seeing such a situation," the elder sister followed up at his silence and deepened her glare.

'I'm glad she has someone so strong to care for her. She's just given you a perfect pathway to touch Myranda's hand. You should take that opportunity immediately' he instructed himself, but for whatever reason he was unable to move.

"It's okay, Syrana. I'm strong enough to help myself up. I'm much stronger than I look," Myranda said and looked to Metas as she spoke her last words with a sharp point to each of them.

'You're going to miss your opportunity, just offer your damn hand, come on' he insisted to himself, and this time forced his body forward and leaned down so that he could offer his hand to her with his left, and reached out with an open palm towards Syrana for the damp rag.

Everyone was a bit shocked as they watched the intense scene unfold.

The older sister seemed proud of herself and placed the towel in his open palm triumphantly with a grin, "Thank you, your highness".

When he and Myranda's hands touched it was magical for both of them. Her fingers were warm, and his palm was hot as he enclosed his hand around hers and led her up to her feet.

When he spoke, his words were very soft, full of care, and warmed her to the core, "are you alright?"

For both of them, this was the instance they had both waited so long for - and it would not be squandered, and it didn't hurt Metas' reputation to show he really meant that he was for all of their clan, and not just the top-tier.

"Yes, thank you" his mate replied with softness. It made his body fill up with delight. It made him want to pull her straight into his arms and kiss her neck and face until she melted in his embrace.

"Here, let me see your arm..." he offered tenderly, and when she gave it over willingly, it made his heart pound. He put the cloth to her wound and pressed it there gently, and wished so badly to kiss her skin instead. It would heal instantly that way, but it would also put a target on her back, being that they belonged to one another.

Myranda found herself unable to speak, but they seemed to say a lot between the two of them in silence. Something in his gold orbs begged her to see him, to remember him.

When he saw hers, he felt her desperation for his acceptance, and the tender love in her expression that he longed to see his entire life. It was hard to restrain himself, and instead of kissing her, he squeezed her arm with sweetness with the aim to tell her he loved her as much as he could.

"Your older brother should take better care of you, like your sister does" he offered with a soft smile. "I have somewhere to be, but know I respect you, and I am going to fight for you - all of you," he followed up and let go of her hand before he pulled it to his lips. That would have been too far.

"Y-yes, thank you, your highness," she replied and gave a deep bow of respect.

That gesture from her stabbed him in the gut. Myranda should never have to bow to him. She was his equal - she was not below him, and never would be. If he could, he would have told her right then and there to never ever bow to him again.

If anyone was to bow, it would be him when he begged for her forgiveness at the end of this coup.

"You do not need to thank me for something which should already be freely given," he hinted towards her as hard as he could without clearing his throat or staring intently in her eyes like some kind of psychopath.

'Please understand my double meaning, my Luna. You are why I do all of this. Wait for me - there is no one else but you fit to be at my side,' he begged silently.

'Don't go...' she gave him her own silent plead back into his eyes.

Their hands parted, and Metas turned to his entourage and joined their ranks once more. He wanted to look back to her and give her another look, but that would have been too far. It would have given far too much away.

For Myranda, it hurt to watch him disappear down to the next level.

Metas, however thanked the Goddess for blessing him this singular moment with his mate. It filled him with a resolve to fight harder so that he could finally put her on the pedestal where she belonged.