Chapter Five

V–Would it be a sin?

ALASTOR NYX:

“I believe I've earned the right to be in your company–as well a kiss from you,” Alastor declared triumphantly, the more-or-less dumbfounded expression Winters was wearing making him grin.

He had a feeling that his mate wasn't someone so easily shocked–especially being a goddess of the underworld–which was a bonus. There was just something so endearing with the way those obsidian eyes widened at him–shocked, concerned, impressed, flattered–her gaze darting from him, his wound, then at her discarded dagger rapidly, looking like she was asking for her weapon to magically return to her.

Oh, but she just looked so freaking cute like that.

The sudden noise his mate made at the back of her throat didn't help her case too, “As if you'd be satisfied with a simple kiss?!” she snapped, her words coming out in a frenzied rush.

He resisted the urge to giggle. 

Oh, you already know me so well, baby...

For some absurd reason, Alastor suddenly felt like gushing and pinching those adorably pink cheeks but refrained himself. Somehow, he just knew that Winters would actually try to bite his fingers off of her face.

He shivered.

Okay, that was pretty hot…

“You expected to have sex with me and for the last forsaking time, it will not happen–”

“But you want it too, don't you?” Alastor interrupted, smirking.

He expected a quick denial, a fierce rebuttal at his audacity, she was still a goddess after all, he wasn't stupid, he knew she can truly hurt, even send him straight to the underworld if she really wanted ...but when she suddenly paused, her telling silence going far too long–Alastor knew that he had finally hit the jackpot.

It was common knowledge that fighting through the bond of soul mates was impossible. After all... how could you fight your own life partner, the other half of your own soul? And just why on earth would anyone want to fight it when not everyone is so lucky, so blessed to be able to meet their soul mate in this lifetime?

Scanning his mate from head to toe with his eyes alone again, Alastor just knew that he will never get tired with the sight of her.

Blessed, indeed.

His mate is a goddess. 

Even until now, he still could not believe it himself. Alastor had waited for so long to meet his soul mate, had always dreamed of it–and suddenly, she was just right there, looking like a fantasy. What had he even done to deserve someone so enchantingly beautiful?

Hell, he didn't even know that gods could have soul mates... and of all beings, it had to be the mysterious Proserpina, the goddess of shadows, heiress to the underworld; keeper of Death.

Winters Veil.

But then again... his mate had alluded herself that she wasn't a goddess originally. Does that mean she was a mortal once? What glorious feat did his mate achieved that she was made immortal by Hades himself?

Again, Alastor could not stop himself from praising the fates for giving him such a wonderful being for a mate.

Now, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry in joy. He would have been so fucking happy, completely over the moon about the fact if the goddess would just please stop resisting the fierce attraction between them.

Suddenly, his own words from earlier came back to him like a bitch slap to the face:

“If I'm ever going to meet my mate in this lifetime, I'd appreciate it if it's going to be someone that gives me a challenge.”

Oh, right.

...Well, fuck.

No wonder his old man often told him to be careful what you wished for because Alastor is literally regretting his wish right now.

If Alastor can, he would have turn back time and strangle his idiot self for such a careless wish–just to spare him the trouble. His life was already a pain; does that seriously have to involve his love life too?

For a moment, Alastor wondered if the goddess would be more inclined to stay longer for a chat, would be impressed enough by him if he had told her at the first chance he got that he was the alpha of the Northern pack even if he didn't want to... or that she was actually his mate and he was so sorry he had lied to her face.

But the frightened look in her eyes when she honestly asked if she was his mate earlier made him uneasy.

Why was she afraid?

Then again, Alastor reminded himself to be patient, to be considerate because his mate, especially not being one of his own, deserved that from him at the very least. After all, how many other species reacted so badly at the idea of being a werewolf's mate?

All of them.

“What if I am already in a relationship?” Winters suddenly dared to ask, raising her chin proudly, almost tauntingly.

Yes, that.

One of his main concerns... and Alastor forced himself not to scowl in front of his mate, “Well, are you?”

Just the mere thought of his mate being with another man–or woman–made his blood boil, made him want to hunt them down and skin them alive with his own hands before burying them ten feet under because how fucking dare they even though, rationally speaking, he knows that his mate shouldn't be at fault for being involved with another, especially since she is not aware of him being her other half...

But the sudden blush across her pale cheeks made Alastor pause, his brain feeling like it just short-circuited.

...cute.

Thankfully, the odd expression he was surely wearing had not been noticed or called out because her gaze quickly averted from his, a small pout evident on her pretty face as she kept her gaze pointedly trained to the other side, determinedly not looking at him.

She didn't answer.

“...That's a 'no', then?”

When he received no further response from her, Alastor found his lips curling into a victorious grin until he can feel his own cheeks aching but he didn’t care oh gods damn it, he can't bring himself to cut it out.

He's so fucking happy–

“Remove that grin off your face,” his mate hissed, not bothering to look at him oh, and her ears are red too–! “It still does not mean I'm having sex with you.”

“Oh, really?”

At his amused tone, she exhaled loudly and stared at the heavens again, almost accusingly, “Which... part... of I'm not interested do you not understand?” Winters asked, the words coming out slowly.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, thoroughly amused at her stubbornness–he expected nothing less from his mate, “Oh? I think you're forgetting the fact that I'm a werewolf.”

“So?”

“My dear goddess, I am not sure if you are aware of this but…” Alastor's eyes crinkled in mirth as he stared her down, “... I can actually smell your interest.”

. . .

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

–Nayyirah Waheed

. . .

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

His mate was fun.

Talking to her was so fun. 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 wondered what it would be like littered with bites on such a slender lovely neck–“...to one of the other werewolves or 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 been holding himself back because Sean's nagging was freakishly annoying, had been actually keeping his temper in check. With more difficulty, at the face of his mate, he forced himself to calm down.

She glared, “Or 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.

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 –”

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 shiver against him as he peppered her neck with open-mouthed kisses like he had planned the moment she tilted her head.

Then, he felt Winters grabbing at his skin blindly before they quickly began pounding on his chest, weakly, “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 finger nail 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 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… 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 Sean.

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 please it's me it's me 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 can 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.