Page 47

Date Night

Isobel had expected Mikel’s office to be dark, and for him to be in his bedroom.

She was already worried by the uncertainty of how she was going to check if he was awake, but it was all for nothing, because there was light spilling beneath his office door.

When she knocked briefly and entered, the soft glow of a lamp haloed Mikel and Kalen as they reclined in velvet armchairs by the window, rain tickling the glass in lazy rivulets, a chessboard between them.

Classical music wove gently around them, condensation gathering on the crystal of their glasses, the ice clinking prettily as they set their drinks down.

It would have been hilariously romantic if they hadn’t been glaring at each other and the board in obvious competition, unable to temper their Alpha instincts even for a sixth-century board game .

“I can come back later?” she asked, hiding her grin. “Just make sure to have him home by eleven.”

For a moment, they didn’t speak. Isobel leaned back against the closed door, fingertips drifting across the wood at her hip in contemplation.

She could feel the surprise and concern Mikel hid beneath an eye roll.

He thought there might be something wrong with her, and that was why she had come to see him.

Kalen stood with a smirk, tugging the curtains tighter together to conceal the inch of night left bare between them.

“I think I’ll call it,” he said. “You were about to lose, anyway.”

Mikel scoffed. “Right. Thanks for the company.” He settled his attention on Isobel as Kalen strode for the door. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is definitely okay,” Kalen answered for her, stopping an inch away as he shrugged back into his jacket, blocking out Mikel completely.

He ducked down, gripping her chin and lifting her eyes to his, his voice a low note of praise.

“You’re a good fucking girl for coming down here.

” He kissed her, the brush of his lips just firm enough to make her breath catch and her feet stumble as he pulled her from the door and left the room.

Mikel’s frown grew deeper the longer he stared at her. “You’re here for me.” It wasn’t a question, but he still felt shocked or confused. “Is everything okay with Oscar? And Moses?”

She matched his frown, slowly putting together the pieces of his scattered emotions until she could arrange them into something that made sense.

He was acting as though she was the only one who mattered, and if she needed comfort, she could have sought it from one of the men already in her bed.

He didn’t even seem to realise that Kalen had been checking on him.

Keeping an eye on him. Making sure he wasn’t alone. Because he also mattered.

“Everyone’s fine,” she answered, knowing he really meant the question. “Nobody’s bleeding anymore. The bruises aren’t so bad. They all went easy on each other. Believe it or not, you and I are the ones who suffered the most tonight—other than the worm, I guess.”

His jaw flexed, and his eyes narrowed at the mention of the man from earlier.

She quickly claimed Kalen’s chair, crossing her legs and reaching for the whiskey Kalen had been drinking.

He didn’t add all the fancy extras to his drink, not like the whiskey sours that Mikel usually made her, but she took a sip anyway.

“I know today was difficult for you, Illy.” Mikel’s gaze strayed to the silken fabric of her dressing gown as it parted over her thighs, rippling away to reveal her crossed legs, but he rapidly refocussed. “I’m just surprised you came to me for help.”

“Mikki.” She levelled him with an incredulous look.

He smirked like he always did when she used the nickname. Like he knew it took courage.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “I came here for you. I thought if you’re feeling as crappy as me, maybe we should … feel crappy together or something.”

“Right.” His brows drew down, and he tilted his head.

He still felt surprised.

She wanted to slap her palm down on the table, but she paused and shoved her frustration aside, examining what he was feeling through the bond with a little more care. There was a shiver of something underneath it all. A little wobble of disbelief.

And that, she could understand.

Mikel and Moses were the men who were always picked last. Moses had the “other” Kane to contend with, and Mikel had the “other” professor.

People weren’t shy in showing their favouritism for Theodore over Moses, and they seemed even less shy in disregarding Mikel.

They still thought Moses was handsome, at least.

Mikel wasn’t conventionally handsome if you only looked at his face.

His features were too sharp, and almost nothing about him was symmetrical, down to the uneven black splotches marring his otherwise blue eyes.

He had so many scars that, in some places, he didn’t even appear to have skin beneath, only scar tissue.

One of the scars sliced his eyebrow in half, and it wasn’t clean.

It was a jagged patch that made him look more terrifying than rugged.

Another scar cut into his lip, tugging the line of his mouth slightly out of place.

Perhaps people thought of him as less of an Alpha, with all his scars, since Alphas were supposed to have superior healing.

Mikel—as perfect, intelligent, protective, and brilliant as he was—didn’t think anyone would favour him or possibly even want him.

He seemed very sure of his sexuality, especially when he was in control, but without his role as a dominant, he became irresolute in where he stood and whether or not he was needed.

“How come your scars are permanent?” she asked, simply voicing the first thing that popped into her head.

One of his brows inched up. “If we’re badly scarred before we finish the Alpha growth cycle, the marks can remain permanent.

The younger we are, the more likely it is.

I grew up an orphan with Alpha strength, so the easiest way for me to earn money back home was to fight.

The Piney Woods settlement hosted illegal fights—the humans who ran the settlement used to bet on us and bring in their friends to watch. ”

She winced. “I’m sorry.”

“About the scars?”

“About a kid being forced to fight to survive.”

He nodded, seeming not to care at all.

She picked at the rim of her glass with her nail. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Are you really asking if I’d rather play chess with Kalen than have you half-unravelled and alone in my office?” he asked, deep voice a little droll.

She glanced up at him through her lashes. “Is it chess you hate or Kalen? Because I’m pretty sure he thinks you guys are besties, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I just intruded on date night.”

Mikel tilted his head down to fix her with an exasperated look. “Was it the music?”

“The only thing you were missing was candlelight.”

He stood and walked to a walnut cabinet by the door, pulling open one of the polished doors to extract an oversized gift basket. He rifled around in it until he produced a candle and a decorative little pack of matches.

He slapped the candle onto the middle of the chessboard and lit it. “There.”

She tried not to be embarrassingly obvious and squirm in pleasure at the subtext, but Mikel didn’t miss anything, and some of the confusion seemed to melt away from the mix of emotions he projected.

“Would you go on a date with me if we weren’t in here?

” he asked quietly, watching her intently like he was determined to catch each of her micro-expressions.

“If we were human? Would you go to a busy restaurant with me? Sit there while everyone talked about us and stared? Whispering about the ugly fucker with the prettiest woman they’ve ever seen?

” He continued before she could even answer.

“I know you don’t see it. You don’t listen when we say it.

You don’t read it when the fans write it.

You crinkle your nose when Sloan, Yulia, or any of the other officials mention it.

I can see it in how you dress: not to look your best but to perform your best at whatever task you have ahead of you, even if it’s just going to class.

Or now, this …” His gaze raked over her dressing gown.

“Whatever this purpose is.” His nostrils flared like he was testing her scent before his eyes slammed back up to hers.

“You really don’t see it, but you’re really fucking beautiful, Isobel.

Like an angel.” He shook his head, expression scrunching.

“Fuck, that sounds so dumb. So cliché. You make me realise why clichés exist in the first place, it’s embarrassing.

Maybe it’s what you have inside that’s making the outside so addictive, I don’t know.

” He sucked in air through his teeth, and it suddenly seemed that he was trying to push all of these stumbling words out of himself before he could take any of them back or rethink them.

He had never looked more beautiful to her than in that moment, cringing in shame at his own sweet sentiments.

“You’re just so pure and perfect it hurts.

Like something sent from another world. Everyone can see it, and if we went on a date out there in the real world, people would slip you fucking notes asking if you needed to be rescued because none of them could even fathom …

” He trailed off, draining the rest of his glass and setting it onto the table, letting his eyes wander to the curtains.

“What did you think of me before we bonded?” He se emed to force his attention back on her, refusing to allow himself the safety of disengaging. “Be honest.”

She also set her drink down, loosely crossing her arms as she thought about his question.