a/n – I wrote this to Look Alive by Hana Vu. Aiasthlyn readers might remember 😉

———-

Peter’s P.O.V

I think I was nine when I realised that I had a post-cry ritual.

It probably started earlier than that, but that’s the age I can remember actually becoming conscious of it— of all the steps I’d take after a long cry to feel a little less broken.

It wasn’t anything crazy. I’m not even sure if it constitutes as a ritual. It was more of a routine, I guess, but a ritual is what it’s always felt like, so that’s what I’ve always called it.

The first part was the most depressing, but also the most comforting, and it was that I just sort of laid in whatever spot I’d ended up in for a little while— half asleep, completely drained and empty.

It was the kind of emptiness that could make a person spiral, but since I was always too exhausted to muster up the energy to do anything besides breathe, I was spared that particular pain.

How long it lasted, the lying, varied, but today, it’s cut abruptly short as a harsh knock sounds against the door.

I jolt from the ground, scrambling up so quickly that I slip a little on the ice.

Heart in my throat, I stare at the doors, waiting for them to burst open, but they never do. They remain firmly shut, and I remain as stiff as a board until I dare to try and catch a scent.

I sniff, and my nose immediately wrinkles as the waxy scent of magic greets me. 

I haven’t heard anything outside since we came in —Joseph whispers nervously. 

My heart sinks, but before I can panic about the hidden magic in here, another, harder knock bangs against the door, making me jump again. 

“I have your food, Peter.”

Maeve.

My heart stays where it is as disappointment and dread pile on top of it.

I look around. There are plenty of places to hide, but I’m not sure if that would save me from her, or her cold eyes, and her even colder words.

Joseph whimpers sadly as the echo of them bounds around my head, reminding me how much my mate didn’t care about me, but I shove them away before my tears can return. 

I didn’t want to risk hearing any more of what she had to say, but I probably would if I kept her waiting, so I force myself to inch forward until I am at the door and opening it with a hand that shakes over the knob.

Maeve stands stiffly on the other side with a tray in her hand and the same chill from earlier wafting off of her. There’s also someone else posted at her side. 

My eyes flick up just long enough to catch a glimpse of the warlock from before, before they fall back to the floor. Atieno, Luciel had called him.

“Your food,” Maeve says as she shoves the tray into my eyeline.

I take it quickly, instincts spurring me to try and abate her ire and general dislike of me. I lick my lips before I part them to say thank you, but Maeve disappears before I can get the first syllable out. 

She runs using her nightmarish speed, but it feels like she disappears, which, this close, is jarring enough to make me almost drop my tray. The only reason it doesn’t all crash to the floor is because of the magic that keeps it afloat.

Its owner offers me a small smile as I tighten my grip on the edges. 

I manage a thank you for him, one that he actually waits to hear before he closes the door behind me.

I set the tray down on the nearest table and stare at it.

It’s grilled fish and kelp? Not something I’ve had together before, but it smells nice, and it’s hot, but despite the emptiness in my stomach, I can’t muster up the will to take a single bite. 

Leaving it behind, I avoid every surface that tries to make me look at myself while I search for a shower to complete the next part of my ritual.

I half expect not to find one here, but a curtain against one of the walls leads into a small wet room that offers an odd spout from the wall, a sink and a toilet, all of which are thankfully not made of ice.

Logically, I’m not sure how any of it works when that’s what everything else is made of, but such questions remain a quiet murmur in the back of my mind as I strip and step under the shower’s spray.

It’s hot, another surprise, but I welcome it gleefully as I let the fresh water wash away the tears that have dried over my cheeks.

The shower was my favourite part of the post-cry ritual because, for a moment, it was as if I was shedding whatever made me cry in the first place. It was like the water could literally take it all away, and I always let myself enjoy the fantasy, because when I stepped out from under it, the chill of the world again was always waiting just outside.

This time, it’s closer than before, and it almost sets me off again as I stare down at the pile I’d left outside and realise that I don’t have anything else.

I don’t have any clothes, none of my gear or my small pieces of home. Nothing.

I was all alone down here, with nothing besides the skin on my bones.

I fight another spell of tears as I dry myself hastily before I tug on the clothes I’ve been in all day, holding extra tightly to the coat that is thankfully just as warm as it was before.

I burrow into it as I step outside and look around the large room.

My eyes dart to the waiting tray, but it’s no more appealing now than it was before, so I head for the bed instead, only to stop at its borders.

Usually, this was when I’d crawl under the covers with a book that would temporarily replace the world I knew with a better, fictional one, but this bed is as unfamiliar to me as the rest of this place, and I don’t think there’s any story in the world that could distract me from the fact that my mate doesn’t want me.

My eyes fall shut as I take a deep breath, hold it for a good beat and then let it out, slow.

I could not cry again.
Well, I could and I would, probably before the end of the night, but for right now, right here, I didn’t want to do it. Goddess knew how long I’d spent crying on the floor in the first place after Maeve showed me that she had never heard of caring about others’ feelings, but I didn’t want to repeat it so soon.

I just wanted to lie down and well…

Cry? — Joseph offers with a sad laugh. There’s nothing wrong with crying, remember? That’s what Papa always says. Plus, it helps clear the mind.

My mind feels stuffy — I reply while I tug at the edges of the plush furs. And I’m tired, and I just want to crawl out of my own head for a little while.

Joseph squirms, and the next breath I take it all him. I…I can do it. I can take control.

My fingers begin to shake, and that’s all him too. It’s alright. Honest. I don’t want the both of us feeling miserable, and I don’t want you to be scared.

I was scared of course, but I could mostly balance my fears with certain facts, like the fact that Nikola’s magic surrounded me and even if we were literally in a vampire’s nest, I was behind the safety of these doors as a guest.

With Joseph, logic came after instinct when he was at the forefront, and as an omega, our instincts usually led us into really terrible or compromising situations.

You hang tight — I tell him while I stare down at the bed. If it gets too much, then you can try. Okay?

Alright — Joseph replies, both relieved and sad.

I knew he wanted to do more for me, but I didn’t think there was much either of us could do right now to make any of this better. We could only try to get through it until we came up with a proper plan.

I stare down at the bed before us and all its many cushions.
It looks soft and inviting, and I do like it, but it’s unfamiliar, it’s scents barren, and that makes my hackles rise.

Usually, when I slept in an unfamiliar place for the first time, I piled it with clothes that smelt like me so that my brain could be lulled into actually imprinting my scent on the sheets, but the only clothes I have are the ones on my body, and I’m not so sure I could survive with just the coat.

Now, if it smelt like him, then it would be just fine.

I would already be burrowed beneath them, wrapped up like a cocooned caterpillar and huffing deep breaths just to get another lungful of his scent. But his scent is nowhere to be found, like him.

Cruel fingers pinch at my heart, scratching over the cut there that’s been bleeding since the moment we met. It squeezes and squeezes until I’m gasping for air and blinking away the moisture welling in my eyes.

No.
Goddess, no.

No more crying, for at least an hour.

You can do an hour right, Peter? Just not cry for a little while.

Sniffing, I let my head fall back and stare at the ceiling, willing it to stop blurring. I just needed to calm down. Once I did that, then I could think of something, and—

A knock sounds against the door, again, and this time, I almost jump out of my skin as a small cry bounces off the ice.

I snap my mouth shut and hold tight to my coat as my eyes snap towards the towering twin doors.

What did Maeve want now?
To tell me it was time to go watch her murder some poor penguins?

My heart clenches, guilt twisting me up until I ask Goddess to forgive me for such terrible thoughts.

Was it even Maeve?

She’d disappeared after giving me the food I still hadn’t touched, and for all I knew, she had never come back and it was actually Atieno knocking.

He seemed nice, nicer than Maeve for sure, but I didn’t know if he stayed after he closed the doors behind me. Maybe he’d gone after her, leaving me alone, and it was an entirely new someone who maybe wasn’t so nice.

Another knock comes, more insistent this time, and definitely not Maeve’s.

Squirming, I bite back an anxious whine while I look frantically around the room. 

Hiding is more appealing than last time, but that would only buy me so much time, and there was a chance that this was the nice warlock. There was a chance it wasn’t, but still one that it was.

My mind races and refuses to stop until I spot it on the other side of the room— a long, silver poker propped up against the fireplace.

My body moves before I can overthink it, instincts taking over.
I dash over and claim it as mine, sighing as the cold metal calms my racing heart.

I didn’t like violence and wasn’t very good at it unless Mr Fluff safety was on the line, but I was trained, and if this wasn’t someone who liked me, then I could at least protect myself before Nikola’s magic took me home.

Slipping the poker behind my back, I fix my grip on it until its tight and familiar as I stop in front of the door. I take a deep breath and hold it tight before I finally open the door.

The poker slips from my fingers and drops onto the iced floor with a deafening clatter.

It’s not Maeve or Atieno, or someone new.

It’s him.

It’s Luciel.

His dark eyes fall to the poker as it rolls to a stop against my boot.
They narrow, and my heart plummets.

“I-I-It’s n-not wa-wh-what it looks like!”

His eyes jump back up to mine, and I almost sink to my knees as his brows draw in even closer. “Alright.”

He doesn’t believe me.

My mouth opens, but it just hangs there uselessly because… he’s here. He’d come, my mate, and now, he’s right here.

My eyes dart all over his face, taking him in in the way I couldn’t when fear and panic had fogged everything. There’s no fog now, just clarity and enough longing to choke me.

He’s gorgeous.

I knew that. Had from the moment his eyes had met mine and my soul had come alive like never before, but Goddess have mercy, he’s gorgeous.

Thick, black locs frame his face, coiled by gold bands that match the gold everyone else seems to wear. His are simple, but regal, like the rest of him, with his strong jaw, high cheekbones and sharp eyes. 

They’re the most damning of all, his eyes, but they’re not scary, just… beautiful.

They hold mine, forcing my heart to beat faster as he holds me prisoner.

I struggled with eye contact, and the way it made me feel with those I didn’t know, but with him, I struggle to look away.

He stares at me, taking me in the same way I do him, and that’s when I realise that for the first time since we met, it’s just us.

There’s no one between us or watching us. It’s just him and me.

I breathe in, only to chase it with another when his scent floods my system.

It’s familiar, already. Woody too, like driftwood lost at sea, spattered with those sweet traces of something I can’t quite name that had led me straight to him. 

Somehow, he smells even better than he looks.

“I was hoping to speak to you.” He speaks first, and his voice is firm as he does. “Would you allow me in?”

Joseph gasps while I stare dumbly at our mate. 

He wanted to talk to me?

Excitement mists the world around me until the sadness that had plagued me for reasons I can barely remember, fade from my mind. 

“Y-Y-Yes,” I sputter before I step back only to trip over the poker. My grip on the door saves me from falling, but I free it with a soft laugh as I swipe up the traitor and step back.

Luciel, my mate, keeps his eyes on me as he steps inside. His steps are slow like a stalking predator, which should put me on edge, and it does but… 

A shiver passes through me as I hug the poker to my chest, holding onto it for dear life as he closes the door behind him, locking us both inside.

Goddess help me.

“You are afraid.”

I blink at him. “W-W-What?”

“Your heart is racing,” he explains. “You are afraid.”

“Oh, n-no!” I blurt while heat engulfs my face, reaching all the way to my ears until they burn. “No, I-I—” I pause and force myself to breathe. “I-It’s n-not that.”

My heart was racing, loudly, but it wasn’t from fear.

“I-I d-didn’t th-think y-you’d come.”

He stares at me, and it’s impossible to ignore how still he is. He’s like a mannequin, only his eyes move as he studies me like I am some impossible problem. 

He hums in the end before he slips his hands behind his back and casts his gaze around. I look around too, praying I haven’t somehow defiled his room or left something where it shouldn’t be.

“Are you comfortable here?” He asks, drawing my gaze back to his. He’s already looking at me, and warm pleasure spills into me as my eyes fall to his chin.

“Y-Yes,” I reply quickly, head bobbing as I do. “I-It i-is a v-very nice r-room.”

He hums again before he turns towards the food. “Not to your taste?”

My blush finds me again and refuses to let go. “I-I wasn’t h-hungry. I-I’ll eat it.”

He shakes his head swiftly. “It’ll be too cold. We will replace it when you are hungry.”

I nod despite the anxiety that worms inside of me. 

I didn’t want him or anyone else to think that I was ungrateful, but I also didn’t want to argue with my mate. Not when I still felt like if I breathed too hard, he’d disappear.

Luciel stays where he is, silent and unmoving, and I will myself to say something, anything.

There’s the apology for flinching away from him earlier, the questions of how they were living down here with nobody knowing, but most of all, questions about him.

Who was he? How long had he been here? What did he like and not like? Why didn’t he want a bond, and if he didn’t, then why was I still here?

How could I get him to give me a chance?

In the end, he beats me to it. 

“As I said, I was hoping to speak to you,” he says, and for the first time, he sounds something other than sure. My eyes risk lifting higher, and my stomach turns when I spot a new tightness above his eyes. “We were able to correct the error of your absence amongst your team and retrieve your belongings. They are all under the impression that you boarded your flight with them.”

“Oh,” I breathe as relief passes through me.

When he’d sent Atieno off with the instruction to fix things in ‘whatever form it took’, I’d been half-afraid that they would threaten them, or do something to their memories, but this was so much better, plus—

“M-My things a-are here?” I ask, my hopefulness embarrassingly audible.

“Just outside.”

I smile, can’t help it as I hug the poker just to keep myself from jumping about. 

That meant that I would be staying, at least longer than one night— that I had a chance.

I bite my lip to keep my sounds inside, and the tightness in Luciel’s face eases slightly. For a while, he looks at me like he did before I’d called him my mate, when he’d just stepped out of the tunnel.

It’s a perfect moment.

“We were also able to learn more about you,” he says slowly. “Your name helped.”

I nod, though it comes as slowly as his words.

I hadn’t said them for him to go look them up. I’d just said them because he asked and my body had wanted to give him everything. 

Now, I’m not sure if I should’ve.

When wolves heard my family name, they usually gave me a wide berth. I didn’t know what would happen with vampires.

“You are very… connected,” he chooses after a breath, a soft breath blowing out of him as he does. “Which explains your wards, at the very least.”

I twist a little in my spot as nervousness trickles through me.

I hadn’t wanted them to know about that. I knew there was a chance they could, especially the witches, but it felt safer when it was my secret.

Luciel shifts his shoulders back as if he’s arming himself for something. My stomach turns again, but he’s speaking before I can prepare myself. 

“We never intended to harm you, so what we have learnt does not change matters in that regard, but it does… complicate the circumstances of the bond that rests between us.”

My skin heats again, but I’m not sure why this time as I cling to the silver in my hands.

I can feel my heart more than I can hear it, knocking relentlessly against my chest as it tries to escape, but there’s nowhere to go.

“I…As I stated, I have no want for a life bond, and as far as I am aware, your customs respect such desires, but I am not myself alone,” he says slowly, choosing each of his prickly words carefully as if they don’t still hurt where they cut me. “I am the leader of this clan, of the people here, and I fear for their safety more than my own, should I break this bond and hurt a beloved member of a family with connections such as yours.”

Shadows creep in from the corners, eating up the space around and between us as whatever light Luciel had brought with him slips away.

It leaves only darkness and the misery that had kept me on the floor for so long, and it is worse this time, because for a moment, I had hoped he was here on his own. That Maeve was wrong and that I was a priority.

She wasn’t wrong, and I wasn’t.

I wasn’t a priority to him. 

I wasn’t anything.

“Peter.”

I close my eyes because that barb hurts more than all the rest. My name, spoken so softly, by a mate who doesn’t want me.

“Please believe that I do not wish to hurt you. I am trying my best to go about this the best way I can, for both you and my people,” he continues when I stay silent. “This situation is a hard one.”

It doesn’t have to be.

It can be simple. So so simple.

We’re meant for one another, and if you just give me a chance, you’ll see it too.

There are so many mates who don’t want each other at the start; my family are a testament to that, but with a chance, they wanted no one more.

The words stay in my head, with all the rest. 

I can’t get a single one out.

“Peter,” he says again, and finally, I open my eyes.

I blink quickly, washing away the tears as I stare at his neck. “I…” 

He wants me to speak, but I don’t have anything to say, nothing that’s right at least.

“I…” My fingers shake around the poker. “C-C-Can’t you—”

My voice breaks before I can make the plea, and I drop my head to hide my tears. My hair falls quickly, shielding me and I steal the reprieve to fill my lungs, but his scent is everywhere and that quickly turns my desperate breaths into quiet sobs.

I lift a hand, trying to muffle it, but there’s no hiding it;

“I am sorry,” he whispers again, voice tight with discomfort that just makes the agony spreading through my chest delve deeper. “I truly am, but… this bond is not one of substance. You are a werewolf. I have lived your lifespan one hundred times over, and will again when you pass. I am a vampire that you are afraid of—”

“I-I-I’m n-n-not afraid o-of you,” I blurt, and the second it’s out, the rest of it comes. “I-I know I-I fl-flinched b-b-b-before, a-and I am so-so s-sorry. I-I d-didn’t mean to. I-I’m not a-afraid of-of you.”

“But you are afraid of my kind,” he states, replacing his earlier gentleness with sterility. “If not of me, then of my kind and each vampire that lives in these walls.”

My mouth comes open, but I can’t speak any of the lies that try to come out.

I was. I was terrified of every vampire that was not him, and the only reason I wasn’t afraid of him was that I wanted him more than any fears I had.

Luciel sighs, and it’s like a punch to my gut. “Peter, you can not expect to pursue a bond with me in such circumstances.”

“I—”

“You armed yourself to answer the door,” he deadpans, and I can’t help but shrink slightly with shame. “You do not feel safe here, and I do not expect you to. It is not meant for you. This environment was and is meant for vampires. It is cold and unsuccumbing, and you will find the clan to be as well, which is precisely why this bond should be broken.”

I breathe in as I wipe at my tears, but they come as quickly as ever panicked inhale I make.

“If you agree and see the truth of this as well, then we can handle this without any—”

“B-But I-I don’t w-want to br-break it,” I manage around my heaves. I sway forward and silver bends between my fingers. “I-I do-don’t want e-either o-of us t-to b-break it. I-I-I just w-want a chance.”

The confession falls out of me like the last flap of a bird’s broken wing, sad and tellingly desperate.

“I-I can s-stop b-being a-afraid,” I promise as I try to overcome it, “I-I w-will stop b-being af-a-afraid,” to be strong, “and l-learn to—”

“But I do not want it,” Luciel cuts in with the cruelty of a blow meant to be final. “I do not want the bond. What does a chance matter, if at the end of it, I do not want this bond?”

“Ma-Maybe—”

“No, Peter. You are not hearing me,” he says, stepping forward, and I can’t help but take one back. “I do not want a bond. I do not want a mate.” He steps closer, and Joseph whines as distorted want jails us where we are. “That is not going to change, even if you stop being afraid of what I am, and those I lead.”

My chin wobbles, shaking like the rest of me as I try to quiet the sobs that refuse to be restrained.

“All I ask is that you respect that,” he whispers as he stops before me, his earlier gentleness returned. He is only two paces from me, close enough to make me giddy with happiness, but nothing has ever felt more wrong. “That you allot me the same grace and respect, I have tried to give to you.”

I heave, staring down at the ice again through blurring lenses and hoping that it or some other force would save me.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

When I met my mate, they were supposed to want me like I always wanted them, and if they didn’t, then something would make it so that eventually they might. Mate Awareness like what Levi and Hagen had suffered through, or even something to do with pack relations, like with Josey and Kai.

Something would give me chance, only it’s my turn— finally my turn, and there’s nothing to help me.

“Can you do that?” Luciel asks, voice soft again. “Can you respect my wishes, Peter?”

Yes. Yes, I can.

I want to, even with how it hurts.

I want to do the right thing and say ‘yes’ and ‘okay, if that’s what you want’, because a bond wasn’t for one person but two, and there was a reason why it was possible to break from either side.

I want to give that to him.

I want to be that selfless and good, like I’ve always been, but…

“C-Can I-I-I have t-t-time?” I ask, the question barely audible.

Time to accept this.

Time to come to terms with the fact that I’ll be alone after this.

Time.

Luciel doesn’t speak. He stays quiet, and he doesn’t move, not even to sigh. 

It takes all the courage in me to risk meeting his eyes, and when I do, I can’t help the way I flinch.

He knows. Knows the truth of why I want time.

Time to convince myself to do the right thing.

Time to fix it if I can’t.

Time to give myself a chance.

Time to make him change his mind.

Time.

Maeve had been unfeeling, slightly hateful.
Atieno, detached and as uncaring as every other vampire I’d accidentally caught a glimpse of.
Luciel had been firm, but gentle. Unflinching, but in an undeniable way, caring.

That’s what he had been.

Now, nothing but resentment bubbles in his gaze.

“Of course, Peter,” he replies tightly, and I shudder as I feel the frigid air gather around him, as if the ice surrounding us draws its power from him. “Take your time.”

I wasn’t selfish. I had never been. It went against the blood in my veins and my instincts as omega. I wasn’t selfish, but… I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want the man standing before me, and so maybe, I am selfish.

Luciel slips past me and does not spare me a glance as I turn after him. “I–“

I’m so sorry. I am sorry.

My apologies don’t make it past the guilt clogging my throat.

“Tell me this,” he says at the door, his head tilted at his shoulder. “Is there a reason for your fear? Did a vampire harm you once to cause this fear, or do you simply fear us because of what we are?”

My tears fall faster. I can’t breathe.

Luciel nods slowly, and I watch the edges of his dark eyes harden before he leaves, letting the door shut soundly behind him.

Joseph slips forward and takes control.

———————–

Oh lordy, lord, lord… this is rough

Thoughts?????

Thoughts on Peter being slightly depressed at the start??? Thoughts of Luciel’s visit and their conversation????

It’s a hard one cause on one hand, I completely get Peter. He grew up with a very romanticised view of love and hardship, and just thinks time will make everything right, but Luciel has plainly made what he wants clear, and he’s sort of ignoring that.

If I were Luciel, I’d hate this little crying omega.

If I were Peter, I’d want time too, if only just to accept that everything I wanted isn’t going to happen

God, I love a complicated situation. It feeds my soulllllll

Thank you all for your patience while I was away and celebrating my birthday, I really appreciate it. Updates will return as usual, and I’ll keep yall updated on my socials and board.

Next week updates include the last 2 extras of the month, which include Aiden and Kat accidentally swap bodies if you haven’t heard! Link in my bio!

That’s all for now though! Remember to vote and comment if you enjoyed!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeee Humansssssssssss