A heavy silence had fallen on the room, only interrupted by Nyell's heavy breathing. Although it felt good to speak his mind openly, the implication of what he had just said took time to hit home. But even after it did, he didn't try to come up with slimy excuses or tweak the underlying meanings behind his words. What was the point? He couldn't lie to himself forever. He had tried, and it failed.
Nyell had a whole week to think about his relationship with Allen and organize his thoughts. It wasn't like there was much to do when you were trapped between four walls, and he had run out of conversational topics with his cellmates fast enough. It wasn't like Nyell was a chatterbox, and there was only so much they could talk about. If anything, he often zoned out, leaving Yohan and Miell to chit-chat among themselves. As for his uncle, he was also the silent type and mainly spoke when addressed first. Both were thus often left alone in a corner, allowing Nyell to brood over the past few weeks and what the future held for him. The main question was: did he want Allen to be an active part of his life or an annoying fly he couldn't get rid of?
Difficult to say. Even after pondering for days, Nyell wasn't sure he'd found a satisfactory answer. For now, all he could come to terms with was that he didn't want Allen out of his life anymore. He still didn't like how his inner beast's instinct influenced his feelings and emotions, but that was also a part of him. Denying how he felt was denying who he was. A werewolf was part human, but also part wolf. He couldn't keep on pushing his other self's infatuation away and ignoring it, lest he wanted to create friction between the two facets of himself.
But now, what? Nyell didn't know what to say.
The silence continued to stretch as they both stared into each other's eyes. Neither dared to speak first and break the status quo. That was until Allen let his forehead fall against Nyell's stomach, encircling his waist with his arms and rubbing his face slightly.
"I'm sorry, I'll try to be more careful from now on."
The meek voice took Nyell aback. Somehow, he hadn't expected him to apologize. Unsure where to put his arms, he stood still for an instant and gazed down on the shaman's head. He hesitated a moment longer before tapping his back lightly in an almost comforting manner, imitating what he had seen from other mates. The gesture was awkward, but the intention was there.
"Well, hum, I'm sorry, too, for all that matters. But I can't guarantee that I won't do something stupid like that again. My body tends to act before I have the time to think, so, y'know? And it's–"
"Nyell," Allen chuckled, cutting him mid-sentence. "It's fine, you don't need to find excuses. I overreacted a little earlier. Just promise me one thing, will you?"
"What?"
"Always prioritize your safety first and foremost."
No answer. Nyell pursed his lips, frowning slightly. Was it something he could promise, knowing his tendency to jump headfirst into danger?
"Please, promise me."
"…I'll do my best."
Nyell could only concede this much. He didn't want to promise something he couldn't follow through with. Of course, he wasn't so keen on dying, so he'd do his best not to kick the bucket. Despite everything, he intended to live a long life. Only, he had never deflated before a dangerous situation, and when fleeing was impossible, he faced it head-on. If he had to die, he'd rather die while fighting back. But Allen didn't allow him to ponder over how he'd like his life to end for long as he snuggled closer, sliding his hands downward. The movement snapped Nyell back to reality fast enough.
"Allen…?" Nyell felt his mouth twitch.
"Hm?"
"Where are your hands wandering?"
"On your buttocks, why?"
Although Nyell wanted to snap back, he couldn't utter a single word when his eyes met Allen's. The shaman had tilted his head slightly on the side, peeking at him through a few strands of hair. The raw emotions he saw froze him, and his throat turned dry. Even if Allen was backing down, it wasn't like his anger had suddenly subsided, nor would his beast be less agitated from the earlier events. No, in fact, Nyell might have only added oil to the fire. His little outburst from a moment ago revealed the affection he held for Allen, however faint it was. He wanted him to stay safe and sound for a reason, and that reason was purely sentimental.
Before, it was easy for the shaman to keep a certain distance between them, for he knew his fated mate wasn't particularly fond of him. Now, it was changing, and his inner beast was getting overwhelmed by joy and excitement. Adding to that the possessiveness and jealousy that had been stirred up during the auction, it was a miracle Allen hadn't yet jumped on him. Another man had dared to rub the nape of his neck and bring up the marking, for goodness' sake! Even Nyell would have lost it if it had been Allen in his shoes. Not because he was head over heels in love with him, but because his inner beast would have been too furious. It had considered Allen to be its possession since the beginning, and it couldn't allow others to touch him. It shouldn't be any different for Allen.
Even if Nyell didn't want to admit it aloud, it was impressive how much control Allen had on his beast, unlike many werewolves he had seen throughout the years, including himself. If anything, it seemed odd that Allen had managed not to rip to shreds the bastard here and there at the auction. Was it because he was a shaman? Probably not. He had heard stories of shamans being even worse at keeping themselves in check than regular werewolves, as if their spiritual energy would sometimes fry some brain cells during ceremonies, making them forget basic decency. Or so they said.
"The perfume lingering on you is goddamn awful, though," Allen snarled lowly, wrinkling his nose. It seemed like he had rubbed his face on his stomach in the hope of replacing it with his own scent. But it didn't work. "It smells nothing like you."
The comment drew a discreet chuckle out of Nyell. Even though he was wearing Allen's robe over the indecent outfit from the auction, it wasn't enough to cover the perfume he had been ordered to douse himself with. It didn't smell bad per se, as it had a faint floral scent, but it nevertheless wasn't his odor. Werewolves were peculiar about smells, especially from their mates. Nyell usually smelled like fresh earth after rainfall, a scent that permeated the jungle. He didn't carry the smell of a flower meadow with him.
"Does it bother you?"
"What do you think?"
The answer was an obvious and resounding yes. Nyell could have taken a bath, and the perfume would have naturally been washed away, but he knew that was the simple solution. It wouldn't calm Allen's beast all that much, and if left alone, it would take a long time before it regained some peace of mind. It was something easy to understand, but the shaman didn't bring it up. He never did. Nyell bit his bottom lip, hesitating for an instant before mustering the courage to murmur, albeit with a hint of embarrassment in his voice:
"…Do you want to scent me?"
The question appeared to take Allen aback, who threw his head backward to look at his fated mate with round eyes. Even if Allen did scent him a few weeks prior when the manticore had embushed them, it had only been slightly, and because Nyell was nestled in his arms. It had been somewhat accidental and was far from a proper scenting. It didn't last long, either. However, that had been long enough for Nyell to get aroused in the middle of the night, even though the smell had been relatively faint and not overwhelming, the complete opposite of what a formal scenting entailed. It was also a form of marking, something that would let everyone know who Nyell belonged to, as his smell would be masked by his fated mate's.
For an instant, Allen seemed to wonder if Nyell was aware of what he was asking. The confused look that flashed through his face was enough to wipe out any misgiving Nyell had. For the first time, he found his fated mate kinda cute.
"I know what scenting is," Nyell rolled his eyes, as if he hadn't been the one embarrassed to ask for it a moment ago. "It's fine. I also don't like that smell, and I much prefer yours."
That was the truth. Allen's smell was not only arousing but also calming and reassuring to him, most likely because of their bond. His inner beast craved for it, and he could almost hear his wolf whine in his head. It had been a while since he last transformed into his beast form, too, and it was getting harder and harder to differentiate between what he, as the human, wanted and what he, as the wolf, desired. But for now, Nyell thought that scenting was a good compromise; for himself, and for Allen, too.
"You sure you won't change your mind mid-way?"
"Why the heck would I?" Nyell growled, annoyed by the doubtful tone. Not like he could exactly blame Allen, though. He had been screaming at the top of his lungs for years that he hated his guts with every fiber of his being. And now, he was asking him to scent him, something that carried an intimate connotation reserved for mates. They did more intimate things, but they were sexual, not affectionate. It didn't hold the same meaning. "Stop being so distrustful. I've just been thinking that I should stop being stubborn. Whatever I do, a part of me yearns to be by your side, and it hurts to be away. I guess even I can't win against my instinct, much less fate… But you'll have to give me time. I'm starting to accept it, so I might not be able to embrace our bond as fast as you, or as wholeheartedly. And marking is still off the table for now."
The tender smile that bloomed on Allen's face at these words stirred up butterflies in Nyell's stomach. It was like an arrow had pierced his heart, and suddenly, his stubbornness felt silly. If he looked at the shaman properly, his mesmerizing eyes were doting, showering him with love. Since when? It was hard to say. He had been too busy avoiding and denying everything to notice. Maybe he should have given his fated mate proper attention instead of running away.