Chapter 48: Chapter 48

As he walks slowly towards Weston for the second time that night, pack wolves flanking him in a guard of honour, Millan's heart beats hard in his chest.

Anticipation grows in the air.

One of them- Millan thinks he recognizes Amir’s blonde fur- howls enthusiastically and the others join in.

A surge of overwhelming acceptance threatens to bring tears to his eyes.

In the midst of the loud happy cries from the pack wolves, Millan's attention is all focused on Weston, on the light coming from the torch he is holding- highlighting his strong jawline, on his gleaming gold eyes and his dimpled smile.

Pride radiates through their bond and Millan wishes he could capture this moment and put it in a bottle so he could relive it again and again.

As soon as Millan reaches him, Weston lifts the torch slightly and silence falls immediately on their audience.

“Members of the Blayne Pack,” Weston speaks, his voice resonating through the dark forest, reaching each and every werewolf in the audience, “Here stands before you, Millan Ellis Caelan, soon to be a member of our pack. Tonight, we welcome him, and we promise him security, loyalty and kinship.”

Millan knows the words, they’re an oath from the pack.

An oath to protect and care for their new member. The sentences usually spoken for a newborn; formalities Millan has heard before when he was still part of a pack.

Now though, this oath means so much more than protocol.

It’s a promise, a confirmation that maybe, he was right to hold on to hope, that maybe, he has finally arrived at his destination.

But then, Weston continues beyond the usual oath, surprising Millan.

“Millan Ellis Caelan is a werewolf of immense value to me, your Head Alpha, and of great skills. There is no doubt in my mind that Millan will bring a lot to the pack. The Council agrees, but I ask you now, members of the Blayne Pack, do you accept Millan Ellis Caelan in your midst? Do you accept him as kin?”

At once, every wolf starts to howl.

Then Weston uses his torch to light the fire set up beside him and the howling intensifies in celebration, making the earth tremble beneath their feet.

Millan's heart swells as his Fated Mate’s eyes filled with love lock with his, most probably reflecting the same fond expression. Then there’s warmth. Encompassing him, bubbling into his chest and creeping into his bones.

The kind that so strongly highlights how cold he used to be, how cold he’s been for so long. The kind of warmth he stopped believing existed a long time ago.

The feeling is almost too much to handle. A familiar fuzzy cloud dances in front of Millan's eyes and he has trouble keeping it away.

The mending of his broken heart is so powerful, he’s teetering on the edge of dropping.

Panicking, not wanting to drop in front of the whole pack, Millan fights it.

Weston brings him into his arms and whispers in his ear, “It’s okay, Millan. You can let go. I’ve got you.”

Millan gives in to the warm cloud enveloping him, trusting Weston to anchor him and bring him back.

“Is he okay?” Madelyn’s voice breaks through the oblivious celebrating werewolves.

She’d been nervous for Millan ever since Colton had almost ruined the night. She was so relieved the ritual still took place; she’d been howling louder than anyone else.

She wanted to approach Millan and congratulate him but seeing him collapse in Weston’s arms has her worried again for her newfound brother.

“He is okay, Maddie. He just dropped, it’s been a difficult night.”

Madelyn nods in understanding. Weston adjusts Millan in his arms intending on carrying him back to Weston’s room- well… their room… - but another worried voice halts him.

“Is Millan all right?”

“Stella!” Weston can’t help his surprise.

Rituals like these weren’t open to visitors. They were old traditions and it was important to werewolves to uphold the strict rules of those ancient practices.

His discontentment must have shown since, even in the dark, Stella’s embarrassed blush was visible.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here; I just watched from a distance. I promise.”

Weston frowns, internally debating if Stella’s indiscretion warrants punishment until a moan from Millan breaks through his thoughts and he decides to file the problem for the future him to deal with.

“He’s fine, just overwhelmed. I’m taking him to bed.” Weston doesn’t wait for Stella’s response and makes his way through the chaotic, happy, celebrating wolves.

*****

Millan doesn’t want the fuzzy cloud to disperse yet.

He’s so comfortable, he doesn’t want the floating feeling to go away, doesn’t want the newfound warmth in his chest to disappear.

But there’s a voice calling him back.

Familiar, deep. He knows that voice, he thinks.

“That’s it, Mill, come back to me.”

Millan blinks and the cloud dissipates a little bit more.

“There you go, love. You’re doing great.”

“Wes?”

Weston’s smile grows at the nickname.

“Yes, it’s me, Mill.”

Millan blinks again wanting to see his soulmate’s face.

He’s met with bright gold eyes and a laughing smile. As the cloud dissipates completely, Millan is glad to see that the warmth isn’t going away with it.

Weston is towering over him, a hand caressing his cheek gently, waiting for him to come back completely.

“How are you feeling, Mill?”

“Warm.”

Weston frowns, “Too warm?” The Head Alpha worriedly starts to take away some of the blankets he’d draped on Millan who laughs at his action and stops him.

“No, Wes. I mean I feel… good. Complete.”

Understanding his meaning smooths out the worry lines on Weston’s forehead and he sighs, bringing Millan into his arms as he lays back down on the bed.

Millan, exhausted, closes his eyes. Images of the night came back to him. Images of wolves howling in happiness and acceptance.

He is part of a pack now. He is part of a pack AGAIN.

Not any pack, either; his soulmate’s, his Fated Mate.

The thought is simply too exciting for him to go to sleep yet. And then he remembers how he’d dropped in front of everyone and he blushes deeply, embarrassed that he showed such weakness to every member of his new pack.

Weston feels the shift in their bond, from excitement to worry and embarrassment. He frowns and opens his eyes to look at Millan in the midst of biting his bottom lip and pulling at a thread in the blanket distractedly.

“Hey. What’s going on up here, Mill?” Weston asks after gently kissing Millan's temple.

“Huh?” Millan startles, still unaccustomed to having someone being so in tuned with how he’s feeling. “Uhm, nothing. I’m fine.”

Millan knows he won’t fool Weston, but there’s still hope he’ll simply drop it.

No such luck.

“Mill… seriously, what’s wrong?”

Millan shakes his head dismissively, forcing a small laugh to appease Weston’s worry, “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

Millan sighs, knowing Weston isn’t going to let it go.

“I just… can’t believe I dropped in front of everyone. It’s… embarrassing.”

“Millan. There’s absolutely nothing embarrassing about dropping. Most omegas in your situation would have had the same reaction. Actually, most omegas in your situation would have dropped way sooner. It was a tiring and overwhelming night for you, and everybody understands that. I promise you, no one judged you for it.”

“I guess… I’m not used to being so… omega-like.”

Weston frowns. Millan had told him repeatedly before that he was ‘defective’. But aside from Millan's uncanny capability to disobey Alpha Commands, Weston has yet to see anything unusual about Millan and he is definitely never done anything that constitutes as ‘defective’.

Weston suspects that Millan's hatred of himself comes from his rough upbringing more than anything else.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m used to not doing what every omega does. I used to think I was just incapable of doing all those omega things- that I was an anomaly. Now… I don’t know.”

Weston takes a moment to think about how he wants to approach the subject, knowing it has a lot to do with why Millan was banished, and it seems to be a big insecurity of his omega.

“Millan, I want to ask you something, but I want to tell you first that you are more than your secondary gender. You’re an amazing person whether you can drop or not, whether you obey or disobey Alpha Commands, whether you’re nesting or not.” Weston smiles crookedly when Millan snorts in fake outraged.

“I’m not nesting!”

“Whatever you say, Mill.” Weston says before kissing Millan’s forehead gently, and continuing. “But seriously, you know, sometimes, werewolves are born into a gender they don’t feel comfortable in and they decide to change it. Is that how you feel, Mill? Would you feel more comfortable in another secondary gender? You know I love you and nothing is going to change that. The medicine for it is starting to be super advanced and I’m sure Nara would be happy to help.”

Millan's expression is almost comical, eyes wide, mouth gaping, until it breaks into a smile. Weston smiles back, still unsure of what Millan is thinking.

“Weston, you’re the sweetest person I know.” Millan is shaking his head in disbelief and Weston can feel the surge of love in their bond.

Coming from a pack that banished him for not expressing his secondary gender the ‘right way’, Weston’s total acceptance is almost too much to take.

“I can’t believe you’d be okay with that… You’re wonderful. But no, Wes, I don’t feel like I’m in the wrong gender.”

Weston lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“It wouldn’t have been easy, but I want you to be happy, Mill. That’s the most important thing to me.”

Millan senses the honesty and sincerity in Weston’s statement. There’s a moment of silence as they bask in each other’s company, wrapped in their own thoughts until Millan breaks it in a whisper, as if to respect the quiet of the night.

“I think the only way I’ve dealt with being an omega before was either to provoke my dad or to please him. Then, when I had to fend for myself, I had to repress my omega because I couldn’t give it what it needed. I’ve never really been able to be me without question. I just think I need to learn how to do that… Does it make sense?”

A new piece of the puzzle that is his soul mate falls into place.

It seems so logical now how reluctant Millan was of dropping the very first time in his office and how embarrassed he was of purring or even now, how he denies nesting so fervently, but still, seems to enjoy and bask in those ‘omega like’ moments.

Weston understands that Millan needs encouragement, acceptance and time. And he is more than willing to give all that to Millan. And so much more.

“It makes perfect sense, Mill.” Weston bends down to kiss his Fated Mate.

He intends for the kiss to be quick but they both linger, losing themselves in each other.

Weston thinks he’ll never get enough of Millan- his scent, his soft, demanding lips, his curves, the way he always fights for dominance to tease Weston, the way he submits easily once Weston takes over, the way he lets go completely, entrusting everything to Weston fully.

Millan thinks he’ll never get enough of Weston- his soft, gentle dominance, his exploring, insatiable hands, the way he lets Millan take control, confident he’ll be able to take it back.

They both can’t believe their luck.