Feral Bonds: Claimed By Rogue Alpha Brothers

Evaline:

It was the flicker in his voice that caught me.

Not his words. Just… the faintest drop in his tone, like a perfectly composed melody missing a single note.

I faltered. Confused, I asked, "How did I know… what?"

He was silent again for next couple of seconds, making me wonder if he was going to answer or not. But then...

"That something was wrong with me," he finally said, but still didn't turn around. "No one else noticed anything. Not even my brothers. And yet you are here, asking me about it with such surety."

The fire popped softly in the fireplace. It was the only sound breaking the long stretch of silence that followed.

I stared at him, unsure what to say. "I-" My words stalled before I could form them. "Maybe… I just noticed the slightest miss in your usual… perfect persona."

It sounded ridiculous out loud, but it was the truth. Even now, despite how bad his state might have been, his posture was flawless, his voice level, his movements deliberate - he was every bit the untouchable, immaculate Professor I had come to know. And yet… there had been something clearly not right with him these days.

The signs were barely there, but enough for me to see it.

Why? I had no idea myself.

He was silent for a while, the firelight throwing gold against his hair that was left loose today.

Then, finally, his voice returned.

"You must be paying very close attention to me, then."

My mouth opened automatically to deny it... but nothing came out. I couldn't think of a proper answer. Instead, I stood there awkwardly, feeling the weight of his words more than I expected.

And then he moved.

He stood up, slow and unhurried, and finally turned to face me. The light shifted over his face until the pale tinge to his skin was softened by the glow of the flames. He walked around the desk and closed the distance between us in a few steps before stopping right in front of me. He was suddenly close, so close that I was able to feel the heat of him against my skin.

My breath caught.

Not because of the proximity - well, not entirely because of it - but because of his eyes.

There was… so much in those beautiful emerald orbs.

A tide of emotions I couldn't place. A faint shimmer, as if he were holding back something he didn't want me to see. For a heartbeat, I thought his eyes were getting watery. But before I could confirm it, he did something that stunned me entirely.

He dropped his head against my shoulder.

It was sudden... so sudden I froze, unsure if my body had forgotten how to move. The weight of him was warm, solid, unfamiliar in its vulnerability.

My first instinct was to step back - this was my Professor, after all. He, who carried himself like nothing could touch him. He, who was never less than perfectly composed. He, who wasn't supposed to need… this.

But then...

Something cold touched the side of my neck.

I stilled... and realized.

He was crying.

The thought of pulling away vanished like smoke. My arms moved on their own, wrapping around him, holding him as carefully as if he might break under the wrong touch. "Professor …" I whispered, leaning my head slightly against his. "What's wrong?"

He only shook his head. No words. No explanations. Just the quiet sound of his breathing against me, uneven but not too loud.

My chest ached. I wasn't looking at him as just my benefactor anymore. Not even as just my Professor. Somewhere along the way, he had become something else - a friend, a quiet constant, maybe even family considering my mate bonds with the rest of the brothers.

And no, I wasn't thinking about the confusing pull I always felt toward him. Not right now. Not when he was like this.

Without wasting another second, I tightened my hold on him. My one hand moved to rest on his back, while the other was gently stroking along the line of his shoulder. I murmured small, calming words that I wasn't even sure he heard.

And then, slowly, I felt his arms circle my waist.

Not tentative - no. Firm. Certain. As if he had decided, in that moment, that he could allow himself this one thing. And then he pulled me completely into his embrace.

The fire crackled softly behind us, painting the walls in amber shadows.

Before I could ask again what had happened, he finally spoke. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"I'm tired."

There was no dramatics in his tone. No heavy sigh, no bitterness. Just those two words, spoken like a truth he couldn't keep inside anymore.

I held him tighter, grounding him as best I could. "Then take a break," I murmured. "From… whatever it is that's taking this much out of you."

My fingers moved in gentle circles at his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he seemed to be holding himself together even now. I could feel his heartbeat against my own, steady but faintly strained.

"You don't have to…" I trailed off, realizing there was no point finishing that sentence. He wouldn't stop being who he was just because I told him to. But maybe he didn't need someone telling him what not to do. Maybe he just needed someone to stand here and hold him until the weight wasn't so heavy.

So that's what I did.

I wasn't sure for how long we stood there - a minute, two, maybe five minutes?

But then he finally pulled back to look at me. His eyes were still holding so much in them, but they no longer looked overwhelmed.

"I don't know what's making you feel this tired," I started, feeling the need to say something. "But I hope that whatever it is, you will soon find a way to deal with it. I don't like seeing you like this. But I'm here if you need me... like a good friend."

The trace of a faint smile finally touched his lips. "But what if I don't want you as a friend?"