Fractured Alpha (BxB)

{Twenty Two}

This reminded me of Alessio and Messiah's relationship. 💕😍

One demin-clad leg crossed over the other, Margherita bathed in the warm hues of gold and silver reflecting from the lights she had woven into the branches dangling from her celling rafters.

She sat across from Alessio and Messiah on the fabric of her ebony, leather couch.

Her blush-pink nails, adorned with diamond, half moons, that pledged her allegiance to the Waxing Crescent pack she reigned over as the Alpha decades ago, were wrapped around a glass of red wine, as she recounted the endless memories she shared with Alessio's mom, her best friend for half her life.

What started as a Christmas party, filled with the echoes of laughter and the ear-splitting chrouses of voices, became a conversation in the embrace of the sky blue walls, lined with transparent glass and with the soundtrack of white noise in the background.

Dahlia sat on the crisp, beige carpet below Alessio, who was lounged out against Messiah's chest, while her chestnut curls were framing her face and were dangling past her waist. Her glowing, caramel skin was littered with fresh, plum hickeys she made no attempt to eclipse, undoubtedly from her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Zane Maxwell.

Zane was Margherita's son, who'd shattered Dahlia's heart a year prior with his empty promises and rushed footsteps towards the opposite direction. The mere mention of his name caused Aleskei to emit a loud growl.

As a result of the angry response, Messiah twined their fingers together and peppered kisses along his hand. He wasn't sure why Alessio's wolf was riled up, but the urge to comfort his mate, regardless of the reason, was irresistible.

I love you, baby boy, Messiah floats through the mind link they shared. I'm always here if you need me. Do you need to get out of here?

No, Alessio says; grateful for the concern of his mate. Without unlacing their fingers, Messiah dives back into the conversation revolving around his mate's late mother, his thumb sketching circles along Alessio's knuckles.

Thanks to the comfort of Messiah, he remains level-headed for the rest of the party.

⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️

Caramel skin speckled with sheeny, droplets of water, Alessio collapsed against the steel-grey tiles of the shower wall and bared his throat to the frosted glass that was illuminated by the array of fluorescent lights.

Alessio hugs his knees to his chest and weaves his veiny hands into his nude locks. His claws, that were elongated mere moments ago, left his bitten fingernails in their wake.

The image of Messiah's concerned expression, while his olive-hued eyes skimmed over his tainted, naked body clasped cold metal around his wrists, restraining him from carving the color of blush-pink into his abdomen.

'Wow, you're mentally, fucking insane. You're still so damn weak, the voice taunts, even if your scars aren't fresh. Believing you aren't worthless just twists the damn knife when you wake up from your hazy mind.

"I may be weak," Alessio admits. "It's okay to show vulnerability. But I'm not worthless. All of my imperfections do not change my worth," he says, as he remembers Messiah's words. "I'm not broken, just fractured."