❝ we speak the same language ❞
itshowellnina:
And so the heir of the campus itself halfheartedly proved himself to be all things but the impression he gave, the energy he oozed, the words whispered about him in exhilarated rush for the king had arrived. He was quite tame, indeed, Nina did not feel tongue-tied or intimidated. This had been a huff and puff of fresh air after being trapped in an attic reeking with the scents of dust and naphthalene, to see him soothed her and she did not know why. A coy smile, Nina proceeded to listen, unaware they had converged in terms of trust and fascination.
Slow, unknowingly, they were so close to becoming besotted by one another.
To think of it was outrageous, hence, she did not. “Well, if you find a nice place to go for a run in Cambridge congratulations! It’s all student residences and nursery homes these days–” she laughed, no malice intended “–and judging by your physique you do work out a lot, so kudos for that, I am hoping that was not too daring” once again sweet, concealing the fact she often didn’t care if she was too bold or not. Was it a crime to pay an attractive man a compliment? Only a blind folk would have been able to ignore it, oh, she had a pretty pair of eyes and she loved to use them. What future held for her – quite a great scheme, that was – was there.
It had been so hard to let the opportunity of talking about herself pass! But Bryant had been gullible to think she would ignore his little manifesto, a vent directed towards a vampire he had just known. Nina herself was unaware he was a lycan, so stupidly she overlooked it, but inter-species hatred was long since forgotten now he truly captured her attention.
Were daddy issues her personal kink? God forbid! “Nice try” she cut off slyly, her hand now pressed to her pale, tiny palm, raising her chin upon narrowing her eyes at him as to compel him; unsuccessfully, too. “It was kind of hard to ignore your little speech, there, do not expect me to let it slip that easily” she chuckled.
“You don’t like having to live up to someone else, do you?” she inquired, softly now, knowing all too well how it felt. Gerard Howell was a remarkable tycoon and Vivienne Hart-Howell had quite a Broadway playbill about her – in the best way possible. Nina? Nina was just the troublesome daughter, the slut, the undead. Her life had ended before it even started, wasted.
A sigh, “You don’t have to tell me, you know?” with an eyebrow raised, Nina did not break the eye contact as she carefully reached out or his papers – those he had turned to religiously before, averting her icy gaze – sliding them towards her. No sources of distractions, now, he had made his bed and now he had to lie in it.
“…But it would be best if you do”
“Good runs often happen as I head north,” he began, almost smelling the fresh air searing through his nose. “And you’re right. There’s not much in this town and there’s not much space to stretch one’s legs. I need room and Cambridge is very cramped for someone like me.” A fake smiled alluded to discomfort and despite Nina’s intensifying efforts to get the truth out of him as to why he was so disgruntled, he didn’t want to say. It was none of her, none of a vampire’s, and none of a stranger’s business. She was too eager to hear his story.
His story? He was a packless alpha. His testosterone was taken out on runs rather than commanding a pack. A pack of wolves used to follow Bryant when he was younger until the strongest dose of the werewolf gene kicked in and his bite became worse than his bark. His father had enemies and fights often broke out. Those who followed Bryant didn’t trust his dad thus it meant either betraying his father and mother by creating his own name for himself or remaining in alliance with his father and few remaining family friends. Of course, out of respect and obedience, young Bryant sided with his father. Much to his dismay, future Bryant didn’t know that he’d be missing out on fellowship and leadership by siding with his dad. Bryant was the pawn and his father the shot caller. Bryant was nothing more than a soldier in a one man army. What came of his father’s friends? They were either killed or left in fear of losing their lives.
But Bryant wasn’t going to succumb to the vampire’s requests for more. He wasn’t that soft: that open. “You’ve heard enough about me. I’m not that interesting.” He met her eyes as she reached across the table, cautious of where her hands might end up. He casually shifted in his seat and broke the gaze, glancing out the window as a truck roared past. “What about you? Or are the secrets too secret?” He joked, knowing that every vampire had been down a road they either enjoyed or regretted. Both meant for interesting stories yet hearing them was a matter of whether or not they’d be shared.