Spirit Tales (The Millennium Wolves AU)
Chapter Eighteen

I froze in my place, not believing what I was seeing. I wanted to take another step to check if it was real or my an illusion playing trick on me, but I didn’t dare.

He felt my presence, though, and raised his face. His blue eyes were bloodshot and tears were still streaming out. “What?” he asked accusingly. “You like watching me breaking down? Are you having fun?”

My eyes widened and my heart kicked in my chest. He put his face back in his hands. “Go away,” he whispered, voice raspy, “we both know you want to laugh at me, or humiliate me when I’m at my worst, so just save it and let me break in peace.”

Something in his broken voice, in the rare vulnerability he was showing - something I’d never dreamed of seeing in someone like Strider Luxford - made me take a step toward him and slide to the floor next to him. What are you doing? Tempest asked angrily.

Trying to do something good, I replied.

He’s never been nice to you! She argued. He doesn’t deserve your empathy! He’s a piece of shit who insulted and bullied you and -

I know, I cut her off, and this is exactly the reason why I want to show him that I, unlike him, do not use people’s weaknesses against them.

She snorted, obviously disagreeing. Do whatever you want, Angela, just don’t come crying to me when it all goes shit.

Don’t worry, I won’t, I responded, and out loud I said, “I don’t want to make fun of you, Luxford,” I pulled my knees to my chest. “I’m not going to humiliate you, too. Unlike you, I’m human. I’m not going to kick you when you’re already down.”

He didn’t reply. I sighed. “I don’t know what happened,” I said, “and I don’t know what you’re going through, but I think I know you enough to understand that you’re a strong man, inside and out, and that it takes something very big to break you down.” I took a deep breath. “Yet I do know that, whatever happened, it will all sort itself out in the end.”

Strider tensed, and for a moment I thought he was going to let out a sob or something, but then, before I could move, he turned to me and grabbed my shoulders strongly, his face agonized. “No, it won’t sort itself out!” he snarled. “It’s bullshit! When you say ‘it will be okay’ it’s just a stupid attempt to calm you down, but it doesn’t! It’s just more infuriating because I know if all goes to hell now!”

I forced myself to keep my cool mood in check, even though Tempest growled angrily at his tone. “I know that when people say that you can’t really believe it,” the hands on my shoulders squeezed a little painfully, but I didn’t flinch away. “I was told this when I hit rock bottom once, and I couldn’t have believed it, too. But fact is, after some time passed, everything started to actually sort itself out. It’s not all black and white in life, Strider.”

Saying his name took him off guard for a split of a second, but the surprise was replaced by more anger and more tears coming out of his blue eyes, that were growing lighter and lighter and they will almost white, the color of his wolf form eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but I saw he was struggling to replace the correct words, so I decided to give him a push. “You can tell me,” I said quietly, not looking away from his eyes. no wincing when his grab on my shoulders tightened farther, and shoving down a sneeze from the smell of his minty breath. “As you are aware, I don’t actually have friends to gossip with about you. I’ll keep the information to myself and try to help you.”

He stared at me with disbelief, and I kept my gaze leveled and determined, not letting him feel embarrassment or anything like that. When he saw in my eyes that I was serious, he lowered his and let go of my shoulders. “I’m an only child,” he said suddenly, and I tensed, “my father is the famous werewolf, Declan Luxford, who was one of the personal assistants in the later years of the previous Alpha of the Millennium, until that Alpha retired and passed the job to Fred. Declan didn’t want to keep his job too, and so he retired as well - and started working in politics instead.”

He took a deep breath. “My father met my mother in his new job. She was a poor werewolf who led a hard life. She was orphaned when she was very young, and because of her exceptional beauty, males took advantage of her situation.” His face crumpled in disgust. “She slept with anything that moved ever since she was ten, all so she could get money for food and shelter.

“When my father met her in some stripping club later, when she was eighteen, he fell in love with her immediately. He took her with him, made sure she wasn’t poor anymore, and married her against her will. She didn’t want him and his rich life - she hated my father for forcing her into this. She was already used to sell herself to men, and the change of routine scared her. Not to mention she was now married to a man in his late forties when she was barely out of her teens.

“My father claimed she was his Mate, but even if she really was, she didn’t accept him as hers.”

That sentence made no sense. “Mate? What does it mean?” I knew wolves in nature had mates, but the way Strider said that, it seemed to hold a much bigger meaning.

Strider laughed weakly and bitterly. “Every werewolf in the world has someone who’s destined just for them. Call it soulmate if you want. There are people who believe in the theory that in the far past, the universe split people in two, and every half had to replace the other to make a whole - which is the basic description of a Mate. Every werewolf has their other half somewhere in the world, but not everyone replace them. In fact, the percentage of replaceing your Mate is about eight - which is nothing, considering there are billions of us. When a male werewolf replaces his Mate, he needs to court her, to make her fall in love with him and trust him to such a deep level, it will create a Bond between them - like a telepathic wire that will let the Mates feel each other in a way they’re perfectly attuned to one another, and in rarer cases, send thoughts to each other.”

I felt something inside me squeezing and warming at this explanation. “I had no idea such a wonderful connection between two wolves existed,” I stated quietly, in wonder.

Strider wasn’t looking at me. “Yes, well, it’s not information wolves usually share with humans, but it’s vital for you to understand my story,” he too another deep breath. “Anyway, my father thought Josephine, my mother, was his Mate, but she didn’t think the same. Eventually, he raped her, and this is how I came into this world.”

He smiled bitterly. “She hated me. I resemble my father physically, except my eyes which are hers, and she couldn’t look at me without wanting to beat me up. It got to the point she was starting to disappear from home for long days, and returned sometimes weeks, sometimes months, later. My father drank himself to oblivion and beat me up so I would tell him where she went - and he didn’t believe me when I told him I had no idea. After a while, my father found out she was sleeping with other men behind his back, and told her, ‘Once a whore, forever a whole’. He then beat her up so hard, she lost consciousness and bled almost to death. Ever since that day, my father caged her at home, raped her, and I had to see and hear everything without being able to do anything to protect my mother whom, even though she hated me, I loved her. And now…” he put his forehead on his knees, and I saw he was fighting another wave of tears. “Now she’s dead.”

I was stunned. I had no idea someone like Strider Luxford carried such a baggage. It was one of the roughest stories I’d ever heard in my life. “Why did she die?” I asked in a whisper.

“She was ill,” Strider said, his voice choked, “she was always weak, and a bad disease was all that it took to finish her off.”

It took me a few more moments to comprehend his words, and then I knew what he needed right now. I drew closer to him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. He froze under my touch, but I didn’t let go, and instead tightened my grip of him. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Strider,” I said quietly while he was still terse under my touch, “I really, really am.”

With every minute that passed, Strider softened farther. After God knew how long, he finally wrapped his arms, hesitant at first, around my waist. When I put his head on my shoulder and caressed his hair, trying to offer him any sort of comfort I could give, it must’ve broken something inside and he was hugging my tight, crying again, his tears wetting my pajama shirt. But I didn’t care; I knew he needed it, and it felt good helping someone like this. It’d been a while since I last did something good, even if it was for Strider Luxford.

I didn’t know for how long we’d been locked in a hug, but at some point, Strider leaned back so he could raise his head and look me in the eye. He wasn’t crying anymore, and he seemed calmer, more collected, slowly returning back to the Strider I knew. “Why did you help me?” he asked in a husky voice, and I could swear I saw, in addition to his confusion, something akin to wonder in his eyes, as though he was seeing me for the first time.

“Because I’m not a bad person,” I said and shrugged, feigning indifference.

“This is not what I meant,” he said quietly, “why are you helping me after I treated you like an asshole?”

“Because I’m not an asshole,” I said, half-smiling, “and to be honest, it hurt me to see you cry. It’s not the Strider I know. The Strider I know is this popular dude, whose best friends are the Spirit of Fire and the Alpha of the Millennium, and he’s one of the friendliest people in college - and of course one of the most flirtatious.”

That made him laugh, and I felt something inside me turning warm when I heard him actually laughing and not crying. “I’m that bad?” he asked with a smile I’d never before seen on his face - a true, wholehearted smile, that made him a thousand times more beautiful than he already was. His blue eyes twinkled, and his golden hair was messy but curtained his face perfectly, and he was exactly like that painting of Apollo from the Greek Mythology I’d seen once.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” I said innocently, amused, “I’m just saying it as I see it.”

His smile died down and his face turned serious. “Thank you,” he said and hugged me again, putting his head against my shoulder on his own volition this time, “you have no idea how much you helped me, Angela. Thank you.”

I hugged him back. “You’re welcome.”