Chapter 8: Touch me not (part 2)

. . .

"I was told she is a melancholic soul.

She is like the sun to night,

A momentary gold

A star when dimmed by dawning light;

The flicker of a candle blown

A lonely kite lost in flight -

Someone once had flown"

―Lang Leav

. . .

'What.'

This man–werewolf, Proserpina gently reminded herself–wanted to seduce her? No talk of a date, of courting, just... that.

What the hell.

'PROSERPINA! For the love of your father, please don't tell me you are actually considering this... thing! Think of the consequences! It's not worth it!'

Forget about considering bringing the werewolf to her bed. She was actually tempted to... to punch this moron.

"...I am difficult, you say?" Proserpina finally asked, her voice growing cold as she slowly appraised him from head to toe with a deliberately apparent disdainful gaze, "I am certain if you tried to seduce anyone, let alone a god in such a dreadful state–unshaven, bloody, half-dressed, and half-covered in mud, not to mention you smell of dirt and sweat–you would be rejected."

He actually winced at that, absentmindedly running a palm over his chin, seemingly surprised to find some stubble there, "Today is not my day..." Alastor murmured, almost to himself.

"Then you should be on your way!" Proserpina suggested brightly, all false cheer with a single clap, "My uncles always said that nothing cheers up a man than a passionate night spent with a horde of gorgeous nymphs. Have fun with your groupies."

"I don't want them. Any of them..." Alastor grumbled, as though he already had this kind of conversation before–he probably did, "...even before I saw you."

For some reason, Proserpina can feel heat steadily creeping up her pale cheeks at the absolute sincerity in his voice, even though a part of her was outraged at the sheer audacity but another part–the larger part of her was absurdly pleased to hear that... despite the very vocal protests of Thanatos in her head–'Forget this. Forget it. And forget him! Just go home, prinkípissa, JUST GO HOME ALREADY!'

Home...

Right, Proserpina has finished her mission, after all.

She needed to get home now, back to William before Queen Persephone starts complaining again to Hades about her being out and away for so long and have her dragged to her father's court, far away from this werewolf.

"I am flattered... but I am not interested." Proserpina finally remembered to say, watching the smile slip from his face for a second.

With that, Proserpina turned her attention to dispose of the empousa's remain properly, intending to feed it to Cerberus once her inevitable return to the underworld is settled and knowing the queen, she will be brought straight to her father's domain.

Proserpina opened her hand for the empousa's head but Alastor suddenly stepped forward and dropped down on one knee making her tense, what the hell, are you going to pop open a ring now–as he picked it all up, ignoring the still-dripping blood coming from it, as if he was being a gentleman, retrieving a dropped handkerchief for his fair lady in the Victorian era instead of handling a beheaded corpse.

Maybe she was wrong about him–

Then, he threw it away, way high up into the air as it sailed past until even she can no longer see where it landed.

He gave her a boyish grin, followed by a thumbs-up.

...maybe not, Proserpina sighed at his antics.

A being as persistent as Alastor Nyx would prove to be Proserpina's downfall if she is not careful dealing with him; a handsome face that literally concealed a beast... if the lore concerning his kind during the full moon is to be taken seriously–the possibility of him overpowering her in a fight with sheer strength alone still stands, after all–then he might as well be a threat even to a minor deity like her.

With her task done, Proserpina gently tugged off of her gloves and half-turned away from him, the shadows already growing to take her home... but Alastor suddenly held his hand out, his fingers very nearly touching the shadow as he stood up, as if intending to follow her.

At that, Proserpina wordlessly commanded the shadows to disperse all at once before it stole his. She glared at the stormy skies, her gaze tired and accusing because she was so certain that somewhere out there in the clouds, way up high in Mount Olympus... there was a certain goddess of love laughing while watching Proserpina's current dilemma.

Then again, it could be Eros for all she knew...

"Are you deaf or are you dense?" Proserpina snapped, not bothering to look behind her, "I am not interested."

"Is this because I'm a werewolf?"

'No, because you're a man...'

Proserpina felt guilty when she finally turned around and saw the genuine hurt on his face, his dark chocolate like eyes gleaming amidst the rain, reminding her of an adorable kicked puppy, begging for affection... then, she immediately felt annoyed with herself for even feeling guilty.

(Shame, he'd make a wonderful puppy...)

"The rumors you heard? They are wrong. I am not hard to seduce... I cannot be seduced. And gods considers everything below us to be no better than animals or playthings so it is best for you to be on your way and forget about it," Proserpina told him, hoping to get her point across,

"I wasn't asking them. I was talking to you," Alastor narrowed his eyes at her, "But I'm sure you don't agree with their perspective or you wouldn't want me to be your mate."

This time, Proserpina did not bother to hide her shock, "Mate...?"

A shadow passed over his face.

"Well, that one came out wrong..." Alastor muttered. But he quickly recovered, smiling easily again, "So? What should I call you?"

"Proserpina,"

Was he even listening?

He raised an eyebrow at her, "So... I take it you're named after your mother? Well, no surprise there. Hades was known to be a good husband, after all. That's sweet."

What the hell, what the actual f –... why does everyone keep assuming that Persephone was Proserpina's actual mother or they are the same being–which they were not just because they were both goddesses of the underworld?

Sometimes, Proserpina wished Hades had named her something else rather than naming her after his wife. She can already feel a blooming headache just thinking about her unoriginal name.

Proserpina visibly exhaled for a moment, and then grudgingly answered: "No. My real name is Winters Veil though I am now referred as Proserpina on the night I became a goddess."

"Winters Veil..." Alastor repeated slowly, as though he was tasting, was savoring her name on his tongue. She stopped herself from shivering at the absurdly pleased look on his face, "Well, then, Winters,"–a boyish grin curled his lips–"...you have enchanted me."