Mated To An Enemy

“Roman?” Wyatt questioned. “I'm sorry, I've never heard of you.”

Roman gave a soft chuckle as he nodded.

“I must admit, I am newly returned from having been out of the country for many years,” he said with a warm smile. “You don't know me, but you know my father, in fact, he is why I am here today.”

“And who is your father?” Wyatt asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Roman observed Wyatt's reaction. He held the smile he wore, but in his mind, he felt irritated. This man clearly already felt the need to be guarded in his presence.

“My father is Alpha Tomas of Autumn,” Roman replied.

“Tomas doesn't have a son,” Wyatt stated firmly, his posture becoming more defensive.

Roman chuckled.

“I assure you, he does,” Roman smiled. “Just not one he likes to talk about.”

Wyatt raised his brow but said nothing.

“My father and I have never had a close relationship,” Roman sighed. “As a child, I had very different interests than what he would have preferred. Because of that, he did not acknowledge me as his son._.

“He kept me around because he didn't know what else to do with me. But, as far as anyone knew, I was just another Autumn orphan. As I got older, we mostly avoided each other. Then, when I became an adult, I left. I was searching for something. Trying to fill a void.”

Roman took a deep breath and sighed. He looked away, as though it was hard for him to talk about the events of his life.

“I stayed away, had no contact with anyone except a few close friends that helped me to know who I really was. It was one of these friends that asked me to come back home. Let me know that my dad was struggling.”

Wyatt furrowed his brows. Roman caught the slight change in the corner of his eye.

“Coming back was about reconnecting,” Roman continued. “About find what we lost.”

“How is Tomas struggling?” Wyatt asked.

Roman smiled to himself. As he turned back to Wyatt, his expression appeared tired, worn.

“We don't know what happened,” Roman said. “He's been sick for a while, he has hardly left his room or office, for weeks. Months even. He is paranoid, scared, confused. He's not the man he used to be.”

“When did this start?” Wyatt asked, relaxing his arms and walking further into the room.

“I'm not sure how long before I came home, but from what I'm told, it has been at least four or five months,”

“Four or five months?” Wyatt asked, turning away.

Roman caught a look of concern, possibly, confirmation.

“Did something happen around that time?” Roman asked excitedly, increasing his breathing to appear as though he were hopeful of an answer. “Do you know what happened to my father?”

“I don't,” Wyatt sighed, giving Roman a regretful look. “But around then was the last time I saw your father. It was at my son's Alpha ceremony.

“There was something off about him that night, he seemed frightened. As though he thought something was coming for him.”

‘Heh,' Roman chuckled in his mind. ‘That must have been why they called me home, good old dad started to waver.'

Roman nodded and pursed his lips.

“That's what others have said about him as well,” Roman replied sadly. “I'm afraid something was done to him… but we haven't been able to figure it out ourselves. It's why I came today.”

“I don't understand,” Wyatt said.

“I was hoping you might know something about who could have done this,” Roman said.

“Why would I know anything?” Wyatt asked. “As I said, I haven't seen or spoken to your father in months.”

“I know,” Roman nodded, he sighed. “I know it sounds ridiculous. I just, I remembered that when I was younger, you were friends. I guess I just thought you might be able to think of something no one else had.”

Wyatt looked carefully at Roman.

“I haven't been friendly with Tomas in a very long time, sorry,” Wyatt said, turning away from Roman. “I don't think I can be of any help to you.”

Roman felt his jaw clench.

“Why is that?” he asked before he could stop himself. Feeling the frustration of holding his act beginning to chip away at the edges. “I seem to remember you coming around a lot back then.”

Wyatt turned back to Roman, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Back when?” Wyatt asked.

Roman licked his lips and swallowed. He tried to bring the warm smile back, but he could feel it slipping away.

“A few years back, six or seven. It was a little while before I left. I seem to remember you coming around a lot. You and dad talking in his office for hours. I always wondered what brought you two so close.”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at Roman.

“As I said,” Wyatt said, “I don't think I can be of any help to you.”

Roman looked away, taking a breath through his nose. Trying to push down the impatience, the call of his need.

“Why did you come to Autumn so often?” Roman asked, a hint of growl in his voice. “What were you there for, Wyatt.”

Wyatt stood up taller. He straightened his back and took a slow breath in.

There it was.

Roman's mask had cracked, and Wyatt had seen it.

“Go home, Roman,” Wyatt growled. “You are no longer welcome here.”

Wyatt didn't bother to wait for a reply, he simply walked out of the building.

Roman clenched his jaw, listening as the older man walked away. Then, when he was sure he was far enough not to hear, Roman reached down and grabbed the table’s edge. He lifted it into the air and flung it across the room to smash against the wall.

‘He knows something!' he growled inside his mind. He took deep, heavy breaths as the anger flared into a raging inferno in his chest.

He had cracked his mask too soon, gotten too excited, too worked up. He was usually more controlled than this. How had he broken so quickly? Why was he feeling so shaken?

Roman closed his eyes. He thought of the short brown curls and the scent of chili peppers and bitter chocolate. Then, he saw the fire in her eyes.

His breathing slowed; his fires calmed.

He needed to return. He would find a way to make Wyatt talk, to find where he had hidden Bell away from him. But for now, he needed to see Alice.

Roman hurried to the door. He stepped out into the cold, taking another deep breath to clear his senses. Only, that did not happen.

His senses fired up once again as the fragrance hit the back of his throat. His salivary glands kicked into overdrive at the familiar sweetness in the air.

He turned slowly as the fire returned to his chest.

“Bell….” he growled through gritted teeth.