"Pad thai, huh?" Elias's deep voice cut through the mundane sounds of Milo rummaging in the kitchen. It was still flat, still tinged with disdain, but there was a subtle shift in its tone, perhaps a flicker of curiosity, or simply the acknowledgment of his own hunger.
"Yeah, pad thai. You know, noodles, peanuts, chicken, usually. Pretty good stuff. Unless you prefer raw meat, in which case you're outta luck. My fridge isn't quite equipped for, uh, mythical creature diets." Milo pulled out a large, rectangular container from the fridge. "I figured you could probably use something hearty after... whatever the hell happened to you."
He heated the pad thai in a microwave, the soft hum filling the silence. Milo kept glancing back at Elias, who was still slumped in the armchair, eyes closed. The faint warmth Milo had felt radiating from him earlier seemed to have increased slightly, perhaps a subtle indication of his healing, or just the comfortable temperature of the apartment.
"So, uh,"
Milo said, as the microwave dinged, pulling out the steaming container, "you going to tell me what exactly happened to make a... whatever you are... end up beaten to hell in a Westkilo alley? Because, frankly, it's not exactly common to find a guy with horns, a tail, and ears that look like they belong on a very large, fluffy dog, just lying around, half-dead." He brought the container, along with a fork, over to Elias, placing it on a small side table next to the armchair.
Elias opened his eyes, those dark grass-green irises now fully sharp, focused entirely on Milo. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make Milo's breath catch. There was no pain clouding them now, only a piercing, almost unnerving clarity.
"My affairs are not for your consumption," Elias stated, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to vibrate in the very air. He looked at the pad thai with a flicker of something unreadable, then back at Milo. "And I am not a 'dog'."
"Okay, okay, touchy subject. Noted." Milo threw his hands up in mock surrender, a slight smirk playing on his lips, though his heart was doing a frantic little jig in his chest under that intense scrutiny. "And I didn't say you were. Just... similar ears. Anyway, eat. Or don't. Your choice. But you're in my apartment, on my dime, so I'd appreciate it if you at least tried not to bleed all over my couch."
Elias hesitated for a long moment, then slowly reached for the fork. He picked up a few noodles, regarding them with suspicion before bringing them to his lips. He chewed slowly, his expression remaining utterly blank, giving no indication of whether he liked it or not.
Milo watched him for a second, then went to sit on the edge of the sofa opposite the armchair, still observing. Elias was so still, so composed, even in his injured state. There was a raw, primal strength about him, barely concealed by his too-large human clothes. The way the cheap T-shirt clung to his shoulders, hinting at the powerful build beneath. Milo's gaze drifted to the subtle, almost imperceptible flexing of his jaw as he chewed, and then, inexorably, to the prominent curve of his horns, the fascinating texture of the wolf-ears, and the stark, beautiful disfigurement of his scar.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, suddenly charged. Milo shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, a blush creeping up his neck.
Get it together, Milo. He's a wounded animal you dragged home, not a, not a... His thoughts scattered, unable to complete the sentence.
Elias, without looking up, seemed to sense Milo's fluster. He paused his eating, his gaze flicking directly to Milo's face. The dark green eyes seemed to bore right through him, seeing every unwanted thought, every blush. Elias's lips, usually set in a hard, disdainful line, curved ever so slightly at the corner, almost imperceptibly, in what might have been amusement. It was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual cold indifference, but Milo had seen it.
"You find my... condition... amusing, human?" Elias's voice was a low purr, a dangerous sound that sent a shiver down Milo's spine, but not entirely from fear.
Milo stammered, pulling his gaze away from Elias's face, his cheeks burning. "What? No! Not at all! Just... it's just a lot to take in, you know? Not every day a guy like me, living in Westkilo, Calin City, finds a... a very striking, horned, tail-having, wolf-eared individual passed out in an alley. It's... it's a lot." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.
Elias set the now half-empty container of pad thai back on the table. He leaned back in the armchair, his gaze fixed on Milo, unblinking. The air was practically humming with an unspoken tension, a strange, potent blend of Elias's inherent power and Milo's flustered attraction.
"Do you frequently... acquire strays?" Elias asked, his voice low, the question carrying an edge that could be interpreted as anything from genuine inquiry to a veiled insult. His obsidian horns caught the light, and his wet, long hair still framed his face, highlighting the lean planes of his cheekbones.
"Only when they're particularly rude and have excellent bone structure," Milo retorted, the words out of his mouth before he could filter them. His face flamed even hotter.
Goddamn it, Milo! You just called a powerful, disdainful, possibly murderous creature handsome!
Elias's lips twitched again, a fraction more this time. There was no mistaking the amusement in his eyes now, though it was quickly veiled. He didn't respond to Milo's flustered compliment, but the silence that followed was different. Less hostile, more... charged. Elias simply continued to watch Milo, his gaze unwavering, and Milo found himself unable to look away, trapped in the intense, emerald depths of those strange, ancient eyes. The heat in the room wasn't just from the apartment's heating system anymore...