Page 46 of Alpha's Revenge Luna

Emery pulls away quickly once back in the bedroom, and I’m torn between anger and concern. I want to chase after her, but a knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Opening it, Kyrio’s hands over the laundry and leaves, not asking any questions.

My gaze immediately darts back to Emery, expecting to find her, but she is no longer in the main bedroom, so I move toward the closet thinking she is hiding in the closet.

But she’s not there. Then the sound of running water catches my attention, and I find her in the bathroom, naked and waiting for the water to heat up. Relief floods me.

“Where did you expect her to go? Walk through the damn walls to escape you?” my wolf snarls angrily at me.

The first thing I notice is how thin she’s become.

Her cheekbones are more pronounced, her eyes look sunken, like someone who’s been starving for weeks.

The burns that line her face and part of her chest are bright red and raw.

Temptation rises within me. I want to step forward, to hold her, to speak softly to her, and to soothe her.

When I reach out for her, she flinches, as if my touch will hurt her, and the burn on her hand makes me wince.

I want to feel her, to hold her close and to feel her warmth. I want to feel her pain, and to take it away, and would like to feel her softness, and all the things she can get lost in.

I see her wince and jerk her hand back from the hot water, the burns on her hands, her face, and part of her chest making it clear she’s in pain.

She steps into the shower, scrubbing herself clean while seemingly ignoring my presence. I watch her closely, noticing her hands shaking when I join her. “Your blood didn’t heal them,” she mumbles, her eyes fixed on her hands.

“I haven’t given you my blood,” I respond. I want to help her, heal her, but I can’t – not with the pack’s eyes watching every move, questioning my every decision.

I press my lips tightly together as I try to sort through the many thoughts and emotions running through my head. Emery is standing before me, expecting an answer, her eyes full of hope.

“My blood will only heal you if I allow it to,” I explain softly. “The same is true for my venom. It will only make you a Hybrid if I allow it.”

I can see the sadness and disappointment in her eyes, so I reach out to take her hands in mine, not caring about the burns on her skin anymore. Her hands are still shaking as she takes a deep breath and stares at me, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Will you give me your blood?” she asks hesitantly.

I stare at her, knowing this isn’t an easy decision for either of us.

My wolf is pushing me to accept—he wants Emery healed just as much as I do, but the pack took a lot of convincing to allow her back up here.

I feel my jaw clench as I force a smile onto my face, regretting the decision that had to be made.

Even though my wolf howls for me to heal Emery, the pack’s voices ring in my ears; they won’t accept her back unless she is punished.

In one swift movement I grab Emery and pull her close, letting out a deep growl. “If you want this healed, you must behave.”

The air grows icy cold as we finish the shower in silence.

Emery realizes there are no towels in the bathroom. “Kyrio just brought the washing up; it’s in the room,” I tell her. As she steps out to get a towel, a fleeting panic grips me – did I lock the bedroom door? Could she run?

Relief washes over me as I find her drying herself with the towel.

She hands me one without a word, her demeanor submissive yet charged with an unspoken tension. I dress in silence; every movement, every glance is with an intense, conflicting mix of emotions as I pull on my gray sweatpants.

“You need a bra; we have to go down for dinner,” I tell her, trying to maintain control over the situation, over her, over myself.

“I will eat up here,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t trust you by yourself,” I say firmly, but there’s a vulnerability in her eyes that gnaws at me. “Go put a bra on, I can see your nipples,” I tell her, turning my gaze away from her when she speaks.

“The shirt stings my skin, please don’t make me wear one; I’m in enough pain,” she says, her words barely audible, and I swallow guiltily but move to the closet. I grab one of my hoodies.

As Emery pulls on some pants, her silence is more piercing than any words could be.

I can see she’s on the verge of tears, and guilt begins to claw at my insides.

Trying to suppress that guilt, I hand her a hoodie and I try to ignore the whimper that escapes her as she pulls it on. Moving toward the door, she speaks.

“What about your shirt?” she asks me, and I pause.

“I’m a man, I don’t need to cover my chest,” I tell her and the look she gives me stings – it’s a mix of anger, pain, and something else I can’t quite place.

I can see she’s on the verge of tears, and guilt begins to claw at my insides.

Without a word, I turn around and walk out into the hallway before I give in to my urge to console her—an urge that would be completely inappropriate given our current situation.

As we enter the dining room, Emery shrinks into me, the pack’s piercing stares hit Emery like physical blows. I can feel her fear; it’s a tangible, living thing, filling the air around us. The room goes silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on her.

I move to take my seat, and before I can even tell her to, she sits on my lap, her entire body trembling on me.

I feel her fear and I can tell the pack is not making her feel welcome.

I glance around the room, meeting the eyes of every pack member, presenting them with a glare that dares them to challenge my decision.

I wrap my arm gently around her, feeling her body tense and relax a bit at the same time. The silence is shattered as plates and silverware clank and scrape against one another as dinner is served. The pack stares, their eyes like hot coals fixated on the two of us.

Their hostility toward Emery is clear; I know making them accept her will not be easy. I force myself to focus on the task of keeping Emery safe and protecting her from the pack’s wrath.

Emery remains quiet as dinner progresses, withdrawing deeper into herself. I can tell the overwhelming emotions that had been holding her up are beginning to wear her down.

As we eat, Emery barely touches her food. As we finish our meal, I can see the pack is beginning to relent somewhat. Their eyes are no longer fixed on us with quite as much intensity as before when the servers start bringing out dessert. She buries her face in my neck, which surprises me.

“Can we leave now?” she whispers. I wrap my arm tighter around her, taking in her scent as I do.

“Come on, then,” I tell her, tapping her thigh. I lead Emery to my room, and she immediately moves to the bed.

I follow her, climbing in beside her. “I know it’s difficult with the pack,” I tell her softly. “But you have to understand they’re just looking out for their own.” She nods, and I pull her closer.

“I don’t think I can stay here, they’re going to kill me,” she murmurs.

An ache forms in my chest at her words, but I know she’s right. The pack is being unaccepting and unwelcoming toward her. “I’ll talk to them,” I assure her. “We’ll make things work.”

She rolls and looks up at me skeptically, not fully believing my words. “And tell them what when you believe I’m guilty,” she asks, and I swallow guiltily.

“You killed someone, got my men ambushed,” I tell her.

“I didn’t kill anyone, Dion, I defended myself. You’d know that had you ordered me to tell you what happened,” she spits at me.

My brows raise at her tone of voice. She tries to turn away from me, but I jerk her back. “If that is true, then why did you run?” I snarl.

Tears burn her eyes. “Because I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” she tells me, pushing off my chest. I let her move away, and I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “You’ve never believed me,” she whispers, snuggling under the blanket.