Page 49 of Alpha's Revenge Luna
He pauses. “It’ll be cold. I’ll send Tara or the guard up because I don’t know how long I’ll be.” I nod, my appetite warring with my fear of the pack. “Maybe you can bring some snacks up,” I ask hesitantly.
“You can’t avoid them forever,” Dion tells me, his darkening eyes holding mine for a moment before he turns to leave the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him, and I am left alone once again with my thoughts and the ever-present ache of my burns.
The moment Dion’s footsteps fade, a familiar pain claws at my insides, and the withdrawal rears its ugly head. I curl in on myself, gritting my teeth against the discomfort. Time escapes me here, so when the door creaks open sometime later, I hesitate.
Is it Dion? I wonder, but instead, the guard who has been stationed outside my room enters with a plate in his hands. His expression is cold and unreadable, his eyes avoiding mine as he sets the plate down on the counter before leaving without a word.
I can’t help the spark of hope that flares within me, despite my fear of the pack members. Hunger gnaws at me. I climb out of the bath, wrapping a towel around myself as I approach the plate. But when I lift the cover, there is nothing just a empty plate with a small piece of paper.
My hand trembles slightly as I pick up the note, my heart sinking as I read the words across the page: ‘Our men didn’t get a last meal. Why should you?’
I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes, my chest tightening. With a shaky breath, I crumple the note and toss it into the trashcan near the bathroom sink.
Climbing back into the now lukewarm bath, letting it soothe my burns.
I don’t realize I have dozed off until I am jolted awake by Dion’s strong hands shaking me. My eyes fly open as my head slips beneath the water, disoriented and gasping for air.
“Emery!” Dion’s voice is sharp, his eyes widen as he helps me sit up.
“How long have you been in there?” he asks, his gaze flicking to my pruney fingers gripping the edge of the tub.
I shake my head, unsure of how much time had passed. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a raspy whisper as I cough on water.
“Have you been in here since I left? Your hands are all wrinkly.” Dion’s tone holds a note of disbelief, as if he can’t fathom why I would stay submerged in the water for so long.
“The water stops my burns from stinging,” I explain, slowly climbing out of the tub. My legs tremble slightly as I find my footing on the cold tile floor.
Dion stares at me, his gaze lingering on the burns that still mar my skin, which is raw and angry. He says nothing, his expression unreadable as he continues to study me.
Finally, Dion turns and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me feeling raw and self-conscious. I quickly grab a towel and move to the closet, grabbing one of his oversized shirts to cover myself before returning to the bedroom.
Dion is in the shower now, the sound of running water filling the room. I climb into bed. He eventually joins me, his phone in hand
“Whatcha watching?” I ask, hating the awkward tension.
“News,” he replies, clearly focused on whatever is playing on his phone.
I lean closer, curiosity getting the better of me while Dion’s gaze remains locked on the screen, his jaw set.
The thought of movies sends a pang through my chest. I recalled the countless evenings spent huddled with my brother in the dimly lit living room, lost in the stories playing out on the screen.
The homeschool films and shows might not have been as thrilling as what others watched, but they were a cause for excitement in my home, TV time having to be earned.
Dion’s phone casts eerie shadows on his face as he continues to watch the news, his expression cold and focused. I can’t help but feel drawn to the small screen, desperate for even a fleeting taste of normalcy.
“Mind if I watch with you?” I ask, wriggling closer to him as I try to peer over his shoulder.
He sighs, glancing at me before refocusing on the screen. “It’s the news, not a movie. I’m checking for reports about Alpha Farren’s pack and Alpha Callum’s arrest.”
“Wait, how are you watching the news on your phone?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
Dion glances at me before answering, “It’s a TV streaming service. They have an app for it.”
“Really?” My eyes widen in surprise, a tiny spark of excitement igniting within me.
“Do you think maybe you could get me a TV for the room?” I ask hesitantly, not wanting to push too far.
“Maybe, if you behave,” he mumbles, his attention still focused on the screen.
Moving closer, I try to watch over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever he is viewing. Dion isn’t having it. He growls softly and pulls the phone away from my line of sight, clearly annoyed.
“Sorry,” I whisper, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.
“Fine,” Dion relents. “You can watch, but it’s rude to do so over someone’s shoulder. I’ll let you watch on one condition.” The sudden offer captures my attention. ”If you let me feed on you.”
A shiver runs down my spine, knowing he can control if his bite is painful, but I don’t hesitate to agree, knowing full well the trade-off would be worth it.
“How long can I watch your phone?” I ask pathetically.
“I’ll let you pick a movie on it,” he says, his expression softening ever so slightly. As I reach out to take the phone, he pulls it away.
“You first,” Dion states, his voice firm but not unkind. I hesitate, biting my lip. A part of me still fears he might take advantage of the situation and refuse to let me watch a movie afterward.
“But you could just feed on me and not let me?” I ask cautiously, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. He raises an eyebrow at me as if amused by my lack of trust, but to my surprise, he eventually passes me the phone.
“Fine,” he mutters, rolling me onto my side so my back is pressed against his chest. His strong arms envelop me, keeping me close, as he carefully sweeps my hair over my neck, baring it to him.
As I hold the phone in my hands, my heart races with anticipation, not only for the brief respite it would give me from my isolation but also for the sensation of Dion feeding on me.
My breath hitches as I feel the sharp prick of his fangs sinking into my skin, and I wince slightly.
I try to focus on the phone screen to distract myself from the pain. Surprisingly, it isn’t as excruciating as last time. It feels like he is holding back this time, just punishing me enough for the deaths of his pack members but not forcing me to suffer a great deal.
My stomach churns with hunger, making me dizzy and woozy. The lack of food for two days has taken its toll on me. But I can’t let that distract me now; I need to concentrate on picking a movie to watch before Dion changes his mind.
“Ouch,” I mutter under my breath, feeling another jolt of pain as Dion bites me again and continues to draw blood from me. He doesn’t respond, remaining focused on his task. Despite everything, there is a strange sense of intimacy in this moment – one I don’t know how to process.
When Dion finishes feeding, he withdraws his fangs and tucks me against him, wrapping an arm around me possessively.
Finally, I find a movie I want to watch and press play, trying to ignore the sensation of Dion’s fangs still embedded in my neck.
As the opening scene unfolded, I found myself slowly relaxing into the story, allowing it to sweep me away from my grim reality.
I can feel his eyes on the phone screen, watching the movie over my shoulder.
I smirk slightly, turning my head just enough to catch his gaze.
“It is rude to look over someone’s shoulder,” I tease, echoing the words he’d spoken to me earlier. For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes before his expression hardens once again.
Dion’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing through me. “It’s my phone, and I’ll take it back if you want to be a brat.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, quickly shaking my head as I return my gaze back to the movie. It is a kids’ documentary about dinosaurs, one that reminds me of my brother and the time we spent watching the same film together when we were younger.
As the movie plays, I find myself getting lost in it. For those brief moments, I forget about the pain, the fear, and the overwhelming loneliness. The tiny screen holds my entire focus, allowing me to enjoy it in its entirety.
However, when the ending credits began to roll, my fingers graze the screen, eager to find another. Just as I begin scrolling through the options, the phone is abruptly snatched from my grasp.
“That’s enough,” Dion growls, his voice cold. “I said only one. You’re still being punished for killing my men.” His words hit me like a slap in the face, the fleeting happiness I’d felt just moments earlier crumbling into dust.
I want to argue, to scream that it isn’t fair and that I don’t deserve this. But the words become lodged in my throat, silenced by the knowledge of what I’ve done and the note on my plate. Swallowing hard, I force my gaze away as he walks across the room to place the phone on charge.
As Dion’s footsteps retreat, I curl into myself, the room’s darkness closing in around me like a suffocating embrace.
Eventually, sleep claims me as I lay in the darkness, my body still aching from the burns and my heart heavy with guilt. The world outside the bedroom walls seems to fade away, leaving only the distant whispers of dreams that brush against my consciousness.
I awake with a gasp, my body jerking as pain flares across my skin.
Dion growls low in his throat as he instinctively pulls me closer, trying to comfort me in his own way.
But as he does, my burns protest, sticking to the sheets like tendrils of fire, tearing at my flesh.
I can’t help but cry out, the sound raw and desperate.
Dion sits up abruptly, flicking on the lamp beside the bed. The pale light illuminating the bloodstained sheets. My pillow, too, is soaked with crimson.
“I’ll get Doc,” Dion says, already moving to rise from the bed. Panic surges within me, and without thinking, I blurt out, “No!”
He pauses, staring down at me, his eyes filled with concern. “You’re bleeding everywhere,” he tells me.
“But you can just heal me,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes as I meet his gaze.
He hesitates, clearly torn between his need to punish me to appease his pack and his desire to ease my pain.
Desperation claws at my chest, and I beg, “Please, I won’t tell anyone you healed me; the pack won’t know. ”
Dion growls, the sound resonating deep within his chest, and he moves toward the door to get Doc. But then, Dion suddenly stops, his hand shaking as it grips the door handle.
I stare at him, as he seems to struggle with an internal battle, probably with his wolf, torn between the expectations of his pack and the urge to heal me.
With a deep breath, I force a small smile onto my lips. “It’s fine, just get Doc,” I say, sitting up despite the pain that tears through me.
“Maybe he’ll let me have some cream for them or something, or I can just have a bath.” My words sound hollow even to my ears, but I know better than to push Dion further. “I know your pack won’t let you. It’s ok.”
As I move to stand, preparing to run myself a bath to try and ease the stinging sensation that consumes my every thought, Dion suddenly turns around.
Fury etched on his face. He stalks toward me with such intensity I can’t help but flinch, raising my hands instinctively to protect myself as he closes the distance between us.
Instead, Dion stops mere inches from me, his eyes burning into mine as he silently wrestles with his inner turmoil.
“I don’t need their permission. You’re my mate.” His words sting, knowing he is okay with denying me and leaving me in agony.
I nod hesitantly, not wanting to anger him further. As I open my mouth to apologize, Dion bites into his wrist, his blood pooling around the fresh wound. He offers it to me, and my hands shake as I look up at him, wondering if this is a trick. He nods toward his wrist, urging me to take it.
“Thank you,” I whisper before pressing my lips to the open wound. As I drink his blood, Dion speaks. “They’ll get over it. I can’t watch you suffer when I can heal you.”
Desperation drives me to drink greedily, uncaring of the taste that coats my tongue. It will heal me, and it is something in my stomach when I am starving. With each swallow, a tingling sensation spreads throughout my body, accompanied by a rapid high that makes me giggle.
Dion gently brushes his fingers through my hair, allowing me to take what I need from him. He doesn’t even seem to mind when I bite down on his wrist again, my blunt teeth causing no real damage.
Dion’s laughter echoes through the room. “You just want to get high,” he teases, pulling his wrist away from my eager mouth. I can’t help but pout as the flow of his blood is interrupted, my body craving the intoxicating rush it provides.
My gaze shifts to the rapidly healing burns on my skin, marveling at the transformation. The pain and discomfort I had been experiencing are now replaced with a tingling warmth that spread throughout my body. It is hard to believe that mere moments ago, I had been in agony.
Dion climbs back into bed and bites down on his wrist once more. Blood wells up around the puncture wounds, and I stare at him, uncertain. Was this a test to see how far I’d go to chase this newfound euphoria?
“Go on before I change my mind,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle. “You’ll sleep better, anyway.”
I hesitate for only a moment before snatching his offered wrist, pressing my lips to the wound and drinking greedily.
The rich taste of his blood fills my mouth, sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body.
I know I should stop, that I am taking advantage, but I can’t bring myself to pull away.
As I drink, the world around me blurs and spins, my senses consumed by the euphoria coursing through my veins. I feel weightless as if I am floating.
Finally, the sensation becomes too much to bear, and my body gives in to the overwhelming high. I collapse against Dion, my limbs heavy and my mind swimming in a haze of warmth.