Page 68 of Alpha's Revenge Luna

The waters warmth seeps into my bones as I lower myself into the bath in front of Dion. The room is filled with steam, tendrils of vapor dancing like spirits over the surface, weaving us into a secluded world where only we exist.

“Your hands are cold,” he notes, his voice echoing slightly against the tiled walls, as he captures them within his own. His fingers lace with mine, gently tugging me closer.

“Because I’m cold. Now open your legs,” I respond, shifting closer until my back rests against his chest.

“I should be the one telling you that,” he purrs, his nose skimming along the column of my neck. I laze against him, and I can feel the solidness of him. His breathing is a steady rhythm that seems to sync with the pulsing of my heart—a drumbeat of life, one I can’t wait to start with Dion.

Dion snatches up the loofah, saturating it with fragrant soap before he washes me with an addictive, focused intensity.

He is particularly engrossed with my breasts, his fingers tracing circles around them with the soapy sponge.

“I swear, Dion, if you scrub them any harder, you’ll rub the damn skin off,” I breathlessly jest, the sensation teetering between pleasure and ticklish.

He simply chuckles in response, a low, husky sound that sends shivers down my spine. His reply comes not in words but in action. His strong hand cups my chin, tilting my face upward toward his own, his head dipping down to mine.

Our eyes lock for a heated moment, creating tension so palpable it can be cut with a knife. His lips finally meet mine in an intoxicating collision. It’s a touch as soft as a butterfly’s wing, yet heavy with unspoken promises.

I melt into the kiss, and a cascade of thoughts rushes through me, a river breaking its banks. His hands are rough yet tender on my bare skin, tracing paths like fire trails that leave me burning for more.

Each curve of my body is a playground for Dion’s exploring fingers, stoking our mutual desires higher and hotter until they feel nearly combustible. The way he touches me isn’t just sensual, it’s primal, it’s territorial, marking every inch of me as his and his alone.

His heart beats against my back, the steady rhythm matching my own. I am lost in the moment; the steam surrounding us like a veil, creating a world that only exists for us.

As his fingers trace the curve of my hip, I ache for more. I moan softly, my body responding to his touch.

I can feel his erection pressing against me, a silent plea for more. Our desire is outrageous, our need for each other a fire that refuses to be tamed. It courses through my veins, a burning sensation I’ve never known before.

As his hands venture further down my body, the heat radiates from his skin, merging with the water’s warmth.

My breath hitches as his fingers trace a path down my stomach, teasing me with every touch. I arch my back, offering myself to him completely. His hands cup my hips, pulling me closer, and I can feel the evidence of his desire against my thighs.

I reach behind me, grasping his erection. He growls low in his throat; the sound sends a shiver down my spine.

With a gentle touch, he moves my legs apart, lifting me slightly so he can turn me to face him.

My legs straddle him, and he positions himself between them.

I tremble with anticipation, my heart pounding in my chest. He enters me slowly.

Dion’s every touch sets my heart racing, every caress pushing me closer to the edge.

I cling to him, arching my back, my nails digging into his broad shoulders.

His thrusts are deep and slow, each one causing me to whimper in pleasure. I can feel his erection pulsing inside me. My breath catches in my throat, and I moan softly, unable to hold the flood of emotions coursing through me.

Time stands still as we lose ourselves in this moment.

As he speeds up, his movements become harder and more urgent. I can feel the heat building up within me, ready to explode. I cry out his name, my voice echoing against the tiled walls, lost in the haze of pleasure.

With each thrust, my body responds, eagerly meeting his every move.

“You feel so good, Dion,” I moan, my voice barely audible over the pulsing of our hearts and the steamy hiss of the bath. His touch is like a drug, and I’m addicted.

His lips find mine, his tongue exploring mine with the same intensity as his body.

His hands grip me tightly, pulling me closer. I cling to him, and I can feel my release building.

And then, in that moment, it hits me. An overwhelming wave of pleasure crashes over me, leaving me breathless and weak in his arms. Dion chuckles as I slump against him.

“No sleeping; we have dinner soon,” he reminds me, and I groan at the thought, not wanting to go while knowing we have to. Reluctantly, I climb out of the huge bath, grabbing my towel.

Upon entering the hall, the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread fills the air, mingling with the underlying musk of the pack members. I can feel dozens of eyes drifting over to us. Their gazes bore the weight of curiosity and something deeper—respect, perhaps, for their Alpha.

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” I whisper to Dion, acutely aware of the attention we attracted.

“Being the center of attention?” He flashes a wry smile, his hand finding the small of my back. “You’ll get used to it. It’s only because they aren’t used to seeing us get along. Usually you’re fighting me.”

We take our seats near the head of the long wooden table, and as usual, I end up on his lap.

Not that it bothers me anymore, it feels kind of normal.

As platters are passed and glasses clinked, the din of conversation envelopes us.

But amidst the noise, my ears catch the low timbre of Dion’s voice as he leans toward Kyrio.

“We need to go back to Alpha Farren’s pack,” Dion murmurs, his brow furrows just enough to betray the gravity of his words.

“We need to go back to Alpha Farren’s pack,” Dion says, his voice low. “Something doesn’t add up there.”

Kyrio nods, his expression serious. “I agree. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Their next lot of words become lost in the swell of surrounding chatter, but the intent look in his eye speaks volumes, making me wonder what more has happened.

Why do we need to return? Dion’s expression remains calm, but the set of his jaw tells me he is troubled, that the wheels in his mind are turning at a relentless pace.

I pick at my food, my appetite waning as I contemplate what is going on.

Before anxiety can fully take root, Dion’s chair scrapes back against the stone floor, the sound snapping me out of my reverie.

The conversation worries me, but before I can ponder it further, Dion stands and takes my hand. “Come on, I have something for you,” he says, his lips curving into a smile. He leads me back to our room.

“Here,” Dion says, his voice smooth velvet in the hushed room. He hands me a small box with little pink hearts wrapping paper on it. My fingers tremble slightly as I take the package.

“Open it,” he encourages, an expectant glint in his eyes.

I peel back the layers to reveal a sleek phone.

My breath hitches, surprise etching itself across my features.

“Tara set it up for you,” Dion explains, a softness in his tone that shocks me.

I peer up at him wondering if it’s a trick, despite sensing nothing through the bond, but for so long he has forbidden me from having contact with anyone and now he is trusting me with a phone.

“You can call your grandmother and brother.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely above the sound of a whisper. The cool device feels alien yet precious in my hands. How I crave hearing their voices and what I would do to see my brother.

“So, are you going to call her?” Dion asks me and I chew my lip.

“Why are you giving me this?” He looks at me strangely like I’ve asked him a complicated question. “Like why now, when you’ve forbidden me talking to anyone since being here?” I ask curiously, and he sighs.

Dion looks away, and the feeling through the bond is guilt, though I can also feel his sadness bleeding into his guilt.

“Because you can’t leave me now,” he murmurs so softly I almost don’t hear the words. “If you leave, I will be able to find you or the bond will send you back to me,” he adds, peering over at me. I swallow thickly.

“You were worried talking to my grandmother would make me want to leave more?” I sigh, and he nods, crouching in front of me at the end of the bed. His hands grip my knees.

“I know I can trust you now, trust you to stay because now you don’t see the monster everyone else sees,” he whispers. I watch him for a second.

“I know that’s selfish,” he adds and I reach out my hand cupping his face, the roughness of his day-old stubble scratching my palm.

“It’s not selfish. We all do strange things out of fear,” I tell him. Dion leans into my touch and I rake my fingers through his hair.

“And I tried to escape you the moment I had access to a phone, so your fear wasn’t unwarranted. But for the record, I don’t think you’re a monster,” I tell him and he sighs. I pat the bed beside me, and he moves to sit behind me.

I navigate the phone with tentative fingers, each tap echoing like the heartbeat in my chest. The digits of my grandmother’s number are familiar, etched into memory by years of repetition.

As I press ‘call’, I lean into Dion. The phone feels like a lifeline in my palm, an anchor to the world I had been violently torn from.

She picks up after a few rings, her voice filled with excitement.

“Grandma?” I ask, unable to keep the smile off my face. Hearing her voice sets me at ease.

“Emery?”

I chuckle. “Yes, Grandma, it’s me.”

“Emery! I can’t believe it’s you! Does that mean you’ve gotten away? Tell me where you are, and I will come get you,” she says just as a knock sounds on the door.

“Grandma, it’s so good to hear your voice,” I respond, my throat tight with emotion.