Page 8 of Rescued by Four Alphas (Claimed by the Four Alphas #2)

I watch Dahlia storm out of the living room, her curls bouncing with each angry step. The sound of her bedroom door slamming echoes through the house like a gunshot.

"Well, that went well," Axl mutters, collapsing onto the couch.

Evan paces by the window as he grips his phone. "She doesn't understand the severity of the situation."

"Maybe not," I say, pushing myself up from my chair. "But she's right about one thing: we can't lock her up like a prisoner."

"We're not trying to lock her up," Onyx growls. "We're trying to keep her safe."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the tension headache building behind my eyes. "I'll go talk to her."

"Good luck with that," Axl snorts. "She's in full mama bear mode."

"She might listen to you," Onyx admits reluctantly. "You've always been the reasonable one."

I leave them to their brooding and make my way down the hallway to Dahlia's room. Our house is designed with a master suite for all of us to share, but each of us also has our own bedroom for when we need space. Right now, Dahlia needs space.

I knock softly on her door. "Dahlia? It's Leo."

"Go away," comes her muffled reply.

"I just want to talk."

"If you're here to convince me to go to Switzerland, you can get out."

I lean my forehead against the door, choosing my next words carefully. "I'm not here to convince you of anything. I thought maybe you could use a hot bath."

The silence stretches so long I think she might have ignored me, but then I hear movement and the lock clicks. The door opens just enough for me to see one hazel eye glaring at me.

"A bath?" she asks suspiciously.

"Yeah. You know, with bubbles and everything." I offer a small smile. "I have no agenda. I just want to take care of you."

She studies me for a moment, then steps back, opening the door wider. "Fine."

I enter her sanctuary, taking in the familiar surroundings.

There are books stacked neatly on her nightstand, a plush throw blanket folded at the foot of her bed, and a collection of small potted plants on her windowsill.

It smells like her, and her scent has become more pronounced with her pregnancy.

She sits on the edge of her bed, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes are red-rimmed, though I pretend not to notice.

"I'll run that bath," I say, heading toward her en-suite bathroom.

I turn on the faucet, adjusting the temperature until it's hot enough to soothe tense muscles but not too hot for a pregnant woman. I add her favorite lavender bath oil, watching as the water turns milky and the scent fills the steamy air.

When I return to the bedroom, Dahlia hasn't moved. She sits with her shoulders slumped, looking smaller and more vulnerable than I've seen her in weeks.

"Are you ready?" I ask gently.

She nods but doesn't stand. I move closer, bending to scoop her into my arms. She doesn't resist, which tells me just how exhausted she is. Her head rests against my shoulder as I carry her to the bathroom, her curls tickling my chin.

The bathroom is warm and fragrant now, and steam rises from the filled tub. I set her down carefully on the plush bathmat.

"Arms up," I say softly.

She complies without an argument, allowing me to pull her sweater over her head.

I kneel to remove her yoga pants and slide them down her legs.

Her body has changed so much in the past few months.

Her breasts are fuller, her hips wider, and there's now a small but distinct bump where our children grow.

When she's naked, I help her step into the tub, supporting her as she sinks into the warm water with a sigh.

"Better?" I kneel beside the tub.

"Mmm." Her eyes close as she leans back. "Thank you."

I press a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I understand, you know."

"Understand what?" Her eyes remain closed.

"Why you're upset. Why you feel trapped." I dip my hand into the water, swirling it gently. "Your emotions are probably all over the place right now anyway, with the pregnancy hormones."

One eye cracked open. "Are you saying I'm being hormonal?"

"No," I chuckle. "I'm saying pregnancy is hard enough without all this extra stress. You have every right to be angry."

She closes her eye again. "I'm not seeing it that way from you guys."

"We're scared," I admit. "All of us. The thought of something happening to you or the babies..." I trail off, unable to put that fear into words.

"I get that," she says quietly. "But I can't live in fear, Leo. I can't."

"I know." I reach for a washcloth, dipping it in the water. "And I'm sorry. We all are… even Evan, though he's too stubborn to admit it right now."

"I don't want to see him," she says firmly.

"He'll come around," I assure her. "He just needs time to cool off."

"He called me stubborn."

"You are stubborn," I point out. "It's one of the things we love about you."

She opens both eyes to glare at me, but there's no real heat behind it.

"You're acting like a child," I tease gently.

A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. "I'm not."

"Are too." I grin, relieved to see her mood lifting slightly.

She splashes water at me, and I laugh, holding up my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Truce!"

I reach for the sponge floating in the water. "Let me help you relax."

She sits forward, allowing me to run the sponge over her back in long, soothing strokes. The tension in her shoulders begins to ease as I work, the hot water and gentle pressure doing what words couldn't.

"That feels amazing," she murmurs.

I move the sponge to her shoulders, then down her arms. When I reach her front, I hesitate briefly before running the sponge over the swell of her breasts. Her breath catches.

"Too sensitive?" I ask, pausing.

"No," she whispers. "It's... nice."

I continue and pay extra attention to her breasts, which I know have become increasingly sensitive with her pregnancy. When the sponge brushes over her nipples, she lets out a soft moan that goes straight to my core.

"Enjoying that, are we?" I tease.

Her cheeks flush pink. "Shut up."

"Make me," I challenge, running the sponge in slow circles around her nipples.

She arches into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed again. The sight of her wet, flushed, responsive face makes my mouth go dry.

"Leo," she breathes, reaching for my hand.

"I've got you," I murmur, setting the sponge aside to touch her directly.

My fingers replace the sponge, circling her nipples with deliberate pressure. She moans again, louder this time, her back arching to press more firmly into my touch.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her, watching as pleasure transforms her face. "So perfect."

I caress her breast with my palm, feeling the weight of it and the softness. Her skin is hot and slick from the bathwater, making my touch glide effortlessly. When I circle her nipple with my thumb, she lets out a soft gasp that sends heat pooling in my groin.

"You like that?" I murmur, watching her face closely.

"Yes," she breathes, her eyes half-closed. "Don't stop."

I pinch her nipple gently between my thumb and forefinger, rolling it until it hardens further. Her back arches, pushing her breast more firmly into my hand. I lean down to kiss her neck, my lips trailing over her damp skin as I continue to tease her nipple.

"Both," she whispers, her voice thick with need. "Please."

I bring my other hand to her neglected breast, giving it the same attention. She moans louder now, her head falling back against the edge of the tub. The sound of her pleasure echoes off the bathroom tiles, making my cock strain painfully against my jeans.

"Leo," she pants, reaching up to tangle her fingers in my hair. "I need more."

"Tell me what you need," I say against her ear, my breath making her shiver despite the hot water.

"Touch me," she pleads. "Lower."

I slide one hand down her body, over the gentle swell of her belly where our children grow. The thought that she's carrying our babies fills me with a primal possessiveness that makes my bear stir beneath my skin.

My hand moves lower still, beneath the water, until my fingers find the soft curls between her thighs. She parts her legs eagerly, giving me better access. When I slide my fingers through her folds, we both groan at how wet she is, and it's not from the bathwater.

"Fuck, Dahlia," I breathe, circling her clit with my middle finger. "You're soaked."

"Please," she whimpers, her hips lifting to press against my hand. "I need your fingers inside me."

I oblige, sliding two fingers into her welcoming heat. She's tight and slick, her inner walls gripping my fingers as I push them deeper and curl them upward.

"Oh god," she gasps when I find it. "Right there."

I thrust my fingers in and out while my thumb circles her clit. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub with our movements, but neither of us cares. All that matters is the building pleasure I can see on her face.

"More," she demands, grinding against my hand. "Add another finger."

I add a third finger, stretching her further. The tight fit makes her moan loudly, her head thrashing from side to side. My arousal is almost painful now, but I focus solely on her pleasure, on the way her body responds to my touch.

"Leo," she pants, her voice breaking. "It feels so good."

She grabs my forearm with both hands, using it for leverage as she fucks herself on my fingers. Her breasts bounce with each movement, and water droplets cling to her nipples. I bend down to capture one in my mouth, sucking hard as I continue to pump my fingers inside her.

"Yes!" she cries, one hand flying to the back of my head to hold me against her breast. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

I increase my pace, fucking her harder with my fingers while my tongue and lips work her nipple. Her thighs begin to tremble, a sure sign she's close. I curl my fingers more firmly and press my thumb harder against her clit.

"I'm going to come," she warns, her voice high and desperate. "Leo, I'm coming!"