Alphas prefer fiesty Lunas

A stolen kiss

*Freya*

I moan again as I feel a large hand gently stroke my cheek. The throbbing pain in my head begins to subside, and I sigh with relief. My eyelids slowly flutter open, and I am momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight that streams through the carriage windows.

“Aaaah,” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Does the light bother you?” the masculine voice asks, and he is on his feet instantly, pulling the drapes over the windows. He returns immediately to my side.

I let out a long breath and open my eyes ever so slightly. Then I open them even wider. A man is peering intently at me, his tanned face a scant few inches from my own. A thick lock of dark brown hair falls rakishly over his forehead. For some reason, I long to reach up and see if it feels as soft as it looks. Then he touches my cheek again. “You gave us quite a scare, you know. You’ve been unconscious for nearly ten minutes.”

I stare at him blankly, unable to put together a proper sentence. It is that man, I think; he is far too handsome and far too close.

“Can you speak, love?”

My mouth falls open. “Green… no brown,” are the only words that emerge.

I feel I can read his mind like an open book… it’s the expression and the look in his eyes. I would be willing to bet his thoughts go something like: ‘Just my luck. The most beautiful kitchen maid in all of London lands in my carriage, and she’s completely crazy.’

His eyes narrow as he looks at me even more intently and asks, “What did you say?”

“Your eyes are hazel,” my voice comes out strangled.

“Yes, I know. They have been that way for decades, actually. Since I was born, I imagine.” He says.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Good Goddess, did I actually just tell him that his eyes are hazel? What an unbelievably stupid thing to say. Of course, he knows what color his eyes are. She-wolves probably fall all over themselves to compliment his beautiful, captivating hazel eyes. It is just that he was so close, staring at me so intently, and his gaze is positively mesmerizing. I decide I will blame my momentary idiocy on my pounding headache.

He chuckles. “Well, I suppose we should be grateful that your accident has not left you color blind. Now, do you think you can tell me your name?”

“Emm… um…” I cough, covering up my stammer. “Meg. My name is Meg.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Meg. My name is Zachary, but you may just call me Zac. Or, if you like, you could call me Avalon, as many of my friends do.”

“Why?” The question tumbles out before I can catch myself. Kitchen maids are not supposed to ask questions.

He smiles, “It’s my title, actually. I’m the Alpha of Avalon.”

“Oh.” I say stupidly.

“You’ve an interesting accent, Meg. Do you come from the Colonies by chance?”

I grimace. There is little I hate more than to hear the English refer to my country as ‘the Colonies.’

“I come from the United States of America,” I say pertly, forgetting my disguise yet again. “We’ve been independent for several decades now and should not be referred to as your colonies.”

He grins, “I stand corrected. You are absolutely right, my dear, and I must say that I’m glad to see you have gotten some of your spirit back.”

“I’m sorry, my Alpha,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t have spoken out like that to you.”

“Now, Meg, don’t give me that demure act. I can see that you haven’t a meek bone in your body. Besides, I should think you could speak to me any way you like after you just saved my nephew’s life.” He says.

I am flabbergasted. I had completely forgotten about the little boy. “Is he all right?” I ask anxiously.

“He’s fine. You really needn’t worry about him. It’s you I’m concerned about, love.” He says.

“I’m fine, really. I… I ought to be getting back now, I think.” Good Goddess, he is softly stroking my cheek again, and I absolutely can’t keep a sane thought in my head when he touches me. I keep staring at his full lips, wondering what they would feel like against my own. I groan, blushing at my scandalous thoughts.

He seems to catch the sound immediately, and his eyes cloud with concern. “Are you sure you’re not still feeling faint, love?”

“I don’t think you should call me ‘love.’” I point out,

“Ah, but I think I should.” He says.

I try to shake my head, “It’s not at all proper.”

“I’m rarely proper, Meg.

I barely have time to digest those words before he proceeds to show me just how improper he can be. I gasp as his lips swoop down to capture mine in a soft kiss. It lasts only a fleeting moment, but it is long enough for all the breath to rush from my lungs, leaving my skin hot and tingling. I stare blankly at Zac, suddenly unsure of myself and of the strange feelings that are overtaking my body.

*Zac*

“That’s just a taste of what’s yet to come, love,” I whisper passionately against her mouth. I lift my head and peer into her eyes. I see apprehension and confusion in her face and I am immediately aghast at my own forward behavior.

Tearing myself away from her, I sit down on the cushioned bench on the opposite side of the carriage. My breathing is shaky and uneven. I can’t ever remember being so strongly affected by a single kiss before. And it was such a small, short kiss. My lips had barely touched hers, brushing ever so gently against her mouth. Still, desire is raging through my body, and all I want to do is... well, I don’t even want to think about what I want to do because that is certain to make me feel even worse.

I look up and see Meg staring at me with wide, innocent eyes. Hell, she would probably faint if she could read my mind. I have no business getting involved with a she-wolf like that. She looks barely sixteen years old. I curse fluently under my breath. She probably even goes to church on Sunday.

She starts to sit up, rubbing her temples as if a wave of dizziness is washing over her. “I think I ought to be getting home,” she says, setting her feet on the carriage floor as she reaches for the door. Probably nobody has warned her about the dangers that lurk inside an Alpha’s carriage.

I grab her wrist before she reaches the handle of the door. I gently settle her back onto the seat cushion, easing her into a sitting position. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve just hit your head, and you will probably pass out on the way. I’ll take you back in a moment. Besides, my sister went to fetch you some more eggs, and we have to wait here until she returns.”

“The eggs,” she sighs, resting her forehead against her hand. “I had forgotten. Cook will have my head.”

My eyes narrow imperceptibly. Is her fear justified? Is Meg being treated badly in her employer’s home? I can’t sit back and watch such a delicate girl be exposed to cruelty. I will hire her myself before I allow her to return to a painful existence.

I groan as a fresh wave of desire pulses through my body. Of course, I can’t hire her. She would just end up in my bed within days. Sophie is right. Meg can go work for my sister. She would be safe there from the likes of me. Good Goddess, I am stunned by my own chivalry. It has been a long time since I have felt any concern for any she-wolf, except, of course, for my mother and sister, both of whom I adore.

It is well known throughout London that I am a confirmed bachelor. I know I will have to take a mate at some point, if only to produce an heir, but I see no reason why I would have to make such a sacrifice anytime soon. I keep my distance from all of the she-wolves of the high packs, preferring the company of courtesans and opera singers. I have little patience for most of London’s social elite and trust she-wolves not at all.

Still, she-wolves flock to my side at the few social events I attend, viewing my aloof manner and hard cynicism as a challenge. I rarely have gentle thoughts about any of these she-wolves. If a highborn she-wolf flirts with me, I assume that she is either exceedingly foolish or knows exactly what… or rather, whom… she wants. I occasionally share my bed with them, but nothing else.

I look up. Meg is still sitting upright, staring demurely at her hands folded in her lap.

“You needn’t look so afraid, Meg. I won’t kiss you again.” I say.

She gazes up at him, her violet eyes open wide. She doesn’t say anything. In all truth, she looks to have lost her ability to put together a coherent sentence.

“I said you needn’t be afraid, Meg,” I repeat. “Your virtue is safe with me... at least for the next few minutes.”

Her mouth falls open at my audacity. Then, disgruntled, she clamps her lips shut and looks away.

I groan as I watch her full lips pursing together. Dear Goddess, she is gorgeous. Her hair, which had shone bright red in the sunlight, looks to be a dark auburn now that I have covered the windows. And her eyes... At first, I had thought they were blue, then violet, but now they look quite black.