The Alpha's Lost Luna

20

Liz

My heart thundered in my chest like a herd of wild horses galloping freely. Impossible to slow and even harder to ignore. Rowan gently helped me up from the bed, taking extra care to move slowly and carefully. Every wince that crossed my face made him freeze, his hands tightening just slightly like he hated seeing me in pain. But he never rushed me. He didn't sigh impatiently or roll his eyes or tug me along faster.

He moved at my pace. And somehow, that simple thing made my heart settle a little more. I hadn't fallen head over heels — not yet — but something deep inside me whispered that I was standing at the edge of it. One more step and there would be no turning back.

I looked at him, trying to figure him out like he was some impossible puzzle I had spent years refusing to solve. I was starting to realize I had done far more assuming than actual observing when it came to Rowan. Had I gotten everything about him wrong? I had thought he was this big, bad, terrifying alpha. Cold, rude, and untouchable. I had assumed he would be just like his father, just like Cade used to be when we were younger.

But I would be a fool to lie and say I hadn't noticed the difference. Something had changed in both of them. Or maybe... maybe they had changed long ago and I had been too focused on surviving and protecting myself and my own heart to truly see what was right in front of me.

Rowan moved behind me, circling slowly until he stood at my back. His large hands settled carefully on my hips, warm and steady. The moment his gaze landed on my back, I felt his body go rigid. His sharp intake of breath filled the room. I bit my lower lip hard enough to taste blood, but I didn't say anything. What was there to say?

Yes, I had been tied to a stake. Yes, I had been whipped until my body gave out. It wasn't the first and I had the sickening feeling that it wouldn't be the last. Yes, I was trying very hard to pretend it didn't hurt nearly as much as it did. There weren't words for that kind of humiliation. Only silence.

We took slow, careful steps toward the en-suite bathroom. Rowan stayed close behind me, whispering quiet words of encouragement that made my chest ache in ways I didn't understand. When he reached around me and pushed the bathroom door open, I gasped.

The entire far wall was made of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the cliffs and the endless ocean beyond. Moonlight spilled through the glass, silver and soft, painting everything in a dreamlike glow. A massive clawfoot tub sat in the center of the room, perfectly positioned to overlook the view like something out of a fantasy. To the left was a large walk-in shower enclosed by glass walls, with a rainfall showerhead fixed to the ceiling that looked like pure heaven.

A dark wooden vanity stretched along the opposite wall with granite countertops and double sinks, elegant and rich without feeling cold. The room was utterly masculine and yet somehow... perfectly cozy. The walls were painted a warm creamy color that reminded me of fresh pastries and safety and home.

I could see it instantly. The little touches I would add. The candles. The plants. The soft towels. Small things that would make the room feel even warmer. Even happier. Even more loved.

I felt Rowans presence at my back before I felt his lips brush near my ear. His hands reached around me, gently pushing my slack jaw closed. "Like it?" He asked softly.

I nodded, suddenly incapable of speech. I did like it. But envy curled sharp and ugly in my chest. This room felt like warmth and safety and comfort. Things that I had spent my entire life surviving without. He had this - this beautiful room, this peace, this life. And what did I have? A converted storage closet pretending to be a bedroom and a communal bathroom that I was too afraid to use for longer than necessary. I swallowed hard.

Rowan released my hips and walked over to the large clawfoot tub. He turned on the water, steam slowly started to rise as it poured in. I watched as he stuck his hand beneath the stream, testing the temperature. My breath caught. He was an alpha. The future alpha. And he was checking an omegas bath water to make sure it was perfect. It almost felt sinful to watch. Like witnessing something forbidden.

An alpha carefully tending to an omega like she was something precious instead of disposable. It felt like blasphemy.

I stood frozen as he added bubbles and oils to the water. Flower petals were scattered across the surface, floating gently with the current beneath the tap. The smell hit me instantly. Lavender. Roses. My scent. A soft and helpless sound nearly escaped me. How had he managed that? How had he noticed? He glanced over his shoulder at me, and the look he gave me sent heat spiraling down my spine and all the way to the tips of my ears.

"Are you going to undress?" His voice had dropped an octave, low and rich and dripping with honey and sin. I looked around the room as if he could possibly be speaking to anyone else. His chuckle made me stiffen.

"You... you want me to... to undress here? In front of... you?" I stammered.

"Well," he said, standing to his full height once the tub was full, steam curling around him like smoke, "I can leave if you want privacy." He started walking toward me. Slowly and deliberately. Like a predator stalking prey he had no intention of letting escape. "But," he continued, his voice quieter now. "I can also stay... if that's what you would like."

"I... I uh..."

The second he reached me, his fingers trailed lightly down my neck, over my collarbone, and my entire brain stopped functioning. The strap of the camisole I was wearing - someone had clearly changed my clothes while I was unconscious- slid off my shoulder beneath the brush of his fingertips.

I forgot how to breathe. It was intimate. Dangerously intimate. And all he was doing was tracing the line of my shoulder like he had all the time in the world. My breaths came quicker now, shallow and more shaky. I let out the smallest, weakest sound and his icy blue eyes lifted to mine. His pupils were blown wide. Dark and hungry.

"Tell me what you want, little wolf," he whispered. He kept touching me. It was soft and careful and reverent. And I didn't want him to stop.

I had never been touched like this before. Never like I was something worth being gentle with. And despite the frantic voice in the back of my mind screaming that this was moving too fast, I couldn't bring myself to care. Because for the first time in my life... I wanted this. I wanted him.

He leaned closer, his gaze never leaving mine, watching for any signs of discomfort. Any hesitation. Any reason to stop. He wouldn't find one.

His nose brushed along the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my spine, before I felt the first press of his lips. Once. Twice. Three times. I gasped. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. My body answered before my mind ever could.

"You can stay," I whispered. And the words felt like a surrender.