Semua Bab My Beta's Betrayal, My Alpha's Obsession: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Dorian“So…,” the fork slices through the salted caramel chocolate cake, “how did it go? The meeting with the elders.” I feigned a hurt look. “I got scolded.” Guilt splayed across her tender features. And then, as always, she tries to hide her worries by pretending that everything is alright. The bite of cake enters smoothly through her tinted red lips…. And I could feel them around me, nice and warm, going lower and lower, to take in all of me—. “This cake is so good,” she hummed and licked her lips.And I felt the urge to lick them too. She goes for another one and as the fork goes through again, she mutters quietly, “Are you alright?” I couldn’t. The genuine concern in that knit of brows. It won me over, and the left corner of my mouth quickly lifted. A chuckle slipped out. And she swiftly realised. Her face relaxed again but she was shooting me a five-year-old glare. Does she even know she can’t lie? “So everything went well?” Her mouth closes over the fork. And I watche

Charisse“Stop the car!” I cried out at the farmer’s market beyond the window. The limousine came to a screeching halt, and Betty turned to me, eyes wide with consternation. “L-Luna Rox, you can’t be serious. We’ll be late for our meeting with the Blue Moon Alpha.” “I know.” I had thrown open the door and was stepping out. “Five minutes. Just five minutes.” “But—.” I didn’t hear the rest because I was already dashing towards the vegetable stall. The spread of colours fresh on display. I couldn't take my eyes off them. The closer I got, the fresh scent of earthy sweetness swarmed in, and a sense of surreal eveloped me. The first thing I thought of was what to make for dinner. Then, Dorian appeared in my mind. It was then I realised that I hadn't cook him a meal before. Well, he has a private chef. That's probably why. I stared at the fresh produce. Millions of thoughts sprouted everywhere. Mosto f them were discouraging, pointing to a single concern: Charisse cooks because she

DorianHer giggles softened. “Dorian,” she whispered, “I think someone’s been sharing the pack’s secrets with the outside.” I heard her, I swear. If her breasts weren’t rubbing my nipples, her flesh wasn’t nice and warm, and her skin didn’t feel like Mulberry silk, I would ask for more details and not swoop in to seize her lips like a perverted vulture. “So Charisse told you that there’s a spy in Crimson Crest?” Alfred frowned, puzzled. “Why would she say that?” I kneaded my temple, pretending to deep in thought. “Probably because the old fuck knew who she was even before she introduced herself,” I recited my Delta’s report. Fuck, my mouth feels empty without her tongue. My arms feel empty without her in it. “Who is it then?” Alfred asked Martin, who was ignoring him and the conversation, completely immersed in his iPad. “Hey, Mart. Hellooo.” I should probably cancel all my meetings for the day and take her to bed right now. Even if she was too exhausted, holding her while she

DorianDorian Vellum, you fucking idiot. The second she turned and saw me, her body went erect like a hedgehog under attack, and then I knew. But before I could stop it, the light in her eyes vanished, her spirit shrivelled back into that tiny, inconspicuous corner. “I’m sorry….” She reached for the zip behind her dress. “What are you doing?” I sounded pissed. But I shouldn’t. And now her eyes were flaring with guilt. In it, terror. She’s terrified of me. Those eyes… I’ve seen them before… Esme… whenever we did it, she’d have those same eyes… and when I saw them, something powerful would rush in… and I’d take her fiercely… wildly… the way she wanted… the way I wanted… and she’d scream my name—chant it like I was her God—.But this woman. The same eyes. The same trembling in her skin, the same tension in her muscles, and yet… All I feel… is fear. Her fear. Her dress dropped to a pool around her heels and she backed out of it. Then, she half-crawled, half-dragged herself to th

CharisseI can’t believe this. After making me all hot and wet, burning for him, he carried me to bed, laid me down on the soft sheets… and turned to leave. “Dorian?” I swallowed to catch my breath. “Where are you going? We’ve got condoms here, in the drawer, remember?” He stopped at the door, his back still facing me. “I’m not getting the condoms,” he said. “Then, where are you going?” I asked nervously, not hiding my frustration. “You can’t just leave after….” I lowered my voice and warned, “I said: I love your cock more.” His shoulders chuckled lightly. “Tomorrow then,” he sighed, grabbing his forehead. I punched the sheets. “What difference does it make!” Finally, he turned around.And I saw the concern in his knitted brows. “With what happened earlier,” he explained, rubbing his forehead in a frustration that matched mine, “I can’t… I can’t do this to you. So tomorrow, Charisse—.” Oh my God, this stupid bear. “But I’m fine!” I flashed my biggest I’m-fine smile. Which