Night Alpha

15 - Feather Focus

I wake with a hum, hear myself groan. This bed is way too comfortable for productivity. But I finally slept and feel more rested than ever. The bed is so warm I feel myself falling back asleep. My hand feels like its bathed in pure warmth, my eyes snap open when I wake enough to feel the fingers gently laying on my wrist.

He's still in the same position, head resting against my feet atop of the cover. His arm has snaked under the blanket, hand resting in mine. Eyes closed, soft breaths leave his lips. He looks younger with his hair stuck to his forehead, mouth slightly open. I'm too comfortable to move, too tired to argue.

So I let him, I don't take his hand off. Don't intertwine my fingers either. I simply leave him be, bask in the heat he offers. When I fall back asleep my chest has settled, like the warmth might just have mended the ache. I push my head back in the pillow, carefully so my feet don't move. I dream of candles and crooked teeth.

I'm startled awake by the door opening, Milo's hand on my wrist pulls me down the bed in a second that probably leaves my skin bruised. Hiding behind the bed, Milo is above me in a protective stance, while I'm laying flat under him. Hands on the wood on each side of my head, knees down around my hips like he's ready to leap.

I'm too stunned to speak, who came in? I push a hand on Milo's shoulder to raise my head and face the door. He uses a hand to push my head back down, cradles with his another arm. He crouches, his body encompassing mine. His weight coming onto me more and more. I have to use both my hands, push on his chest to breathe.

« This is not an attack. This idiot had come to apologize. » I hear a woman's voice, deep yet soft. I try to turn my head again but Milo's hands keep on pushing it down.

He even brings his hips onto mine, brings his head down, its side hitting mine. He nuzzles it, pressing hard when I can't move it anywhere else. A growl leaves his lips, the ground shakes and I feel my blood rushing to my face.

« Milo, I can't - I can't breathe. » I whisper with the last bit of air I have left, try to push at his chest but my muscles have grown weak without oxygen. He gets off instantly, change our position to sit against the wall, takes me with him to sit between his legs, my back pulled flush against his chest.

One of his hands come to grip my thigh, keeps me locked onto him. The other caresses my chest, his growl has toned down to a soothing hum. My own hands mimic his, this is not welcome but I'm feeling light headed from the lack of air, take deep gulps to calm my burning lungs.

« Hi Marshall. I'm Lise. » The woman's voice brings me back to earth. My head lays back on Milo's shoulder, eye struggling to focus. She has golden hair, dressed in a soft sundress.

Pretty is the first word that comes to mind. She stands at the threshold of the door, her hand wrapped around the alpha's son arm. His attitude is different from this morning, I don't even feel his pressure. He stands like sore thumb, eyes cast low and head slightly turn to Lise, is she his mate ? When my sight finally refocuses I catch the way her nails barely just dig into his arm.

More than that, I notice the bump of her belly. How many months is she at ? Another alpha on the way. What did she say earlier? I can't remember. I try to pry Milo's hand off, face still focused on the couple, why aren't they coming in? He softly growls into my ear, my chest trembles to echo the shake.

I pinch the hand on my thigh, back in use of my senses. His head turns to mine and I ignore the heat building from our proximity. I give him a glare, nod to the door. When his eyes drop to my lips, I pinch his hand again. Focus, you horny dog. His hand flexes to squeeze my thigh and he raises an eyebrow. I sigh and drop my hand on my belly.

I'm starting to understand how he works. When I relax into his hold, he finally legs go, gets up and heads for the door. His shoulders are squared like he's ready for another fight, he even rolls them back as he walks. I stay on the ground, only unbend my legs to stretch them. I keep hand on my chest to rub the uncomfortable feeling, fat dog.

I stretch my neck to watch him but stay on the floor, his head turns with a scowl but he moves to the door anyway. He gives another soft growl but I merely shrug in response. He faces the wolves, looks down at the alpha. I can't see much with his body in the way, the woman, Lise, scoots gently, gives a wave from afar with a soft smile. Milo snaps his teeth at her in response but she doesn't acknowledge it.

I return her wave with a tight smile, continue to rub at my chest. I notice the bruises coming on my wrist, skim my fingers on the red skin. Milo pushes them further outside even tough they haven't even crossed the threshold. He goes with them, shuts the door leaving only a few inches open, eyes me with a frown as he does. I'm never getting a closed door, am I ?

I hear hushed voice outside, hear Milo's growls back. His pressure must work from further too. I raise my body from the floor, stretch my legs and arms because that was a brutal way to wake up. I wipe my face, scrub my neck and head to the study with a yawn. I ignore the spot on the floor where I was laying hours prior, my back shudders at the room but my shaking fingers manage to grab the red book.

When I head back to the bedroom, Milo has moved to rest his back against the threshold, eyes me suspiciously. I maintain his stare, raise the book's cover to him and his glare settles. He turns back to the couple, shuts the door again once I've settled on the bed. I try to listen but my hearing isn't good enough, open the book instead and continue where I was.

I barely have time to trace the pronouns with my finger when Milo comes back, stern face and frowning brows, closing the door behind him. He pushes his back against the door and I hear him sigh. I continue reading. He stays there, I see him in the corner of my eye, he looks deep in though. What did they talk about ? When he looks up and searches for my gaze, I raise my face. He looks half upset, half puzzled.

I raise my brow and shrug. He doesn't answer, doesn't reach for his phone. He walks soundlessly to bed, opposite side of me. My body freezes in answer, shoulders tense and hands clutching the red book. He stops at the edge, legs bumping against the mattress. One of his hands reaches out, fingers grazing the cover. He raises his head, a softer look on his face, one that looks a lot like asking, like pleading.

My tongue refuses to move but I manage a small nod, he won't try to pull anything off, not after we both cried. At least I hope so. His eyes widen and his hand jumps, but he gets on the bed gently, quietly. He settles on his side, facing me but lower that I am with my back against the rest. He puts an arms under his head, raises the other to let his fingers graze my now blue wrist, the one he used to pull me out of the bed.

« Sorry » he mouthes, doesn't let out a sound.

I don't answer, I've had worst before. His fingers interlace delicately around it and he gently pulls it to him. I let him, taken aback and too sacred to pull it back. He lays it by his face and I see him breathe in deeply. His thumb softly grazes the bruised skin and he hums. Somehow my fingers jump at the sound and he looks at me. It's want but not the usual one, it's desperation and will this time. Like he made another promise, to himself or to me I'm not sure. He brings it closer and I let him.

He pushes his lips onto it, a feather soft kiss on the inner skin of my wrist.