Page 83 of The Alpha's Broken Oath

And when he turns around? His eyes drink me in like he's stripping me of every bit of clothing I have on. I almost melt into a puddle.

“Fuck, baby. Just when I thought you couldn't get any prettier, you proved me wrong. You are breathtaking, baby, and you are mine.”

His words sizzle against my skin like water dousing a fire.

I'm wearing heels, and yet that's not enough to keep Deacon's six-foot-two frame from completely dwarfing my own height.

“You look handsome, too, and we talked about this, remember? You shouldn't see me before I get crowned.” My voice comes out as a mere pant when his hand finds my cheek.

“And I remember me telling you I don't give a fuck about superstitions because you are already mine, Winter Cavanaugh, and no one is going to stop you from becoming my Luna today. You remember what else I promised you?”

His eyes gleam as he cages me by the waist in his arms.

I nod because I remember every single promise he whispered in my ear last night while Adrian and Asher slept on his chest.

It almost feels like a century ago when I told my boys that Deacon was their father.

Of course, Asher and Adrian had questions, lots of them, but eventually, they came to love Deacon just as I do. They came to accept him as their father, and nowadays, all they shout about is, “Daddy this” and “Daddy that.”

“Words, baby. Give me that sweet voice of yours.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, smiling, “You promised to claim me. To fuck me and fill me with your cum so that when I walk down the aisle, I remember that it’s you I'm walking to and that it's me and you forever till death.”

Pushing a strand of loose hair from my face, Deacon’s eyes burn into mine, and he says in finality, “You and me forever till death, baby.”

“We can’t do this. Jules will kill both of us if you ruin my makeup.”

“I know,” he answers smugly before sealing his lips over mine and flicking his tongue over the seam of my lips until I welcome him inside.

He tastes of whisky and heat, and one drop of that has me over the edge.

I kiss him with the same fervor, my pleasure-filled moans loud and reckless with abandon.

My heart is still racing like a runaway stallion as Deacon picks me up effortlessly and places me on the bed.

I don't think I'm breathing right as his lips nip at my chin, slowly going to the hollow of my neck where my tattoo is.

I thought my mark would manifest itself as a rose or a tiger lily, as Deacon thought. Instead, it took the form of an Amaryllis flower, one of the flowers in the world that signify strength and pride.

“So damn beautiful, baby. Every inch of you is perfect,” he speaks against my neck, latching on the skin there that I’m pretty sure will leave a hickey.

“Deacon,” I moan his name with need, the pressure between my legs growing headier by the minute when his hand disappears under my dress.

The look he gives me as he settles between my legs is nothing but serene.

I match the desire in his eyes, the love, the longing, and the understanding of what it took for us to be together.

Tears of happiness burn my eyes, my legs band around his hips, and I whisper, “I love you, Deacon Cross. I’ve always loved you.”

Deacon’s answer to my confession is him sneaking his hand into my panties as he claims my lips again, grunting against my mouth like a depraved being.

“I love you too, baby, and I can't wait to make you mine officially.”

‘I can’t wait to be your Luna, too, Deacon’, I want to say. I never get to say the words, though, because Deacon slides my panties down my legs, fiddles with his belt before gliding the crown of his cock over my folds in slow and unhurried strokes.

I moan softly as my sharp nails dig into his shoulders.

Euphoria shuttles through my body as his finger massages my clit, hurtling me towards the edge of oblivion.

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