Page 38 of Her Destined Alpha
“I’m wearing everyday clothes?”
“Oh, well, you look awful,” she stated, walking towards the kitchen. “Are you seriously going to follow me like a lost puppy?”
“Well, since you call me a dog… why not?” She sighed, and as stated, I followed her. My eyes fell on her ass.Damn...
“Can you stop staring?” Did she have eyes at the back of her head?
“Do you blame me when you’re so beautiful?”
She stopped, turning around so fast I almost bumped into her.
“You know… there’s actually something I think you should see,” she said, stepping back. I slipped my hands into my pockets, wondering what it was. “This might get you off my back, and we can end this deal,” she said with a humourless smile.
Before I could even reply, she reached for the hem of her top, and to my surprise, she took it off completely, leaving her standing there in just her pale pink t-shirt bra.
Fuck. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and I knew she was nervous. I drank up her body, not able to look away from her jutting collar bones, her smooth neck, or her perfect boobs…
It was then that I swallowed hard, realising what she was showing me. It wasn’t her sexy, dainty body with her gorgeous breasts. It was beyond that.
From her waist to the band of her jeans, her skin was a canvas of scars, runes, and what looked like small burn marks. My chest tightened painfully as she turned to show me her back. My wolf’s anger and pain mixed with my own, and I stepped back. It was worse than the front. The number of gashes was alarming. Some hadn’t even healed properly, leaving them puffy and raised. Her warm ivory skin was littered with scars of different colours, showing which were newer and which were older... my head was ringing as I ran my shaking hand through my hair.
Runes that had been etched into her skin… some of the scars looked like bullet wounds, some others which I knew had been made with the butt of a cigarette… whips...
She lifted her hair up, showing me the back of her neck. There was a long scar that went into her hairline and all the way down between her shoulder blades, stopping at her waist. Her arms had a few scars, but those were mainly around her wrists.
I couldn’t breathe. The pain and anger I felt were battering me, my eyes flashing.
“I’m not pretty or appealing, so you should accept that and move on. I’m ugly, aren’t I?” she stated it more than asked quietly.
Her words sent a flash of irritation through me. She was about to put her top back on when I grabbed her by her elbow, spinning her around. My other hand cupped the side of her face and neck.
She gasped, grabbing my shirt and keeping some distance between us as I pulled her close, my other hand snaking around her tiny waist. Without her shirt, I could feel all the dents and ridges of her scars. Our eyes met, our hearts thudding, her scent filling my nose.
“You are not ugly. Scars do not make you ugly. Fuck, Kitten, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen… one who is a survivor. You have been through hell, yet you’re still strong. That in itself is so goddamn impressive. I wish you could see the you that I see,” I whispered. I caressed her back, making her take a shuddering breath. She was beautiful inside and out, nothing would change that. It just hurt to see that she didn’t believe it.
Her eyes filled with that confused vulnerability I had seen before, and I knew she didn’t believe me. Her eyes shadowed as she suddenly pulled free. I let her go, although it was so fucking hard to do, but I also needed to compose myself.
“Excuse me,” she whispered, turning and running back to her room. I didn’t follow her.
Those who had committed those crimes… I was not going to just sit back any fucking longer. There was one person who would have the information I needed. I took my phone out of my pocket, dialling his number. The phone rang a few times before it was answered.
“To what do I owe the fucking pleasure that made you fucking call and ruin my day?” His cold, mocking voice came down the line.
“Hello to you too, Uncle Al.”
The King
Alejandro
Life was fucking good. That was the fucking truth. I had my nympho, the little fucker, and our princesses that would be there in about seven weeks. I took a drag of my cigarette as I sat in my office chair, my ankles crossed on top of the desk, watching Dante play outside the open patio doors that led to the garden. The cold didn’t bother him at all.
We had made some changes to the house, and my office was on the ground floor where I could keep an eye on the fucker if need be. Right then, he was collecting leaves.Kids are weird as fuck.What was he going to do with leaves anyway?
“Daddy!” he said suddenly, frowning at me. I swear the kid was a grumpy little fucker.
“What do you want?”
“I want juice,” he demanded.
