A Luna for Alpha Kieran

Chapter 49: My poison

Chapter 49: My poisonAutumn’s stomach lurched again with every step Kieran took, her vision close to swimming.

No. No, no, no!

She twisted weakly in his arms, nails scraping against his shoulder. "Put me down, you bastard!I wanna puke again...I feel pukish Kieran...I swear to the Moon...if you make me puke on you..."

Kieran’s grip only tightened as he carried her down the petal strewn hallway, his strides way more purposeful that it should be.

"Then puke! You are free to puke on me as much as you want," he said, unfazed. "I have had worse."

The door to his bed room was just up ahead, draped in roses and golden ribbons.

The door to his wedding chamber.

Her breath came in sharp, panicked bursts. "Kieran, don’t...don’t you dare take me in there. Put me down! She is in there...Lyla is sitting in there..."

Waiting for you...

The words choked her.She gut wrenching once more.

He did not answer.

Just pushed the door open.

The scent of fresh flowers hit her first...sweet, cloying...yet it suffocated her. The bed was a sea of petals, the sheets silk, the air thick with the scent of expensive attar (exotic perfume)...a demure preparation for the night meant for them...For him and her.

For Lyla and Kieran!

Autumn’s pulse hammered in her throat.

She braced herself for the sight of her sister...sitting there, beautiful and bridal, eyes wide with hope only to be crushed by betrayal.

But the room was empty.

Silent.

No Lyla.

Nobody else.

Just the two of them, the bed...yet the crushing weight of what should have been.

Autumn’s breath stuttered. "Where... where is she?"

Kieran’s voice was low, rough. "Gone."

"Gone?"

"She fell sick. Your father took her. Said she needed... special medicine."

The words hung between them, heavy. Her father...her sister...yet they felt alien...like people she knew in another lifetime.

Autumn’s fingers dug into his arm. "You are lying..."

"Am I?"

She finally looked up...

Autumn’s stomach twisted at his words...or perhaps because another round of vomit was violently churning.

She lurched upright sitting up, a hand flying to her mouth as her throat burned.

"No...no, not here..." she gasped, scrambling to push away from the bed, from him, before she ruined the silk and petals with her sickness.

But Kieran’s arm banded around her waist, holding her in place.

"Let go!"she choked, her body convulsing.

"Do it here. You don’t need to go anywhere!" He ordered, voice rough.

"I am not going to...!"

But then it came...a weak, pathetic retch, nothing but bile and the remnants of her dignity.

She barely had time to react before Kieran’s palm was there, catching the mess before it could stain the sheets.

Her breath came in ragged, humiliated pants. "Why the hell...why would you...?"

He did not answer. Just held her steady as she dry heaved, his other hand stroking her back in slow, firm circles.

When it was over, she collapsed back against the pillows, trembling. Her skin was clammy, her mouth sour. Shame curled hot in her chest.

Kieran did not flinch. Did not recoil.

He simply stood up, cradling the mess in his palm like it was nothing, and walked to the washroom.

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut...Pathetic...Disgusting.

The sound of running water.

Then footsteps returning.

She expected him to toss the damp towel at her. Ask her to clean herself up.

But instead, he sat down beside her again, his free hand tilting her chin up.

"Look at me."

She did not want to. But her body obeyed before her mind could protest.

His gaze was dark, unreadable.

The towel brushed her lips first, wiping gently. Then her cheeks. Her forehead. Each stroke felt slow, almost reverent.

Autumn’s breath hitched.

She reached for the cloth, her fingers brushing his. "I...I can do it myself."

But he did not let go.

"I know,"he said, low. "But I want to."

Her throat tightened.

The way he looked at her...like she was something fragile....something his. Like even in her weakest, ugliest moment, he craved her.

The towel traced the line of her jaw. Her pulse jumped beneath his touch.

She should have pulled away. Should have spat curses.

But she did not.

She just watched him, her chest aching with something too dangerous to name.

Kieran’s thumb grazed her bottom lip, lingering there for just a moment. His voice was a whisper.

"Better?"

She didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because the truth was...yes. Much... much better.

And that terrified her...Because she knew it was only fleeting... like a mirage... an illusion of what could have been...a replay of the betrayal that stung more than a million bee stings.

She knew his touch was poison.

And this time she was drinking it willingly.