A Queen of Alphas - Season 1

S1 13 - Scarlett

It was impossible to sleep. The floor was freezing and no amount of wrapping that blanket around her helped. The conversation she had with Dante made it all harder too. Having him in her head should have felt invasive and disturbing, and yet she now almost missed his presence in there. Her mind was lonely.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

As the hours passed and the sounds outside their cell quietened, her mind wandered through the images. The blood on the floor of their farmhouse. Her, knee deep in blood tainted snow, years later. The way the black bags bent and folded, mostly empty, as they were brought into the hospital building. Her gut churned.

She tried to picture her happy place, to bring herself to that imaginary space she had built in her mind where she was safe from all the memories plaguing her when anxiety and exhaustion overwhelmed her. That place where it was always summer and she could lie by the bank of the lake, her feet bare in the grass, watching the clouds lazily drift across a blue sky. The breeze caressed her skin, cool and pleasant against the heat of the day, the gentle sounds of the water lulling her to a peaceful sleep.

But now, she felt a touch. Hands, big and rough, on her waist. Fingers digging into her bare thigh. A weighty shadow that settled over her, a warmth that made her feel safe. The images she had briefly spied in Dante's mind were coming to life in her own. She relished the warmth of his hands as they slid under her shirt, searching, roaming, finding soft flesh and rubbing at it.

This was all too gentle, she thought to herself, but part of her knew nothing hectic or violent would ever happen in her safe place, a conscious thought that suddenly woke her up and forced her eyes open, back into the dark, cold cell.

She sighed, exhausted and frustrated. Turning on her side, she grunted in annoyance. She was so fucking wet. Just like that night in the alley.

She tried to find a comfortable position, but something was wrong. A rough grunting noise, rhythmic, could be heard from outside the cell, to the right.

'What the fuck is that?' she whispered.

Dante didn't answer.

'Dante?' she tried, whispering loudly, but was still unsuccessful. She reached over to touch him, try to wake him up. Her fingertips had barely grazed his shoulder when he turned on her with impossible speed, suddenly on top of her, her wrists captured with his large hands, his eyes glowing in the dark, yet he was still in human form.

The safety light only illuminated the cell a little, the shadows between his tense facial muscles less dark, highlighting the way his nose retracted and his mouth tensed, his jaw tight, every muscle engaged.

It was, in all aspects, terrifying.

Before Dante, finding herself in a situation like that would have brought back memories of the farmhouse, made her blood run cold and her mouth fill with bile.

But not now. Not with him. Her body temperature rose until her clothes were unbearable. His scent made her squirm, trying to rub her legs together as her sex flooded with want.

He grunted, a sound so animalistic her entire skin rose in goosebumps and she arched her back, trying to get closer to him.

'Dante,' she whined low.

'Calm down,' he grunted in her head.

'I can't.' Even her thoughts sounded like begging. 'What's happening? What's all that noise?'

'It's the moon,' he said, as a way of explanation.

Was it the full moon?

'I could smell your arousal from across the room, which means they can too.'