Logan
When I get home, Arya is not there. She said she would be coming late so I don’t have to worry since she took security with her. I dare any whore-son to mess with my marked mate.
I head to my office to finish off some of the work for the day. I met with Eric to talk about what happened yesterday and he was equally perturbed by who could have vandalized the ship. It is no doubt that the Alphas have a lot of enemies but I just can’t think of who could go this far to do this. I also have envious competitors in the business world but the gold business is not yet out there public. The last thing we want is the human government showing up to fuck up everything claiming ‘the property of the state’.
We have opened up an investigation into the matter because it was not an accident, it was arson.
I finalize everything for today and head into the shower to clean up. I end up having supper on my own. I have a strong urge to call and ask her what she is up to and when she is coming home but u get to restrain. I don’t want to be a ‘brooding mother hen’ like she calls me. She needs this; to have fun with her friend.
I head back to the bedroom.
My footsteps echo across the room as I meander to the window. The moon is high, and it shines in a clear night sky with the promise of another halcyon day, like today. Arya is near, under the same moon. She’ll be home soon. Surely. I lean my forehead against the glass. It’s cool, but not cold. As I let out a long sigh, my breath mists the pane.
Shit.
I don’t understand why I’m suddenly feeling despondent; a familiar sense of loneliness is creeping into my psyche. I recognize its key ingredients: the emptiness, the longing like I’m missing something. I’ve not felt it since I was a teenager.
Hell.
I haven’t felt lonely for years. I’ve had my pack and my deputies, my company, though I always keep them at a distance. I gave never felt so lonely.
But now, without Arga here, I’m lost.
Her absence is an ache-a scar on my soul.
The silence is intolerable! I used to like it after long days of work. That’s why I wanted my own house, away from interference from my pack members. It would bring me peace and calm but now… It is haunting.
The silence is oppressive, and it’s making me melancholy.
Fuck this.
I head back downstairs, wandering in my own house like a ghost. I could wait for her there.
I sit on one of the sofas and interest myself in an old newspaper on the magazine stand. There is a crazy lot of drama in the human world. I can never keep up.
“Shh..”
I look up, and Arya is standing by the entrance to the living room, swaying slightly. She’s carrying her strappy high heels in one hand and she’s wearing a shimmering black dress, tight on her hips.
She has her index finger at her lips.
She is without a doubt the most beautiful girl in the world.
And I’m delighted she’s home.
Behind her, Damon and Jack are stony-faced. Rising from the sofa, I tip my chin at them in thanks. They smile as one and leave us.
Arya turns and stumbles a little to watch them leave. “Bye!” she almost shouts and waves them away with a wide sweep of her arm.
She’s clearly intoxicated.
Turning back to face me, she rewards me with the biggest, warmest, most drunken smile and stumbles toward me. “Mr. Alpha Logan Conley!”
I catch her before she falls and fold her into my arms, and she gazes up at me with unfocused joy. Her expression feeds my soul. “Arya. How lovely to see you. Did you have fun?”
“The best!”
“Please tell me you had something to eat.”
“Yes! Food has been eaten.” She drops her shoes and they clatter on the floor, while she winds her arms around my neck.
“You have the most beautiful mouth.” She slurs and runs her index finger shakily over my lips.
“Do I?”
“Hmm…yes. You do things to me with that mouth.”
“I like doing things to you with my mouth.”
“Shall we do it now?” Her unfocused gaze moves from my mouth to my eyes.
“Tempting though that sounds, I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.”
She sways a little and I tighten my hold on her. “Dance with me,” she mumbles, grinning up at me. She lets her hands run down my shirt collar and tugs me closer so I feel her down the length of my body.
“We should put you to bed.”
“I wanna dance…with you,” she whispers and offers me her lips.
“Arya,” I warn, tempted to carry her to bed, but I’m enjoying the feel of her in my arms and the way she’s imploring me with her big brown eyes. “Okay. What would you like to dance to?” I’m feeling indulgent.
“Muuuusic.”
I laugh, a little exasperated, and move us over to the small counter next to a window, where I pick up the remote and press play on the music system. And a synthetic melody echoes through the room.
“This?” I state in response to Arya’s inebriated smile.
“Yes.” She throws her head and arms back with such enthusiasm that I almost drop her.
“Shit. Arya!” I’m glad I have my arm around her waist, otherwise, she’d be sprawled on the floor. She starts to stagger and I wonder if she’s going to pass out, then realize she’s attempting to dance.
Whoa.
I clamp my arms around her. I’ve never danced with someone as inebriated as Arya. She is all arms and legs and unpredictable spins.
It’s an education.
I try to take both her hands and lead her around the room, in a semblance of a dance-that’s more a jig-so it’s not entirely successful. It’s unsettling.
Suddenly she stops and clutches her head. “Oh. The room is spinning.”
Oh no. “I think we should go to bed.”
She looks up at me between her fingers. “Why? What are you going to do?”
Is she flirting or is this a serious question?
“Let you sleep,” I reply, deadpan.
She makes a face, which I interpret as disappointment, but, taking her hand, I guide her back to the counter. From the cupboard, I grab a glass and fill it with water. “Drink this.” I pass it to her, and she does as she’s told. “All of it.”
She narrows her eyes and squints-I suspect to get me in focus. “You’ve done this before.”
“Yes. With you. Last time you were inebriated.”
She drains the glass and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Are you going to fuck me?”
“No. Not tonight.”
She frowns.
“Come.” I guide her to our bedroom, switch on the bedside lights from the wall, and release her from my arms by the bed. “Do you feel sick?”
“No!” she says emphatically.
That’s a relief. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“No!”
“Turn around,” I demand.
She gives me a lopsided smile.
“Turn around-let me unzip your dress.”
“You are being so good to me, so sweet. ” She lays her hand on my chest, splaying out her fingers.
“Enough. Turn around. I won’t ask you again.”
She grins. “There he is…”
Oh, baby.
I grasp her shoulders and gently turn her around so I can unfasten her dress. It obliges and falls immediately, pooling at her feet. She’s wearing a black lacy bra and matching panties. I undo her bra and step forward, bringing her body flush to mine, and I drag the straps down her arms. She rubs her ass against me and moves her hand behind her to fondle my more-than-interested dick.
Arya!
I allow myself a brief moment of pure pleasure and push my hips forward as her hand fumbles the length of my hardening cock.
Yes!
I drop her bra on the floor, move her hair aside, and run my lips down her neck. “Stop,” I whisper.
She continues to rub her hand over me. I groan and step back. Kneeling, I slip her panties down her legs and kiss her behind. “Step.” She does, and I remove her underwear and gather her clothes together before pulling back the duvet. “Into bed.”
Now she turns around. “Join me,” she says with a provocative smile. She’s naked and lovely and wanton and tempting.
She’s also completely drunk.
“Get into bed. I’ll be back.”
She sways, sits down, then flops back on the bed, and I lift her feet onto the mattress and cover her up.
“Are you going to punish me?” she slurs.
“Punish you?”
“For getting this drunk. A punishment fuck. You can do anything you want to me,” she whispers and holds out her arms.
Oh, God.
A million erotic thoughts flit through my mind, and it takes all my willpower to lean over, gently plant a kiss on her forehead, and leave.
In the closet, which is still full of shopping bags I guess from today, I place her clothes in the laundry basket and strip them out of my clothes.
I drag on my PJs and a T-shirt and head into the bathroom.
While brushing my teeth I contemplate what I could do to a drunken Arya. Does she want punishment? My thoughts do little to ease my erection.
“Pervert,” I mouth at my reflection.
I switch off the lights and head back into the bedroom. As I suspected, Arya is out cold, her hair spilling in all directions over the pillows. She looks lovely. I climb in beside her and roll onto my side to watch her sleep.
She’s going to have one helluva hangover in the morning.
Leaning over, I kiss her hair. “I love you, Arya,” I whisper, and I lay back and stare at the ceiling. I’m surprised that I’m not furious with her. No, I found her charming, and funny.