Page 57 of Alpha's Revenge Luna
A plate is set down in front of me, and Dion asks the person serving to bring him some vodka.It’s the first time I’ve heard him ask for that; he usually drinks whiskey or rum.I move to grab my fork and knife, only for them to disappear a second before my fingers can graze them.Dion offers me a spoon, and my face flames with heat.
“Exactly how am I supposed to eat with a spoon?”I ask him, staring at the huge steak and roasted potato.
“Use your hands,” he growls, and Tara peeks over at me.She chews her lip, looking at my hand holding the spoon.I swallow down my humiliation like its bitter poison, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of making me beg.
So I scooped up the only thing I can, which isthe peas, knowing I will only make a mess of myself and the table if I tried to eat the steak with my bare hands.
When the server returns with Dion’s bottle of vodka and his own dinner in his hands, Dion thanks him, removing the cap and pouring some in a glass.
Dion leans in, his breath warm against my ear.“Drink it,” he whispers, so softly I wonder if I imagined it.
I sit there, a puppet with its strings pulled taut, wondering if he knows about the phone call.It’s the only thing that makes sense.Because he was fine earlier.While I try to figure that out, Dion slides the glass in front of me.I grab it with a scowl, giving it a hesitant sniff.It smells vile, and I immediately set the glass down, only for Dion to grab my hand around the glass.
“Drink it.Unless you have something you want to ownup to?”Dion questions, and I feel the gaze of the entire room on me.My eyes meet Tara’s across from me, and her brows furrow, I’m sure wondering what I’ve done.
“Own up to what?”I ask and his grip tightens and my fingers ache as I worry the glass will shatter in my hand.
“Drink then, we’ll see if you can hold your tongue, then,” he taunts.He lets my hand go and vodka sloshes out the side of the glass on my hand.
“This is stupid,” I mutter under my breath, lifting the glass to my lips.The moment the taste of it touches my tongue, I nearly spit it back in the glass.I cough, and I am about to spit it out when Dion grabs the glass.My eyes water as I am forced to drink it or wear it, the vodka burning all the way down the back of my throat, my tongue, it feels like it’s on fire.When the glass is empty, I cough, gripping the table as I try to catch my breath.
“Mind your own,” Dion orders, and everyone’s attention is diverted away from me.My hands shake as I grab my spoon, wanting to rid the taste from my mouth.Even a mouthful of peas won’t get rid of the taste.Not that it matters because Dion pours another glass and I bite my tongue, which is surprisingly numb.
“Drink it,” he says, only this time it’s an order.This time, when I drink it, it hardly has any taste.I’m pretty sure he’s destroyed my taste buds.I feel light-headed, heavy, my stomach churning.Dion pours another glass and I shake my head.When Kyrio reaches for my plate, he earns a growl from Dion when he starts cutting up my meat for me.
“You’re going to give her alcohol poisoning at this rate,” Kyrio snaps at him, and it is the first time I’ve seen him actually look genuinely angry at Dion.Dion doesn’t say anything, just glares at him before pouring another glass.By the fourth glass, half the bottle is gone, and it’s like drinking water.
My legs have lost all sensation.Eating the last of my steak, I lean back against Dion heavily.My entire body feels heavy, but I am lucid enough to know my surroundings, though they are starting to blur slightly.
“Drink the rest of the bottle,” Dion whispers, and I shakemy head.
“Need I order you?”he asks.
“I feel funny, heavy,” I tell him, though my words are slightly slurred I am surprised I am still understandable.
“Dion!”Kyrio grinds out and my heavy gaze moves to him.“She’s had enough,” Kyrio tells him.
“She’s had enough when I say she has,” Dion tells him, reaching for the glass when Kyrio speaks again.
“Dion, you’re upsetting the women here, you want to feed her that crap, do so in your room, not here,” he tells Dion, and he pauses, my eyes float around the room noticing the women watching me with worry.Tara stares at the table, having hardly touched her food.Moving to the woman beside her, I notice she too has barely eaten anything and is too busy pushing her peas around her plate.
“Fuck!”Dion whispers behind me, his voice barely audible.“Tara, Ellie, I’m sorry.”Tara looks at him and I can’t decipher the look she is giving him.
“It’s not what you think,” Dion tells her, making me wonder what he’s talking about.“She still has free will,” Dion adds, confusing me.
“Emery, come on,” Tara says, moving to get up.She pushes her chair back and moves toward me.I stare up at her when she stops beside me.Dion’s arms tighten around my waist, but for only a second, when he loosens his arm but keeps it securely around me.
“You should know me better than that,” Dion murmurs to her.
“I do, that is why it is so hard to watch.If she has free will, then let her go.You’ve earned our respect, we know you.But she doesn’t.She only knows what she’s heard and seen of you, yet you expect her to do whatever you want unquestionably?”Tara says, and it seems the entire room is holding its breath to see what Dion will do.After a second, he lets me go.
“I’m not a monster,” Dion growls at her.
“Well, you are to your mate,” Tara snaps at him.Grabbingmy arm, she hauls me to my feet.Only I haven’t moved off Dion’s lap for over an hour.The moment I stand, it’s like all the alcohol I’ve drank rushes to my feet.
I brace myself as I crash toward the floor, only for Dion’s arm to grab me before I face-plant on the floor.My stomach heaves, but I thankfully manage to hold my stomach.
“Crap, sorry, Emery,” Tara bursts, but I can only giggle as the bizarre feeling rushes through me.“I think free will to move is only granted to those who can feel their feet.”I snicker, and she snorts slightly but glances at Dion worriedly.
