Alpha: Devil's Rose MC #3

Chapter 3: Persephone Estrada

I lean back to gaze upon his face, taking in the darkening of his eyes. He winks at me, and I try not to get too flustered. He easily picks me up, places me in the middle of his legs, and slides an arm around my waist. His tattooed hand slips under my shirt to lay heavily on my stomach, his fingers running soothing circles over my skin.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"You can always let me know."

"I know, you can too."

"I would never want to."

Holy fudge nuggets. I can't freaking believe that he would say something like that.

And by the expression on his face, I don't think he can either. Mouth dropped open, eyes wide, a slight blush on his face and everything. Goodness, he's kind of adorable. More than kind of. But I ignore what he says, not wanting to have him feeling more embarrassed than he probably already is, and turn my attention back to the screen with the helicarrier fight between Captain America and Winter Soldier. Tears fill my eyes at the next words spoken - much to Alpha's concern.

"You're. My. Mission!"

"Then finish it. Cause I'm with you till the end of the line."

And then it's me screaming.

"Buckyyyy!"

"Jesus Christ, woman."

"My baby."

"You spend way too much time with my sister."

For a brief second, his eyes flick down to the protruding pout of my lips. I suck in a breath, brushing away his intense stare, and stop looking back over to him. For some reason, I'm constantly looking at him as we watch a show together, gauging his reactions to what we might be watching at a specific time. 

But I'm often catching his eye instead of the side of his face, so I'm continuously startled, however, I can't seem to stop myself. I like to observe his facial expressions, his being a mostly open book to me. He's been like that with me since the first moment I met him.

Flashback

Even though I know it's not going to protect us from much, I close and lock the door of our four-person bedroom. The younger girls stay huddled up in the corner, my body crouching in front of them protectively. The violent screams and echoing of multiple guns firing are not lost on our ears, but we have all heard words that sound much worse. 

The girls' bodies shake beneath my soft touch, their chest lifting and lowering swiftly with each quick intake of breath. I close my eyes for a moment as my pulse races, sweat gathering on my forehead. If this is it for me, good. If this is it for them, that's too bad. 

We stay hidden in the corner as the pounding of boots runs by. I hold my breath at the first bang on the door. Tears stream down my face by the second. Small hands clutch tightly onto my short robe by the third and final. 

Two men, unlike anything I've ever seen, stand there. Their chests heave in determination, their outfits nothing like what the men usually wear around here. The bed only blocks their view for a short minute before my upper arms are gently grasped to pull me to my feet.

His eyes never left my face, his eyebrows pressed together to form worry lines. The other man, who I move out of the way for, coaxes the girls out of the room and under the arm of another man. 

I hear their kind words of safety, and I know in my heart that they are going to be fine, it's now me I'm more worried about. I have always been terrified of men, androphobia it's called. But I don't find my normal sides of panic when standing this close to the unknown man.