All Chapters of Rival Alphas: Dance of Desire: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

I was jolted awake, my pulse racing as an unmistakable sensation surged through me. The primal currents of intimacy—desire, pleasure, connection—ricocheted inside me, intensifying as they looped through the invisible mate bond that tethered me to Clay and Lexi. For a moment, I basked in it, letting the warmth of their love wash over me. It felt like I was touching the very essence of their connection, a secondary participant in a private act.Excitement swelled within me. Eager to join them, I sprang from the couch, my bare feet barely touching the ground as I darted through the house. My heart pounded in my ears like a rhythmic drumline, each beat echoing my escalating anticipation. I scanned every room, my eyes darting from corner to corner, but found no trace of them. Living room, empty. Kitchen, vacant. Our bedroom, untouched. Bathroom, quiet and dark.They weren't here.A knot tightened in my stomach, my earlier enthusiasm ebbing away, replaced by a cold tide of disappointment

Heat enveloped me, and as I stirred awake, I felt as though I were tucked inside a furnace. Both Luke and Clay were practically lying on top of me, their arms cocooning me tightly as if shielding me from some invisible danger."Guys, you've gotta let me up, or I might just wet the bed like a three-year-old," I joked.Their grips slackened almost simultaneously, and I wriggled out from between them, heading for the bathroom. The cold tile felt good against my feet, contrasting with the warmth I had just left.I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I washed my hands and paused. The woman staring back at me looked older, her eyes reflecting a kind of wisdom that wasn't there a month ago. I was no longer that wide-eyed college student; now, I saw a Luna in my reflection. My eyes landed on the mark on my neck. It occurred to me that Clay, despite feeling everything through our mate bond, wasn't marked like Luke and I were. A shadow of discontent crossed my mind.As I emerged from the ba

The car ride back home was a mixture of excitement and, oddly enough, tension. Moro's revelation left me oscillating between shock and a newfound closeness. It was like stumbling upon an old photograph you never knew existed. When we pulled into the driveway, the trunk full of shopping bags and one oddly wrapped package, I could feel my anticipation building. Moro popped the trunk, and we began hauling our finds inside. I gripped the enigmatic, heavily wrapped package tightly, its form secure yet oddly shapeless under its multiple layers of bags. I headed straight for the bedroom, the mysterious package swinging lightly in my arms. I set it down on the bed with a sense of reverence. Then I turned to help Moro hang the cascade of new clothes in my closet. The colors and fabrics spoke of future days, of experiences not yet lived. There was an undeniable thrill in that, a promise of something more. As we were knee-deep in a sea of tissue paper and new clothes, Luke walked into the roo

I stormed into the house, my fingers clenched around the keys until they bit into my palm. With a frustrated growl, I hurled them across the room. They collided with the wall, scattering in different directions, like my thoughts.Like my life.I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my head dropping into my hands.How did I let myself slide back into this darkness? I was furious, not just at the world, but at myself. Clay had a point, as much as I hated to admit it. His words replayed in my head, each syllable like a hammer strike, shaping the metal of my regret. But what hurt most was Lexi. The silence from her was the deepest cut, severing something inside me that I didn't even know was vulnerable. Through our mate bond, I sensed a cloud of mixed emotions—anger, disappointment, sadness. Was it hers or mine? Maybe both.The door opened quietly, and Clay walked in. I felt his presence fill the room, a bittersweet blend of ease and conflict. I moved to stand up, to put distance between

As I sat there, the pricking sensation of the needle wove in and out of the flesh of my damaged fingers. Each puncture brought a sting that radiated up my arm, like an incessant reminder of the night's calamity. Beside me, Clay gripped my other hand, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of my palm. He was there, but not really. It was as if his thoughts had carried him to a distant realm, somewhere far away from the small, sterile room where the healer worked on me.His distant demeanor wasn't lost on me. I knew he was wrestling with his own turmoil, perhaps struggling with how to bridge the widening chasm between us and Luke. At that moment, though, the physical discomfort was overshadowed by the unsettling stillness that lay between us. Clay was a rock in turbulent seas, dependable but inherently separate from the chaos. His silence weighed on me more than the sensation of the stitches pulling my skin taut.I tried to focus on the healer's movements instead, on the scent of an