Her Desired Alphas

Marabella

Anxiety gnaws at me as I wait for Jonah to hop out of the shower.

We are staying at the penthouse above the casino that Jonah uses when he stays in the city. Each moment closer to leaving is making me feel nauseous.

I dread the thought of leaving the comfort and safety of the apartment. And even more, I dread the moment I will have to face Kyan again. It has been years since I last saw him. Maybe Jonah is right and it is all in my head. At least I hope it is.

When the door opens, steam billows out the door, making me look toward the bathroom door as Jonah steps out, and my heart skips a beat.

My eyes scan him and linger on the towel that is hanging low on his hips. His body is hard, lean, and muscular. It seems like there isn’t an ounce of fat on him. And on top of everything, Jonah is tall too.

Jonah closes the door to the bathroom quickly and turns towards me. His dark blonde tousled hair is wet and droplets spill onto his hard chest, running down his pecs. My eyes shamelessly follow the droplets as they trail down the hard ridges of his abs.

He has both his nipples pierced, something that I hadn’t noticed before, but then again, this is the first time I have seen him in this state. I have never seen Jonah this bare, or ever had time to really look at his sun kissed skin on display so openly. I can't stop my eyes from trailing all over his god-like body.

My eyes follow down to the V-line that escapes below the towel. Jonah and Uncle Andrei, I know, train rigorously because Jonah isn’t Alpha born. He will have to fight his own father for the title, or his father will hand it down to Rose, his sister, when she comes of age.

Yet, despite having always known about his training, I never truly appreciated how hard he was working to become an Alpha. The hardened muscles of his body are but a reminder of everything Jonah is doing to take over the pack. Alpha - a title I know he will be able to achieve, and truly deserves.

Uncle Andrei had been training Jonah since he was eight, preparing him for the Alpha title fight. That is yet another reason to admire Jonah and his determination to reach the goal his father set for him at a very young age.

Jonah looks up and meets my gaze. It’s all but a second, a brief moment, and his cerulean blue eyes dart away quickly before he clears his throat awkwardly.

I drop my gaze. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. It stains my cheeks in an intense, bright red blush. Jonah caught me staring! He freaking caught me red-handed.

“Shower is free,” Jonah says, just as awkwardly.

I glance up just to catch him scratching the back of his neck. Shows how uncomfortable I make him. Shit! The thought alone makes my mouth go dry as a desert, but I quickly nod my head and stand up.

As I bend down to grab my bag, more than ready to get away from the awkward situation, I’m about to open the zipper of the bag, but Jonah’s voice stops me. “I only packed your pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow. Did you not see the dress in the spare room?” he asks with a raised brow.

My stomach twists in knots at the thought of having to wear a dress. I’m pretty sure it shows on my face how uneasy I feel at the mention of that piece of damned fabric, let alone the thought that I will have to wear it.

I haven’t worn one since I was a child. It is out of my comfort zone. I hate how much skin dresses show, so I usually opt for jeans and a hoodie.

“No, I haven’t been in the spare room yet,” I admit. To be honest, all I have done so far is chuck my bag on the couch and hope I will find a way out of having to attend.

I shake my head, and Jonah wanders off down the hall. He returns a moment later, a dark blue floor-length dress in his hands.

“Is it formal attire?” I ask. My voice sounds more like a shriek than the sound I know as my voice. And now, I feel even worse than I did the moment Jonah brought a dress up. Goddess help me.

“I mean, if you don't like it, I can always get Lucas to rush down and pick you another one?” Jonah asks. The funny thing is that he looks just as uncomfortable and out of the element as I feel.

Jonah also isn’t someone who enjoys formal functions and I know he only attends them when Kyan insists he has to.

I shake my head. There is no need for me to give him a harder time than he is already having with me. “No, I like it. I just thought I could wear my jeans. I didn't realize it was formal wear,” I tell him nervously.

“Kyan prefers a certain image. Believe me, I am not too happy about wearing a suit but…” Jonah stops himself as if he has already said too much and shrugs. He looks over his shoulder toward the spare bedroom. “There are heels in the room. I will hang this up for you,” he says and waves the dress in his hand.

A muffled groan escapes my lips. And now, I’m just going to make a complete ass of myself.

Everyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I struggle to walk in flats, let alone high heels. Why is my mother making him take me to this?

She knows I hate having to go to functions, especially formal ones, and anything connected to them. Even the very mention of an event raises goosebumps all over my skin.

I didn’t even attend my tenth grade formal. I opted out of it the moment I understood that was possible. I attended the ceremony, but I wore black slacks and a shirt, and soon after, I headed home, instead of joining the others for the formal. Mom knew there was no way I would have gone, so agreed to let me leave before the formal started if I at least attended the ceremony.

I didn’t want to go to begin with. I knew the formal was nothing but another chance for them to torment me.

Plus, it was also the day after mom disfigured Jasmine. They were best friends and still are, but mom said Jasmine stepped out of line when a petition went around for me to be pulled from contact sports. The petition said I was a risk to other students after I nearly killed my teacher. I didn’t mean for that to happen. But it wasn’t like anyone but my parents wanted to listen to me.

Eziah is always quick to act, though. However, with that, I also see the vast difference in how everyone views us. Although we are twins, we are so different. It is sometimes so painfully obvious that sometimes all I see is our differences and my flaws, while he seemingly has none.

He is hailed a hero, and I, well, I am hailed a parasite. The bad omen of my pack.

Not that anyone is brave enough to say anything in front of my family.

Anyway, mom found out when the petition was handed to the school board. Let’s say it didn’t go down well. After some digging, mom found out Jasmine had been the one to originally mention it. Marley never forgave me, and neither did Alicia. Marley blamed me for her mother getting hurt, and said I told her of the petition.

Mom slapped Jasmine and humiliated her in front of the school assembly. Her claws slipped from her fingers and raked down Jasmine’s face. That’s how bad it was. And yet, I couldn’t find it in myself to blame mom for her reaction. I saw the pain she felt every time someone said hurtful things. The same as now.

Jasmine never healed, and I think my mother used her powers to ensure it. To make it a clear warning to those that spoke out about me. Mom made an example of Jasmine, unfortunately that didn’t work in my favor, I just never bothered to tell her that. It wasn’t worth the added stress on her or the extra drama I knew would follow by telling her.

Alicia’s mother, Rebecca, was forced to submit in front of everyone and apologize to me. I was humiliated. I understood why mom did it - a show of consequences, but it never helped my situation and only made me become even more isolated, and hated.

Alicia was my brother’s girlfriend at the time, and he took it further when he dumped her in front of everyone present, making her hate me tenfold. Eziah claimed in front of everyone that he wouldn't be with anyone that would shun his sister.

And while all those things never changed anything, especially how people viewed me, I couldn’t stop the questions that invaded my mind. My family has always watched out for me. They still do, but sometimes their actions only make things harder for me.

I shake the memory away. Getting lost in my thoughts has never been a good thing.

Since I remember myself, my thoughts have had nothing good to say or remind me of.

They become a dark trap, and eventually, suck me in deep. All those thoughts do is remind me just how much I don’t belong. Here, with my family and society in general. I just don’t fit in.

“Marabella, are you ok?” Jonah asks as he walks back in the room, already dressed and ready to go. Now, he is wearing black slacks and a dress shirt.

The buttons of the shirt are still undone as he pushes his belt through the loops of his pants. This time, I fight the urge to look at him and avert my gaze to the floor. I can’t allow my eyes to roam over his body all over again. It will do nothing but make the situation uncomfortable again.

And I don't want to make Jonah feel so uncomfortable that he stops talking to me.

He is the only person with whom I actually enjoy speaking.

“Yeah, sorry. I will be quick,” I mutter under my breath as I escape the room and rush into the bathroom.

I shut the door and quickly click the lock in place. I know Jonah is respectful of my privacy and would never barge into the bathroom while I am here, but I always lock the doors, even without the obvious need to do so.

My hands shake as I remove my clothes and turn the shower on. I quickly step in and wet my hair, and then reach for the bar of soap. The dark tan of my skin makes the scars that lace my thighs stand out even more. I quickly avert my gaze from my mutilated body.

Instead, I focus on taking a shower and washing. When I am done, I quickly wrap the thick gray towel around me and then pop my head out of the bathroom door. Once I make sure the coast is clear, I let out a sigh of relief. Jonah is nowhere in sight, and I quickly make a dash for the room.

I lock the door again, a force of freaking habit, and try to calm my racing heart. I dry myself and apply some body lotion.

Jonah has already hung the dress on the back of the door. There is a slight tremble to my hand as I slowly bring it up and touch the silky dark sapphire blue fabric.

I realize quickly that the dress is figure-hugging, and that realization makes my stomach squeeze uncomfortably. Just great! I sigh in defeat as my eyes scan the room. I need to find the damn heels I will have to wear. I know I will make a fool of myself by wearing them, but it doesn’t look like anyone but me really cares.

The heels are sitting next to the dresser, and I groan. I will break my neck in those. The thought doesn’t seem as eerie as I think of one positive thing I can get out of it - I can avoid going, if I break my neck. I chuckle at my own thoughts. One could wish.

Jonah would probably still drag me along at my mother’s request. Besides, she, the same as Jonah, always says I need to go out more.

Slipping the dress on, I see the back is see-through lace, and the front dips low, showing off more cleavage than I’m uncomfortable with. To top off my misery, my bra can’t be worn without looking out of place, and being noticeable. So, no bra, terrific. The fabric is tight against my large bust and hips, the dress cascades to the floor. As beautiful as the dress is, it just isn't me.

Staring in the mirror, I feel like an imposter. I look out of place and feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Too much of me is on display. I don't belong in this world, definitely not in a dress like this.

As I unhook my bra, I quickly remove it and put the top half of the dress back on. Then, I awkwardly pull up the zip that holds the lace together at my back. Guess I will just have to suck it up and deal with it. Towel is drying my unruly wavy hair that falls to just below my butt. I try to figure out what to do with it.

I’ve never been good at doing my hair, and mostly left it in a ponytail or bun. But this is a formal event so I can’t leave it down. Plus, it will drive me insane. I wonder if Jonah would mind if I leave it down. It could curtain me like a shield.

Sometimes I regret never cutting it, but I always have loved the feel of the brush, when mom would run it through my hair. It is something I held dear to me.

Every night she would come in and brush it, even now. I think it is her way of checking on me, her way of getting me completely alone to talk. But these days, it has grown into our everyday routine.

I wish mom could be here. She would braid my hair for me. I doubt very much I can do it myself. Should I even try it? Deciding against it, I reach for my brush.

Sighing, I run my brush through it and pull it into a ponytail when I hear a knock on the door.

“Marabella, we need to head down soon,” Jonah calls out from the other side of the door.

“Yep, be out in a sec,” I tell him as my eyes find the glittery black heels. A nervous sigh leaves me as I try to shove the thoughts away. I guess time is up, I can't avoid them now.

Grabbing them, I open the door only to bump into Jonah. Smacking into his hard chest, his hands grip my arms to steady me. Note to self: muscle looks nice, but damn, they are not fun to smack into. Is any part of him soft?

“You ok?” Jonah asks, letting me go and stepping back.

His eyes darken as they run the length of me and a growl escapes him, making me jump. My eyes dart to him. His wolf comes forward and makes me step back. That movement makes him shake his head, his eyes return to their blue color. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mutters, and I realize my heart is still thumping erratically.

Jonah looks me over again and he presses his lips together. “I know you don’t want to go, but you could put some effort into doing your hair,” he says disapprovingly.

My face heats, my hair is untameable. I suck at being a girl, shamefully so. I really don’t know how to deal with it, but Jonah’s words make me wish I at least tried now.

Jonah grips my arms, spins me around and I hear his breath hitch before feeling his fingers trail up my spine. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growls. His words startle me. Does he really think that or is he being polite? Jonah never says things like that, he is a lot like his father, a man of few words.

I look at him over my shoulder and his eyes flicker again, his gaze on my neck, and I feel the blood rush to my face, my stomach a mess of butterflies.

“Jonah?” I whisper, and his gaze moves to mine.

“Huh?” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Oh, right,” he says, reaching his hand toward my hair. I pull away from him, wondering what he is doing. “Stay still, eyes ahead,” he mutters.

Turning back, I stare at the wall, obeying his command. What is he thinking?

A shiver runs up my spine as his fingers graze the back of my neck and he clears his throat, tugging my hair tie from my hair. My hair falls down my back to just below my bottom in long waves.

“Jonah, I can’t leave it down. It will drive me insane,” I protest, turning to look at him. He steps around me, moving to the dresser and grabbing my brush and coming over to me.

His hand moves to my hip, as he leads me further into the open plan living room.

He sits on the leather couch, tugging me down to sit between his legs.

“I’m braiding it, just keep still for me,” Jonah announces in a low tone. Is it me, or is it that Jonah is having trouble containing himself?

“You can braid? Not even I can braid,” I tell him in surprise. He runs the brush down my in silence. Is there more on his mind than he shows? Jonah sure is acting weird.

Jonah taps my thigh. “Sit up, you're sitting on your hair.” I lift my bottom and he pulls the hair out from under me.

“And yes, I can. I used to braid Rose's hair, she always said mom was too rough with the brush, mom taught me,” Jonah chuckles. I’m impressed because not even I can braid.

“Mom blamed Rose, said she squirmed too much and went to hack at it with scissors one day and dad snapped at her. It was always a battle for mom to do her hair every morning, so she taught me and I was the one who did it for her from her first day of school until she could do it herself,” Jonah tells me.

“Will Rose be here tonight? Gosh, I miss her,” I ask, hoping she would be; I could use some company.

“No, she has exams next week, and she wants to study. Plus, she hates being at formal events, just like Mom and you,” he murmurs the last word below my ear while leaning forward. His voice sends goosebumps down my spine.

His fingers move easily through my hair, and it doesn't take him long before he is nearly finished. His fingers move quickly and gently.

“How is Rose?” I ask him, trying not to focus on how his thighs feel on either side of mine. I can practically feel the heat radiating from his closeness.

“Good, I spoke with her earlier. She had a boyfriend for a bit and Dad did not approve. She wants to transfer to your school next year after she and he had a fight. Dad said maybe she could, but only if she behaves,” Jonah explains.

“Behaves?” I ask him.

“Yes, Rose and mom got into a fight after she caught Rose skipping school to hang out with Tyran, man did dad kick his ass,” Jonah chuckles.

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” I tell him. I know how close he is to his sister, surely Jonah would do anything to defend her, and her honor.

“I never said I didn't. Why do you think I was back at home? She deserves better.” I can almost hear the smug smile on his lips.

“That’s why you came back?” I question.

“Yes, I wasn't planning on going home until I spoke to Rose this morning. I was only planning on picking you up, but when she rang me and said her boyfriend upset her, I ducked home real quick,” Jonah tells me.

“Bet Rose wasn't happy,” I mutter the reply. I can easily claim that I know Rose well enough to imagine how she felt when Jonah appeared to teach this boyfriend a lesson.

“Not at all, but once I met him, I understood why dad didn't like him. Cocky shit, I wasn't impressed,” Jonah snarls.

“Why weren't you impressed?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Because she can do better than him for one, and secondly he mouthed off at my father when I got there, saying he was going to claim Rose as his chosen. Rose looked like she was about to slap him but she didn't get a chance,” Jonah chuckles as if the messed up situation amuses him more than it could worry him.

“Yes, she was always daddy’s girl,” I chuckle, and Jonah nods. That is totally something Rose would do, so I can’t help but smile.

“Yes, dad told him he wasn't to step on pack territory again. He was the Beta’s son from the White River Pack, so now Rose wants to transfer schools.” I nod.

Rose is somewhat similar to me, we are both nerdy and maybe that’s why we get along so well. Although she is more sociable than me, wildly so, and she is a little miss popular at her school.

“There. All done,” Jonah tells me as he drapes my braid over my shoulder to show me.

I touch it, looking over at him behind me. “Thank you,” I tell him and he pats my side, wanting me to get up.

I quickly move to sit beside him. Grabbing the heels, I slip them on, doing up the buckles. Pushing off the lounge, Jonah grips my arm, pulling me to a standing position. I am now the same height as him and feel so unsteady on my feet. I gulp down at the high heels. Please don’t make me fall.

“Jonah these are way too high,” I shriek, clutching his forearm for balance.

“You will be fine. I won’t let you fall. Your mother warned me and said you hated heels when I rang to ask if I could kidnap you. But you can't wear sneakers with your dress,” he reasons.

“What? So mom didn't force you to bring me along? It’s alright Jonah, I know Mom asked you to take me, she thinks I spend too much time alone,” I tell him, shaking my head at his lie.

No one would willingly go through so much hassle to spend time with me, no matter how good of a person they are.

“Ah, no Mara. I rang her last week to see if I could bring you,” Jonah says. I raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs, watching me.

“So you asked. She didn't force you to take me. This isn’t a pity thing?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes, I asked. Is that so hard to believe? I actually like hanging out with you.” I roll my eyes disbelievingly and he growls, gripping my chin.

His eyes lock with mine. “Just so you know Mara, I see you. I always have. You can hide shit from everyone else, but not me. I see through it. Just like you lied earlier about that girl calling you a skank.” My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Shit, I didn’t expect him to figure that out.

“A skank. Well, yeah, not everyone likes me,” I reply dryly. Why can’t we just forget this and change the topic?

“But I know you’re not one,” Jonah says, letting my chin go.

“How do you know? I could be and you would have no way to tell,” I ask defiantly. “Because I can smell your innocence. If you were a skank, you wouldn’t be a virgin,”

Jonah chuckles.

My face heats even more at his words. Ground, please just open and swallow me whole.

“Hey, nothing to be ashamed about. It’s a good thing, you should save yourself for your mate.”

“Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” I ask nervously. I really don’t want that to get back to them. I just want to carry on keeping a low key profile for as long as possible.

“About the girl? No, why are you always bullied by her? Do I need to tell them?” he asks, looking at me sharply. My eyes widen, and I shake my head.

“No, it was a one off. I ran into her by accident,” I lie quickly. He doesn’t look like he believes me, but before he can say anything else, someone knocks on the door.

“That would be Kyan,” he says, gripping my hand and tugging me along.

I hear keys in the door and it suddenly pushes open, and Kyan steps in, closing the door. His back is to us as we walk toward him.