The Code Of The Alpha

As soon as we finished eating, we gathered our plates and took them back into the kitchen.

“Are you going to put icing on that or are we eating it raw?”

Aubrey asked Norah, pointing at the cake that was cooling on the stovetop.

Norah looked at Aubrey and sighed.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“Of course I’m putting icing on it. I had to wait until it cooled off.”

Norah grabbed the container of icing and began scooping it out with a spatula to spread across the top of the cake. Ana was shaking her head at their interaction when she reached out to grab my plate.

“Let me help,” I told her, placing my plate into the soapy dishwater.

She didn’t protest as the two of us worked in unison to clean the dirty dishes. Philip and the twins worked behind us to clean off the countertop, putting away the bags of potato chips into the pantry and the condiments back into the fridge.

I noticed Hanna walking out onto the deck and taking a seat on the swinging bed that hung outside. A few minutes later, Luca followed her out there.

I watched him sit down next to her, laying his head back onto the pillows that lined the back of the swing and propping his feet up on the pouf that sat in front of them.

They sat there quietly for a moment, both of them just watching the lake off in the distance.

“He speaks her language,” Ana said to me, leaning over to watch them as well.

“She’s quiet,” I noted.

Ana nodded.

“She’s the exact same person he was when he was her age. Quiet, moody, and withdrawn but also very intuitive and shrewd They both notice a lot more than they let on.”

I hummed, still watching the two, who were now speaking quietly to each other.

“How I managed to birth two introverts, I have no idea,” Ana laughed.

“But they’ve taught me a lot about the way that people can love each other silently.”

“That might take a while to get used to,” I admitted.

“I’m a talker.”

Ana laughed, nodding.

“I am too. But you’ll start to notice the little things and, when you pay attention to them, they speak louder than words could.” Torrev spoke up.

“Yeah, Luca’s a simp when you get to know him,” she said, pulling the paper dessert plates out of a shopping bag.

“He’s compassionate and loyal,” Norah corrected her.

“That doesn’t make him a simp. You’ll understand that one day, child.”

Torrey shrugged.

Norah grabbed a knife and began to cut the cake into slices.

“You’ve underestimated what a serving size means,” Aubrey told her, watching her cut each slice.

“There’s no rule against having two,” Ana reminded her.

“Yeah, but I have dignity to retain,” Aubrey countered.

I laughed as I helped Norah put each slice on a plate, passing it around to everyone. A few hours passed and everyone was full of cake and laughter before Luca’s family began to leave. We followed them out to the driveway and waved as they drove away.

I couldn’t help but notice the changing colors of the sky as the sun was setting. It was then that I realized how late it had become and how long they had been over.

Luca followed me as I turned to go back inside.

“Sorry about them,” he said, closing the door behind us.

I frowned.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“They can be a bit much sometimes. I know you had a shitty morning, I didn’t know if you got a little overwhelmed.”

I shook my head, smiling.

“No, I’m glad they came. If anything, they were a great distraction.”

Luca seemed relieved by this.

“Besides,” I added, walking into the living room, “I feel like I know you better now that I’ve met them.”

I noticed his scowl.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a reflection of my family,” he said.

“They’re good people,” I told him.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous you have such a close relationship with them.

I thought about my dad and immediately tried to suppress the thoughts and feelings that followed.

Luca looked at me, the slightest trace of sympathy in his gaze.

“They’re your family now, too,” he reminded me.

“I’m glad.”

When his stare lingered, I found myself pulling back; feeling a wave of guilt wash over me.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I stuttered, looking for an excuse to leave.

Luca didn’t say anything else as I tore myself away from the tension between us and turned to walk upstairs I found myself out of breath as I reached the top of the stairs, both hands visibly shaking.

Why am I so awkward? I thought.

I gathered my pajamas and toiletries and locked myself in the bathroom. As fate would have it, however, my dominant hand was immobilized and successfully running a comb through the ratty

mess would prove impossible with my left hand.

It’s just going to get more and more tangly if you leave it, I reminded myself. I took a deep breath and swallowed my pride, leaving the bathroom and walking downstairs.

I could hear the TV in the basement as I descended the flight of stairs, following the noise. When I rounded the corner, I saw the hockey game that played on the wide screen, the glow of it illuminating the couch where Luca sat.

Seeing me move out of the corner of his eye, he turned to look at me.

I awkwardly held up the comb.

“I need a little help since my hand doesn’t work well,” I said.

He wordlessly placed the glass in his hand down on the side table next to him, where I noticed an open bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat.

Luca gestured for me to sit on the rug in front of him and I did so, crossing my legs and leaning back against the edge of the couch. I held the comb up and he took it from me before gently gathering my hair in his hands.

Starting from the bottom strands of hair, he combed through each tangle before moving to the next. I wondered briefly if he had ever had to do this for any of his sisters. I barely felt anything as he gently worked his way through my hair with the comb.

I pretended to be invested in the game that played on the TV in front of me, but I couldn’t watch the puck longer than a few moments before being reminded of Luca’s presence behind me.

Chill bumps erupted over my body as the comb slowly ran through my hair, grazing my scalp and tugging my head back against his thigh.

“Sorry,” Luca muttered.

He placed a hand under my neck to lift my head and brushed the comb through the other side of my scalp.

I crossed my hands over my chest, suddenly wishing I had the foresight to put on a bra under the cotton tank top I wore.

I felt my damp hair graze my back as Luca let loose his grip. A few strands fell around my face, hiding the burning behind my cheeks.

“Done,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I stood up quickly, thanking him. Reaching out to grab the comb from his grip, I nearly lost my balance as he pulled it out of reach.

I stalled for a moment.

“What are you—”

Luca reached out and grabbed the front of my shirt in his fist, pulling me towards him.

“Don’t keep running from me,” he said, his voice husky and low.

He pulled me down onto his lap, facing him.

I immediately pressed my hands against his chest and leaned away.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, smelling the whiskey on his breath as his face neared mine.

He hummed, but I wasn’t sure if that was to confirm or deny my accusation. Luca tugged the strap of my tank top from one shoulder with his fingers and leaned in, beginning to plant slow, wet kisses along

my collarbone.

“This is a bad idea,” I said, my heart rate climbing.

Luca hummed again, this time with both hands sliding up and under the cropped hem of my tank top. His cold touch against my skin, which was still warm from the shower, caused a gasp to tumble from my mouth.

I grabbed his wrists, stopping them from traveling any farther than my waist.

“You should stop,” I whispered, unable to steady my breathing.

This rope between us is getting too short, I thought.

Luca’s lips left my neck as he sat up straight to stare at me, his face glowing in the light of the TV behind me.

“You torture me.” he admitted.

I found myself speechless at his longing gaze and needing tone. I couldn’t find the willpower to object as I watched him lean forward to kiss me. He pulled his arms from my grasp and reached up with one hand to grip my face.

Luca’s mouth covered mine before I could utter another word of protest, his other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him.

I couldn’t make myself push him away. There was a large part of me that wanted him just as much. My hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, my left hand moving up the nape of his neck.

I could taste the smokiness of whiskey when Luca’s tongue slipped through my parted lips. Just before I could truly lose myself in the kiss, I felt the bulge in

Luca’s sweats against my inner thigh. I froze, noting the size, fueling a fire that burned in the pit of my stomach.

Luca, either not realizing or not caring, continued with his passionate attack on my lips. Luca dropped his hand from my jaw, running it down my neck

and shoulder to tug down on the right strap of my tank top.

This time, however, he managed to completely expose my breast. He ran a finger over my nipple before beginning to knead my breast under his palm.

He pulled his mouth from mine, moving south.

“Luca,” I said breathlessly.

Hearing me say his name, he groaned.

“We can’t do this,” I reminded him, although my shaky tone wasn’t convincing.

Luca stopped.

He dropped his hand and pulled his face away from my neck to stare at me, mouth parted and hair tousled. He let out a breathy laugh and ran his tongue across his bottom lip, as though he needed to remember what my skin tasted like.

What he said next surprised me:

“Help me make a mistake.”

Maintaining our eye contact, Luca reached up and grabbed my left wrist, pulling my hand down his chest and torso. Using my hand, Luca began to stroke his erection through his sweats.

I watched as his eyes closed and eyebrows knit together, a moan tumbling from his lips. Applying more pressure, he encouraged my hand to massage

him quicker before letting go to grip my waist with both hands. I surprised myself by continuing to move back and forth along his swollen length, gripping him firmly.

Luca leaned his head against my shoulder, his hot breath fanning against the skin which was still wet from his kisses. My thumb grazed the outline of his tip and his body shook beneath my touch. I did it again, earning moan that I felt where his lips pressed against my chest.

Luca’s mouth moved up to my shoulder, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along my clavicle. I could feel his breathing go jagged as he gripped my waist

tighter, my hand now massaging him quicker.

He nipped at my skin with his teeth and let out a throaty moan, his body rigid beneath me. I felt the warmth beneath my hand as he came. Slowly, I pulled myself away from him. Luca glanced up at me as he tried to regain composure, his breathing still labored.

I noticed then how dark his eyes were.

I tugged the strap of my tank top back onto my shoulder, covering myself.

“You should go,” he whispered, emerging from his lustful trance.

I nodded, silently agreeing.

Getting off the couch, I quickly headed back upstairs, feeling the desire that had soaked my underwear.

I’m going to have to shower again, I thought to myself. I nearly tripped up the stairs to the loft. When I reached my room, I turned and closed the door behind me and locked it as though I were being chased.

My chest still rising and falling rapidly, I put my head against the door and slid down to the floor. I put a hand over my chest, feeling my erratic heart rate.

What the fuck just happened?