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Chapter 35
Luna On The Run – I Stole The Alpha’s Sons Chapter 35
Read Luna on The Run – I Stole The Alpha’s Sons Chapter 35
It had a fluffy gray duvet on the bed that looked to be a queen, yet this room felt cold for some reason. I couldn‘t place why I felt that way. I would rather the hospital room. It felt empty despite having clothes, even as I walked into the grand bathroom and closet.
Walking out, Axton was leaning against the doorframe, watching me. “My room is across the hall. You are to remain in the apartment unless I authorize you to leave it. Guards will be posted outside the doors until you can be trusted.” he tells me.
“I‘m not going anywhere, Axton,” I tell him, but he either didn‘t care for my words or didn‘t believe me because he walked off, leaving me in the room.
I sat on the bed, looking around the empty space. Goosebumps laced my skin, and I itched badly, something setting off my senses about his cold demeanor, yet I couldn‘t place why I felt that way. It must be our broken bond, but I found myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, to wake up back in the apartment with Jake, and finding out all this was some distant reality I was trapped in. Like a dream, I had conjured to hide from the real world. It wasn‘t until the incessant hunger that had been pestering me since I woke up, that I decided to move. It was also the startling clarity I needed, prove I was really here, because the growling sound started to turn to an ache and I found myself wandering to the door. I stop listening for any movement before wandering down the hall to the kitchen.
Was I allowed to just help myself? I didn‘t know the rules here; he didn‘t say; merely just showed me my room and walked off. “Well, he can‘t expect us to starve,” Lexa tells me, yet why did I feel so unwelcome here? Like I was intruding and the feeling wouldn‘t leave; I wanted very much to go back to my room. Instead, Lexa urged me toward the fridge, reminding me I needed to eat, that the two moving babies inside me required food just as much as I did.
“Maybe we can make him dinner to say thank you,” she says, yet her voice still held no emotion as if she was saying what was expected of us and not
for any real reason, just her words purely existing like an idea in my head, an inner monologue of the turmoil I felt.
“What should we make for him?” I did not know what he liked, what he didn‘t like. I hardly knew anything about the man at all besides what the tabloids say.
“It‘s the thought that counts, right?” she said indifferently, so I moved toward the fridge and pantry. It was getting late and by the time on the clock it was definitely nearing dinner time. So I set to work, rummaging through the well–stocked fridge and pantry before making it.
I found tomahawk prime rib steaks, asparagus and potatoes. I figured I could marinate the steaks in red wine with salt, garlic, liquid smoke, sugar, and pepper, setting it to the side. I took the large baking potatoes and placed them on the baking rack. While they were half cooked, I split them in half, scooping them out and combining them with cheddar cheese, crumpled bacon, chives, and butter.
I placed the twice–baked potatoes back in the oven and set the asparagus aside with butter on the warmer. I placed the tomahawk steaks in the oven on to broil for thirty minutes. After everything was finished, I placed his food on a large plate for Axton and some for myself. Hopefully, he will be back soon for dinner.
“He should like this. It‘s slightly fancy but not over the top,” I said to Lexa as I waited for Axton. Lexa chimes in seconds later, “I hope he does. It is all we can really do to show we really appreciate everything he did to save
us.”
We waited for a while, and dinner was going cold. I wondered what time he would be back and was about to consider reheating everything when finally the door opened up. His scent wafted to me and I was starving, but knew it would be rude not to wait for him. Besides, I was hoping to speak to him, have some form of conversation, so I perked up when I heard the . door open and close.
“I cooked dinner,” I blurted out as he wandered into the room where I sat at the dining table. He raised an eyebrow at me and glanced at the table I had set. “Good for you,” he says, moving toward the fridge. He grabs a can of coke out before wandering down the hallway, and moments later, I hear his door close. I stared down at my almost cold dinner and waited for a second to see if he would return, but he didn’t.
“Well, I guess that went well,” Lexa says as I stare at the table, I had painstakingly sat at for the past twenty minutes, waiting for him. Not to mention the time it took me to cook all this, yet now I found I had suddenly lost my appetite. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I squeezed them tight. Was this how it was going to be staying here? Composing myself, I grabbed my fork, digging in and eating almost robotically. I was excited about having cooked for him, having something more than what Jake made us, and yet I tasted nothing as I ate in the quiet. Forcing myself to eat the meal I spent ages making for him.
When I was done, I cleaned up, cling wrapping his dinner I set in the microwave before wandering back to my room which was just as empty as when I left it. With nothing else to do, I climbed into bed.
“I suppose we can try again tomorrow. Maybe he had a rough day?” Lexa tells me, trying to cheer me up, yet not even she could because I knew not even she believed that herself.