~ Chapter Thirty-One ~

I had read the letter a hundred times now but it hadn't gotten any easier. Images of little Jacob and Bree and Tony locked in a cell circled my mind, torturing me with the prospect that I had ended such young lives, that I had subjected them to horrible conditions I wouldn't even wish on Beta James. Roger, however, I wished would be mauled, thrown in a cell and left to either bleed out or starve. If he lost a limb in the process, I wouldn't be angry.

"Hey."

I glanced over my shoulder at Dimitri, who walked into his room slowly, his eyes on my face.

"You're reading that again?" he asked as he carefully sat down at the edge of the bed.

"There's a decision to be made," I reminded him, tucking my legs under myself. My fingers caressed the paper's corners, as if it would give me the answers I was looking for to decide whether or not we should try to rescue my allies from their torture.

"Erika, you don't have to make that decision right this second. You're allowed to take a breath."

"But every second we don't do something, is another second they're in trouble." I waved the note in his direction. "I mean, Roger killed Nola, but what if the head of an innocent little child comes in the mail next?"

Dimitri flinched. "This is part of being an alpha - or in charge, at least. It's always going to be hard not to do anything, but if the consequences of an unsuccessful attack outweigh the benefits of a successful rescue, then maybe we *should* hold back. Besides, we don't know for certain that your friends are even still alive. He could have them in a freezer, ready to send out at a moment's notice."

This time I flinched.

"Sorry," Dimitri muttered, "but it's true, isn't it?"

I dropped the note on the nightstand next to the bed and crossed my arms around my stomach. "I don't like this, Dima, but maybe you were right before by not letting me be on the same level as you. I'm *not* on the same level. I'm not a Luna, I'm just your mate." He stared at me silently, he lips pressed together, as thoughts flashed through his eyes. "I don't know what to do about this whole thing, it's your decision. You're the alpha."

"Are you mad?!"

We both jumped at the loud voice, and I leaned around Dimitri to see who had yelled. In the doorway was Dylan, standing hunched forward, his eyes blazing slightly - with disappointment rather than anger.

"Erika," he snapped, stomping into the room like a child, "do *not* give Dimitri this power right now. I get it, you're hurting because of your friend and your confidence has been knocked, but Dimitri will take this opportunity by the balls and you should know that. You will be a Luna, even if you aren't one now, but if you let Dimitri have that power over you he wants so much, you'll never get to the place you want to be. You'll make your life miserable when you're back to your normal self, then Goddess knows what might happen."

My mouth hung open in surprise at the outburst, but for the first time since collapsing into Dimitri's chest at Nola's grave, I realised exactly what was happening. It all crashed down on me at the same time, the pressure of my new position beside Dima, my friend's death, my other friends' turmoil, Roger's plan against us; like a flip had switched, I felt a sudden purpose to do something with this time for the betterment of not only my life, but the lives of those under Roger. I couldn't leave them again - and yet I couldn't endanger Dimitri and his pack, either.

"You're right, Dylan," I said aloud, as the plotting started in my mind.

Dimitri glared at him. "Now isn't the time to bother her."

"Look, man, I love you, but you have a problem and Erika is the only way to solve it." Dylan swept over to the bed. "If you take control of her, you're screwing the rest of us over for the rest of our lives - *and* you're going to end up losing her again. Is that what you really fucking want?"

There was no response, drawing my eyes to Dimitri. He was looking at me, examining me.

"No," he eventually muttered, "it isn't."

Dylan nodded. "So don't let yourself take control of her, even if she offers it. You've got to keep yourself in check when she's not strong enough to put you in your place."

"Dima," I interrupted, and he turned his body away from Dylan toward me. "I know what to do about Roger - at least, for the short-term."

"I'll just step out," Dylan offered as he stood up. Neither of us paid him any mind.

"I want to find out if there's really anyone to save at Roger's pack, anyone who's good and not like him or his beta. I know a couple of them but I never got personal with everyone, so I only know names of some." I was becoming more animated as I spoke, sitting upright, moving my hands. "We need some way to find out first who's in trouble, and then we can weigh the positives and the negatives. Before then, it won't be smart to launch an attack, right? And in the meantime, we train our own pack - like you said. The stronger we are, the more likely it is that our attack will work out."

My rambles came to a stop, but Dimitri didn't stop staring at me. I felt the heat of his gaze in my cheeks, the spark of his full attention in my stomach. He blinked and reached out innocently for my hand, his eyes flickering down to the sheets of space between us.

"Erika..." He shook his head.

"What, Dima?"

"You're *so* fucking hot as my Luna." I squealed as he dragged me suddenly onto his lap, my legs straddling his thighs, my body pressed to his chest. His lips instantly claimed my mouth, as he grasped at my hips and clothing. I felt his palms on the bare skin of my stomach beneath my shirt and suddenly I was wishing that it was off, that his clothes were off, that I could feel the connection between our thighs as I sat there on top of him. Distracted by his tongue teasing my lips, I didn't realise that I was ripping his shirt with my nail, from the neckline down to the hem. He started to shed it carelessly, and I spread my fingers out on top of his broad chest.

Once the fabric hit the floor, he lifted me up by my thighs and laid me down so that he was on top of me, his body slotted between my legs. I enjoyed the gentle rocks he started with his hips into me, as I pulled at his sweatpant strings. He pulled away from my tingling mouth, kissing down my neck to my collarbone, which was just barely on show over my shirt. With a quick glance up for confirmation, he tugged the shirt up, and jumped down to my stomach with his lips. One hand was holding my shirt up to my chest, the other trailed down my side, over my thigh, and then to my crotch over my clothes. I gasped, arching my back at the almost foreign sensation.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, rubbing his thumb against my sensitive spot, looking up at me as he occasionally kissed or licked at my stomach.

I gulped. "I don't want you to."

"Not even if I..." He trailed off, moving back up my body, pushing his hips in a slightly new position right against me. When he moved, I could feel him through our pants, eliciting a guttural groan that he instantly mimicked. He moved again, slower, his face hidden in my neck, and we both clutched onto anything we could; I had his shoulders, he held the sheets either side of me.

"Fuck," I whispered as I barely pushed him up. I slid my shirt over my head and pulled him back down, but with his mouth against mine. He synced his movements, slipping his tongue into my mouth when I moaned into the kiss. I let him take over, because all I could focus on was the feeling below, rather than higher up. My hips started to rock back against him in response, teasing both of us with a tipping point that was *so* close. We didn't care about holding out, we had time for more later; for right now, it seemed like this was all we were ready for.

He broke away from the kiss for just a moment. "I'm sorry I'm a controlling dick." I forgot completely about what he said when he kissed me again, though, and we ground harder.

But just as we found something of a climax, there was a noise at the door.

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