The Possessive Alpha Chapter 135

ELLE POV 

I push the door to the bathroom open, not paying attention as I walk through the door, fixing my crooked dress and sex hair that is starting to fall from my updo. "Oh, shit," someone remarks as we crash into one another, neither of us paying attention to where we were walking. 

Reaching out to steady the stranger, I find the girl who was dancing with Theo standing before me, her phone in one hand and a small handbag in the other. She can't be older than seventeen and smells like she has drunk the whole damn bar. That's not all. An underlying scent clings to her clothes, one I recognize from Xander and Fletcher's "walk in the woods." 

"Sorry, Luna," she comments, as her eyes land on mine. The alcohol makes her fearless with her next comment, "has anyone told you how freaky your eyes are?" She slurs as she sways on her feet, but I cannot help the smile creeping on my face. 

"It's Alpha," I remind, gently holding her upright, "and not so candidly, no," I say with a chuckle, liking her gumption. "What's your name?" I ask, looking her up and down, recognizing the queasiness crossing her face. 

"Nora," she stutters, as she stumbles, the alcohol finally catching up with the spins, "Nora Jones."

"How old are you?" I continue questioning as I pull her towards the couch, setting her down gently before getting a cup of water from the cooler and dumping everything out of the hospitality baskets the wedding planner set up in the bathrooms filled with necessities for the guests. 

"Seventeen," Nora responds through the drive heaves, making it back to her just in time as the night's appetizers make their way back up and into the basket. The door opens to reveal Charity, "thank the Goddess, I have been-" she stops as her eyes land on Nora with a questioning look, but I silence her with a look, reaching out to Damon through the bond. 

'You rang, Biscuit?' He asks, his voice still sultry from our romp earlier, 'or are you looking for round three already?' He teases, and I can practically feel his brows wiggling with his suggestion. 

'Yes,' I admit, my cheeks blushing slightly, 'but that's not why I need you right now.'

'Oh,' he responds, his ego slightly deflated, 'what do you need right now? How can I serve you, my Luna?'

'Can you bring Alpha Marcus to the ladies' room on the east side of the ballroom?' I ask as Nora starts vomiting into the bucket, as Charity presses a wet washcloth against her face. 

'Why?' Damon growls, jealousy and possessiveness lacing his words, becoming the territorial Alpha I secretly find sexy. 

'Calm down, cowboy,' I respond with a chuckle, flashing him an image of Nora hunched over the bin groaning as she tries to hold back from vomiting once more. 

'Shit,' Damon mutters, 'we will be there soon.' For the next twenty minutes, Charity and I do our best to take care of Nora while she tries to expel the alcohol in her gut. 

"Goddess," Charity coughs, plugging her nose as the pungent combination of liquor and stomach acid fills the room. "Did she drink everything on the bar?" She asks, but I shrug my shoulders, looking at Nora with pity, a gut instinct telling me that she is trying to cover her hurt through any means necessary. 

I am about to reply when a knock on the door distracts me; walking over, I unlock the door letting Damon and a confused Alpha Marcus walk inside until he sees Nora blacked out on the couch, with her head resting in Charity's lap. At the same time, the bucket sits on the floor beside the couch. 

"Fuck," Marcus groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking between Damon and me apologetically. "I apologize for my sister's behavior, and she will be punished for ruining your special day, Alpha's."

"It's no problem," I respond, looking at Nora, the sadness more apparent on her sleeping face. "I am just glad I was able to help her...I don't mean to overstep my bounds, but I get the sense she is going through something."

He meets my eyes, turning his head, trying to determine if he can trust me, especially considering our packs were on the verge of war until I claimed what is mine. Obviously deciding I am trustworthy, he gives the abbreviated version, "Nora went through something recently that shook her faith. I have been trying to get through to her with no luck, and I don't want to do."

I say nothing studying the girl before us, but my offer sits in my head as I force it through the bond, looking for Damon's opinion and approval of the idea. A subtle nod is needed for me to continue, "it sounds like Nora could use a change of scenery." I say aloud, to which Marcus nods in acknowledgment, but I can tell from the spark in his eyes he hadn't thought about this idea before. 

"I know our packs were on the verge of war," I say, glancing at the man staring at his sister with brotherly concern and worry. "But I have no intention of following through with Tiberius' plan nor keeping the territory he forcefully removed from your possession. If you need a new setting to help Nora work through whatever has her spiraling, Damon and I would be happy to host her in Silver Run for as long as she needs."

Marcus contemplates my words, his chin resting in his hands, his eyes turning to study me as if he is looking for the trick behind my words. "Why?" he finally asks, unable to read my facial expression or body language.

"I can't explain it," I answer, looking at his sister with concern, "a gut instinct I don't understand is telling me that she'll find everything she is looking for in Silver Run."

"Hmmpphh," Marcus grunts as he turns my response over in his mind, trying to determine if I am lying. Sensing the honesty in my words, he nods, "I'll think it over and give you a call if I decide to take you up on your offer." Stepping forward, he places Nora in his arms despite her groans of protest. Nodding to us, he says, "Thank you, Alphas," carrying his sister out the door. 

"Think he'll do it?" Damon steps forward, wrapping me in his arms and kissing the top of my head. 

"I do, actually," I reply, looking at Charity, who is cleaning up this mess; as I move to help her, she stops me. 

"No," she scolds, "you are not helping me with this mess. Spend time with your mate. I can take care of this. Now go!" She yells, pointing at the door, a grin taking over her face, as Damon pulls me out of the bathroom and to the ballroom. 

Dragging me into the middle of the dancefloor, the DJ hurriedly changes songs until he finds the same one we danced to at Damon's birthday ball. Our feet glide easily across the floor as we dance ourselves into the next phase of our lives.