CHAPTER 129: DON’T STOP ( LUTHER’S POV )

"Do you love me?"

"I do."

"Enough to keep me alive?"

"Of course, puppy. I will never hurt you!"

"At least be honest."

"I am. I expected you to ask about your condition or what is going to happen."

"I will."

I tapped my lips again.

Emiliano chuckled—dry, low—and leaned in, pressing his mouth to mine.

Not a kiss.

Just a press.

Firm.

Deep.

Our lips brushed, parted slightly, teeth nearly touching.

The pressure built.

I squirmed beneath it, pulse racing, half raging, half maddeningly turned on.

His hand cupped my face, steady, warm, holding me still. I hated how calm he was.

How deliberate.

Sneaky b-stard. I said a peck, not whatever this was.

My jaw locked.

My chest tightened.

The longer he held the peck, the hotter my skin burned, the sharper the ache in my side grew.

My stitches pulled—first gently, then with warning.

The tension from my own body made them strain.

I clenched my fists, tried to shift, but every movement sent a sharp throb through my abdomen.

I hissed under my breath, still locked in place.

His breath warmed my lips. I shoved him, weakly, a flat punch to his stomach.

His body flinched, but mine lit up with pain. My stitches screamed. It felt like they might tear.

I doubled forward, breath caught.

"I said a peck!"

"It was just a peck, puppy."

"The f-ck it was!"

Emiliano’s golden eyes glowed with mischief, locked on mine with an infuriating calm.

He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, just watched me squirm beneath him.

There was a heat there, quiet and knowing, like he’d already won. His grip stayed gentle, but his gaze pinned me harder than his hand ever could.

Like h-ll I was going to let him win this one.

Bring your best game on!

"Did you regret it? That you stabbed me with the syringe instead of — you know. F-cking my brains out?"

"How vulgar! What happened to my shy, reserved wife?"

"His husband is a moron."

Emiliano threw his head back and laughed, sharp and sudden, like he couldn’t help himself.

His shoulders shook, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked back at me, clearly entertained.

He leaned in closer, still grinning, that damn laugh still bubbling under his breath.

If God is real, I gotta have a conversation with him, because what do you mean this walking threat to society was so beautiful smiling?

He cut me open just a few hours ago!

Snap out of it, Luther! This is not the time to have a bon€r!

Emiliano’s laughter succumbed. His expression turned unreadable.

"I did. Immediately actually. I actually regret all I did to you, Luther..."

"Yeah, right. Should I get you a drink to go along with all the sh-t you’re eating now?"

Emiliano blinked, surprised. His expression froze for a second, like he wasn’t expecting that.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched.

A dumb smile started to form, small and real. He looked at me, silent, eyes steady.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, clearly holding back a laugh.

He finally spoke after a long second.

"Puppy, is this you dirty talking? Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Like you could handle my dirty talk."

"I would like to try."

His smile sparkled mischievously.

"You are an idiot, an egotistical immature kid that wasn’t loved enough by his parents and you find comfort in being academically validated by your success in the medical field, but the void inside your soul will never be filled since your defense mechanism won’t let anyone to truly love and care for you."

"Hmm, keep it going, baby. I’m almost finished!"

Emiliano’s hand moved quickly, brushing against my cheek with unexpected gentleness.

His fingers slid down to my neck, tracing the curve with careful pressure.

He pressed softly on my Adam’s apple, watching it shift beneath his touch. My breath hitched.

Without hesitation, his hand continued downward, sliding over my collarbone, warm and deliberate.

What was he doing?...

I barely registered the heat spreading through me. Then his palm settled on my chest, right over my heart.

The steady beat thudded beneath his hand, loud enough to fill the silence. He held it there, firm but not tight, like he was grounding himself or maybe grounding me.

His golden eyes lifted, locking onto mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

The air between us thickened, charged and electric.

For a moment, everything else dropped away—just his hand and that slow, steady heartbeat under his palm. Then he blinked, breaking the moment, but his gaze never faltered.

"Ask me about your health, puppy. About your future."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don’t want to know. So every time my breath will change or I’ll even get hiccups, you’ll be the one running like a dog to check on me. Since you need me for your pathetic plan. And since I don’t know what action might make my condition worse."

Emiliano smiled.

His eyes softened, golden and steady, no teasing this time. His brows relaxed, lips slightly parted, like he was caught off guard by whatever he was feeling. He didn’t speak, just kept looking—quiet, still, completely focused—like I was the only thing that mattered.

He was in love.

As much as a monster like him could be.

And I am going to take advantage of that to destroy every little f-cker that put a bounty on my head, that ruined my reputation and that blamed me for the death of my father.

"You are cruel to me, pup."

"I’m matching your freak, dear husband. After all, the least you can do is live in fear like I do."

"Very well. Let’s make each other miserable for the rest of our lives then."

I tapped my lips again, sharper this time.

Emiliano hesitated for a split second, then gulped and leaned in, pressing another deep peck.

His mouth was warm, familiar now.

But I didn’t hold back.

I opened my mouth, pushed my tongue past his lips, into his mouth, deeper.

I caught him off guard.

His body stiffened.

I slid my hand behind his neck and gripped it tight, holding him still. He tried to pull back, but I kept him there, forcing the kiss to deepen.

My stitches hurt like a b-tch.

His lips parted wider under mine, breath stuttering.

My tongue pushed further, tasting every corner, feeling the twitch of his jaw, the way his throat tensed.

He struggled to breathe, chest rising fast against mine. I didn’t stop. My grip on his neck tightened just enough to control him, keep him close.

His hands grabbed at my sides, unsure whether to push or hold on.

His eyes fluttered, then rolled slightly, tears slipping down the sides of his face.

Still, his lips curved up in a shaky smile, even as he gasped for air through his nose.

I kept going.

I wanted him to feel it—every second.

The pressure, the heat, the weight of it. His knees buckled slightly, body leaning into mine, and still, I didn’t let go.

I broke the kiss the moment I felt him give in completely, breath ragged, arms now holding me instead of resisting.

He struggled to catch his breath.

"What did you do to Tom?"

I knew what I was doing, letting another man’s name roll off the lips he was just devouring a moment ago.

As expected, his eyes darken and his voice got rougher.

"Did some research. I kept my promise. He is alive. Killian and the blonde entitled baboon saved him by now."

I arched my brow. Blonde baboon?

"Claus.", he cleared.

"What research?"

Emiliano closed the distance between us, getting ready for another deep kiss. Yet, all he received was a short peck.

Barely a brush of the lips.

He grunted, frustrated.

"What research?"

"He is a beta."

"Wow, really? I had no idea!"

I arched a brow, slow and deliberate, letting the irony sink in. My eyes locked on his, gleaming with sarcasm I didn’t bother to hide.

Emiliano exhaled hard, eyes rolling with clear frustration.

His jaw clenched for a second before he looked away, biting back whatever comeback he had brewing.

"He used a pure alpha’s blood to try to get by as an alpha himself."

"Tom?"

"Tom."

"That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Tom was always proud of himself for succeeding even though he is a beta."

"Life is unpredictable."

"Are you sure?"

Emiliano shifted without warning, climbing on top of me.

His weight settled over my hips, firm and unrelenting.

My body tensed. I felt his hands press down, one sliding lower until his fingers landed right on the fresh scar—just below my flower mark, about an inch above the inguinal line. I winced.

The stitches protested under the pressure, tight and sharp. His touch wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. He knew exactly where to press.

It hurtled, but that was not the only thing I’ve felt.

Am I that pent up?

Then it hit me.

I wasn’t wearing any underwear. Just the loose gym pants he’d probably changed me into earlier, nothing underneath.

The fabric did nothing to hide the sudden awareness. I shifted instinctively, trying to move away from his hand, but the motion only dragged the waistband lower, pulling right over the scar.

The sensation burned—part pain, part exposure.

Heat rushed to my face.

My thighs twitched.

I squirmed, trying to adjust without making it obvious, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes flicked down, then back up to mine. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

I don’t know what was more painful—

My barely held together wound or his smirk.

I bit the inside of my cheek, furious with myself and the situation.

I wanted to push him off, but my hands stayed frozen at my sides. Every part of me felt too visible, too raw.

His fingers lingered on the edge of the pulsing scar for a second longer before he finally shifted his hand away, but the heat stayed exactly where he’d touched.

Won’t it get infected?

I get that he is a great doctor and used heat to melt my skin together before sewing it, but I don’t think it should be touched like that.

"Puppy"

"Hmm?"

"Never underestimate my medical skills."

F-ck.

He is not going to stop now.

And I don’t think I want him to stop either.