Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 213

Alpha’s Private Plaything

Chapter 213

Elsa

“After your presence put me in danger in the first place!” I snapped,

my voice rising despite the pain it caused. I slammed my good hand

down on the mattress. “You knew Samuel would try to pin this on

someone else. That’s their M.O., isn’t it? Create a scapegoat, distance

themselves from the crime.”

Drake didn’t deny it, which only fueled my anger. My cheeks flushed

hot with rage.

“You had shit security,” I continued, unable to stop myself, the words

pouring out like venom. “You mock Allen for not protecting me?

You’re no better. Where was Taylor when that guy pulled a knife?

Where were your Alpha reflexes then? For all your talk, you’re just as

fucking useless!”

Drake’s eyes flashed dangerously, glowing with that primal Alpha

light that normally made me shrink back. Not this time. I glared right

back, my chest heaving with emotion.

“I couldn’t have anticipated a weapon,” he said, his voice cold enough

to freeze fire. “The dogs were the distraction. The knife was

unexpected.”

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“Unexpected?” I let out a harsh laugh that bordered on hysterical.

“Isn’t that exactly what you drill into me at work? ‘Be prepared for

everything, Elsa. If aliens show up to negotiate a contract, I expect

you to have the paperwork ready for them to sign.“” I mimicked his

deep voice with savage satisfaction.

For once, Drake seemed at a loss for words. He stared at me, his

expression a mixture of surprise and something I couldn’t quite

identify. The small victory felt sweeter than it should have.

Before he could respond, a sharp pain shot through my arm, making

me gasp and curl forward. “Fuck!” I pressed the call button repeatedly,

tears springing to my eyes despite my efforts to hold them back.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

A nurse appeared moments later. I was clutching my arm, rocking

slightly.

“My arm,” I managed through gritted teeth. “It’s killing me.”

The nurse checked my bandages, her movements efficient and gentle. “The medication is wearing off,” she explained. “I’ll get you something

for the pain.”

She returned with pills for both of us. I swallowed mine gratefully, washing them down with water that spilled slightly down my chin in

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my haste. Drake refused his.

“I don’t need them,” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving my face.

The nurse glanced between us, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you were brought in,” she told me quietly as she adjusted my IV. “He really cares about you.”

I didn’t correct her, too tired to explain the complicated mess that was my relationship with Drake Stone. Instead, I just snorted softly,

turning my face away.

As the pain medication began to take effect, my eyelids grew heavy, my limbs becoming pleasantly numb. I turned away from Drake, pulling the thin hospital blanket up to my chin, curling into a defensive ball as much as my injury would allow.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Drake’s voice drifted over from the other bed. “We’re alone in the same room. I could do anything to you.”

I could hear the suggestion in his voice, the memory of our encounter in the bar’s storage room hanging between us. Through half–closed eyes, I saw his throat bob as he swallowed, clearly thinking about it

too.

“You’re injured,” I mumbled, already half asleep, my words slurring

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slightly. “What could the great Drake Stone possibly do in this

condition? I’m not afraid of a wounded man.”

As consciousness slipped away, I thought I heard him whisper

something that sounded suspiciously like “You should be.” But by

then, I was too far gone to care, sinking into the blessed darkness.

Drake

I watched Elsa’s chest rise and fall in the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

The harsh hospital lighting couldn’t diminish her beauty, even with

her hair tangled against the sterile white pillow and dark circles

under her eyes.

My gaze lingered on the purplish mark on her neck–my mark. I’d left

it there in the storage room at Moonlight Bar, a primal claim that

sent a jolt of satisfaction through my chest every time I looked at it.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, shifting uncomfortably in the

hospital chair.

Ten years. For ten fucking years, I’d kept her at arm’s length while

simultaneously refusing to let her go. The contradiction wasn’t lost

on me. I’d built my empire on decisive action, yet with Elsa, I

remained caught in this purgatory of wanting without fully claiming.

My fingers drummed against the armrest, a physical outlet for my

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internal frustration.

My eyes traced the outline of her body beneath the thin hospital

blanket. Even in a hospital gown, her curves were evident, stirring an

immediate physical response that made me clench my jaw. My cock

hardened, pressing uncomfortably against my pants. Getting hard

while watching an injured woman sleep–goddamn pathetic, even for

1. me.

I ran a hand roughly through my hair, exhaling sharply. What puzzled

me was her lack of caution. She slept deeply in my presence, as

though some part of her knew I would never truly harm her. That

thought made me both satisfied and irrationally angry.

My phone vibrated against my thigh, breaking my train of thought. I

pulled it out, scowling when Taylor’s name flashed on the screen. I hit

decline and switched to messaging, my thumbs jabbing at the screen.

“What the hell is it?” I typed.

His response came immediately: “That attacker was released.

Insufficient evidence.”

“Son of a bitch,” I hissed, my free hand curling into a tight fist. Of

course. The dog whistle couldn’t be presented as evidence in any

court. How fucking convenient.

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I moved to stand, the bed creaking slightly under my shifting weight.

Elsa stirred, her brows furrowing as she mumbled something

incoherent. I froze, muscles tensing, not wanting to wake her just yet.

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