Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 245

Chapter 245

Elsa

His arms tightened around me, one hand cradling the back of my head as he held me close, his chin resting atop my head. I could feel his heart heating steadily beneath my cheek, a counterpoint to my own racing pulse.

“This is the first time you’ve hugged me in ten years, Elsa,‘ he murmured, his voice a low rumble I could feel through his chest. The first time you’ve ever

initiated it.

I stiffened, suddenly aware of what I was doing–showing vulnerability, gratitude, and worse, affection to the man who had manipulated and controlled me

for a decade. Who was still manipulating me. Who had paraded another woman around town while keeping me on a leash.

What the fuck am I doing?

“Let go,” I said, pushing against his chest, my cheeks burning with shame. “We’re in public. People are staring.”

Drake released me but reached out to brush a strand of hair from my face, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me with those golden Alpha eyes

that seemed to see right through me.

“Only as long as you rely on me, I can solve any problem for you,” Drake said, his voice low enough that only I could catch it. His fingers intertwined with

mine in a grip that appeared affectionate to any observer but felt like shackles against my skin.

I lowered my head in apparent submission, the perfect picture of an omega accepting her alpha’s protection. This was a transaction, plain and fucking

simple. He had saved my mother, and now I had to return to his side. To his bed. To his life. Like a good little omega pet.

“Dr. Far wants to speak with us,” I said, my voice hollow as I yanked my hand from his, disguising the motion by tucking hair behind my ear.

Dr. Far was preparing to return to Europe in the morning. She explained my mother’s post–treatment protocol with clinical precision: twenty–four hours of

observation to prevent relapse, forty–eight hours of vital sign monitoring, and transfer to a regular ward after three days if all went well.

“The silver resistance implant is working perfectly,” Dr. Far said, her accent thickening with fatigue. “But this is only the beginning of a long treatment

journey.”

Drake’s hand rested possessively on the small of my back as we spoke with the doctor. I could feel his thumb making small circles against my spine, a

gesture that once might have comforted me but now only reminded me of his ownership. I shifted my weight, trying to subtly move away, but his fingers

only pressed deeper into my flesh.

‘Ms. Hale, you should go home and rest,” Dr. Far advised, her eyes softening with sympathy. “Your mother will need you at full strength in the coming

weeks.”

I nodded, but as soon as the doctor left, I made my way to the special care unit where they’d taken my mother. Through the glass window, I could see her

lying still, her silver–traced skin already looking less severe than before. The artificial heart was working. She would live.

I placed my palm against the cold glass, unwilling to leave. My forehead followed, pressing against the surface as tears threatened to spill. The nurses gave

me sympathetic looks as they passed, but hospital rules were clear–no extended visitation in the intensive care unit.

‘Come on,” Drake said, his arm sliding around my waist. “You heard the doctor. You need rest.

‘I want to stay, I protested, my voice cracking as I shoved at his chest. “What if she wakes up alone? What if she needs me?”

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