Chapter 251: Luna Genevieve is missing (18+)

Azura’s POV

Warning: This contains mature content; read at your own risk

"Fuck... Rhydor..."

He leaned down over my back, his chest pressing firm against my spine, his hot breath brushing right against my ear.

"Listen to that, Pumpkin," he murmured, his voice low and dark. "So wet it’s dripping down my dick. You feel how deep I am?"

I couldn’t form words. I just nodded, letting out another broken sound as he gave a slow, deliberate grind of his hips that hit every sensitive nerve inside me.

"Use your words, Azura."

"Yes," I gasped, pressing my forehead against the smooth wood. "So deep... please don’t stop."

A low, teasing chuckle vibrated against my back as he intentionally slowed his pace. He drew back out agonizingly slowly, letting me feel every single second of it, before burying himself back inside.

The slow friction sent a shiver straight down my spine, my body clenching around him instinctively.

"Please," I begged, my voice trembling. "Harder. I need it harder."

"Beg properly."

"Please, Rhydor... fuck me harder. Fill me. I need more of you."

He paused, his motion grinding to a near halt.

"That’s not the word, Pumpkin. I want to hear you say the word cunt."

"No," I panted, trying to shift back against him. "Just keep going. You’re torturing me."

He leaned down closer, his lips practically resting against the curve of my ear. "You can end the torture, Pumpkin. Just say the word."

He was barely moving now, testing my patience with deliberate, agonizingly small shifts of his hips. I couldn’t take the tease for another second.

"C... cunt," I whispered, a sudden wave of heat rushing to my cheeks.

Even though he couldn’t see my face, he reached forward, catching a fistful of my hair to pull my head back gently so I had to look at him over my shoulder. "Look at me, Azura. And beg."

Frustrated by the maddeningly slow pace, I turned my head sharply toward him, glaring through the haze of pleasure.

"Fuck my fucking cunt, Rhydor! Do your job!"

An evil smirk flashed across his face. He instantly rewarded me with a sharp, heavy thrust that made the wooden legs of the table creak against the floorboards.

"Ahh!"

A high, needy cry tore from my throat. He locked into a new rhythm, harder, faster, and relentless, while his free hand slid around my hip to rub tight, filthy circles against my clit.

"That’s it," he growled in my ear, his voice rough with control. "Moan for me. Let the whole fucking pack house hear how good this cunt takes my dick."

I couldn’t hold back the noise even if I tried. Soft gasps turned into loud, helpless moans every time he bottomed out.

My toes curled against the floor, my hands clinging to the wooden edge for leverage.

The air in the room felt thick and heavy, filled with the scent of rain and damp wood.

"You’re squeezing me so tight," he rasped, slowing down just as the heat in my lower belly began to coil into a tight knot. "You want to come on my dick?"

"Yes... please... don’t stop, I’m so close..."

"Not yet." He drew back until only the tip remained inside me, holding still while his thumb kept up that unbearable, precise rhythm against my clit. "Feel how empty you are when I’m not buried in you. Ask for it again."

I pushed my hips back desperately, a needy whimper spilling out of me.

"Please, Rhydor... put it back in. Fuck me. I need your dick in my cunt. Please..."

He slammed forward, burying himself completely in one heavy stroke. I let out a long, loud moan that echoed off the high ceiling.

He set a brutal, punishing pace, his hips hitting against me with loud, wet slaps. Every single thrust forced another broken sound from my chest... gasps, moans, and desperate pleas mixed with his name.

"That’s my girl," he panted, his hand tightening on my hip. "Taking every inch. This cunt was made for my dick."

I was lost to it. The tension in my gut tightened with every deep push, every relentless movement of his fingers.

My internal walls fluttered wildly around him. I arched my back, pushing back to meet every strike, completely consumed by the sensation.

Knock.

Neither of us stopped.

His hips kept moving, his rhythm unbroken. My fingers stayed locked around the wooden frame of the table.

The wet, heavy sound of us filled the brief pause after the knock. I was still gasping, still clenching tightly around him.

Knock. Knock.

Rhydor let out a low, frustrated hiss. He pulled back slowly, the thick length of him dragging out of my sensitive walls until he slipped free with a soft, wet sound.

The sudden rush of cool air against my soaked skin made me throb with an aching emptiness. He leaned down, pressing a hard, warm kiss to the side of my neck right over my pulse point.

"I will be back," he murmured.

"Okay," I managed to rasp out, breathless.

He straightened up, adjusting his clothes in a few swift, practiced motions before walking over to the door. He opened it just a crack, blocking the view of the room with his shoulder.

"What is it?" his voice turned flat and cold, the Alpha command slipping right back into his tone.

A warrior was standing in the corridor. His voice was low and trembling with urgency. "Your mother is missing, Alpha."

My eyes snapped wide open. The haze of pleasure vanished in a split second, replaced by a cold spike of adrenaline. I could hear every word perfectly.

Quickly, I pulled my gown back down, smoothing the heavy fabric over my hips and legs even as my body still throbbed and ached beneath the cloth.

I adjusted my clothes as best as I could, stepped away from the table, and pulled the door open fully to stand beside Rhydor.

"What do you mean?" I demanded, my voice sharp. "Luna Genevieve is missing?"

The warrior swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under our combined gazes.

"We cannot find her anywhere. She is not in her quarters, nor anywhere in the pack house. And none of the sentries saw her cross the perimeter."

I turned my head to look at Rhydor.

The heat in his eyes was completely gone. His jaw was set like iron, his face hard and unreadable.

Then he moved without hesitation, his long strides cutting through the hallway.

I followed right behind him, my heart pounding against my chest as the remaining heat from earlier faded into complete dread.

The guard walked behind us. His steps were quick and nervous, his boots thumping hard against the stone floor.

"Where was she last?" Rhydor asked, his voice cold and sharp as he kept his eyes locked straight ahead.

"Her room, Alpha," the guard said, breathless as he struggled to keep up with Rhydor’s fast pace.

"She was in her room."

Rhydor walked faster, his shoulders broad and stiff with tension. I kept pace beside him, my mind spinning as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

We reached Genevieve’s chamber in seconds. The heavy wooden door was standing wide open, throwing a dim patch of light into the dark hallway.

Arthur was standing inside the room. His back was to us as we stepped across the threshold. He was still, not moving a single muscle, and not saying a word.

Rhydor stepped in ahead of me. He looked around the space with sharp, quick eyes. He checked the shadowy corners, the open windows, and the bare wooden floorboards.

Everything was perfectly clean. There was no overturned furniture, no torn curtains, and no signs of force. It looked as if no battle had taken place here at all.

But her scent lingering in the room was strong. The familiar smell of her lavender oil hung heavy in the air, but it did not lead anywhere. It did not trail toward the doorway or out through the balcony.

It just stayed right in the middle of the room, as if she had simply disappeared from where she stood.

I spoke first, breaking the heavy silence that hung over the three of us.

"She was taken in here," I said quietly.

I looked around the room once more, taking in the spotless bed and the neatly arranged vanity table.

"And from how clean everything is..." I continued, looking over at Rhydor, "it shows she did not fight."

Rhydor turned to me, his jaw working as he processed my words. Then he turned his gaze toward his father.

Arthur was still standing there in the middle of the room. His back was straight, his large hands resting at his sides. He had not moved a single inch since we walked into the chamber.

He finally turned around to face us.

His usual amber eyes were bloodshot and dark, surrounded by deep shadows of frustration. His wolf was sitting right close to the surface, making his gaze sharp and wild.

"She wanted to be taken," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a low, rough growl.

He looked straight at Rhydor, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"That careless woman," Arthur said, his tone cold and bitter. "She never listens. Forgetting that the idiot in her son’s body can do a lot of things."

I understood immediately.

Genevieve had let herself be taken. She had not been dragged out against her will or overpowered in the dark. She had done it on purpose. She wanted to meet her son. She wanted to see Nicholas, no matter how dangerous it was.

I thought about it deeply as I stood in the quiet room. Why would she do something like that? Did she even pause to think about the consequences before she walked away?

What would happen if something went terribly wrong out there?

Did she think about any of it, or did her desire to see her youngest child blind her to everything else?

I looked at Rhydor. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles twitched under his skin. His hands were squeezed into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning pale.

I did not say anything to break the silence. I just stood there beside him, watching the heavy tension between father and son, waiting to see what would happen next.

Arthur turned his head away from us, stepping slowly toward the large glass window that overlooked the dark tree line surrounding the pack territory.

The silence in the room felt heavy and suffocating, thick with unspoken anger and fear.

"She left her ring," Arthur muttered softly, his voice carrying a strange, hollow tone that I had never heard from him before.

He pointed a large, trembling finger toward the small wooden bedside table.

"Right beside her hairbrush. She left it there on purpose, so I would know."

Rhydor walked over to the table and picked up the small silver band. He stared down at it for a long moment, his thumb tracing the smooth metal.

"She thinks she can reason with him," Rhydor said, his voice dangerously low. "She thinks that because it is Nicholas’s face standing in front of her, she can reach the person inside."

"There is nothing inside that monster to reach," Arthur snapped, turning around quickly with red eyes.

His fists clenched so hard I thought his skin might tear.

"That thing is using our boy’s skin like a cloak. Genevieve knows that, yet she still walked right into his hands like a helpless sheep."

"She is not a sheep, Father," Rhydor said, his voice steady even though his eyes were dark with pain.

"She is a mother who lost her youngest child. She is acting out of desperation."

"Desperation makes people foolish!" Arthur growled, taking a heavy step toward his son.

"And her foolishness puts this entire pack in danger. If the Alpha King uses her against us, what are we supposed to do? Do we fight the Luna? Do we strike down the woman who helped build this home?"

I stepped closer to Rhydor, resting my hand gently on his arm. I could feel how rigid his muscles were, locked tight with a mix of fury and fear.

He did not pull away from my touch, but his gaze remained fixed on his father.

"We do not know what the Alpha King wants with her yet," I said softly, keeping my voice calm to tone down the rising heat in the room.

"Panicking right now will not bring her back, and it will not help Nicholas."

Arthur looked at me, his sharp amber eyes narrowing as if he were seeing me for the first time since we entered the room. He let out a harsh breath through his nose and looked back at the window.

"You do not know what that monster is capable of, Azura. He does not take prisoners out of mercy. He takes them to break the people left behind."

"Then we do not break," I replied firmly, staring right back at him without flinching.

"We figure out where she went, and we plan our next move before he can use her against us."

Rhydor looked down at me, the harsh lines around his eyes softening for just a brief second before hardening again.

"She is right," Rhydor said, stepping between me and his father.

"We cannot afford to run blindly into the woods. If mother left willingly, she might have taken one of the hidden paths through the boundary to avoid triggering the perimeter alarms."

"Then I am going after her," Arthur said, his voice cold and final.

"No," Rhydor commanded, his Alpha voice echoing through the chamber with clear authority.

"You are not going anywhere alone. That is exactly what he wants. He wants us divided, angry, and chasing shadows in the dark."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but the sheer weight of Rhydor’s command held him in place. The elder Alpha ground his teeth together, letting out a frustrated breath as he looked down at the floor.

"We go to the war room," Rhydor continued, turning toward the open door.

"We review the boundary logs and check the southern borders. If she left on foot, someone on the outer patrol might have caught a scent."