Fated: The Alpha's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 197: Massage/ casual conversation_Part 1

Viola blinked, her mouth going dry at his words. A massage. From her. On him. Her eyes moved over Sebastian’s body again, his skin still carrying that wild, heated glow from the shift, muscles coiled tight beneath the surface like he was barely holding his wolf in check. The sight made her stomach twist with nerves and something far more dangerous. She could never dare to touch his skin.

"You... want me to give you a massage?" She whispered.

He nodded.

"I have never done it before. Not once. I wouldn’t even know how to start or where to begin." Not unless he wanted her to pinch his skin, she genuinely didn’t know the first thing about massage.

Though many werewolves frequented the massage houses built into packs for relaxation after a shift, with sections for females with male masseuses and sections for males with female masseuses, Viola had never once stepped foot inside one. She had only heard that things far beyond massage tended to happen there.

When a werewolf talked about an oil massage, they were never referring to a simple shoulder rub. She knew that much, and she was completely lacking the experience to offer anything beyond one.

"It’s not that hard." Sebastian said. "You could give it a try."

Viola shook her head. Even if she wanted to, she knew herself well enough. "I don’t know how to."

He gave her that slow, wicked smile that always did something inconvenient to her knees and reached for his phone on the side of the long couch they were both sitting on.

"How about you watch a video first, would that help? The massage houses post videos online to draw in more clientele. You could watch one and go from there."

Viola bit the inside of her cheek as he watched her, waiting for her response. She could easily tell him she wasn’t going to massage him, but then he had helped save her from being crushed by a door today, had saved her from Javier’s madness to punish her, and on top of all of that he was willing to help her change a law that had been embedded in their world for generations. The least she could do was help him relax with a massage. It was just a massage.

Viola gave him a short, curt nod. "Show me the video." She muttered.

Sebastian grinned and his thumb swiped across his phone screen for a moment before he turned it toward her.

Viola took the phone and pressed play. She started watching with open curiosity and a genuine willingness to learn, but what began playing made her breath catch hard in her lungs. Was this a massage video or a full, explicit erotic display?!

The video showed a man lying face down on a massage table with a woman straddling his thighs. She was almost entirely naked in a thin white spaghetti strap dress that clung to every curve of her body like a second skin, her oiled hands sliding down the full length of his back in long, slow strokes.

Her thumbs dug into the dimples just above his backside, her palms gliding lower and spreading the oil until it glistened over every hard inch of him. The man groaned deep in his throat when her fingers slipped beneath the edge of the towel draped across his ass, and the camera didn’t flinch from it, it zoomed in on the way her hands worked the oil into his skin like an act of worship, until his hips flexed up off the table entirely.

Heat flooded Viola’s face in a burning wave. This was not something that could reasonably be called a tutorial, it was far too intense to be watching casually on a couch next to the man she had just married. She stopped the video the moment the woman began to remove the towel entirely, cleared her throat, and turned to Sebastian with every ounce of composure she could scrape together.

"That — that is not a tutorial." She choked out, thoroughly mortified. "That is... I can’t watch that. It’s too much. I don’t think I can do any of that." She threw his phone back at him.

His low chuckle rolled through the room. "It is exactly what I need, wife. I am far too tense after the shift and my bones are aching." He set the phone down and stretched out fully on the couch, face down, the cloth riding even lower on his hips until the top curve of his backside was barely covered by it.

"But if you are not comfortable doing it, you don’t have to. I will just send for one of the female masseuses from the house to come and take care of it." He began to reach for his phone again.

Viola’s hand moved before her brain had any say in the matter. She snatched the phone from his reach and threw it onto the opposite couch, standing over him with a glare.

She didn’t fully understand why the image of another woman straddling him and running her oiled hands over his body the way that video had shown sent a hot, scorching flame of jealousy and anger straight to her heart, but it did, and it was so intense that she knew if it ever happened in front of her, she would not be responsible for what she did to that woman.

She closed her eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath. The insufferable man was winding her up on purpose, she knew it, and even knowing it didn’t stop it from working.

The jealousy, the possessiveness, the feeling that kept rising in her chest without her permission, all of it was happening entirely against her will, and by the moon goddess she would fight every last bit of it if she had to. Even if it meant doing the massage so another woman wouldn’t stir up her possessive anger and cause her to become a twisted woman like before over a man.

Her jaw tightened as she opened her eyes and looked down at him where he lay watching her with a quietly questioning expression, as though he was genuinely waiting to see what she would decide. If she weren’t so determined to change that law, Viola thought, pressing her lips together, she would not be entertaining this for a single second.

"Where is the oil?" She asked, her voice carefully indifferent even as her heart was hammering against her ribs.

"Let me go and get it—" he began, already moving to get up, and she leveled a flat glare at him that stopped him where he was.

"Tell me where it is and I will get it myself." The absolute last thing she wanted right now was for him to stand up and have that cloth fall away entirely. Her face burned at the imagination.