My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 93: The Death of my College Sweetheart ( Luther’s POV )

Chapter 93: The Death of my College Sweetheart ( Luther’s POV )

"Morning, sleepy head!"

"Tom, I’ve been up until five in the morning. Either sleep or get out!"

"C’mon, Lu! It’s been ages since we spent time together!"

Being in a relationship with Tom was better than I thought it would be.

He was nice and attentive, patient and cute.

He always awaited me with coffee and something sweet before every morning class. He walked me to my rented apartment and soon after that, he even moved in with me.

Living with him though, that was a struggle on its own.

"I am so tired, Tom. Please!"

"Can I at least cuddle with you?"

"Since when are you so clingy?"

"Since my boyfriend is neglecting me."

"Fine, fine, come here!"

The idiot just jumped on me, on top of the blankets, leaving all his dead weight press on me. Squeezing me to death.

"Get off!"

"Since when do pillows talk?"

"Since they suffocate under you. You gained weight."

"Not into my love handles, love?"

"Not into being squashed to their death, I’m not."

Tom didn’t argue this time.

He shifted his weight with a dramatic sigh, rolling to the side and freeing me from the crushing pressure.

The mattress dipped as he moved, and the blankets pulled tight for a second before settling again.

The air felt lighter without his full weight pinning me, but the bed was still warm where he had been pressed against me.

He slid an arm around my waist as soon as he was settled, pulling me close until my back was against his chest.

His body was warm, solid, and his breathing brushed softly against the back of my neck. It wasn’t rushed or demanding, just easy and steady, like this was all he wanted.

I let him pull me in.

My muscles loosened slowly, the tension draining out as I sank into the space beside him.

His hand rested against my stomach, palm flat, not moving except for the slight rhythm of his breathing. The weight of it felt grounding in a way that was hard to explain.

The curtains were half open, letting in slivers of early sunlight that cut across the sheets.

Everything smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the coffee he had probably left sitting in the kitchen.

It was familiar, comfortable in a way that made it harder to stay annoyed.

Maybe it was because of that smell that years later, I would find Emiliano’s apartment just as comforting.

He shifted again, adjusting so that our legs tangled together.

His feet brushed against mine, cold at first, then warming quickly. I could feel his chest rise and fall behind me, slow and calm, matching the beat of his heart against my back.

Every time I thought about pulling away, his arm tightened slightly, not forceful, just a quiet reminder that he wanted me close.

I stopped fighting it.

My hand slid over his where it rested on my stomach, fingers curling loosely around his.

His skin was warm, and the small squeeze he gave in return was enough to make something in my chest ache in a good way. It felt like reassurance without words.

He nuzzled into my shoulder for a moment before going still again, his breath warm against my skin.

I could feel the slight shift of his lips, probably a faint smile, even if I couldn’t see it.

"You pervert!"

Seems like my half-joking accusation widened that grin of his.

"Wish you would let me touch you more, Lu."

He sighed dramatically to brush off the real longing behind his words.

"You know we can’t. My pheromones are dangerous!"

"But I’m a beta. They shouldn’t affect me!"

"I’ve already told you about Claus, Tom. I just can’t risk you too..."

"I’ll wear a gas mask!"

I couldn’t help, but chuckle.

"How about a kiss?"

I closed the distance. The kiss started soft, unhurried, a slow press of lips that made everything else fall away.

He kissed me back just as gently at first.

His breath hitched against my lips when my fingers traced along the line of his jaw.

Then his hand was on me too, starting low at my waist.

His palm pressed lightly at first, almost testing, before smoothing upward, following the shape of my side through the thin fabric of my shirt.

His touch was careful, never hurried, like he wanted to memorize every inch instead of just grabbing hold.

I tilted my head slightly, deepening the kiss without breaking the slow rhythm we’d set.

My fingers slipped into his hair, combing through strands as I pulled him closer.

His other hand found its way to my back, spanning wide across it, warm and steady, holding me with a kind of quiet insistence.

The kiss grew deeper, still soft but heavier now, carrying all the things we hadn’t said out loud.

His thumb brushed against my ribs as his fingers curled lightly against my side.

My own hand moved down from his hair, skimming along his neck, feeling the faint pulse under his skin before gliding over the strong line of his shoulder and down his arm.

Every touch felt deliberate, like we were both learning something we’d wanted to know for a long time.

His hands settled at my hips for a moment, pulling me closer until our bodies aligned without space between them.

My palms flattened against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the heat of his skin.

I broke the kiss just for a second, leaving a theatrical pout on Tom’s face.

"Tonight."

"What will happen tonight?"

"We’ll try. I can’t promise you a full race, but I’ll try to control my pheromones the best I can!"

"Luther, you don’t need to—"

"Shut up! Now let me get ready. I have a morning class I was about to skip. Luckily, my sleep ran off."

Nevertheless, when we reached the school to say our goodbyes, it would be the last time we would see each other for years.

My father will pull me back home, rushing my next three years of studies into one exhausting one before making me occupy the seat as the Minister of People’s Affairs.

And Tom will disappear completely, leaving behind a hole that I thought would never be filled again.

"Shoud I order something? Should I cook? I’ll put the satin sheets on the bed!"

"You’re as excited as a child in a candy store!"

"And I am gonna lick them all like your name is Snoop Dog."

"Idiot."

A light chuckle escaped my throat.

Before the heat came.

It hit out of nowhere, sharp and relentless, like every nerve under my skin had been set on fire. My breath caught in my throat as the air grew heavy, too thick to pull in.

"Are you ok, Lu?"

I didn’t realize when I pulled him in for a kiss.

His body locked up first, arms rigid at his sides.

Then the tremors started—small at the edges, building fast until his whole frame jerked against the floor.

His back arched, heels slamming hard into the ground. Hands clawed for grip, fingers curling and splaying without control.

A harsh gasp tore out of him.

"Lu-ther..."

That pathetic cry for help was enough to shock me out of my heat. Spike my adrenaline to cover any other hormone or urge of my body.

"Tom? Tom! Tom, baby, breathe! Tom?"

His chest seized, rising and falling in broken, uneven pulls.

Each inhale dragged shallow and sharp, his throat constricting as if air refused to stay.

His jaw clenched hard enough to grind his teeth, muscles bulging against the strain.

His head snapped to one side, hitting the floor with a dull thud before rolling limp, only to twitch back with the next convulsion.

Sweat slicked his skin in seconds, damp strands sticking against his forehead and temples.

Legs kicked out violently, heels scraping loud across the surface before locking stiff again.

His arms spasmed forward, then back, striking the ground, elbows jolting with every surge of motion.

Nails tore faint lines into the floor as his hands scrabbled without aim.

His breathing fractured completely, dropping into frantic bursts.

Each gasp came shorter than the last, chest heaving as if his ribs might crack under the pace.

Saliva pooled at the corner of his lips, catching light before sliding down his chin.

His eyes fluttered open briefly—glassy, unfocused, pupils blown wide—before rolling back until only the whites showed.

A final shudder ripped through him, his spine curling tight before releasing in a full-body drop that left him shaking in rapid, uneven tremors.

His chest still rose and fell, too fast, as small aftershocks ran through his arms and legs, jerking in quick, sharp bursts.

As I was trying to claw him back to life, a professor ripped me from him.

And yet, Tom survived. And came to me again three years later.

Only for his life to be threatened by me again. Not from pheromones, but from a literal grenade.

Only, this time around, he was truly and inevitably dead.