After Divorce, I Became A Top Streamer!

ALAINA

‘Please, moon goddess. Let this night be different!’ I cried desperately as I waited in the dark, softly sniffing the bottle of wine I'd prepared to complete this perfect mood. The scent danced into my nose and I felt it in my throat.

The corners of my lips coiled up into a coy smile and I continued to gaze through the floor-to-ceiling window, at the exceptionally ripe moon.

The perfect anniversary night!

Life wasn't easy for a lowly wolf like me, especially one with such an awful past who ended up marrying the pack's Beta. Tonight was all I needed to make it count.

The loud, earsplitting bang against the door was all I needed to know that tonight wasn't my night. Never was going to be.

What was I thinking?

I jumped to my feet with my heart leaped to my throat, thundering as though I'd seen a ghost.

I hadn't seen one.

My husband's arrival was enough terror!

His arrival at nights like this was more than sufficient to drain all the blood from my body.

Like clockwork, the bottle of wine I'd been fiddling with slipped from my grip. I couldn't contain the menacing fear that crept up to me.

It apparently took a toll on my muscles too, making me drop the glass and it knocked over as the red liquid spilled upon the mahogany dining table.

“Oh, shoot!” I exclaimed as I salvaged what I could of the mess, though the wine already started to drop on the porcelain tiles. “Logan?” I tilted my head and called out in a strained voice as though I didn't already know. “I'm coming.”

I doubted he could even comprehend any of my words right now. I headed out of the living room, fasting my robe's strings.

So much for wearing an impeccably sexy lingerie.

A cracked sigh slipped from my mouth as I raced to the door and held the knob. Another bang hit my ears, causing terror to sit on my shoulders. I shrieked! Logan was kicking the doors, I could tell.

“Please…” I muttered under my breath.

I heard the voice of someone else too before I hesitantly pulled the door open. Right before my eyes, my dearest husband was hauled in like a bag of wheat, leaning against the shoulder of Daniel, his chauffeur.

My expression contorted when the heavy whiff of alcohol hit me. It wasn't a new thing but I just couldn't get used to it. One would think even Logan's perfume was made out of alcohol.

“Good evening, ma'am,” Daniel greeted as I opened the door to the widest of its hinges. He, then, shuffled in with Logan resting all his weight on him.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

A sudden bile rose at the back of my throat and I couldn't find a response that would cover my shame. This position was a sham. I nodded and followed him into the living room, pulling the robes upwards to cover my chest more.

“I'll take care of it,” I told Daniel, feeling a pit dig in my stomach. “Just let him be on the couch. I'll handle it.”

“Are you sure-”

“I'll handle it, Daniel.” I almost snapped at the poor boy. He wasn't the one who got me married to a drunk in the first place. Was he? Daniel nodded.

“Lovely night, ma'am.”

I highly doubted it.

I searched Logan's eyes for the slightest bit of acknowledgment but all I saw was black. He stared at me like I was a faded piece of clothing. My heart sank a little more and I looked back to see if Daniel was out of the room before I took a step closer to Logan on the couch.

I crouched close to him, feeling my chest thump. My mother-in-law's words echoed in my ears like a never-ending lullaby. “Three years and nothing to show for it! You barren witch!”

That was me.

The woman who wouldn't bear her son a child. I waddled next to Logan and raised his head with my index finger. He brought his head up slowly and I could see how it took a while for him to recognize that it was me.

As soon as that recognition sank in, he jerked away from me and by that means, pushed me off him with his core strength.

“Logan!” I cried out as I tumbled and landed on my butt. It hurt. Tears welled up in my eyes because I knew he wouldn't even remember this by morning.

Even if he did, we never discussed the unfair things he did while drunk. Or the unfair things he did at all!

I swallowed hard, forcing back the dam as I slowly blinked back. “Let me help you. Let me take you to the room.”

I didn't wait for a response. I scooted beside him and put his arms around my shoulder. “Let's go.”

I might have broken something from that fall. My back felt stiff like it would crack open.

“Get off!” Like he came in contact with hot coal, he pulled away from me. Touching me was an abomination for the man I married. My self-respect was on the floor and he continued to trample on it. “Let go of me. I can find my way!” He groaned, staggering in the wrong direction.

“Logan, stop-”

“Shut up, woman. I'm perfectly well! I can-”

The entire table was upturned as he crashed into it with his legs. Jeez! The wine, the bottles. Everything hit the ground. The roses and third-anniversary card I'd spent days preparing were now drenched in red wine.

The little iota of hope I had left sank into that wine too.

“Are you o-kay?” I rushed to him, panting. He didn't sustain any injuries. I felt the urge to drop to the floor and cry. My heart felt tight.

“Who keeps these stupid things in the way?!” Logan grumbled as he kicked the table farther and walked off, stepping into the spilled wine with his shoes and making a trail as he navigated his bedroom.

I followed him like a maid, not sparing a second looking at the mess he'd created. This was horrible. When I entered Logan's room after him, I found him on the bed, sleeping like a log of wood with his shirt and tie on.

This wasn't how I imagined this night to go. This was supposed to be a romantic night where my husband was willing to be my husband! To look into my eyes lovingly and make love to me! I ran my fingers through my hair frustratedly, huffing a sigh.

The tears were threatening to spill. How do I get pregnant if the man I married wouldn't spare me a single glance, even while I was dressed like the lowliest of sluts for him? I had all he wanted. I let the robes drop off to the floor revealing the one-piece lingerie I had on.

It was made of silk and net, just enough to make even the calmest of men go mad with lewd thoughts. With enough confidence, I climbed into the bed and calmly settled next to him, running my fingers crossed his chest.

I might not be Logan's destined mate, but he loved me all the same and should be attracted to me. I was his wife after all!

The stench was enough to make me throw up but I needed this night more than anything else. I leaned closer to Logan and tried to help him undo his tie. His eyes were tightly shut but we both knew he wasn't asleep.

The room grew so tense and quiet that I could hear myself breathe. My fingers worked his button harshly, trying hard to be steady and calm before I arched up and straddled him in a slow movement. My ass settled where it should and Logan's eyes flicked open, his lips threatening to form a protest.

Immediately, I leaned in and kissed him, covering my lips with his. A slight peck to start up a spark as my ass slowly grinded him. I felt butterflies start a party in my stomach and a smile crawled up my lips.

That happiness was short-lived when I was shoved off like a plague. The same way a man would rebuke his worst foe, Logan shoved me off him.

“Get lost!” he coughed up with his hands over his mouth. I landed on the other side of the bed with a thud. My head was just an inch away from getting cracked open by the plain white walls.

My tears didn't seek my permission. They freefell.

While Logan, right at the corner of the bed, doubled over, his body convulsing in a violent retching motion. I watched in horror how he vomited all over the floor!

At the same time, the doorbell rang. My heart missed a beat. Foe number two was here to make my life hell. I carefully stepped away from the puddle of vomit on the floor as Logan groaned.

“Fucking hell! Make me some hangover tea when coming back,” he ordered. It looked like he was beginning to get a hold of himself.

I wiped my face when the doorbell rang again, followed by an aggressive knock. “Open the damn door!”