Chapter 2

（Isabella‘s pov）

My mind is foggy. I feel too dazed to process the camera shutter from the door.

This man is so warm, and his touch has me craving more of him. My hands run up the back of his neck as my fingers lace through his hair. It’s like velvet.

I want him to grip me tighter – hold me closer…

But instead, his fingers release their grip on my waist, and he shoves me away from him. Before I can process anything that has happened, he dumps a frosted mug of ice-cold beer straight on my head…soaking my hair, causing it to stick to my shoulders and back.

The sharp, pungent scent of alcohol burns my nostrils.

The good news is that the chill jolts me back to sobriety instantly. I manage to open my eyes as I wipe the alcohol from my face.

The first sight my eyes focus in on is the handsome man I ran into. He’s got to be a full head, if not two taller than me.

My gaze trails from his muscular arms across his skintight shirt that hugs the muscles in his chest. Tattoos guide my eyes from his broad shoulders up his neck to a chiseled jaw that could cut through glass.

Full lips, cold icy blue eyes with wavy jet-black hair that falls perfectly across his forehead. His hair slightly covers his left eye. He could be a Greek god.

His presence almost has me bowing my head in submission – almost.

“I…I think I was drugged,” I manage to say breathlessly. “If I had to guess, I think it was an aphrodisiac. I apologize; I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He pursed his lips while glaring down at me coldly. “Next time, know exactly who you’re throwing yourself at before you try to climb into their bed. And don’t come at me with lame excuses” he says.

He narrows his eyes even further and has the nerve to say, “Do you even know who I am? Do you have any idea how much I hate women who throw themselves at men?”

I couldn’t have expected this level of arrogance in one werewolf. If I wasn’t pissed, I might be impressed by it. “I don’t care who you are,” I snap. “And I’m not the kind of woman you think I am.”

I toss my card onto the bedside table. “My name is Alpha, Isabella Costa. Consider this my apology. But next time, maybe work on your attitude.”

He doesn’t even glance at the card. Instead, his eyes rake over me, making me acutely aware of my appearance.

I look down. My dress reveals what my push-up bra intended it to. This was meant to make Jesse see what he is losing.

But to this man, he just thinks I’m some kind of slut. No wonder he doesn’t believe me. Nope, I didn’t let Jesse see my pain or confidence falter, I will be damned to let this jerk see it either.

My jaw clenches in contemplation. I refuse to explain myself any further.

Without another word, I storm out cursing this jerk Alpha whose kiss I can still practically taste…who could almost have had me in that moment right there in his hotel room bed had he not stomped the brakes…thank the Moon Goddess, he pushed me away,

“Arrogant, self-righteous bastard,” I whisper through clenched teeth.

I’m going to find Jesse. We’ve been married for three years.

I became the perfect submissive pack housewife. I have stayed out of pack politics. I have no enemies.

Someone drugged me, it’s obvious he’s behind it.

(Santiago’s POV)

After divorcing Layla, my wolf started going feral. Once a werewolf is mated, the bond is for life.

Without the comfort of our mate, my wolf paces in my mind constantly, claws at me from the inside to shift. His howls pierce my ears until they bleed. Sensations of various weapons stabbing, slicing, and shooting through my body are a constant presence.

Sometimes my head feels like an ax has been slung at full speed straight through. At other times, it’s like a hundred daggers plunging into my chest up to the hilts.

Tonight, it’s like a 30-06 was fired straight through my gut.

The only way to suppress my raging wolf – to quiet him for just a little while, is to drink at the hotel.

My wolf curses me every minute of every day. “You’re foolish,” he says to me. “You should have never divorced our mate. Can you not see, it has brought us nothing but trouble!”

“She was unfaithful to us,” I say back through gritted teeth.

I continue lecturing my wolf while I can still get a word in, “I refuse to accept a cheating mate.”

My father had countless lovers, which is what directly caused my mother’s death. Her wolf sensed every single time he bedded another she-wolf. He tormented her through the mate bond…the bastard.

My wolf forces out a guttural howl that erupts from low in my chest. He tells me we should find another she-wolf to soothe us.

I can feel his craving to mate. He no longer seems to mourn the divorce from Layla as much as he needs to be inside a female. Truthfully, we both need a release of some kind…if nothing else to calm us.

But find a mistress? I am not my father and I fucking refuse to ever be anything like him.

All I wanted was to sit in this dark hotel room and drink enough to make my wolf fall down drunk so we could both get some rest…then Isabella Costa bursts in here, grabs me with enough strength to pull me to her and kisses me hard.

My first reaction is to kiss her back. She opens her mouth, inviting my tongue to explore hers, to taste her. She nibbles on my bottom lip as her tongue meets mine. My hands grip her waist as her hips move closer to my body.

My heart is racing. I feel hers pulsating against my chest. My cock throbs as the friction of her dress rubs against my jeans. Her hips grinding against me isn’t helping anything.

Another five minutes and this whole encounter will go off the rails.

Disgusted by myself and then the audacity of this strange woman to think she can throw herself at me, I slam the brakes on the whole thing.

Without saying a word and no care for politeness I push her away from me and dump what’s left of my drink on her head.

This woman came in here to climb into my bed knowing full well who the hell I am. The audacity! And, making excuses about being drugged? Please.

But the stunning woman throws a card at me. She doesn’t double down on her excuses or make any additional claims. I look her up and down.

I can’t help but take note of every curve that dress clings to. The way the alcohol droplets speckle her shoulders and create a river down perfect cleavage.

I find myself almost jealous of those droplets that have found shelter inside the corset bodice of her dress.

She’s an Alpha. A strong one at that. Could my judgement be off?

Perhaps she wasn’t here to throw herself at me. And, then the man who showed up to take our picture seemed to be a surprise to her as well.

And, what was that all about anyway? As quickly as he snapped the picture, the kid took off. I sensed his fear and inexperience.

I sniff the air. Isabella’s scent still lingers in the air…lilac. Suddenly, my eyes widen as I realize for the first time in a long time, my wolf has gone quiet.