02

Maya's POV

I didn’t remember choosing a direction. My feet just moved—one step after another—until I realized I’d walked ten miles. And still, the ache in my chest hadn’t dulled.

As I wiped the last trail of tears that slid down my cheeks, I glanced up at the building in front of me and I noticed I was standing in front of a bar—Snarl & Smoke at the outskirts of town. I walked in. The red neon light flickered across the room. The loud music reverberated through my soul. The smell of smoke and alcohol lingered in the air.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Just the perfect distraction I needed. If there's something else I liked about this bar, it's for their service of selling alcohol that is strong enough to knock out even the strongest of wolves.

“Your strongest drink,” I said to the bartender—a dark skinned lady with blonde hair—at the counter, sliding into the booth in front of her.

She nodded and after a while, she handed me a glass of alcohol. I downed it, the liquid slid down my throat—burning but definitely not enough to burn down the pain in my chest.

Their words. Their laughter. Their mockery—echoed in my head over and over again.

Those. Bastards.

I slammed my fists on the counter and the bartender shrieked, her gaze darkened but she didn't complain.

Tonight I want to forget about everything. I want to forget about morals and just waste away.

“Make it stronger, lady,” I commanded, my voice harder than intended.

She looked at me for a long moment—must be wondering who I was to talk to her in such a rash manner. Her nose flared up in disgust, but she finally obeyed—mixing a couple of drinks and then handed me a glass.

I took it from her and threw it down. This one was better than the first glass. I felt the liquid in my veins, and goosebumps appeared on my skin.

I took several glasses and by the sixth glass, I couldn't see clearly anymore.

“Hey.“ I heard a voice behind me. Unfamiliar but it struck something inside me.

I turned back and I felt my breath seized. A young man stood behind me.

Dark hair, sharp jaw, green eyes, dangerous smile, velvet voice, effortless charm, mysterious aura—he’s chaos wrapped in beauty.

His eyes pierced into my soul. As if trying to see past my pain, my drunkenness.

Was he talking to me?

Lazily I waved my hand. “Hey.“

And as if I burned him, he averted his gaze from me and turned towards the bartender. “How much is the bill?“ he asked, extending a thousand dollar note.

A mix of disappointment and embarrassment crept up my cheeks. He wasn't talking to me.

Right. I forgot I'm unwanted. I'm unloved. The only thing I will ever be good for, is to be used and discarded.

But not anymore.

I should go home. My legs didn't feel like mine but I managed to push myself up. I thought I took a step but instead, I staggered forward and fell straight into him, strong arms wrapping around my waist.

I glanced up at him and up close, he was beautiful. His masculine scent wrapped around me, and forgot everything else. It feels like it was just me and him against the world.

I didn't think; I just acted.

“You're so handsome,” I whispered.

He didn't say anything. His eyes grew dark and he growled.

“Can we make love?“ I asked. “Just this night.“

I know I shouldn't do this. But I just wanted to feel wanted, even if it was just for one night. Even if he’d forget my name by morning.

For a long moment, he stared at me. “Are you sure?“ He finally asked. “We are both drunk. I don't want us to do something we might regret.“

Regret?

Those are for people who think about tomorrow. But as for me? It'd be a miracle if I survive tonight with the pains rippling through me.

“I have never been so sure, my entire life,” I replied with a smile.

And that was it.

Then he made his way out of the bar. I rested my head on his chest—which was pounding so loudly and surprisingly, soothing the chaos inside me.

Gently, he put me down and led me towards his sleek BMW.

I thought he'd drive to a hotel or something but he didn't. I don't mind anyway, I was already so horny.

Inside the backseat of his car, he didn't waste time. He pulled me into his lap, lips crashing against me in a kiss that tasted like whiskey and something familiar.

I clung to him, my mind reeling, body burning with need. I didn’t care that I was crying. Or drunk. Or that Ronan has broken me just this morning. All I knew was that I needed this stranger right now.

He slid my dress up my thighs and shifted my damp panties aside.

“Please,” I whispered against his mouth, breathless. “Take me now!“

He didn’t wait.

He removed his belt quickly, then his pants and briefs. His thick cock sprang free, thick and leaking at the tip. He thrusted into me.

“Ohhhhh,” I gasped, my pussy clenching perfectly around his cock.

And just like that, our bodies moved together in a perfect sync. The car filled with the sound of our breathing, the quiet creak of leather beneath us, and my soft moans as I moved with him.

“Ohhhhhh,” he groaned, gripping my hips like he couldn’t get close enough.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, eyes shut, chest pressed to his. Something about the way he held me feels strange. But I blamed it on the whiskey and heartbreak—and let it go.

After a few more thrusts, our breathing turned ragged, eyes rolled at the back of my head and we cum at the same time.

A growl tore from his throat as he pulled out of me.

Without another word, I collapsed against his chest and drifted off to sleep.

________

My eyes flustered open and realised it was already morning. My eyes darted around and I was still on his chest inside the car.

I glanced up at him and he was still sleeping so deeply. Carefully, I slipped off his lap, picked up my phone and tiptoed out of the car.

My lips were swollen. My body still ached in places I didn’t know I could feel. But worst of all… my chest was still hollow.

Quickly, I ran out of the gate and boarded a taxi.

“Bye, stranger,” I whispered. “It was good while it lasted.“

________

One week later…

The sky was painfully blue. Too bright for how I felt inside.

“Do you, Selene Grant, take Damien Cross as your mate and Alpha?“ the officiating priest asked, his voice cutting through the chaos in the clearing of the Northclaw pack.

“I do,” Mother replied quickly.

“Do you, Damien Cross, take Selene Grant, as your mate and Luna?“

“I do,” the man Mom is getting married to, replied.

I rolled my eyes as a mix of disgust and anger coursed through me as I stood up and made my way towards the set-up bar behind.

Mother was getting married. Again. Apparently, she met a powerful and wealthy Alpha—Damien Cross of the Northclaw Pack—just a month ago, and now he’s her soulmate."

How poetic?

It's been a week since I left the Crimson Dusk Pack. So I'd be staying here for now, until I leave for college—if I eventually get in.

I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waitress and downed it at a go. I looked over to the platform, watching as the priest completed the mating ceremony and mother was practically grinning from ear to ear.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my lips. She made a beautiful and happy bride. She is just thirty five years old, so it's expected that she still has her beautiful and sexy body intact. And the way Alpha Damien looked at her, like she was his world, made me fulfilled.

I pray this lasts forever, cause I'm really tired of having to relocate every time and then return back to the Crimson Dusk Pack when she's divorced again.

I might hate my mother for changing men like she changes her dress, but trust me, she did her best for me. She loves me, protects me and made sure I was heard even though I have been indifferent towards her.

When she heard about Ashen and Lyra's betrayal, she practically cried and would have confronted them if I hadn't stopped her.

She waved at me, beckoning me to come over for the pictures.

I sighed.

I hate pictures—especially the fake smile one has to wear.

But I made my way towards them anyway.

She pulled me into an embrace. “Dear, you'll look more beautiful with a smile on your face,” she whispered against my ears.

We pulled apart and I ignored her.

“Maya,” Alpha Damian called, his voice almost fatherly. “Meet my son, Jaxon.“ He tapped a man—who was talking to a group of people nearby.

He turned.

Dark hair. Green eyes. That mouth. That jaw.

No...

My heart stopped.

It was him.

The stranger from the bar.