Chapter 5. The Man From Last Night

* Dorina *

What woke me up was the ray of sunlight hitting my face through the window. It was so warm that I had to pat it with my hand gently.

I let out a groan and pulled a blanket to cover but my hands feels it rough and itchy so uncomfortable, then it occurred to me. What kind of blanket? So, I opened my eyes to see where I was actually.

My eyes went up to see the low ceiling above me; it looked old and has a bit of dirt on the corners. I could also hear a faint sound of squeaking furniture. The rays of the sun poured through a large glass window, and was it cob webs that I could see in the corners above me?

This was certainly different from my chamber in the Palace. The bed beneath me is making a loud protest, or a squeaky groan as I shifted myself above it.

I sat up too quickly. “Oh!”

A dull ache immediately pounded behind my temples. I pressed my two fingers against my forehead and shut my eyes for a few seconds.

"I haven't had a headache like this in almost a year.”

The last time I got drunk had been after my twin brother’s wedding. That was a joyous occasion. Since then I had rarely touched alcohol, and certainly never enough to wake feeling as though a pack of wolves had danced inside my skull.

I looked down at my legs to check myself. I was still wearing the same tight jeans, and even my boots were still on my feet. My top was slightly crumpled, but it was alright.

Nothing had been removed. My shoulders relaxed. At least I hadn't completely embarrassed myself. Although judging from the gaps in my memory, I probably had.

Fragments from last night returned one by one. The beerhouse and Randal laughing. The arm wrestling. Did I really challenge that bartender?”

Then the handsome stranger, Ivan. My eyes widened.

He was the one who brought me here. He was a good-looking beerhouse owner. The man I had been trying to convince to become my husband.

Moon Goddess, was I that desperate? Did I actually ask him what kind of husband he would be? Heat climbed into my cheeks from embarrassment.

I buried my face in both of my hands.

"I must have sounded ridiculous to them."

Another memory surfaced in my head. Strong arms catching me before I hit the floor. The smell of smoke. A deep voice groaning and calling me a handful.

I let out the longest sigh imaginable from my mouth.

“Enough about it! I have more pressing matters to resolve."

The bed made that noise again when I carefully stood. My head still protested, though less violently now. My parents must've been searching for me since the day I left the Palace, and my father’s warriors would find me soon if I didn't move.

But I still needed to find a solution to the impossible problem waiting for me there. I had to find a husband fast.

Someone willing to stand beside a princess, someone I could just pay to be with me who wouldn't bow to politics. A strong enough wolf that Father might actually consider him.

My thoughts were disturbed when the bedroom door opened. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, I looked up.

And promptly forgot how to breathe when I saw a pair of blue eyes already watching me. He stepped inside carrying two steaming mugs.

He came in topless. Then I noticed his broad shoulders. My eyes surveyed him up and down. His powerful chest is marked with faded scars; perhaps he earned them through countless battles.

Dark ink curled over one arm before disappearing across his shoulder and chest, disappearing behind his back where more intricate tattoo patterns continued beneath the sunlight.

He looked less like a beerhouse owner and more like the kind of warrior in the Palace who trains to fight everyday. He wasn't the polished kind of handsome the noble ladies whispered about.

He was dangerously attractive. The sort of man who looked as though he'd survived things no ordinary wolf should. His dark hair was still slightly damp, suggesting he'd already washed for the day.

When his sea-blue eyes met mine, his one brow lifted.

"Morning, Princess."

Came his deep, masculine voice. I realized I had been staring at him.

"I..." Wonderful, Dorina. Since when did I ever take interest in watching a man’s body? There are a lot of those in the Palace. And he looks a bit rough, with his darkening stubble; doesn't he know how to shave?

I realized that I had been holding my breath when he walked towards me. He slowly placed one mug on the small wooden table beside me.

"Herbal tea, have some to warm your stomach."

He glanced toward me.

"And also. For the headache."

"Oh! Thank you."

His gaze dropped briefly to my face and then my mouth before he spoke again.

"If you're worried about something from last night. Rest easy, I don't fall for drunk women or force myself on them no matter how beautiful and sexy they are.”

His voice remained calm. The words came so naturally that I blinked.

"You passed out the moment we got here."

His expression remained unreadable.

"So I just put you on the bed."

He nodded toward the blanket. “And covered you up."

Something about his straightforward honesty eased the last of my unease.

"I figured you'd rather hear that first before anything else."

A small smile escaped me.

"Oh! I…uhm appreciate that."

He shrugged as though it were obvious.

"I'm rough and could get rude often, but I have my own rules, Princess."

He leaned one shoulder against the doorway, looking at me straight in the eye, so I had to look away. Silence followed when I couldn't find the right words to say to him.

I took a drink from the mug he brought me, but I felt myself almost throwing up from the taste of it when the liquid touched my tongue. What on earth is this kind of tea?

"Is there..." I hesitated. “A bathroom?"

His mouth twitched ever so slightly. He could almost guess how I was feeling. He pointed down the short hallway.

"Second door."

I followed his finger. The door looked nearly as old as the building itself.

"The lock sticks."

He added casually, behind me.

"And the pipes complain louder than any wolf who loses a game in my beerhouse."

I pushed the door and peeked inside. The room was tiny.

An iron basin sat beneath a cracked mirror. Rust marked the old water pump. The bathtub had clearly seen better decades.

This room must be older than me, far from anything inside the Palace. But good thing it doesn't stink.

"It'll do."

"It usually does."

I looked back toward him.

He had already picked up his own mug and taken a slow drink, watching the view of the morning beyond the old window.

For someone who looked capable of tearing apart an entire pack with his bare hands. He carried himself with unexpected patience.

And somehow. That made him even more dangerous than the scars I saw on his back.