Novel & Cerita A Love Letter To Whiskey

Luca looked down at the corked bottle “Not had a reason to open it. Open it! I want to try,” Alissa encouraged, sitting up more on the sofa. Luca unhooked the bottle opener, and once poured, passed a glass it to Alissa. While the whiskey's were handed around. She sipped and it was so sweet. She much preferred mead to whiskey. The pack lounged, the fire burning brightly both warming the room but also keep spirits from entering the house. “All windows shut?” Luca asked, his gaze firmly on the fire.

Davy’s breath fanned my skin as he leaned towards me, and he kissed my bare back. “Goodnight, love.” My smile widened, and I raised my head, kissing him on the lip. “Goodnight.” *** As part of my homemade solution, I had taken to the bottle, whiskey fast becoming my favorite thing, after sex, of course, and maybe shopping. Still, I only allowed myself to get drunk on days when Davy wouldn’t be around. I attempted to light a blunt, holding the cancer stick between my fingers as if daring myself to go through with it. I brought it to my lips and inhaled, only for the smoke to go down the wrong airway.

I walked into the living room and caught sight of my love sitting on the floor with an empty bottle of whiskey beside him. I went over to him and hugged him. "I'm so sorry baby, I should have never suspected you of cheating." "I love you so much Lewis, please forgive me for what I said", I explained while caressing his face. "Hmm", he said amusingly and looked at me. "Are you actually drunk?" "I thought you had a good tolerance." "Did a bottle of whiskey really knock you out?", I asked while raising the bottle to make sure it was empty. "C'mon baby, do you really think a bottle of whiskey could make me drunk?"

Roman’s grin never faded as he went to the bar that was built into the living room. “You want some famous Lantsov whiskey?” he called to me while he rummaged through his bottles. My brows lifted in surprise. “You have a whiskey too?” A proud smile pulled on his lips, and he retrieved said bottle from behind the bar. “Of course. It’s our pride and joy, and ridiculously smooth.” “In that case,” I murmured, finding a place on the couch again. “Count me in.” “My pleasure.” A chill ran down my spine at his silk-like voice while he grabbed two crystal glasses and poured the whiskey over ice.

My throat gets dry so I gulp some more whiskey. I can't go through this every day. I am turning into a maniac. Like a crazy old cat lady. "Ethan. I love you but I love me more. I am sorry. Sorry for," I wipe the tears from my cheeks. I feel a sharp sting as my tears touch my bleeding knuckles. Fucking salt in tears. “Ethan, listen carefully. I, Alpha Ryan Damison," I gulp down more whiskey as I need balls for what I am going to say next.

The only thing I had done right in this whole fucking mess. I took another sip, the whiskey burning down my throat. What the hell was I doing? I wanted more of this. More days with her. More laughter. More moments. And then there was Emma. Emma. My fingers hovered over her name in my contacts. I wanted to call her. Tell her how much I missed her. Tell her how fucking hard it was to stay away. Instead, I lifted my glass, letting out a bitter chuckle. “I love you so much, Emma,” I murmured to the air. “I fucking love you.”

Sliding onto a worn barstool, I motioned to the bartender, a grizzled old rogue with a long scar running down his jaw and growled, “Whiskey. The strongest you’ve got.” “Y-yes Alpha,” He nodded stiffly, and then he circled to grab a bottle. I silently watch him as he turned again and poured a dark amber liquid into a thick glass, and slid it toward me. I didn’t hesitate. The burn of it hitting my throat was strong and welcoming. I didn’t count the seconds, minutes… I just let the ache in my chest settle as the liquor numbed the edges. “Hello handsome…” Her voice was like silk dipped in honey.

Livia Washington’s Point of View Cold. Dim. People’s grizzle. Three light colors simultaneously wandered around the club where I was. My taste has gone bitter. My face became grumpy as I drank the last shot of my whiskey. “You’ve drunk almost one bottle of whiskey, Livia. Stop it,” Janice; a close and trusted friend of mine said. I rolled my eyes in the air. Instead of having a one-shot glass, I got the bottle and sipped it directly. Whiskey is a hard liquor a certain person can’t drink moderately especially when her tolerance for alcohol is low. Just like me.

I looked around the house to make sure she wasn’t around, and then leaned in to whisper. “Your mom hates doing it, but I love it. Just be enthusiastic, and don’t be afraid to make a mess. The sloppier, the better.” I said, polishing off my first glass of whiskey. I could feel it burning hot in my stomach, and my brain came alive. I couldn’t remember wanting to kiss someone so badly, and I was kind of enjoying the tease. “That sounds so naughty.” she said, covering her mouth and turning red. “It’s okay, baby. It isn’t naughty if you’re doing it with someone you love.” I said, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. “Go to your bedroom, baby. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Just the word whiskey sends fury racing through me. It’s an immediate, visceral reaction. If my anger could manifest as flames, Joe the bartender would spontaneously combust.“I don’t drink piss water,” I bite out, trying to temper the chill in my voice. It’s not his fault I hate whiskey. All he sees is a leather jacket, tight jeans, and a face that’s a little harder than most girls. Girls like me usually do drink whiskey. “Gin and tonic. Top shelf.” Joe raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on my rudeness. His voice is even and pleasant as he says, “You got it.”