A Love Letter To Whiskey Novels & Stories

"Cool!" Justine breathed out eagerly. Before we finally docked at the abandoned port, I threw the letter I composed earlier where I put the bottle into the ocean. This time, my wolf no longer cares if the letter would not reach its rightful destination when that could be completely ridiculous. The boat we were riding is a minute away from the ground. So, there has no reason for the letter not to reach New York City in no time. Even though I'm not sure if the letter could reach Nathalie when I intentionally throw the bottle into the ocean to avoid getting caught any piece of evidence about my wolf lying to everyone.

Seth uses his fingers to show a "two." She nods, spinning on her heels to grab some bottles sitting on the shelf behind her, taking out to glasses with her thumb, index, and middle finger, pressing the two glasses together before placing it down onto the counter and pouring the whiskey into both of them. Seth's eyes widen after looking into her eyes as she concentrates on making the drinks. Seth's expression becomes sour, his heart straining. She looks up at Seth, arching an eyebrow, "Is everything alright?" Seth shakes his head, "No... It's fine, you just reminded me of someone."

"Wine. Red. Full-bodied." "Whiskey for me. Neat and preferably something aged for at least twenty years." "Of course you drink expensive whiskey." "I drink everything expensive, beautiful. Comes with the territory." We keep talking, small things, favorite books, worst vacations, and childhood pets while my heart beats for the unknown he plans tonight.

Whatever it takes. In my past life, I was unable to stop self from wanting her. And again, here I am. Hard as fucking steel, her taste clouding my brain, her torn and soaked panties in my pocket. A sharp knock sounds on the door and I’m grateful for the interruption. I know it’s Julius before he steps in. “Alpha,” he says, placing a fresh unopened bottle of my favorite whiskey on that table. “Your former whiskey girl just applied at the Devil’s Halo.”

ZEUS The whiskey burns as it goes down, but I welcome it. It’s the only kind of warmth I trust. Everything else; people, promises, bonds, is fickle. A distraction. A liability. I sink deeper into the armchair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, watching the light fracture through it. The silence in my room is thick, like smoke after a war. The kind that settles after something destructive has already been set in motion. And it has. My plan.

My eyes scan the bottles, desperate for something—anything—to drown out the ache that’s building inside my chest. My fingers settle on a bottle of whiskey—Macallan, strictly for 18-year-old, the strongest thing I can find. I unscrew the cap, not bothering with a glass, and take a long, burning swig. The liquor slides down my throat, searing its way through my veins, but it’s nothing compared to the fire of rage and hurt that’s eating away at me. I take another swig. And then another. This is what liking someone does. This is the mess it makes of you.

My lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile as I typed back a single character: "✓" The grandfather clock in the corner chimed twice - 2 AM. The witching hour when secrets felt heaviest and resolve wore thinnest. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the hardwood, and crossed to the liquor cabinet. The crystal decanter caught the moonlight as I poured two fingers of amber liquid, not bothering with a glass. The whiskey burned its way down my throat, but the heat couldn't melt the ice in my veins.

My fingers brushed past the bottles of Don Julio, Bordeaux, Remy Martin, Macallan 18, all enticing company for my melancholy, but closed around the tapered bottle of Lagavulin 16 and its irresistible smoky darkness. Unloading my pockets, I carefully laid out my phone, wallet, and keys on the table-top before reaching up for a spotless whiskey glass. But as I filled the glass, my phone danced against the wood, vibrating with an incoming message. My eyes glanced at the lit-up screen, and saw the message preview from Axel. “Go stick your cock in some chic. That should do it.” I scoffed, partly amused. It was so like Axel prescribing sex as an all-purpose pain balm. When the only thing that coul

A letter. Her breath caught on immediately as her eyes focused on the first sentence, and her body remained motionless. ". Her familiar voice was raw and intimate, beginning with the words that she had never been told directly. While Amina muttered, she realized what she was paying attention to, and then the system verified it by stating that all the letters were present. The same correspondences that had aided her, perplexed me, and somehow guided her through everything.' With her chest tightening in pain, she approached the object and firmly believed that the letters were from Ethan. However, the voice gently corrected her, stating that they were not entirely his, even though he had given

The waiter asked, having responded to the signaled call. "Give me a bottle of red wine, cold whiskey and champagne. Make certain that the champagne isn't cold. How do you prefer your wine, miss Nelly?" "Chilled." She replied eagerly. "Well you heard the young lady, so go get our orders." "Yes sir" the waiter replied and walked away. "Don't give me that look. You told me yourself that cold whiskey was your favorite alcoholic drink. In your exact words 'cold whiskey knows how to whisk me away from a cold situation.' Remember?