Drunk Moxxie Novels & Stories

His shirt was wrinkled, the top few buttons undone, and his hair was a complete mess. "Damien..." His head lifted slowly and his bloodshot eyes found mine. I crossed the room and crouched down in front of him taking the bottle from his hand and placed it on the floor beside me. “Why are you drinking like this?” He didn’t answer. He simply stared at me, his bloodshot eyes searching my face. My chest tightened. I had never seen him like this. Damien was always in control. Even when he was furious, even when everything around him was falling apart, he somehow managed to carry himself like nothing could break him.

Jay shot his sister a dirty look, but nodded as Mj turned and went looking for Moxie. Moxie wanted to shift and run out the rage he felt for his oldest brother, but the porch door swung open and his favorite sister's raven colored hair popped out. Moxie sighed heavily as Mj approached him with the same devious curiosity dancing in her eyes he had seen the first day they met, and he couldn't help but smile at her and shake his head. Mj walked up to Moxie with a hopeful grin, “forgive me for this morning?” she asked and Moxie grabbed her by the shoulder, wrapping his arm around her neck and squeezing her skull like a ripe melon, “I will only forgive you for assaulting me with that ass if you a

He disappeared into the crowd before I could argue, leaving me standing with Maddox in the middle of organized chaos. “Want a drink?” Maddox asked, his hand settling on the small of my back in a gesture that was becoming familiar. “God, yes,” I said. We made our way to one of the makeshift bars, and Maddox ordered us both whiskey that tasted like it cost more than it should have. I downed mine in one go, welcoming the burn, hoping it would quiet the anxiety thrumming through my veins. “Easy,” Maddox said, his hand catching my wrist as I reached for another. “We just got here. Pace yourself.”

Michelle I've had too many drinks and shots. I'm dizzy, but like, not nauseous. It's more like I won't stop smiling. I feel funny. I think I'm giggling; I'm not a hundred percent sure. Maddox is drunk too and leads me into his bedroom. His friends have all passed out inside the frat house. There is a comfortable silence, and I happily walk over to his bed. I smile at his skull covers while shedding my clothes on the floor.

she yelled back, laughing as she ran. "I’ll slaughter you like a guinea pig if you show your face again!" he bellowed, shaking his fist at the sky before heading back inside, muttering, "What’s with that girl?" He couldn’t help but chuckle. Bisila walked down the street, still grinning. She reached into her pocket, feeling the freshly earned payment. Up ahead, a bar came into view, its large sign glowing: **DONNIE AND THE BAR.** Inside, a few men sat scattered around with drinks, talking loudly. One of them noticed her at the door.

And then his confession echoed in my mind. ‘Are you a human?’ ‘No.’ My knees buckled slightly. I stumbled sideways. I gripped my head. The world was spinning around me. I looked over my shoulder at the man still howling in pain, and that’s when it hit me. The bastard had spiked my drink with a drug. I stumbled away from the dance floor, pushing past sweaty bodies and flashing lights until I found myself in a dark corridor leading to the restroom. Throwing the door open, I slipped inside and rushed straight to the basin. My hands trembled as I twisted the tap open.

They agreed to have one drink and leave, but Maddox was refilling glasses for the third time, and the heat was melting Drake's patience that was already thin because he was away from Talia. The liquor was so bad that Drake pretended to drink and that says a lot because Drake can drink almost anything. "This is the last one." Maddox downed his drink, and he narrowed his eyes at Drake's full glass. "Why are you not having that?" Drake made a face. How on earth can Maddox drink this horrible thing and pretend that it's fine? Or did his taste buds die? Or maybe he is just suicidal. "I don't want to die of poisoning.", Drake said and pushed his glass away.

It’s late into the night, the moon is high in the sky, the pack house is quiet, everyone already in the warmth of their bed, Rowan sits alone in his office, staring at the moon that peeks through the window that has the curtains drawn while the air is heavy with smoke from the half empty pack of cigarettes on the table with empty bottles of whiskey scattered on the desk and rolling on the floor. He leans back in his chair, taking a long drag of his cigar while in his other hand is a glass of whiskey. His eyes are bloodshot, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

Not even one, so knowing that an Alpha was looking out for me was too much for me and I couldn't quite take it. My eyes returned to the black witch in front of me when she spoke again. "As I said, we've been looking for you for months, it started when the intoxicating fragrance of Moon Drip once reached Alpha Baristo. He immediately ordered his wolves to find where it came from but we were disappointed because the smell suddenly disappeared. But Alpha Baristo was so persistent, so he mobilized even us witches to help in the search. And we were not mistaken that we could find you here. The Cohen who possesses the Moon Drip— the sacred power of the blue moon."

“That almost sounded like respect.” “Don't get dramatic.” I laughed softly under my breath despite myself. Jesus fucking Christ. A few months ago, if someone told me I'd be sitting in a kitchen at midnight laughing quietly with Raffaele Morretti over criminal records and whisky, I would've assumed they were insane. Now it felt normal. That terrified me more than anything else. Raffaele reached past me for the glass sitting near the sink, his arm brushing slightly against mine in the process. The contact was brief, accidental probably, but my body noticed it immediately anyway.