The last drop of whiskey dribbled pathetically into my shot glass, barely coating the bottom. I sighed, my head feeling too heavy for my neck. I let the empty bottle clatter back on the counter, then slumped forward, resting my forehead on it.

This has to be a nightmare, I thought, Maeve stirring uneasily in my mind. The kind where you wake up sweating but grateful it wasn’t real. These things happen in movies, and I’ve heard stories in real life. But never have I ever imagined that this would happen to me. Not to me. Not with Blake. Not after eight years.

I let out a muffled sob against my arm as tears slid down my cheeks. My chest felt like it was being crushed, and Maeve whimpered in my mind, her pain echoing mine. It feels like my heart will never know how to beat properly again.

“Open relationship?” I repeated, his words floating into my head like poison.

“That bastard! ”Maeve snarled, her voice sharp and furious in my mind.“ He dares to betray the bond of a mate? He’s no true mate.”

My eyes welled up again, and I buried my face in my hands. I was so stupid. Not only did I hand over all those dividends from my parents’ insurance to him, but he was in control of my father’s pack. My inheritance, everything. Breaking up with him now would mean losing everything my parents worked for and left for me. I wasn’t about to let him keep what rightfully belonged to me while he decided to betray me like that.

The bartender came and collected my empty glasses. I squinted at my phone to check the time, but the numbers were blurring and doubling in front of my eyes.

“It’s 12:20, ma’am,” the guy said.

“Oh...thanks,” I muttered, trying to stand up, but the stool wobbled me back into a sitting position.

“Careful, ma’am.”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled and flipped my hair back against my burning neck.

While my fingers fumbled for my wallet, the bartender asked if I was staying or leaving. I realized leaving would mean going back to that house—to Blake. The last thing I wanted to do right now was see his stupid face.

Swaying slightly, I looked up at the bartender.

“I need a room.”

Soon, all the arrangements were made, and I was handed the key. I made my way tipsily to the elevator. When I got inside, I squinted at the numbers, pressing what I hoped was my floor number.

I then stumbled down the hallway, squinting at the room numbers as they blurred in and out of focus.

When I found a door that looked like my room, I pressed the key card against the reader. The light kept beeping red every time I tried. Frowning, I kept swiping, growing more and more frustrated. The alcohol wasn’t helping my coordination, and I couldn’t understand why the damn thing wouldn’t work.

Grumbling under my breath, I pulled the card close to my face to try and figure out what was wrong. But then, the door opened, and I stared at it funnily for a while before stumbling into the darkness. My alcohol-addled brain barely had time to register anything else before I felt something hard get pressed against my lower back from behind.

I froze.

“Ava, we’re in danger,“ Maeve growled, her voice sharp and alert despite the haze of alcohol.

I was drunk…but not so drunk I wouldn’t know whatever was behind me was a gun.

My heart leaped into my throat as a low voice behind me commanded, “Don’t make a sound.”

“Please...don’t hurt me,” I begged in a whisper, trembling.

I heard the door click shut behind me. The pressure of the gun disappeared from my back, but my body remained frozen in place. The darkness felt suffocating, and I could sense the presence behind me. I could hear his soft breathing in the silence.

The scent of cedar enveloped me, wrapping around my senses like a potent embrace. I could tell from the aroma that this was an incredibly powerful Alpha wolf. And there was something else –His state was strange, and I sensed another "gun" pointing at me from behind.

I slowly turned my head to the side to catch a glimpse of my attacker.

“Who are you? What do you—“

The words died in my throat as his strong hands grabbed me, yanking me forward. Before I could realize what was happening, his lips descended hungrily over my mouth. The kiss tasted of expensive whiskey and something darker, more dangerous. My mind screamed at me to fight back, but my body betrayed me. I was responding to the passionate assault on my senses.

“Oh...Ava, he is much better than Blake, ”Maeve hissed, her voice a mix of something primal.“But you want to follow Blake's advice? An open relationship?”

“Fuck an open relationship.” I shot back, my thoughts a chaotic whirl. I need to forget. I need to feel something other than this pain.

The stranger’s hands dug into my hips as he pulled me against himself. In any other moment, any other night, I might have fought, screamed, or run. But the alcohol in my veins and the betrayal burning in my chest pushed me toward recklessness. I kissed him back with a ferocity that seemed to surprise him, my fingers roaming his bare body.

His height forced me to arch up, and when he groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrated through my entire body. I didn’t care who he was. Didn’t care about anything except the way his touch was burning away the memory of Blake’s betrayal.

His hands slid down my thighs, and in one fluid motion, he lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he walked us backward, until my back hit what must have been a wall.

The scratch of his stubble against my neck as his mouth traced a burning path down my throat. The flex of muscles under my searching hands as I grazed his skin with my nails.

Blake. The thought of him only made me kiss this stranger harder, and bite his lower lip until he growled. I wanted to forget. Needed to forget.

It seemed like I cut off the chain around his neck in the process, and I heard that deep, rich chuckle rumble from his chest.

He dropped me into the bed and then he followed me down. The moonlight filtering through the windows caught his silhouette, broad shoulders and strong arms caging me in. I couldn’t make out his face clearly, just the glint in his eyes as he looked down at me.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered with rough desire.

The command in his tone made my skin tingle, but there was something else there too—restraint, control, power. This was a man used to giving orders.

“No,” I breathed, pulling him back down to me.

He lowered his head to my neck, and the gentle scrape of his teeth made me arch up against him.

His hands below pushed my dress up my thighs, and before I knew it, his fingers delved right behind my panty, nudging against my clit while he kissed me. I moaned, clinging to him and wanting him to be anything but careful.

“Get my fucking clothes off,” I commanded him.

I felt the instant reverence when he obeyed and pulled me up to reach the zipper of my dress, then he dragged it down.

The cool air hit my skin, making me gasp. He took advantage of that moment to capture my mouth again, swallowing the sound. His tongue swept against mine. I felt him taking off his pants too while I stayed bared to him, waiting; not feeling like the woman who’d just had her heart shattered hours ago.

His hands then came to hold my thighs, dragging me closer and spreading my legs wider as he leaned down into me. I threw my head back when his length stretched me slowly. I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into hard muscle.

“Fuck!” I groaned when he slid deeper. “Yes….”

He began sliding in, out, and back in, holding me so tight I knew I’d have marks by morning. The pace began to increase, and soon he was slapping hard into me while I jiggled with screams and moans I never wanted to stop. I kept seeing the flash of his eyes when he looked down at me with gentleness, yet pounding fast and hard. He knew exactly how to move, how to touch, how to push me closer and closer to the edge.

Early the next morning, I was roused from sleep. My head throbbed, and as I blinked away the drowsiness, I became aware of the warm body beside me. I recalled everything that happened last night and, for some reason, didn’t seem to regret it.

I turned to look at the face of the menace I encountered last night while he slept.

Alexander Morrison?

I gasped silently, holding a hand to my mouth.

He was Isabella’s brother. The well-known billionaire and Alpha of the Iron Fang Pack. He was technically Blake’s uncle-in-law through his father’s new marriage. I tried to stifle another gasp as memories of last night flooded back. Oh god. I slept with Alexander Morrison.

“Ava, what have you done? “Maeve whispered, her voice a mix of shock and something else—something almost...approving.

I had no idea how I’d even ended up in his room in the first place. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could and gathered my clothes. After dressing, I crept to the door with my heels in hand, opened it, and slid out. Only when I was safely in the hallway did I dare to breathe normally again.

I then looked up at the room number and realized what had happened. I’d drunkenly tried to enter his room last night when my assigned room was actually several doors down the hall.

“Well, Ava,” Maeve said, her tone dry. “You certainly know how to make an impression.”