3. Intoxicating Circumstances #2
Danae. No, absolutely not. She could not see me like this. I scrambled to get free, my movements clumsy against the dead weight of Alexander’s arm. He stirred and his hold tightened, pulling me closer against the solid wall of his body.
The door creaked open. Danae peeked inside. Her smile faltered when she saw me. I was trapped and exposed, with the head of House Zeus asleep beside me. Her gaze shot to the ruined pile of my dress on the floor.
“Oh,” she said, a little awkwardly. “I see. You, uh… found the after-party.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I pulled the sheet up to my chin, the thin fabric a pathetic shield. “It’s not what you think.”
“Andie, your dress is ripped in half and Alexander Stormwright is in your bed. I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I think.” She took a step forward and hesitated. “Are you okay? Did he…”
Danae’s presence finally broke through Alexander’s sleep. He stirred beside me, a slow, waking stretch. His eyes cracked open and immediately found me. A slow, possessive smile spread across his lips.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
That single word, so casual, so utterly devoid of regret, ignited the fury simmering beneath my shame. It was a claim. On me. On the morning. On the night before. Perhaps not as intense as a bite would have been, but still there. Every instinct in my body revolted.
“Don’t,” I snapped, the single word a whip crack in the quiet room. “Don’t you dare speak to me.”
His smile vanished. Confusion clouded his features as he pushed himself up on one elbow, the sheet falling to his waist. “What are you talking about? Last night…”
“Last night was a mistake,” I seethed, the poison of the words a necessary release. “A disgusting, pathetic mistake. You got what you wanted. Congratulations.”
The confusion in his eyes hardened into something cold and sharp.
Without a sound, he threw back the sheet and rose from the bed.
He moved with a deliberate, coiled grace, finding his trousers on the floor and jerking them on.
I shrank back against the headboard, the thin sheet clutched to my chest. The sight of him armoring himself in his clothes while I lay exposed and naked was a fresh humiliation.
“Now leave,” I commanded.
He finished with his trousers and grabbed his shirt, his movements sharp and efficient. He didn’t look at me, his focus entirely on the buttons. When he was fully dressed, he finally turned. The warmth and passion from the night before were gone, replaced by a cold, unreadable distance.
He walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. “As you wish.”
The click of the latch was a final, damning verdict. The moment he was gone, my stomach revolted. A violent, gut-wrenching nausea seized me. I doubled over, clutching my midsection, my body beginning to shake.
“Andie?” Danae rushed to my side, frantic with concern. “What is it? Are you sure Stormwright—?”
“He’s gone now,” I managed to mutter between dry, retching heaves. “I just need to get out of here.”
I threw back the sheets. The need to escape this room, this bed, was a frantic, clawing thing. I stumbled up, grabbing the ruined halves of my dress and trying to hold them together. The room swayed, the merciless sun blinding me.
“You’re in no condition to walk,” Danae insisted, trying to steady me. “Let me find you something.”
“No,” I pleaded. “Not another second.”
I pushed past her, stumbling into the blessedly empty corridor.
I leaned against the cool wall, a temporary anchor in a dizzying world.
Taking a deep breath, I started toward the main staircase.
I took two steps before my vision swam, the plush carpet tilting beneath my feet. I stumbled, my legs giving way.
A strong, steady hand gripped my arm, preventing my fall. “Careful now, Miss Cross.” A calm, smooth baritone cut through the haze. “The sea legs can be tricky after a long night.”
I looked up straight into the clear, intelligent eyes of Orion Maris.
He was immaculately dressed in crisp linen.
His expression was one of polite concern, but his gaze held an unnerving intensity that made my skin crawl.
He took in my disheveled state without a flicker of judgment, and that was somehow worse than open condemnation.
“Lord Maris,” I stammered, pulling the torn silk tighter. “I… I was just leaving. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, his tone deep and soothing. “I trust you found the accommodations satisfactory?”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes. Perfectly.”
“Good,” he said. “I do hope we’ll have the chance to speak again, under less… intoxicating circumstances.”
Danae appeared at my side, grim-faced. She held a cashmere throw blanket and immediately wrapped it around my shoulders. She used the motion to physically pull me away from Orion’s hand. “She needs to go. Now.”
Orion simply gestured down the corridor. “Of course. My tender is waiting to take all my guests ashore.”
“Fine,” I bit out, the single word brittle and cold.
I turned without another word, pulling the blanket tighter. The walk down the corridor was a blur of polished wood and gleaming brass. I kept my eyes fixed on the gangplank. The nausea in my gut had nothing to do with wine or magic. It was shame, pure and undiluted, a poison of my own making.
Last night, I was a fool. A drunk, pathetic fool who let an Alpha see her break. It will not happen again. Not with him. Not with anyone. Never.