Kingsley's POV
Ten thirty o'clock at night.
The rain had started pouring at two in the afternoon and showed no signs of ceasing till now.
The study window was partially ajar, and the incessant sound of raindrops outside filled the air.
The house was tranquil, yet I couldn't focus.
Suddenly, memories of Freya flooded my mind—how she used to find excuses to enter the study, be it delivering fruit or milk for a midnight snack, even though I had instructed her not to disturb me while she was working.
And each time, she would find a reason to linger, disregarding my warnings and promising that she would keep quiet.
I used to find her noisy, but now, in her absence, I couldn't adapt.
Just as I was about to pick up my book, the phone beside me rang.
I answered the call.
"Hello, your wife is intoxicated at our establishment. Could you come and retrieve her?"
"You have the wrong number."
I replied indifferently and hung up.
The other party didn't call back, but a few minutes later, a text message arrived with a photo on my phone.
Though taken in a dimly lit setting, the image depicted a clearly drunk woman at the bar—Freya.
My eyes narrowed, and I immediately dialed back. "Tell me the address!"
Before long, my car was parked in front of the bar.
Exiting with my umbrella, I walked purposefully towards the entrance.
Dressed in a suit, my countenance sober, I stood out among the other patrons.
The bartender put on a practiced smile. "Welcome to..."
"Welcome to what? Aren't you going to pour me a drink? Hurry up!"
Amidst the clamor, I discerned Freya's voice. I turned in its direction to find her squinting, shaking
The bartender's impatience with her persistent questioning was evident. As I walked by, he said, "I'm afraid there's no more wine available. This gentleman here has purchased it all. Why don't you come back tomorrow?"
Freya frowned and turned around unsteadily.
She leaned on the table for support, struggled to stand, grabbed me by the collar, prodded my chin, and inquired, "Did you buy all the wine?"
Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her attire disheveled, her hair slightly unkempt, and there was a lingering scent of alcohol.
I furrowed my brow and gently pushed away her hand that was poking at my chin.
Freya gazed at my face and suddenly approached me, saying, "Handsome, how much does a night with you cost?"
I remained cold, my eyes devoid of any warmth.
"What do you think?" I replied in a low and dangerous tone.
However, Freya seemed completely oblivious to my anger.
She lifted my chin, traced her finger from my lips down to my throat, let out a drunken laugh, pressed her lips against mine, and whispered, "You look expensive. I'm sure you're not cheap."
Her warm breath, laced with the scent of alcohol, held a hint of intriguing ambiguity. I had to admit, I was drawn to this version of Freya.
Her slender, fair hand delicately traced my chest as she narrowed her eyes seductively. "I'll give you three thousand. Will you sleep with me?" she propositioned.
I coldly curled the corners of my lips and retorted, "Three thousand? Isn't that a little low?"
Freya furrowed her attractive brows and replied, "Hey, I know the price. Three thousand is not bad, right?"
I sneered. "You seem to be quite knowledgeable."
She hesitated for a moment and then said, "Alright! Since you're so high-priced, I'll add another 500. Three thousand five hundred, that's my final offer!"
I couldn't wait to dunk her head into the nearby bathtub to sober her up!
If I hadn't come tonight, would she have just dragged any man to spend the night with?
The thought of that made my expression turn even grimmer.
Taking a deep breath, I gripped the back of her neck, took hold of her, and headed out.
The bartender hastily called out, "Sir, she hasn't paid her bill yet."
I halted abruptly, gripped Freya's arm, reeled her in close, extracted my wallet from my pocket with a single motion, and flung it towards the bartender, remarking, "Charge it to that card."
Freya suddenly raised her index finger and wagged it before me, exclaiming, "No!"
Then Freya smiled and declared, "I cannot... allow you to pay. I'll take care of it myself."
She released her hold on me, stumbled towards her seat, rummaged through her bag, and eventually turned it inside out, searching left and right, unable to produce any money. She furrowed her brow and muttered, "Where is my money?"
She abruptly retrieved a diamond ring from her bag, cradled it in her hand, and chuckled twice, saying, "Since I have no money, I'll pay the bill with this."
The diamond on the ring was scarcely smaller than a pigeon's egg—luminous, resplendent with vivid hues.
Just as she was about to offer the ring to the bartender, I snatched it away.
Suppressing my anger, I spoke through clenched teeth, "You're trading your wedding ring for wine?"
"What's the matter?"
Rage bubbled just below the surface of my mind.
I swiftly settled the bill and pulled the drunken Freya along with me.
Getting her into the car was a challenging task, and I ended up getting soaked by the rain.
When I circled around to the driver's seat and entered the vehicle, I saw Freya leaning against the window with her eyes closed and head tilted, appearing as if she were asleep.
I turned sideways, draped my arm across her chest, retrieved the seatbelt, and just as I was about to fasten it, an extra hand encircled my neck from behind.
As I raised my gaze, I beheld Freya's half-closed eyes, accompanied by a faint smile, and she whispered softly, "Where shall we sleep tonight?"
Her eyes were wide and alluring. When sober, they possessed a somewhat chilly quality, yet when she was inebriated, her slight squinting, as it was now, made them incredibly seductive.
I swallowed hard, lowered my gaze to meet hers, and in a low and menacing tone, I replied, "Wherever you desire to sleep."
Freya tilted her head, contemplating with seriousness, and eventually arched her eyebrows. "Go to your residence," she suggested.
I raised my gaze, tensing my face, and responded gloomily, "Are you not afraid of your mate finding out if you come to my house?"
Freya shook her head, saying sadly, "I have no mate. My mate is always with another woman, so I don't have a mate."
Gritting my teeth, I questioned, "Then do you still require a rejection?"
Freya furrowed her brow, seemingly too intoxicated to comprehend her own words.
"You're so annoying! Why are you talking so much? I don't want to go with you now. Give me back my money!" she exclaimed, flailing her hands in my direction.
I restrained her hands, fastened her seatbelt, and remained expressionless. "Be quiet," I stated before starting the car and speeding away.
It didn't take long for the car to arrive at my place.
Sarah heard the sound from a distance, grabbed an umbrella, and walked over. As she approached, she realized that I was carrying someone out of the car. It was Freya.
"What's the matter, Alpha?" she inquired.
Without answering, I simply stated, "No one is permitted to disturb us tonight."
As I carried Freya upstairs, I noticed tears shimmering in her eyes, with a hint of redness at the corners, suggesting recent weeping.
Placing her on the bed, I hesitated briefly, then unbuttoned her shirt. Her snow-white skin, tinged with a light scarlet hue, unexpectedly captivated my attention, and Freya involuntarily let out a moan.
My wolf was a bit excited, and my primal instincts surged as I gasped, hastily tugging at my tie.
"This is what you requested," I uttered, closing the gap between us swiftly. My lips found Freya's neck, and she moaned softly at my touch.
The scent of whiskey on her breath heightened my arousal.
"Alpha..." Freya whispered uncontrollably as my hands tugged at her garments.
Oh, how I yearned for her, for her body. It was as if Freya alone possessed the ability to satiate the hunger that consumed me.
A scream escaped Freya's lips as my impatience propelled her onto the bed.
I pulled her to the edge, my mouth finding its way to her core. Involuntarily, her legs entwined around my shoulders, her back arching with pleasure.
"Call me Kingsley!" I commanded.
Reveling in ecstasy, I filled her repeatedly, marking her body, silently asserting that she could only be my Luna.
With wild abandon, I delved deeper inside her, my feral desires overwhelming all rational thought.
Freya screamed uncontrollably under my passionate thrusts, her fingers leaving trails of scratches on my back.
Finally, Freya screamed my name, "Kingsley," and I stilled deep within her as I knotted her and locked our connection.
Gasping for air, we both lay breathless as I held her tightly.
"What have you done to me?" Freya whispered, her brow furrowed.
As the knot subsided, I climbed atop Freya, lying beside her. My arms encircled her waist. Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep with my Luna.