Chapter 2 ONE NIGHT STAND
CHAPTER TWO
ONE NIGHT STAND
AVRIELLE'S POV
My heart wasn’t just racing—it was a frantic, trapped animal clawing at my ribs, trying to escape the suffocation. I’d almost died in that wreck, and for a terrifying second, the thought didn't even scare me.
I fumbled for the ignition, my fingers numb and clumsy as I tried to restart the engine. The engine gave a pathetic, metallic groan and then fell silent. The sound of a broken-down car.
"Damn it! Work! Please... just give me this one thing!" I screamed, the sound tearing raw from my throat. I slammed my fists into the dashboard, again and again, until the skin on my knuckles split and the stinging pain was the only thing keeping me from dissolving. Then, the adrenaline simply evaporated, leaving only a hollow, aching cold.
I collapsed against the headrest, my breath coming in jagged, pathetic sobs that felt like they were pulling the very air out of my lungs.
After what felt like hours, I finally forced myself out of the car even though my legs were like water. I sank onto the cold asphalt, the grit pressing into my palms, and just stayed there. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Just then, my gaze caught a neon sign flickering just few hundred yards away, with a description. “Dopamine Club"
I looked away immediately, a wave of nausea hitting me. I hated places like that. I hated the noise, the superficiality, the way people looked at each other like meat. It represented everything Adrian and I weren't. We were supposed to be the "forever" couple. We were supposed to be safe. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, but all I could hear was his voice—that new, cruel edge he’d developed.
“We’re in an open marriage now,” his voice hissed in my head, mocking the wedding ring that felt like a hot brand on my finger. “I can do what I want. You can do the same.”
A dark, jagged heat flared up in the center of my grief. Fine. If he wanted me to be a stranger, I would be a stranger. If he wanted our vows to be suggestions, I would burn them to the ground right here.
I marched toward the club…toward the entrance, my vision swimming. Every step felt like I was walking further away from myself.
The moment I pushed through the doors, the atmosphere turned into a thick, suffocating wall. The scent of a cloying mix of expensive cologne, stale sweat, and desperation, made my head spin. It was toxic. It was loud. It was a nightmare. I stood there for a moment, the bass thumping in my chest where my heart used to be, feeling utterly invisible and completely shattered.
I stumbled toward the bar, my fingers white-knuckled as I gripped the edge of the mahogany. I didn't know the names of drinks. I didn't care.
"Give me something... the strongest thing you have," I told the bartender. My voice was a brittle ghost of itself, shaking so hard I had to bite my lip to keep it still.
When he slid the glass over, I didn't even look at it. I didn't sniff it or sip it. I gripped the glass like a lifeline and tilted it back, gulping it down.
It was liquid fire. It scorched my throat and brought tears to my eyes, but I welcomed it. I wanted the burn. I wanted it to hurt on the outside so I could forget the way it felt on the inside. One shot. Two. By the fourth, the edges of the room began to soften. By the sixth, Adrian’s face was a little blurrier, and the hole in my chest felt just a little further away.
"Do you... do you have escorts?" I giggled, the alcohol turning my despair into a hazy, reckless courage. The bartender snapped his fingers, and suddenly, ten gorgeous, shirtless men were lined up in front of me, their abs glistening under the strobe lights. I looked at them, one by one, but none of them felt right. They felt like plastic.
I let out a growl and I turned to the left, and my heart stopped. Sitting in a dark booth was the most breathtaking man I had ever seen, his aura so cold it felt like a physical chill, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass.
Without a second thought, I stumbled over to him, draping my arms around his neck and leaning into his expensive scent. "Be my man for the night?" I whispered, my lips brushing his ear.
He stared at me with an icy, calculated look that should have terrified me, but in my drunken state, it was the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't want words—I wanted to forget.
I pressed my hand over his lips and kissed him, hard and desperate, tasting the shock on his tongue. His guards immediately rushed forward to shove me off, but he caught me by the waist, his grip like iron, and barked a single command "Get out!" and immediately the guard scurried away.
He scooped me up in a bridal carry, his muscles tensing beneath his suit as he hauled me into a private room. He threw me onto the bed and pinned me down, his hand wrapping firmly around my throat—not to hurt me, but to dominate.
"What do you really want from me? Why do you keep toiling with my heart, fatso?" he hissed, his eyes searching mine.
I let out a broken, watery laugh. "I'm not... or are you just making excuses because I'm big?" The tears started again, spilling over my cheeks. "Nobody wants me! I’m useless! My wolf abandoned me, my husband is in bed with my sister... I’m worthless!"
I expected him to laugh or throw me out, but instead, he slammed his lips onto mine, biting my lower lip until I tasted copper. "Don't you ever say that about yourself," he growled against my mouth, his voice dropping to a dark, gravelly register.
"You are perfect." He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered the words that set my blood on fire. "Now spread those legs wide, because I’m not going to go easy on you."
I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, desperate for the friction, and he let out a primal, guttural growl before reaching down and ripping my gown clean down the middle.
He didn't wait for another word, his large, calloused hands slid up my body to grip my breasts with a possessiveness that made my toes curl. He groaned, a deep, vibrating sound that rumbled through his chest as he latched onto my nipple.
He sucked and teased the sensitive peak with his teeth, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core, and I arched my back, my fingers tangling in his hair as I let out a jagged, breathless moan as his hands roaming over my curves with a hunger that felt like worship.
He slid down the bed and buried his face between my legs, eating me up with a ferocity that left me sobbing into the pillows and within minutes he was in me, wrecking the last thread of my sanity.
I groaned, blinking my eyes open, it was morning already. I reached out across the silk sheets, but the bed was cold—the man from last night was gone.
A crushing weight of guilt immediately settled in my stomach, making me feel physically ill; I had cheated on my husband. Even if he had declared an open marriage, even if he was probably still tangled in the sheets with my stepsister, the weight of my five-year marriage felt like a lead chain around my neck.
I struggled to sit up, my head spinning as I looked for my clothes, only to find my dress lying on the floor in tattered, useless shreds, and my panties were in no better condition.
I touched my lower lip, hissing in pain as I felt where he had bitten down hard in the heat of the moment. How intense had he been? I could barely piece the night together through the alcoholic fog, but as I tried to stand, my legs gave way and I stumbled back onto the mattress. My thighs were wobbling uncontrollably, and a sharp, immense throb of pain radiated from between my legs, making me gasp. My God, what kind of monster was he carrying down there?
My eyes suddenly caught a sleek shopping bag sitting on the nightstand. I reached for it with trembling hands, finding a beautiful, high-end gown inside, along with a bottle of medicine and a small, handwritten note. I unfolded the paper, my breath hitching as I read the bold, elegant script:
“A replacement for the dress I ruined. Take the medicine; it will numb the pain between your legs so you can walk properly ”
I felt a hot, traitorous blush creep up my neck and settle in my cheeks, even though I could barely even remember what his face looked like. I quickly gulped down the medicine, the cooling sensation bringing almost instant relief to the soreness of my body.
I made my way to the bathroom, scrubbing the scent of him off my skin, though the phantom feeling of his hands stayed with me as I slipped into the new dress and stepped out of the room.
I stepped into the now-quiet club, heading straight for the bar to settle my tab.
"I'd like to pay for the room and the drinks from last night," I muttered, not meeting the bartender's eyes.
The bartender paused, giving me a strange, questioning look. "Your partner already settled everything, ma'am. He paid for the room, the clothes, and your tab before he left."
"Oh," I blinked, feeling a strange flutter in my chest. "Who... who was he? I didn't get a chance to ask."
The bartender’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his expression turning to one of utter disbelief.
"Are you serious? You don't know the man you lured into bed yesterday? You don't know who that was?" I shook my head, my heart starting to race with a sudden, unexplained dread. "No. I don't."
The bartender leaned in, his voice dropping to a respectful, terrified whisper. "That was the Alpha, lady. Alpha Xavier."
Immediately, the world tilted on its axis, and I felt the floor drop out from beneath my feet as everything went blurry. My breath hitched in a silent scream.
The Alpha? My uncle-in-law? The "Devil" himself? I had just had a one-night stand with the most ruthless man in the territory—the man my husband feared more than death.