Chapter 248
Chapter 248
Caiden's POV
The road was like a black river, and I was drowning my engine in it. Ninety, a hundred, a hundred and ten, the speedometer needle trembled, a physical manifestation of the tremor in my hands. Serena’s words played on a loop in my head, a screeching, dissonant track over the roar of the engine.
“I, Serena Carlton …reject you, Caiden Antonio, Alpha of Nightshade Pack.”
Liar.
The Alpha of the Nightshade Pack, a title that usually felt like a second skin, now felt like a cheap costume. She’d stripped it away, and the man underneath was just… bleeding.
I swerved into the parking lot of The Howling Moon, the second bar of the night, the tires crunching over gravel. The first one hadn't been enough to blur the edges. This one would have to be.
I found a shadowy corner booth, the leather sticky and cold. I didn't order; I just lifted two fingers, and a bottle of whiskey and a glass appeared. I poured the first shot and threw it back, the burn a welcome punishment. The second followed, then a third. I abandoned the glass and drank straight from the bottle, the amber liquid doing little to quench the fire of humiliation in my gut.
Reject. The word was a brand. An ordinary girl. She’d looked me in the eye, a man who commanded wolves, who held the power of life and death in his territory, and she’d said no.
A bitter laugh escaped me, harsh and ugly in the dim light. I was so lost in the spiral of my own pain I didn't hear the footsteps until a voice, soft and familiar, cut through the noise in my head.
“Caiden?”
I looked up, my vision taking a second to focus. Sara. She stood there, bathed in the cheap neon glow from the bar sign, looking like a ghost in a simple white mini-dress. Innocent. The thought made me chuckle darkly. I imagined Serena in that dress, and the comparison was a fresh knife twist. They all seem so pure, until they’re not. They’re all worse.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sliding into the booth beside me without an invitation. Her thigh pressed against mine. “You look… sad.”
The cheap sympathy, the obvious observation, snapped the last thread of my control. “Because I’m sad!” I snarled, the words tearing from my throat. My fist clenched around the empty glass on the table and I hurled it against the far wall. It shattered, the sound a satisfying crack that silenced the bar for a moment. “I’m fucking hurt!”
I dropped my head into my hands, the alcohol and anguish making my voice thick. “I got rejected. Caiden Antonio, Alpha of the Nightshade Pack, got fucking rejected by… an ordinary girl.” I laughed again, the sound choked as I fought back the hot, shameful press of tears. “Why? Why does she have to do that, Sara? I was willing to do anything for her. Anything.”
I expected platitudes. Empty words. But when I looked at her, her expression wasn’t pitying. It was… understanding. Her eyes held a deep, relatable pain that I hadn’t anticipated.
“I know how that feels,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She placed a gentle hand on my arm. “To give someone your whole heart and watch them treat it like it’s nothing. To feel like you’re not enough, even when you’ve given everything.” She leaned closer, her scent, a cloying, sweet perfume, invading my space. “But I’m here now.”
Her gaze was intense, her lips slightly parted. She leaned in further, pressing the soft, exposed swell of her breasts against my bicep. The contact was a jolt, a physical anchor in my spiraling world.
“I can make you feel okay,” she murmured, her breath warm against my ear. “As always.”
Then she kissed me.
Her lips were soft and insistent, tasting of cherry gloss and the same whiskey I was drowning in. For a split second, my battered ego leaned into it, craving the validation, the distraction. But then Serena’s face, her rejection, flashed behind my eyes. I turned my head away, breaking the contact.
Sara sighed, a sound of mild frustration. “I actually wanted to talk to you about…”
I didn’t let her finish. The rejection, the whiskey, the raw, gaping wound of my pride—it all coalesced into a single, violent impulse. My hand shot out, my fingers wrapping around the back of her neck, and I pulled her to me, crushing my mouth to hers.
This wasn’t a kiss; it was a punishment. For her, for Serena, for myself. It was rough and desperate, all teeth and clashing tongues. She moaned into my mouth, a high, eager sound, and her hands flew to my chest, then clawed at my shirt. With a sharp rip, buttons scattered across the booth as she tore the fabric open.
Her own dress was next. My fingers found the zipper at her back and yanked it down. The white fabric pooled at her waist. I broke the kiss, my lips traveling down her jaw, her throat, and lower, into the valley of her cleavage. She arched into me with a gasp, her fingers tangling in my hair.
The world narrowed to the taste of her skin, the sound of her moans, and the frantic, obliterating need to feel anything other than the pain.
\---
The sun was a merciless blade, stabbing through my eyelids. I groaned, my head pounding a brutal, rhythmic agony. I squinted, disoriented. This wasn’t my room. The walls were a bland beige, the furniture cheap and generic.
A hotel.
And I was naked.
A cold dread washed over me, cutting through the hangover. I turned my head.
Sara. Naked beside me, the sheet tangled around her hips, her hair fanned out over the pillow. The sun highlighted the smooth skin of her shoulder, the curve of her back.
She hummed, stirring. She stretched, a lazy, cat-like movement, and then her eyes fluttered open. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.
“Babe, you’re awake?” she yawned, sitting up. The sheet fell, revealing her breasts. She leaned in, aiming for a morning kiss.
A wave of revulsion, cold and sharp, cleared the last of the fog from my brain. My hand snapped up, my fingers wrapping around her throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to stop her dead.
“Where the hell did you bring me?” I growled, my voice gravelly with sleep and disgust.
Her eyes widened. She slapped my wrist. “Let go! We lodged in here last night for fun. Don’t you remember?”
“What? No.” I released her, shoving her back against the headboard as I scrambled out of the bed. “We did nothing. We couldn’t have.”
“You indulged me, Caiden,” she said, rubbing her neck, her voice taking on a hard edge. “We fucked. I didn’t force you.”
“No!” I snarled, grabbing my jeans from the floor and yanking them on. My mind was a frantic, blank slate. I remembered the bar, the kiss… and then a blurry, nauseating void. “Nothing happened. I will remember.”
I found my ripped shirt and pulled it on, the torn fabric a humiliating testament to the night.
“You were heartbroken,” she said, her tone shifting to something almost pitiful. “I guess that girl really did a number on you.”
“No. Shut up!” I yelled, but the protest died in my throat. Serena’s face, her gentle eyes, her soft voice when she rejected me, hit me with the force of a physical blow. The guilt was instantaneous and suffocating.
What had I done?
“I have to see her,” I muttered, more to myself than to Sara. I had to fix this. I had to make her see. This… this thing with Sara was another mistake, a phantom, a symptom of the pain Serena had caused. It didn’t count. I stumbled toward the door, my only thought to get to Serena, to convince her to take back her words.
“Caiden, wait!” Sara shouted from the bed.
My hand was on the doorknob.
“You need to know that I’m pregnant. For you.”
I yanked the door open, but my feet froze to the threshold. The words echoed in the silent room, each one a shard of ice piercing my spine. I glanced back at her, at her defiant expression, at the rumpled sheets that now seemed like a crime scene.
A harsh, disbelieving scoff tore from my lips. “You’re crazy.”
Then I left, slamming the door behind me. The hallway was long and empty. I broke into a run. I need to see Serena. I can't just accept her rejection. I'm sure she's in her correct state of mind now. She'll take back the rejection and reject Hades because we're soul mates.
Yes, I thought, the desperate mantra fueling my escape. She will.