103

Chapter 103
*Rafe*
The party had come to end about an hour ago but it felt like the torture i was going through was just the beginning. Especially because of the lady who was sitting in my chambers.
Jessica was prattling on about something, her voice a distant hum against the storm raging in my mind. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the flickering candlelight, but all I could see was Freya. Freya, dancing with Daniel, their laughter echoing louder than the music at the werewolf festival ball tonight. My chest tightened as I recalled the way he spun her around, his hands lingering on her waist.
A growl rumbled low in my throat, and Jessica paused, her words faltering. “Rafe? Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I snapped, though my hands clenched into fists. Freya had assured me she loved only me. Only me. But the sight of her so freely enjoying someone else’s company gnawed at my insides. I should have been the one twirling her around, making her laugh. Instead, I was bound by my duties as Alpha king, nodding along to endless conversations that bored me to tears and being shackled to Jessica.
“Are you even listening to me?” Jessica huffed, crossing her arms. Her irritation barely registered. My thoughts were consumed with images of Freya-what was she doing now, alone in her chambers? Would she be thinking of me, or was she still caught up in the night’s revelry?
The urge to go to her surged inside me, but as I tried to rise, the room tilted dangerously. The floor felt uneven beneath my feet, and I staggered, catching myself against the bedpost. The taste of too much wine lingered bitterly on my tongue. Damn it, I was drunker than I’d realized.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jessica’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into her voice.
“Nowhere,” I muttered, though my heart pounded with the desire to see Freya. To hold her, apologize for the cold expression I’d worn all night. But my legs felt like lead, and each attempt to stand sent the world spinning anew.
“Just stay here,” Jessica said, her hand landing on my shoulder. She tried to coax me back down, but my mind was miles away. I needed to see Freya. I needed to-
“Rafe, you’re too drunk,” Jessica’s voice cut through the haze, and reluctantly, I sank back onto the bed. The frustration boiled under my skin, but my body was betraying me, refusing to obey my commands.
“Freya…” Her name escaped my lips in a whisper, filled with longing and regret.
“Forget her,” Jessica’s tone turned sharp. But how could I? Freya was everything. And right now, she felt impossibly far away.
I pushed myself up on trembling arms, my determination to see Freya overriding the drunken daze that clouded my mind. Her face flashed before me-those deep, sorrowful eyes when she’d caught me flirting with Jessica, trying to appease the pack leaders with a facade of interest.
“Freya,” I muttered again, the name a lifeline in the storm of my thoughts. How could I have been so cruel? She didn’t deserve that. She deserved everything I had to give and more.
“Rafe, stop,” Jessica’s voice was a sharp blade cutting through the haze. Her hand pressed firmly against my chest, forcing me back down onto the bed.
“You’re too tired and drunk to go anywhere,” she insisted, her tone brooking no argument. “Freya will be disgusted if you show up like this. She won’t want to see you now.”
“Disgusted?” The word felt wrong, foreign, as it tumbled from my lips. Freya would never look at me that way, would she? But doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Jessica’s hand was insistent, her grip stiff.
“Stay,” she commanded softly, her eyes locking onto mine. Yet all I could think of was Freya, waiting alone, her heart aching because of my foolish actions.
“She needs to understand,” I mumbled, though the words felt thick and heavy. “I need to… apologize.”
“Not tonight,” Jessica countered, her voice a mix of firmness and something softer, almost tender. “You can barely stand. You’ll only make things worse.”
My body sagged beneath the weight of her logic, but my heart rebelled. Freya was all I wanted-all I’d ever wanted. But as the room spun around me, I couldn’t deny that Jessica might be right. For now, at least.
“Tomorrow,” I whispered, a promise to myself as much as to the woman holding me back. Tomorrow, I’d make things right.
Jessica’s hands were on me again, guiding me back to the bed. “Yes, tomorrow,” she echoed soothingly. Her fingers brushed my chest, leaving trails of warmth that muddled my thoughts further.
“Freya…” I sighed, closing my eyes to conjure her face. The sadness in her eyes when I had ignored her at the ball-it gnawed at me, a relentless ache. I tried to clear my head, to see through the fog of alcohol, but everything was hazy and disjointed.
“Shh,” Jessica murmured, pulling me closer. Her lips found mine, soft and insistent. For a moment, in my intoxicated state, I let myself believe it was Freya. I kissed her back, hungrily, desperately, thinking of Freya’s scent, her warmth, her love.
“Freya,” I breathed against her mouth, holding her tightly. My mind filled with thoughts of how much I adored her, how she was mine and mine alone. The kiss deepened, and I pulled her under me, needing to feel her against me, to erase the pain of our earlier distance.
But then-something was wrong. My fingers tangled in strands of hair, and they were not dark like Freya’s. They were blonde.
“Freya?” I blinked, pulling away slightly. The room spun, but the golden locks in my grasp were unmistakable. Cold realization washed over me like a bucket of icy water.
“Jessica?” The name left my lips in a horrified whisper, and I stared down at her, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Yes, Rafe,” she replied softly, her eyes searching mine for something-approval, desire, I didn’t know. But all I felt was panic and guilt.
“Gods, what have I done?”
“Get off me!” I growled, shoving Jessica away with a roughness that startled even myself. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.
“Rafe,” she started, reaching out to touch my arm. “You’re drunk. You need to rest.”
“Leave me alone,” I snapped, brushing her hand off as if it burned. My voice was unsteady, thick with the weight of too much alcohol and raw emotion. “I don’t want you. The wolf inside me-” I thumped my chest for emphasis, “-wants only Freya.”
“Rafe, please.” Her voice softened, pleading. “Let me stay and make sure you’re okay.”
“Go,” I insisted, my tone harsh and final. I turned my back to her, sinking onto the bed, my head cradled in my hands. The room spun around me, a dizzying kaleidoscope of regret and self-loathing.
“Fine,” she whispered after a long pause, her voice barely audible. “But I’m just outside if you need anything.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat felt constricted, words trapped behind a barrier of guilt. I heard her footsteps retreat, I assumed I heard the soft click of the door closing behind her, but I wasn’t sure. I was too tired to make sure she had actually left.
Slowly, I let my body collapse onto the mattress, the world tilting as I did. Images of Freya filled my mind-the way her dark hair cascaded down her back, the sparkle in her eyes when she laughed, the warmth of her smile that melted the ice around my heart.
“Freya,” I murmured into the darkness, my voice breaking. Would she understand? Could she forgive me for ignoring her at the ball, for letting my duties come between us?
My eyelids grew heavy, the pull of sleep was irresistible. As unconsciousness claimed me, all I could think about was Freya. How much I needed her, how desperately I wanted to make things right.
“Please don’t be upset with me,” I whispered into the void, hoping my love would reach her somehow.
And then, there was nothing but darkness, and the haunting wish that tomorrow would be better for both of us.
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