Chapter 335. The Giggling Drunk III

Chapter 335: 335. The Giggling Drunk III

Maisie

Soren hit the bed with a groan, his dark head smacking into the pillow as he blinked hard to focus.

"Hey! No shoes on the bed!" I yelled, and he sat up instantly, flinching like a child that had been rebuked as he fiddled for the laces of his shoes.

"Sorry," he slurred, missing the laces by an inch. He frowned, shaking his head as he tried again, but his fingers scraped the floorboard instead. "I have it. I jush—just..." He blew raspberries, lips puckering. "...need one second."

He missed again and yelled, "Brynn! Come take off my shoes!"

Oh, for the love of the Goddess.

I smacked off his wrist before he cool peel off his nails and he draw back his hand, affronted. "You don’ hav’ta ssshmack me around. Always smacking me around." He sombered up when I began untying his laces. "You look good. At my feet. Very... very good."

I glanced up through the curtains of my hair, holding up one of his shoes to smack him in the head with. But he was clutching his cheeks, smiling sheepishly.

I shook my head. "If you knew the wine was special, why did you drink so much, Soren?"

Because of our quick metabolisms, regular whiskeys and liquors didn’t leave us with enough buzz to gift the morning after hangover. Best cases, they lasted for as long as an hour, but even then, we never truly lost full control of our senses.

Hence, there were certain brands that catered to our kinds. Stronger drugs. Stronger liquor. Stronger effects in general.

"Dale’s a stuck-up... self-righteous... sanctimonious prick.Needed him loose. So I could... get the thing," he murmured. He was touching my hair again.

"And what did you want from him?" I asked, pulling his socked feet out of his shoes. I expected his feet to smell like boys’ stinking socks, but they smelled pretty nice.

"A favor," he murmured, long lashes drooping heavily. "Will come in handy. Soon. Eventually. Sometime."

My brows arched at that, but he had lost his train of thought, reminding me vaguely of my Lycan whenever I needed important information and asked her if she knew anything helpful about what was happening to us, or just anything about the other world.

She never completed her statements, tracking off and muttering that she didn’t remember, but would ultimately turn the conversation towards muffins and pudding.

She was either holding out on me on purpose, or the Moon Goddess had given me a rusty old Lycan with a mental issue.

"Hold out your arms," I ordered. "I’m going to take off your jacket."

He bobbed his head obediently, shifting his arms. I pushed it off his broad shoulders and hung it on one of the free hooks I had left next to the window. His eyes tracked me the entire time, a childlike openness and curiosity in them as I moved about, like I was performing some trick he’d never seen before in his life.

He’d not only gotten himself new clothes, but there was a new belt cinched around his waist. I thought it’d make sleeping uncomfortable, so I dropped into a crouch and reached forward to take it off.

An amused giggle slipped out of Soren. "Trying to t—take advantage of my... my intoxicated state?"

"No—"

"You’re wearing my shirt. Got your... your sweat all over it. Naughty." Shocking me, he leaned back, and he spread his legs wider, making room for me between them. He bit his bottom lip, cheeks rosy, and patted the mattress between his thighs. "By all means. Please. Take advantage. I don’ mind. At all. Really."

I opened my mouth, aghast. "I am not trying to—"

"Hm-hmm," he hummed, grabbing my wrist and yanking me forward. My knees hit the floor. I gasped when he planted my hand firmly on his crotch, one shy inch away from the tent forming in his pants, and beamed. "Carry on. S’fine. I’m helpful."

I snatched my hand back, mortified, and I grabbed the pillow and whacked him in the face. "Come of it! I am just getting you ready for bed!"

He looked dazed for a second. Then, a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Bed? You want it on the bed?"

He adjusted his posture, cocking his head and undoing his buttons, in a half-assed attempt at a seductive image. But he was too drunk to push his own buttons and got his fingers tangled up in them instead.

"Ah well," he complained and ripped it off instead.

And then, he lunged to snatch me off the floor. With a breathless squeal of laughter, I ducked. "Soren, stop!"

He frowned and tried again, but he pitched off the mattress with a heavy thud, sprawling across the floor with a complaint I didn’t catch. Something along the lines of cruel women. He didn’t try to get up.

I stiffled my laughter, crawling over to him. "You are an absolute disaster, husband."

He grunted in response, his eyes fluttering shut.

Sighing, I shifted closer, sliding my hand under his shoulder to heave his heavy torso up. His warm breath tickled my ear as his head lolled to rest on my shoulder. He blinked, unfocused, but adjusted his weight, helping me get him back to the bed with a lot of maneuvering.

Breathing hard, I lowered him till he lay down. His breathing evened out and his brows furrowed as he mumbled something incoherent.

I reached up, flicking off the light switch.

I watched him in the dark, noting the circles under his eyes. He looked tired. Goddess knew how long it had been since he had a good night’s sleep.

My hand breached the gap, smoothening over his cheek. My chest felt really tight the longer I looked at him. I was falling again, and I couldn’t do a single thing to stop myself. Didn’t want to. I’d been doomed from the start, I thought, huffing a laugh as I kissed his cheek swiftly.

Straightening, I started for the table, but Soren moaned, clutching my arm before I could move away. "Stay," he slurred, brows pinching, though his eyes stayed closed.

I didn’t think he was entirely awake.

His death grip on me tightened and he tugged, pulling me to his side. My ass hit the mattress and he felt blindly, moving about until his dark head rested in my lap.

Heartbeat skipping, I began running my fingers through his hair.

He shuddered and purred, snuggling deeper into my thigh, his face pressed against my stomach. "I’ve never done this before," he mumbled. "It is... pleasant. Your hands ’re... magic."

I smiled, rocking slightly, and he exhaled softly. "I... got you something," he mumbled. "But you can’t... can’t open it yet. Until... Solstice."

My gaze flicked to the pink box lying next to the door. "Solstice," I repeated.

"It’ll be our first together," he mumbled. "It’s also... Mother’s death anniversary. I have to introduce you to her soon. She won’t speak back. Never speaks back. But she’s a great listener. She’ll... She’ll love you. I love you."

Sorrow wedged in my heart. Solstice was his birth date. I hadn’t known that. Soren hardly ever spoke about it, and considering it had always been a touchy subject between us... seeing as Margaret had ordered their deaths at my father’s hands, I didn’t have the courage to ask him about it, either.

Somehow, I knew he’d never considered it his birth date. It was more about her than him. I doubted he’d ever celebrated it himself.

"When all this is over..." I whispered, and stopped myself, not wanting to make promises I couldn’t keep.

I didn’t even know if I would be alive by the winter solstice.

"Hate it..." he stuttered.

I stroked his hair. "Hate what?"

"The castle," he murmured. "The throne. The court. The responsibilities. Can’t stand the lies. The half truths. The pretense. The flare. I learned how to lie first before I ever learned to pronounce my name. I hate it. But I’m so good at it, I can never leave. I shouldn’t have dumped that burden on you by forcing you into marriage. I’ve only made your life hell."

"You saved my life," I said firmly. "I was mad about the wedding, but I understand why it had to be done. And..." I swallowed. "I never did say thank you."

I didn’t want to imagine what would have happened to me if Soren had obeyed his aunt and wedded Tessa. It wouldn’t have stopped at the Red Moon rite, or being drugged out of my mind, stripped of my own agency to realize I was being taken by several men against my own will.

If I had survived the night, I might have killed myself from the shame of it. And if I hadn’t, it would’ve continued over and over, reprieve coming only when I took in with someone’s child.

He’d saved me from that, and maybe it took me several months to accept it, but I did now. And I didn’t hate him for it anymore. Hadn’t for a long time now.

"Would you come with me if I walked away from all of it? I would have nothing. But maybe you would be safer if I was a nobody."

My eyes warmed and I raked my nails along his scalp, tasting the salt of tears on my lips as he whispered, "I have this nightmare, May. My mother is heavy with child. She’s dying. My fathers can’t do anything to help her. They know they’ll die when she breathes her last. But they can’t let go of her hand, can’t seem to take the pain away fast enough. Except it’s not them. It’s us. And I have your blood on my hands."

"Yes," I answered after a moment. "I’d go anywhere with you."

But he was already fast asleep.