Alpha's Regret the Luna is Secret Heiress (by Sylvia) novel Chapter 115

< Chapter 63: Drunken Conf

48 Points

Chapter 63: Drunken Confessions–2

I called Frank Langley, keeping my voice low to avoid disturbing Olivia.

“I need you to bring my toiletries and a change of clothes to Ms. Winters‘ apartment,” I

instructed. “Leave them outside the door. No need to knock.”

“Right away, Alpha,” Frank replied efficiently.

While waiting, I checked that Olivia was comfortable, adjusting her blankets and making sure a glass of water and pain relievers were on her nightstand for the morning. She would need them, judging by how much she’d had to drink.

After Frank delivered my things, I took a quick shower and changed into comfortable clothes. Then, with one last look at Olivia’s peaceful form, I settled myself on the living room sofa.

It wasn’t ideal–my tall frame barely fit–but it was the honorable choice. My wolf disagreed, wanting to be closer to her, but I silenced its protests. Olivia deserved better than to wake up confused and potentially feeling taken advantage of.

As I drifted toward sleep, her drunken words echoed in my mind: “My mate.” The simple phrase filled me with a possessive satisfaction I couldn’t deny, even as I reminded myself she hadn’t been in control of her words.

Still, a man could hope.

(Olivia’s POV)

Pain. That was my first conscious thought as awareness slowly returned. My head throbbed mercilessly, each pulse sending sharp daggers behind my eyes.

I groaned softly, reluctant to open my eyes to what would surely be blinding morning light. What had happened last night? Fragments of memories swirled hazily through my mind.

The Moonlight Club. Singing–oh god, had I really been singing? Wine, so much wine.

And then…

Connor.

My eyes flew open despite the pain, panic surging through me. I remembered

|||

O

Chapter 63 Drunken Conf

clinging to him, saying things—embarrassing things about relationships and

commitment. Had I really called him my mate? In public?

Foints)

Horror washed over me in waves as more memories surfaced. I’d kissed his cheek, his chin. I’d been all over him like some lovesick teenager, completely uninhibited by the wine coursing through my system.

What must he think of me now?

I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. First things first

-where was l?

Relief flooded through me as I recognized my own bedroom. I was wearing my favorite pajamas, the soft cotton ones with little moons that I saved for comfort days. My hair smelled of my usual shampoo, and I felt clean despite the hangover pounding behind my eyes.

Someone had taken care of me. Connor had taken care of me.

The realization brought both comfort and mortification. He’d seen me at my absolute

worst, completely out of control. Yet he’d brought me home safely, made sure I was

clean and comfortable.

Gathering my courage, I slipped out of bed, wincing as the movement intensified my headache. I noticed the glass of water and pain relievers on my nightstand–another thoughtful gesture that made my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

After swallowing the pills, I padded quietly to my bedroom door, opening it with

trepidation. What would I find? Had Connor left after putting me to bed, or…?

My question was answered immediately. There on my sofa lay Connor Rivers, his

powerful frame barely contained by the furniture that suddenly seemed much too

small for him. One arm was thrown above his head, the other resting across his chest. His handsome face was softened in sleep, his usual intensity temporarily at

bay.

He’d stayed. All night, he’d stayed to make sure I was alright.

Mortification washed over me anew as I approached him quietly. He must have witnessed all my drunken behavior, my complete lack of inhibition. What had I said to him? What had I done?

O

<Chapter 63. Drunken Conf

+8 Points >

The memory of calling him my mate in the crowded club made me cringe inwardly, my cheeks flushing crimson. I’d been so forward, so unlike my usual reserved self.

I reached out hesitantly, gently touching his shoulder. “Con, you should move to the

bedroom,” I suggested softly, my voice slightly rough from the previous night’s

singing.

He stirred, his eyelids fluttering but not opening. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice

deep and husky with sleep.

“7:30 am,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

What happened next caught me completely off guard. With surprising speed for

someone just waking, Connor reached out and pulled me into a warm embrace. His

strong arms encircled me completely as he inhaled deeply, his nose brushing against my hair.

“Sleep well, little wolf?” he asked, his voice playfully teasing.

I could hear the smile in his voice, could practically feel his amusement at my

predicament. He was enjoying this–enjoying my embarrassment over my drunken

antics.

Utterly mortified, I buried my face against his chest, seeking comfort even as

embarrassment flooded through me. His familiar cedar scent enveloped me,

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify