I stumbled as I moved through my apartment, the empty wine bottle dangling from my fingers. The moonlight wine—stronger than regular red—had done its job. My mind floated in a hazy cloud, far removed from the terror of being attacked earlier.
"Stupid shoes," I muttered, kicking off my slippers. The movement sent a jolt of pain through my twisted ankle, but the alcohol dulled it to a distant throb.
The apartment spun slightly as I made my way toward my bedroom. Each step was an adventure in balance. The wine had accomplished what I'd hoped—I couldn't feel the phantom hands of my attacker anymore. Couldn't feel much of anything.
When the knock came at my door, I nearly tripped over my own feet. I hadn't expected Julian to actually return. Part of me hoped he'd change his mind.
"Go away," I called, my words slurring slightly.
Instead, the door opened. Of course he had a key. He was the Alpha King—he probably had keys to everything in the territory.
