Savannah's POV
I struggled to maintain eye contact with Jonathan as waves of dizziness crashed over me. His scent invaded my senses, those powerful pheromones clouding my judgment with each breath I took.
Was this his strategy to trap me here? Did he fear what losing me would mean for his standing among the packs once I walked away?
I refused to believe this man could be genuine, not after everything. Through our entire marriage, I had never witnessed Jonathan truly wanting me the way he claimed to now.
His words felt hollow, as though spoken by a complete stranger rather than the man I had called my husband. My former husband.
I retreated until my spine pressed against the wooden door. Jonathan eliminated any remaining distance between us, matching each of my backward steps with his own advance.
His disheveled appearance caught me off guard. Hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, breath heavy with whiskey. This wasn't the composed man I knew. His careful control had vanished, replaced by the raw intensity of an Alpha in pursuit.
My breathing became shallow and rapid as panic set in. Jonathan seemed equally affected, forgetting to breathe as he trapped me against the door without so much as brushing my skin.
His rough voice vibrated against my ear when he spoke.
"Tell me how to make this right, Savannah."
The proximity of his mouth to my neck sent shivers across my skin. Every nerve ending came alive under his attention.
God help me, I wanted him.
Was it so wrong to crave this distant man who had treated me like furniture for years? Now that he finally saw me, finally wanted me?
It wouldn't alter my choice to leave. Nothing could change that. But it might give me one chance to experience passion instead of the emotionless encounters we had shared.
"You cannot make this right, Jonathan. But you could have me. One final time before I disappear."
Jonathan remained frozen above me for several heartbeats before pulling away abruptly. His hand covered his mouth and jaw while his eyes found anything to look at except me.
Naturally. Not even alcohol, pheromones, or the threat of losing his reputation could persuade this man to touch me beyond obligation.
Damn him. Why torture me this way? Why not simply let me leave with dignity? Why strip away what little pride I had left?
I forced back the tears threatening to fall. Crying over his repeated rejections would accomplish nothing after enduring them for years.
He coughed to clear his throat. The combination of pain and his overwhelming scent made my skull pound. Dawn had barely broken, and exhaustion already consumed me.
I turned away from him again.
This time, I grasped the door handle and fled as quickly as possible. He made no attempt to pursue me.
Bitterness coated my tongue like poison. Even during our divorce, Jonathan managed to defeat me.
The sharp morning air struck my heated skin like ice. It was finished. I had escaped.
I flagged down a taxi and instructed the driver to take me to a hotel across town, far from both mine and Jonathan's pack territories.
My mind buzzed with plans for my remaining week of life. I would feast on whatever I desired and lose myself in the arms of strangers, compensating for the barren years spent with Jonathan.
Watching the scenery pass, I added visiting the ocean to my modest bucket list. I felt no shame about its simplicity.
How could someone dream bigger when freedom had never been an option?
The journey stretched endlessly as we passed jogging couples, late-night revelers heading home, and students walking to school.
When we reached the hotel, my heart hammered against my ribs.
Everything became a blur. Somehow I managed to speak with the desk clerk, provide false identification, and obtain my room key. But when I closed the door and caught sight of myself in the hallway mirror, I looked like a stranger.
Despite Jonathan's kiss still lingering on my lips from this morning, I wore such a brilliant smile that embarrassment flooded through me.
I clumsily repaired my makeup while dialing the only genuine friend I had within the pack. Belle.
I had confided in her about my divorce plans the morning I discovered Jonathan's mating mark, and she had provided me with a contact number for exactly this situation. A professional escort service.
Going to bars and seducing random men myself might have been more authentic, but getting recognized and dragged back to Jonathan posed too great a risk.
This anonymous arrangement suited my needs perfectly.
The process seemed straightforward enough. Call the number, provide the location, and wait for my companion to arrive.
Excitement made my hands shake as someone answered the phone. My voice came out breathless when I gave them the information.
"Hotel Stellar, room one hundred sixteen."
The line went dead, leaving me staring at my reflection. The fire in my eyes looked foreign as I wavered between mortification and anticipation.
Perhaps calling an escort service at seven in the morning on a Thursday made me sound unhinged, but time was slipping away from me.
I ached to be touched. To be desired, even if only once.
Jonathan had been my destined mate since I turned seventeen. He remained the sole man I had ever been intimate with.
At twenty-four years old, this would mark my first time seeing another man without clothes, and my legs threatened to buckle before he even arrived.
Minutes crawled by as I frantically smoothed my hair, straightened my dress, and perfected my makeup.
Was this too much preparation? Should I be waiting naked? Should I position myself on the bed? Was I overthinking everything? What words should I even say to him?
A knock at the door jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. My hand trembled on the handle.
At last. This was really happening.