Chapter 58: My Lover's Mate

Wes’ head pounded as if he had spent the night in the bottom of a bottle of his best scotch, and as he stretched, the bottle he forgot he drank fell from the bed, landing on the floor with a loud crack. He rolled over, his body groaning as he did, and stared down at the dark brown bottle. Or rather, at the pile of dark brown bottles. It took a lot of alcohol to get a shifter drunk, and from what he saw on the floor, he drank a lot of alcohol last night.

He moaned as he rolled back over, allowing his head to fall into his pillow. His eyes closed as the reasoning behind his night making love to the bottle—bottles—came flooding back to him.

Noel.