Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Sebastian’s POV

"What does it have to do with you?"

I glared at her and kept drinking. The beer was cold going down my throat, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning in my chest.

I was losing my mind. That was the only explanation.

I had made a goddamn detour. A detour. My Beta, Fynn, had looked at me like I had grown a second head when I told him we were swinging through Lakewood City. "But Alpha," he had said, "Silverlake City is three hours in the opposite direction."

I did not care. I had told myself it was convenient. I had told myself I was just passing through. But Ryder knew the truth. He knew I was going crazy. The mate bond was eating away at my self-control, and I hated it. I hated her. I hated how she made me feel.

And now here she was. Sitting on my goddamn sofa in my goddamn hotel suite, wearing my goddamn shirt, with her legs crossed and that smug look on her face.

"Well," she picked up a bottle of beer, "it’s better to die with you than just staring at you while you commit suicide."

She started drinking.

I watched her. That was a mistake. My eyes kept drifting to her throat as she swallowed. The way her pulse fluttered under her pale skin. The way she licked a drop of beer off her lower lip.

I looked away.

We drank in silence for a long time. She was thinking about something. I could tell. Her eyes were distant, unfocused.

"You know what?" I said suddenly. "You should stop drinking."

She blinked at me. "Why?"

"Because you look like you have had enough."

"I am fine."

"No, you are not. Your face is red. Your eyes are glassy. You look like you are about to pass out."

"So what if I do?"

"So nothing. I just do not want to carry your drunk ass to bed."

She snorted. "Like you would ever be that chivalrous."

I reached over and grabbed the bottle out of her hand. She protested, reaching for it, but I held it out of reach.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"No."

"Sebastian—"

And then it happened.

She lunged for the bottle. Too fast. Too drunk. Her body tilted, and she fell forward, straight into my chest.

Obviously I caught her. I was not a complete monster.

But then she did not move.

She just lay there, her head resting against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. Her hair smelled like flowers. Maybe it was the scent of shampoo. Her body was light, and she fit perfectly against me.

Ryder howled inside me. Mate. Mate. Mate.

"I am going to sleep first," she mumbled against my chest. "Good night..."

And then she was out. Completely unconscious.

I stared down at her. Her lips were parted. Her eyelashes were dark against her cheeks. Her face was soft in sleep, stripped of that sharp, defensive edge she always wore.

My throat tightened.

I should have dumped her on the couch and walked away.

But I did not.

Instead, I lowered my head.

I did not plan to kiss her. I really did not. But my body moved before my brain could stop it. My lips brushed against hers. Soft. Warm. She tasted like beer and something sweeter. A hint of morning dew. Like she had been waiting for me to taste her.

I wanted more.

My hand moved on its own, sliding under her collar. Her skin was warm. Smooth. My fingers traced the curve of her collarbone. I pulled her closer, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.

She made a soft sound in her throat. "It’s so hot..."

Her eyes were still closed. But her body was awake. Every inch of her seemed to open up, inviting me in.

My breathing got heavier. My hand slid lower. I was losing control. The mate bond was screaming in my ears.

And then—

Bang.

I hit the floor.

I was so drunk I had fallen off the couch. My head smacked against the carpet. The world spun. Everything went dark.