Darkness Splintered

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I woke up naked and in a strange bed.

For several minutes I did nothing more than breathe in the gently feminine – but totally unfamiliar – scents in the room, trying to figure out how, exactly, I’d gotten here.

And where the hell “here” was.

My brain was decidedly fuzzy on any sort of detail, however, and that could only mean my mission to consume enough alcohol to erase all thought and blot out emotion had actually succeeded. And that surprised the hell out of me.

Thanks to our fast metabolic rate, werewolves generally find it difficult to go on a bender. I might be only half were, but I usually hold my alcohol fairly well and really hadn’t expected to get anywhere near drunk. I certainly hadn’t expected to be able to forget – if for only a few hours – the anger and the pain.

Pain that came from both the worst kind of betrayal, and my own subsequent actions.

My eyes stung, but this time no tears fell. Maybe because I had very little in the way of tears left. Or maybe it was simply the fact that, somewhere in the alcohol-induced haze of the past few days, I’d finally come to accept what had happened to me.

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