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84: VODKA

My eyes pop out of their sockets.

She did not just do that. But she did. She really did. Mila just slapped Luke Ravenstone, her mate, across the cheek. The sound bounces off the cold countertops, almost blasphemous in its echo. The short silence after is even more tensed. Her eyes widen with realization of what she has done. And then she bursts out in tears, clutches his shirt and sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She repeats over and over again.

I wait for it.

But, no.

The world doesn’t end.

Luke Ravenstone doesn’t turn into a hulk and herald in the apocalypse. No, he rubs Mila’s back, soothing her in the softest voice that could come out of his vocal cords. “It’s okay, you’re just drunk, you’re okay.”

I sit back down and stare; dumbfounded.

So he’s capable of feeling anything other than disgust and cold rage? Huh.

Mila calms enough to straighten, although she’s still tipsy on her feet. She looks at his face, takes in a sharp breath, and bursts out crying for the umpteenth tim
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