I opened my eyes slowly, the world still tilting slightly as the remnants of alcohol clouded my senses, leaving my instincts dulled but not absent. The lingering imbalance in my body made it clear I had pushed beyond my limit too quickly, and the disorientation settled in like a haze I couldn't fully shake.
The car came to a stop at the entrance of Anastasia's community entrance, where the boundary markers of the pack's territory subtly pulsed with protective energy. The bodyguard moved to open the door, reaching in to assist me as I stepped out, but I instinctively pulled away, refusing the support.
"I'm fine. I don't need help."
Even in this state, maintaining my composure mattered. I refused to let my weakened condition be read as loss of control, especially in front of Anastasia. Showing instability in front of a mate—whether acknowledged or not—was something my instincts resisted, even as my body was clearly still recovering from the alcohol's effects.
