The Road to Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page A

slightly less than the first and he
exhaled loudly before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He
moved to put the cap back on, then shrugged and tossed the lid
aside. Gripping the neck of the bottle he wandered to the window
and opened it.
    A whisper of a
breeze stirred the curtains as the night air drifted into the room.
It skimmed over him, drying the sweat that clung to his skin.
Damien snagged a chair and sat down, contemplating the night sky
with its dots of twinkling lights.
    Experience
told him there’d be no more rest for him that night so why bother
trying to moderate his drinking? Instead, he’d spend the sleepless
hours staring out the window, drowning his sorrows.
    Lifting the
bottle, he saluted the full moon. Somewhere out there werewolves
were celebrating the celestial event. He wondered if Samantha was
joining in the festivities. Was that why she’d been so abrupt with
him? Had she been late for a pack run? And where did wolves go for
a run in the heart of a city?
    Damien tried
to imagine her with her pack, running through the back alleys or
perhaps a large park, playing with the other wolves, finding a
mate... He frowned and his fingers tightened around the bottle, an
uneasy feeling stirring within him at the image he was creating,
though why he didn’t know. What Samantha Harper did was none of his
business.
    He shifted his
gaze from the window and noted his wallet sitting on the bedside
table. Reaching over, he opened it up and stared at the lone
photograph inside. Beth. He’d met her on a moonlit night such as
this. She’d been beautiful and shy and had looked so lost. He’d
fallen in love at first sight.
    Slowly,
reverently, he traced her features with his fingertip. It had been
three years since he’d touched her, held her, pressed a kiss to her
soft sweet lips. Some people had hinted to him that he should move
on, find another mate. He shook his head. How do you love again
when your heart is dead?
    Melancholy
threatened to overwhelm him again so he firmed his jaw and pushed
the memory away. He couldn’t afford to feel, at least not emotions.
The smoothness of the floor under his bare feet, the heat of the
whiskey in his gut... That was all he allowed himself. Only when he
slept did it manage to escape. Sleep was not his friend.
Unconsciousness however...
    He laughed
darkly and tilted the bottle, his lips forming around the cool
glass. Drinking deeply, he wiped his mouth once again and slouched
down in the chair. His right leg rested in a patch of light and he
noted the scarred flesh. It was the only physical reminder of the
fire that had almost claimed him. Everything else had miraculously
healed or so the doctor had proclaimed.
    Not
everything, he whispered to himself as his fingers clutched the
wallet in his hand. My body is alive, but my soul is dead. As dead
as the child I never held, as dead as my love, my Beth.
    Closing his
eyes, he brought the whiskey bottle to his mouth and tipped his
head back once more.
     
    By morning he
was numb. His werewolf metabolism prevented him from getting drunk
on human whiskey, but numb was good. As dawn broke, he pushed
himself from his chair and headed to the bathroom to shower. It
wouldn’t do to start his new job smelling like a brewery, and
working for another Lycan meant it was hard to hide his drinking
habit.
    Kane had
threatened to beat the crap out of him if he didn’t stop, so he
had...while he stayed with them. It had been Elise’s reproachful
looks that had really kept him on the straight and narrow. For a
female Alpha, she was quiet, almost demure, but still managed to
keep the pack members in line with her soft suggestions.
    He chuckled.
Samantha was a hell of a lot different from Elise, and from his
Beth. Last night, he’d thought he’d have to rescue her from that
creep at the bar. Instead, she’d wiped the floor with the man while
not even breaking a sweat.
    And then, when
he’d followed her, she’d tried to ambush him. The