Scent of Betrayal

~FREYA~

My brain hammered against my skull in a punishing rhythm, as if trying to break through the bone. I groaned, shifting my weight, but my limbs felt heavy and useless, like wet concrete. A jolt of cold, sharp reality hit me the moment my bare skin brushed against foreign sheets. I was naked.

Panic, icy and sudden, pierced through the lingering haze of cheap whiskey. I snapped my heavy eyelids open, my pulse immediately kicking into overdrive. I sat up, clutching the unfamiliar white duvet tightly to my chest. My eyes darted around the room in a frantic sweep. High ceilings, minimalist modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows with the curtains drawn. This was definitely not my bedroom.

I dragged a shaky hand through my tangled hair, trying to piece the fragmented nightmare together. The bar. The glass shattering. Passing out. But how did I end up naked in a stranger's bed?

The air in the room wrapped around me, thick and heavy with the scent of cedar wood and raw musk. It was rich, intoxicating, and mingled strangely with the familiar aroma of my own scent lingering on the sheets. An involuntary shiver trailed straight down my spine. The scent was powerful, dominant.

My gaze fell to the sleek wooden nightstand beside the bed. A thick stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills sat perfectly centered next to a brass lamp.

The sight hit me like a physical punch to the gut. The cash lay there, glaring at me, a mocking slap to my dignity. Hot, bubbling anger washed over my confusion. A stranger had dragged me into his bed, stripped me, and left money on the table like I was some cheap alley hooker. I gripped the edge of the duvet, my knuckles turning white. I wanted to find the bastard who did this, scream in his face, and shove every single one of those bills right up his arrogant ass.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heels of my palms against my forehead. Deep, suffocating shame clawed at my throat. I hadn't gone to that bar to sleep with someone out of revenge. I just wanted to numb the agony tearing through my chest. But now, I felt filthy. I had let my chaotic emotions get the best of me, and I had handed my body over to a faceless stranger.

I forced my trembling legs over the edge of the mattress. I gathered my clothes, which were carelessly strewn across the plush rug, and stumbled toward the attached bathroom. I hated the unknown man who had taken advantage of my vulnerable, drunken state. I wanted to kick his ass. Yet, a twisted knot of humiliation tightened in my stomach. Because underneath the burning anger, his lingering cedar scent on my skin was doing things to me. It made my body hum. It made me physically crave a touch I couldn't even remember experiencing.

The craving stung, a sharp reminder of my reality. Gael hadn't laid a finger on me in six months. Six agonizing months. He used my injured leg as a convenient shield, shooting down every advance I made. Even when I practically begged him, suggesting positions that wouldn't put any strain on my bad leg, he had bluntly refused. He claimed he was protecting me. Now the agonizing truth burned in my mind. He wasn't protecting my health. He was too busy burying his cock inside Elise to want his own wife.

I twisted the shower dial to the hottest setting and stepped under the spray. I held my breath as the scalding water cascaded down my skin. I scrubbed at my flesh, desperate to wash away the scent of the stranger, the memory of the cash, and the reality of my ruined life. What was I supposed to do now? Confront Gael and Elise? Play dumb and act ignorant? I didn't want to look bitter and broken.

By the time I pulled my car into our pack house garage, the morning sun was fully up. I sat behind the steering wheel for a long, heavy minute, dreading the moment I had to step out. The dread curled tight in my stomach. What exactly was I walking into? Were they still in bed together? Was he cuddling her right now, whispering the same sweet lies he used on me? I had to play it cool. I had to give Gael the time to come clean and explain himself. But if he didn't confess, did I even have the courage to leave the man who had been my protector and given me a home?

With a heavy sigh, I killed the engine. I climbed out of the car, my legs feeling like lead, and made my way up the concrete steps to the front door.

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the foyer. I braced myself, listening intently for any hushed whispers or suspicious noises. The distant clatter of pots and pans drifted from the kitchen. The pack cooks were already hard at work preparing breakfast. Everything seemed sickeningly normal. I looked around the grand living room, feeling disoriented. This house was my sanctuary. The one place I could truly be myself without putting on a show. Now, Gael had defiled it. He had fucked the girl I personally saved right under my own roof. The betrayal stung so deeply it felt hard to breathe.

"Luna?"

I jumped. My heart slammed against my ribs. I turned toward the wooden staircase.

Elise stood on the landing. She wore a soft pink sweater, her blonde hair falling in perfect, innocent waves. Once upon a time, I looked at this girl with genuine affection. Now, looking up at her, all I saw was a snake in the grass. Her presence felt suffocating, more threatening than comforting. Her sweet smile, which used to be a symbol of innocence, now looked like a grotesque mask covering layers of deceit. A cold sense of dread settled over my shoulders like a heavy blanket.

"Oh, my goddess. You're back," Elise cooed, descending the stairs. "Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale."

She stepped close, her fake concern dripping from every word. She reached a hand out to touch my arm. My body reacted on pure instinct. I recoiled, jerking backward to avoid her skin as if she were made of acid.

A flicker of confusion passed over her features. "Is everything okay?"

Of course not, all thanks to you, I screamed in my head. My hands curled into fists at my sides. I resisted the overwhelming urge to slap the fake concern right off her face. I needed solid proof before I tore this house apart. I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid, plastic smile.

"I'm just feeling a bit under the weather," I replied, keeping my tone deadpan. "But I'll manage."

Elise dropped her hand. "Okay. I was just about to set the table for breakfast. Why don't you freshen up, have something to eat, and then maybe rest? I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

The casual, breezy tone of her voice made my blood boil. Of course you didn't think I'd be back so soon. You were hoping for a quickie with my husband before breakfast. I clenched my jaw, shoving the graphic image out of my mind before I lost control.

"I had to come back early," I stated, forcing my voice to remain neutral. "I wanted to be with my husband. Where is he?"

Elise turned her back to me, walking toward the dining room to busy herself with the table settings. "He's probably in your room."

I watched her back for a second, my pulse pounding in my ears. Steeling my nerves, I headed up the stairs. Each step felt like walking closer to my own execution. I forced my facial features to remain blank, praying my expression wouldn't betray the violent storm raging inside me.

I stopped in front of the master bedroom door. I pushed it open.

My gaze instantly fell upon our massive matrimonial bed in the center of the room. The exact bed they had been having sex on just last night. The bed where he had been thrusting into her while I was downstairs. How many times had they done it right there?

"Babe?"

I tore my eyes away from the mattress. Gael stood near the closet, wearing nothing but a low-slung white towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his dark, messy hair. He frowned, his eyes darting from my face to the bed and back again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with false worry.

He closed the distance between us in two long strides. His large hands landed heavily on my shoulders, his thumbs giving me a familiar squeeze. He noted my exhausted appearance, his eyes roaming over my pale face. "You look exhausted, and you're back early. Did something happen?"

I stared into his eyes. Before, his touch would have calmed the chaos in my mind. Now, his grip made my muscles lock up. I went rigid under his hands. The tension was suffocating. I wanted to collapse into his chest and forget everything, but the stench of his lies was too strong.

"I'm fine," I replied, gently pulling away and stepping out of his reach. "Just feeling a bit under the weather."

I turned my attention back to the bed. The dark silk sheets I had left on the mattress before I went out were gone. In their place were crisp, fresh linens.

I pointed at the mattress. "Did you change the sheets?"

Gael froze. His thick Adam's apple bobbed hard in his throat as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

"Ah... oh, yes," he stammered, his eyes darting to the floor. "I... er... I spilled... I spilt coffee on it and had to change it."

Coffee, huh?

More like spilt sperm.

The lie was so pathetic it physically hurt. He was looking me right in the eye, covering up the evidence of his infidelity with a spilled drink. I swallowed the bitter, toxic retort rising in my throat. I couldn't keep this charade up much longer without screaming.

With a heavy heart, I walked past him and lowered myself onto the edge of the freshly made bed.

"I think I'll rest for a bit," I said, my voice dropping to a hollow whisper. "You go ahead and have breakfast without me."

Gael walked up behind me. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. That simple gesture of affection, which used to make me feel so safe, now felt like a tragic goodbye to the trust we once shared.

He stepped away, walking into the master bathroom and shutting the door. The shower turned on, masking the silence of the room. I sat alone on the bed, my chest tight with suppressed agony, the threat of tears finally burning behind my eyes.