Intoxicated

Chapter 1 : The Blue Rose

ANNE

I drove to that place. I entered the door as if I've been there for a multiple times.

The scent of alcohol mixed with different perfumes and smoke almost made me crawl back to my peaceful place but something stopped me.

The whole room is in a mess and a group of people are gathered at the center bathing in their own sweat as they dance at the loud music playing. The lights are changing color but it doesn't stop me from seeing the man sitting on the far corner of this room.

He's in the bar. Watching the glass of beer in his hands, circling it as if it's the most amazing thing in this room. The thing that made him stood up is the black tuxedo he is wearing. A formal suite that is partnered by a black polo that has been buttoned down to his chest.

I don't know but something in me snapped as I watch him stare at his glass. His eyes are shape yet it looks so beautiful. The blue orbs lights up, looking like it has its own light.

I've never seen such a cool eyes before.

Maybe because I was too intoxicated or maybe because this stranger cause my heart to go berserk but I manage to walk closer to him.

He eventually notice. He stopped playing with his glass and slowly drifted his gaze towards me.

Now the music started to lower as I continued to look directly at his electric blue eyes.

"Bleu" I muttered. Remembering that word that I learned from my french professor.

While I was looking at him. I heard a small whimper of a dog. The whimper sounds like it was begging. Was it begging for attention? To make me come closer to him?

But his face says the opposite. He looks so stoic and cold. Untouchable.

I realized what I've been doing and before I further embarrass myself, I diverted my gaze.

To avoid embarrassment, I walked straight to one of the bar stools and sat down. I signaled to the bartender that I wanted a drink, and he approached.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

I smiled.

I could still feel my heart pounding and my hands trembling, so I rested them on my thighs.

“J-Just a cocktail,” I whispered softly.

Had I said it wrong?

The bartender arched one brow, as if waiting for me to say more.

Wait, doesn’t everyone order like that?

Biting my lower lip, I realized I had no idea what to say next. I had never been to a bar before—I’d only just walked in. This was my first time ordering, so I had no clue what people drank here.

Do they sell cola?

I was about to admit how clueless I felt when I heard a deep voice beside me.

“Give her something light. A Cosmo would be perfect.”

I knew it was him. Yet I didn’t dare turn to look in his direction. Instead, I watched the bartender prepare the drink the man had ordered.

What is it about him and this moment—that has such an effect on me? Could he truly be my mate but…

If he is meant to be mine, shouldn’t we already feel that bond? Shouldn’t we already know each other? Yes, there’s something different I feel, but why does it feel incomplete?

I gave a sad little smile.

“You shouldn’t be here. This place has many bad people,” the man said again.

This time, I finally lifted my gaze and stared at him.

“Are you one of them?” I asked, daringly.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by my question.

He took a sip from the glass in his hand and nodded ever so slightly.

“It depends.”

I replied.

I smiled. Yes, he’s a stranger—but there’s something in me that says he can’t harm me. Sometimes gut feelings fail, and I don’t often trust them—but this time, instead of turning away I rose from my stool, and without fear I sat beside the stranger.

“Let me find out if you’re one of those so‑called bad guys,” I teased, letting out a soft laugh.

A subtle smile curved his lips. It wasn’t enough to be a full grin, but it was enough to show he wasn’t annoyed by my presence.

I was timid and shy, but for reasons I couldn't explain, that shyness vanished—replaced by an eager curiosity to know this man more deeply.

The Cosmo finally arrives.

I take a sip—and almost wince at the unfamiliar taste.

“You’re new here,” he remarks. “Let me guess… this is your first time?”

His voice is deep, his aura effortlessly cool. He isn’t looking at me, yet I know he’s speaking to me. I lift the glass in front of me and swallow, then reply:

“Yes, first time. I—” I stop mid‑sentence, recalling my past under my parents’ control.

If I’m finally living freely now, maybe I shouldn’t keep dragging up my past.

“I’ve been so busy with work and studies that I haven’t had the chance to come here until now.”

“A good girl, huh?” he murmurs.

He swirls the glass in his hands, the red liquid turning slowly with it.

After that, he didn’t say another word.

I finished my drink faster than I expected, so I ordered another. I didn’t know how much time had passed. The silence between us remained, yet I had already lost count of how many drinks I’d had by the time he stood and calmly walked toward the restroom.

I pouted at his sudden departure.

Is he leaving already?

The thought saddened me. The alcohol had begun to take effect, and my head dipped as dizziness settled in. I found myself watching people dance on the stage when I sensed someone sit beside me.

I didn’t know who it was, and I didn’t have the strength to check—my vision was beginning to spin, and I felt warm and weightless, like I was floating.

Lightheaded and disoriented, I barely registered the hushed voices near me.

“Make sure River drinks that. We can’t mess this up—boss will lose it.”

Their words were fuzzy, indistinct. But something about them struck a nerve—something wasn’t right. With what little strength I had left, I turned slightly to try and see who was speaking, but all I caught was their backs as they walked away.

The man wasn’t tall—probably around 5'4" to 5'6", with a heavy build. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail. But what stood out most was the tattoo on his arm:

A spiked rose wrapped around a long sword.

Who is he?

I thought he wouldn’t come back—but to my surprise, he returned to my side and, without a word, took the glass in front of him and drank.

No.

There’s something in that drink.

I wanted to scream, to stop him—but my eyelids grew heavier by the second. Drowsiness and dizziness pulled at me like waves, and all I wanted now was to close my eyes and sleep.

I couldn’t even open my eyes when I felt someone lift me into their arms.

His chest and arms were firm—solid. But what struck me more was his scent: roses. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I leaned in, wanting to take in more of that warm, floral fragrance.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

I felt the low hum of his voice through his chest, and somehow, it comforted me. More than that, I liked it. I liked the heat. I liked him.

“Anne…” I murmured, pressing in closer.

His grip tightened around me, like he wanted to pull me even closer—like he didn’t want to let me go. But instead of fear, I felt warmth blooming through me… and something else I couldn’t name. Something that made my skin tingle and my chest rise with shallow breath.

“I’ll need you tonight, Anne…” he whispered.

And somehow, in that moment—I didn’t want to leave.