Luka stormed into his house, angrily slamming the front door shut. He was still seething over the abhorrent prophecy that he'd received from Mordecai, disgusted at the very prospect of the human being his mate.
He'd bolted out of the Sanctuary as soon as Mordecai was done uttering his worthless foretelling, feeling nothing but pure rage as he sped all the way home in his Ferrari Roma, despite torrents of rain pouring down the whole way.
How could the human be his mate? Had the heavens gone mad?
Beelining to the kitchen, he hastily tore one of the cabinets open, reaching for his half-empty bottle of whiskey. Grabbing a glass off the rack, Luka poured himself a cup, hurriedly picking it up and downing it all in one go.
Unsatisfied, the pureblood moved to pour himself another glass, but after a moment's hesitation, ditched the glass and put the bottle to his lips directly, gorging the contents in a few gulps.
