"Griffin. Up! Up!"
Violet Purple clapped her hands near his ears, but she might as well have been trying to wake a tree. The man didn't so much as twitch.
Not that she could blame him.
Last night had been all shades of lawless fun. They'd drunk enough to kill a small horse, and honestly, it was a miracle Violet was even standing. Then again, desperation did wonders. When your goal was to fix a broken relationship and return to your other boyfriends, you learned miracles are possible.
Griffin, however, hadn't fared so gracefully. His pack brothers had poured drink after drink down his throat in celebration because apparently getting off the "unmated" market meant immediate alcohol poisoning. And this was the glorious aftermath.
"Griffin, please," Violet groaned, dragging her hand down her face. There was no moving him, he was heavy, and dead to the world.
