I sigh and rest my head on the mattress.
“It hurts. It feels so good, and it hurts worse than anything. And that discovery, that understanding of what I’m feeling, that leads to my choice.”
I sit back, putting space between us.
“There will be no us. Not now and not ever. I will free you, and you will live your lives. I will move on with my mate, and we can remember each other fondly. In one year, the moon will let our fated threads turn to ash, and we will be free. That’s the choice I’m making for us.”
I can’t reject the bonds. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t make myself do it. Instead, I stand up and move towards the door.
Four wolves watch me with varying degrees of despair.
They heard everything.
“I love you all.” The silence is thick and the most painful thing I’ve ever lived with. There is no hope, not in any of us. “I am so sorry.”
I brush past them; no one reaches out to stop me, and what would they say even if they did?
I go into my room and shut and lock the door, then I go into the bathroom and close the door. I climb into the shower and sit on the floor with my knees to my chest and stare at the wall, trying to decide if it was better to have loved and lost or never to have loved them at all.
Two weeks pass with us barely speaking to each other. I avoid them all, disappearing into the forest all day and going straight into my bedroom to sleep.
But I feel their eyes. I know they watch me. I find little things, my bedding changed. Flowers left out. They leave food for me in the fridge.
Someone went and got my truck. Changing all the tires and leaving the keys on the island in the kitchen.
Angel doesn’t leave his room.
Every night, I flirt and talk to men I’d rather bury. I try to win them over. I put effort into men who ask for photos and disappear.
Who organise to meet up and, on the day, just vanish into thin air.
Who calls me fat.
Who told me I’m not big enough.
Who wants sex.
Who wants marriage.
Who wants, wants, wants.
I dread turning on the app. I get nauseous just thinking about dealing with the parade of vileness that is coming across. The number of hairy balls and penises I’ve seen is staggering.
I frown at the nausea that rises again. It’s been frequent these days. I’m working too hard. With a sigh, I close the computer.
How do I choose a mate when I don’t even want one?
There’s a tap, and I glance up in time to see Riot push the door open.
“Riot,” I say his name like a prayer.
He closes the door and crosses over to me.
“I know you don’t want to do anything to make this harder, but please…can I just give you a hug?”
I nod and bite my lip. He sits on the bed, and I curl into his chest. This is the first time I’ve touched any of them since it happened, and I feel myself crumbling inside.
“I’ve missed you.”
