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That’s where he’s wrong. A Luna-given mate is a gift. To refuse it is to insult our goddess. I can’t do that. Just like I can’t reject an alliance with the Gravetail Pack. And screw the pack? That’s traitor talk. If Bishop heard him, I don’t want to know how he’d react to that.
For so many reasons, I have to nip this in the bud. Least of all because of the tears welling up in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, West. My mind’s made up. Don’t make this any harder, okay?”
“I have to. I can’t… okay, your mind’s made up, Lane? How do I change it?”
I knew it would be rough, ending things with West. I didn’t know it would beexcruciating.
“You can’t.”
His jaw clenches.
“Weston, please—”
“I love you, Helene.”
And that’s exactly why this is as difficult as it is.
“I know.”
But he’ll love his fated mate more. That’s why us shifters prize the idea of being bless by the Luna to found that one soul. They’re perfect for us, and when West finds his, he’ll understand why I have to do this. For the pack, yes, but for him, too.
I want him to be happy. I don’t ever want him to look at me and wonder:what if?
I don’t want to look at him and think the same thing.
“For the sake of what we had, if you love me, then do this one thing for me: don’t ever tell me again.”
West runs his hands through his thick, dark brown hair, leaving the strands to stand up on end when he drops his arms back to his side. He looks at me like I asked him to slit his throat for me, and while he’ll do it, it’s only because it’s what I want.
But then he thins his lips. “I love you too much to let you go. You know that, too?”
Actually… I do. “But you’re going to have to.”
West opens his mouth. I see his fangs gleaming, much longer than their usual canine-size. His wolf is riding him hard, and only his iron-tight control is keeping him from shifting on the spot.
I brace myself, waiting for him to argue.
He doesn’t. With one more long look at me, he spins on his heels and stalks away. In between one footfall and the next, it becomes a run, then a sprint. Within seconds, West is gone.
And I’m free to run inside and let out the sobs I struggled to keep in.
* * *
I’m all cried out,and more determined than ever to go through with my choice.
Maybe it’s a good thing that West had to run away from me. I know I broke his heart—just like mine is shattered—but it’s for the best.
Right?
When I hear the gentle knock at my door, I think it’s Sofia. She stopped by about an hour ago, offering to sit with me while I worked through my emotions, but I respectfully asked her to come back later.
After making sure my yellow eyes aren’t rimmed with red, my hair mussed from burying my face in my pillow as I sobbed, I straighten out my wrinkled dress and reach for the door.
It’s not Sofia standing on my porch.
It’s West, and he’s holding three wildflowers out to me: a purple coneflower, a Shasta daisy, and a dandelion.
