He found it odd that she could have fled from his love; he had devoted his existence to her in its entirety, had risked all of his stature for her. Hadn’t he? Was that not what she wanted?
Why then, did she leave him?
Something began to grow within him–a fire within his belly that churned, broiled, consumed. Ire. Rage. Contempt. Pain . . .
Pain had been something which he had forgotten the taste of. Did she see HER? he wondered. Did she see US? His old mate had come to him the night before; she had tempted him, and he had fallen.
Was that it? Yes, he told himself. What was seen as sin among the human animals was nothing to care about among his own kind. Didn’t she know that?
“I did this,” he whispered to himself. The fire returned. How could she leave him? Not a word had been spoken on her part. After he had been with his old mate he had searched for his woman . . . His human wife. And his searching had been in vain. Again, that fire flared up from within, but this time the fire spread through his veins. He found himself on the ground, on his knees, doubled over.
She never bothered to say anything. Not one word. No goodbyes, one side of him said to the other.
Yes, but you knew. You are the one who drove her to this–ever since your wedding night so, so long ago! the other retorted.
A loud groan filled the air, cracking his jaws wide open. Pain! There was a sickening lurch in his stomach. Something within him snapped.
The groan, the pain . . . Grew into a roar.
Hatred for her and her betrayal. For her rejection.
You always knew, that voice accused. And now she’s lost to you.