Cody.
Despite my resolve to hate the bastard, everything in me cries out at the thought of being permanently separated from a man who was supposed to be my mate. I even miss the son of a bitch, how disgusting is that? I know the remnants of these feelings have to be from the fading claiming mark because I hate the son-of-a-bitch. A deep growl rumbles from my chest.
I know, I coo rubbing my chest.
My tiger wants to know how this happened too, but what she really wants to do is bleed Cody’s new mate, who happens to be human, and bleed Cody too. Another reason I am leaving town. She’s getting more and more unmanageable and I can’t take the chance. My tiger’s ready to move on, perhaps she always knew Cody was a bastard, but I wouldn’t listen. Right now, she’s hurting because I’m hurting. She wants to eliminate what’s causing me pain. The last thing I want to do is end up in Supe-max, a prison for supernaturals, over two assholes who obviously never gave a shit about me.
Cody and I chose today for our ceremony. We were both so excited. As much as I try to understand him falling in love with and then mating with someone else, I don’t fucking understand how the fuck they could choose today of all days for their own ceremony. Stabbing me in the back wasn’t bad enough, they had to twist too. Sara was behind that decision. She always was a vindictive, jealous bitch when she was in a relationship. Sara had to make sure I knew Cody chose her and that I was nothing to him. She was the important one. Like I hadn’t gotten that vibe when I saw them in town, her sporting a halter top to show off the red, angry bite, fresh and still healing. The same spot he bit me. Right where the shoulder and neck met. Harsh was a little bit of an understatement.
Ironically, I chose not to bite Cody back the night he pledged himself to me. I wanted to wait until the night of our mating ceremony, but honestly, my tiger didn’t feel the pull to bite him and because of that, I had to hold back. I figured she would come around by the ceremony, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she knew the whole time that he was a bastard and I was blind to his true nature. Funny how shit happens. It’s like … fate. This situation is pretty damn hard, and I can’t even imagine how hard it would be if I claimed him back. Just the thought makes my stomach turn violently.
Absently, I run my fingers over the scar on my shoulder. The uneven skin throbs under my fingertips. Yearning washes over me, the intensity of it so strong it becomes a physical ache. My chest hurts, my heart squeezes like a vise is tightening around it and I feel like I can’t drag enough air into my lungs. Running my hands over my jean-clad thighs, I wipe away the sweat coating my palms. I fucking hate anxiety. The fragile bond between us is breaking, and it’s painful. It’s like feeling the pain of him claiming Sara all over again.
Can’t win for losing and ain’t that a bitch.
Mate, I shake my head bitterly, what a fucking joke.
Cody is no one’s mate. Soon enough, the same thing that happened to me will happen to her. The truth will nip her in the ass and then she’ll be the one crying and suffering, just like me. Being human won’t save her from experiencing the soul numbing pain of a broken bond. Infidelity’s a bitch. It’s supposed to be impossible for shifters, but obviously there are exceptions. There’s no sympathy in me for Sara. As a matter of fact, I’d like a front-row seat. Sara deserves everything coming to her.
Staying here, in this cabin, the only thing I’ve done is nurse wounds that hurt worse than any physical ones ever could. I shake my head hard, trying to snap myself out of the deep hole of self-pity and depression that I’m sinking further and further into. Time heals all wounds they say, but is that even true? Or did someone just make it up to make someone else feel better? I bet that’s it because it doesn’t feel true. It feels like I’m going to bleed on the inside like this forever. I don’t want to feel the stab and twist to my heart that I feel right now every damn time I think about Sara and Cody happy, in love, and someday starting a family.
The way I feel right now, I don’t know if this hole inside me will ever heal. God, I hope I’m not going to wind up one of those lonely, bitter old women. Living out in the woods like a hermit. Yelling at people who come too close to my house. Snarling at couples who hold hands, walking close together and gazing happily at each other like there is no one else in the world. Glaring at them as I walk past.
Being alone seems like such a bleak future, but I can’t deny that it has its appealing aspects. Like never being hurt again. Lied to. Betrayed. Made to feel less or somewhat lacking. No arguments or bending to some alpha male’s will.
No.
I shake my head hard. No matter how appealing the fantasy of being alone is, I know it’s not that easy. Far from it. It’s a road I’m determined not to go down. Not because of fear. I’m no coward. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking for anyone right now, but I hope that things will change one day. Maybe when I’m all cried out over douchebag and what he’d done to me, then I’ll be ready to give someone else a chance. The door to love isn’t open right now, but the window is cracked just enough to let the possibility breeze in.
My cabin is a cute little place on the edge of town, far enough away to skip the hustle and bustle of the night life but still close enough to work. I fell in love with the place from the first time I saw the ad online. There is a wraparound porch that is amazing to sit on and watch the sunset. It’s perfect for s my old, rickety rocking chair where I read, and enjoy a cup of tea in the evening and coffee in the morning.
The woods behind my house are pretty secluded with no hiking trails close by. It’s the ideal place for when my tiger needs to go for a run or just prowl around. I planned on living here forever with my mate. Now, I can’t stand the sight of this place. Everywhere I look, is a painful memory of how happy I was for a short time; it only makes the hole in my heart bigger. My fireplace is the thing I love the best, with all the rock work and wooden mantle that I painstakingly made from a log I found in the woods. Well, that and my bedroom with the French doors that opened up onto the deck. I always left them open for a long time in the spring and summertime, but not anymore. Nothing was happening here anymore.
A loud vibration thrums the wood under my ass. My cellphone is buzzing like crazy next to me. It’s the fifth time it’s gone off. He’s persistent. I don’t have to pick it up to know who’s there. Cody. He’s been calling all morning and when I say morning, I mean early like two a.m. Unconventional way to spend the morning of your mating ceremony. Then again, nothing that Cody did at this point would shock me. He isn’t exactly a conventional person in life, love, or commitment.
The one time I tried to listen to the bastard’s explanations it made me so angry, I almost shifted and tore into him right in my front yard. His pathetic explanations were really more of a plea to feel sorry for him because he was suffering so much. His excuse? He didn’t know what happened. He literally said, I don’t know what happened. What he didn’t understand was how his animal chose someone else after he chose me. He couldn’t stop it because it was instinct after all and what shifter could fight instinct? There were even tears in his eyes. The fucker had the nerve to cry in front of me like he was the one to feel sorry for. Fuck that noise. I don’t feel sorry for him. I hate him. Actually, that isn’t entirely true. I want to hate him, wanted it so fucking bad that I ache with it, but I still care about the son of a bitch.