Milo loves sex, parties and alcohol. He adores the thrill of being young, wild and mateless.
He has witnessed his family and friends find their mates, settling down and living happily ever after. But this has never appealed to Milo. He wants to be...
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♥
I didn't really sleep. I couldn't.
Instead I held my mate between my arms and I listened to his breathing. Throughout the night I kept checking his pulse. I wanted to make sure that he was still breathing. I know he should be checked over by a doctor after everything he's been through but when he fell asleep in my arms, I couldn't bring myself to move.
The bond between us started to grow stronger again and I took that as a sign that he's okay for now. But the first thing when he wakes up, we're going to the pack doctor to double check everything.
He had water and something to eat before we attempted to sleep. I practically made him because I don't know how long he was trapped in that coffin for. I don't even want to think about it.
I know it's morning because Milo's room is much lighter than last night. I can't take my eyes off him. I stroke back his dark hair and analyse his perfect face. Every inch is perfect, beyond even.
My eyes fixate on his plump lips, the colour restoring from last night. They were sickly pale, lifeless. But now they're a light pink and bringing back that evidence of health.
His dark lashes brush his cheek and I study his chest as he breathes, making sure it's still even and paced. I've been freaking out all night and I can't stop myself from double checking.
I almost lost him once. There is no way I'm losing him again.
When I lean forward, I press a delicate kiss to his cheek. Not being able to hold back anymore. I want to shower him in affection and love. He deserves it. After what he said last night, I can't stop my heart from shattering all over again.
The pain. The absolute agony I've felt the last twenty hours.
Go and live, Nate. I promise it's okay.
Live? My life will be nothing without him.
I'll live a life of regret and despair. How can I move on when I've had him in my life? He's not the sort of person you meet and discard. He's the person you meet and adore and want to marry and mark because the thought of being without them is unbearable.
A single tear rolls down my cheek and I have no idea how I have any left in me after last night. But just looking at him like this. I've never met someone so beautiful, someone who literally takes my breath away every time I see him.
I hate myself for letting him leave when he was upset. I despise myself for not going after him and making him feel safe. He left because he couldn't stand the thought of hurting me–and I let him.
My eyes shut painfully. The memory makes my stomach roll with nausea.
He thinks I'll be better off without him. He thinks he's doing me a favour but he's destroying me piece by piece.
