The Mating Season | ✓

Chapter 8-The Guilt

All Rights Reserved

Chapter 8-The Guilt

Brendon Kingston's POV

Guilt.

Self hatred.

Contempt.

These were terms I hardly could use to describe myself. In fact, I would use words that were more demeaning and worse.

Looking down at my hands, self loathing filled my entire being and I shut my eyes and leaned back against the chair I was sitting on. I was a fool. A bloody fool who knew only how to destroy.

Her face full of hurt and sorrow flashed through my mind and the ache in the pit of my stomach intensified. I never intended to hurt her. But I did. And I couldn't turn back the clock even though I wanted to. It was too late.

Looking at the bruises on her neck, all I could feel was anger. Anger and rage at myself for messing things up between us. The moment I first saw her, I was entranced. Not because of her beauty but because of the fire and passion in her.

Standing up against someone who was obviously going to win, I admired that. She was everything that I wasn't. I for sure was definitely on the list to rot in the deepest pit in hell. There wasn't a doubt about that. But Sydney was full of hopes and dreams and I had snatched and destroyed them all in front of her.

Now that she was mine, all I got was ice and coolness. And I made it worse by hurting her instead of trying to win her over. What kind of chosen was I? A fucking terrible one. Looking at her yesterday during the welcome party, she was breathtakingly beautiful and I wanted to tell her that, but I didn't know how to especially after the way I hurt her.

All I could manage was a mere 'you look beautiful' and that was that. I had wanted to carress her cheek, look into those blue eyes of hers and murmur to her softly that I thought she was beautiful.

I knew it was going to take more than gifts and compliments to show that I was sorry and that I deserved to even breathe the same air as her. And I knew I didn't.

I had to show her that I was worthy of her, that I deserved her. There was a time that I was such a person, but that part of me had died when my mother had passed and my father had changed. Now, I was cold, ruthless and merciless.

Not the ideal chosen for anyone. I thought darkly and scowled broodingly out of my study window. But I had hoped that Sydney would like the items I had gotten her. And she did. I had seen a glimpse of happiness flash through her eyes as she caught sight of the art materials I had given her.

I never meant to hurt her. But each time that she mentioned that she would reject this pack and me, I would feel dejected. I knew I was a terrible person and the wolf part of me hated rejection. You could say that it was the darker side of me.

It longed for something other than hate and I got that a lot. It didn't help when she would keep bringing up her chosen. I didn't like being second but the wolf hated it. Resented it. It saw it as rejection and each time that Sydney did reject me, frustration would start before the rage.