Mates of a Werewolf Hunter

Chapter 7 Embers of Animosity

Valentine Winters P.O.V

His lips met mine in a collision of conflicting emotions, and to my own surprise, I responded to his kiss. There was an undeniable magnetism in the touch, an inexplicable pull that defied my better judgment.

As the kiss ended abruptly, he leaped off me with a stern warning, "That won't be happening again," his eyes avoiding mine as if the moment itself left a taste of regret.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you back," I stammered, berating myself for succumbing to the unexpected allure of his lips. My body seemed to betray the rational thoughts in my mind.

His response was colder than the lingering air, "It wasn't a kiss, it was just an act of lust," he declared, his gaze intense as he glared at me.

Embarrassed, I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. But a burning question lingered, and I found the courage to whisper, "Why do you hate me so much?"

His hands clenched into tight fists, a silent testament to the storm of emotions raging within him. "They murdered my mother," he confessed, dropping a bombshell that shattered any preconceived notions.

My mind reeled at the revelation. "What? That's mental," I protested, struggling to reconcile the idea of werewolves killing humans.

"We never kill humans," I countered, a defiant edge in my voice.

"You're calling me a liar now?" he shot back, the tension escalating between us. Little did I know, this confession would unravel a web of secrets, blurring the lines between truth and deception, and forcing us to confront the shadows of our shared past.

The revelation hung in the air, heavy with the weight of untold pain. "No, rogues are competent but certainly not us," I exclaimed, challenging the notion that werewolves like us would commit such atrocities.

"An Alpha raped her, making her pregnant. Now, she sh—" he tried to continue but faltered, leaving the sentence hanging like a fragile thread.

"She what?" I pressed, determined to unearth the dark truth.

"She died giving birth to me," he mourned, his eyes the blackest of night, reflecting a sorrow that ran deep. In that moment, I was stunned, utterly shocked. He, the stern and conflicted figure before me, was also a wolf—an Alpha at that. The irony was not lost on me; he was ignorant of his own heritage.

"I never got to feel her arms around me, I never had a mother who would hold my hand, teach me, or feed me," he howled, the pain echoing through his words. "That's why I hate you and your kind, especially you," he snarled, casting his resentment upon me as if I were the embodiment of all his anguish.

My heart broke at his words. I understood the magnitude of his pain, but his misplaced anger left me reeling. I knew the tale of an Alpha mating with a human, but he believed a different narrative—one of hatred and betrayal.

"I think you got it wrong. Your mom wanted the Alpha to have sex with her because your non-biological father couldn't reproduce. Our species' babies are strong. You should have sucked the energy out of her," I reasoned, attempting to unveil the truth.

"You're calling my mom a slut now? Dad was right. I should have killed you the moment I laid my eyes on you. I hope mine would be the last face you'll ever see," he declared, storming off and slamming the door behind him.

I remained flabbergasted, caught between the lines of understanding and the harsh reality of his hatred.

I retreated, crawling back down to the cold tiles as if the distance could shield me from the turmoil in his gaze. The unanswered questions echoed in my mind as I hugged my legs together, wailing soundlessly. The tears seemed endless, a silent symphony of pain that resonated louder than any words I could utter.