Thank you to the reader that brought to my attention that they (and most likely other readers) thought that Greg and Divina knew that Warrick felt pain when they were intimate.
My intention for this story is that they do not know. Divina is new to the werewolf culture and wouldn't know. Rejecting a mate is very rare, especially rejecting your mate once they are marked. It can easily be assumed that because Warrick severed the bond on his end that he would not react with pain when his ex-mate moved on. Both Greg and Divina are not aware of what they are doing to Warrick.
I appreciate the feedback!
Vivi
xoxo
Mom was devastated when she learned that my dad was immortal and had lived other lives before her. She was especially upset that he had almost a dozen other children he never told us about. I was glad I wasn’t around for that conversation. I know it must have been difficult for him to tell her those things. I took the news much better than she did. The hardest thing for mom to swallow was the fact that she would continue to grow old and die while my dad would never change. I had continued to do research and had two options for themto pick from. He and my mom would have to decide what they wanted to do. Both came with risks, but one was greater than the other. I knock on the door to my parents' bedroom. “Mom. Dad. Can I talk to you?” I ask. Dad opens
“Stop it!” I hiss and brush my hand against my neck and flick Greg’s nose in the process. “Ow!” he complains and pulls back from me. Hehas been trying to distract me from doing my online class for the last hour. I can feel my irritation start to rise to the level of anger the longer he keeps up his antics. For some reason, I feel like a live wire. I’m not sure if it is from the conversation with Gloria and Brandon and the guilt that has been gnawing at me for not letting Warrick know I’m alive, my growing feelings for Greg when I still love Warrick, my conversation with my parents, or the schoolwork I need to complete. I don’t know. Maybe all of the above. Greg rests his handson the arms of my chair and leans in capturing my earlobe between his teeth. I freeze and the irritation quickly exp
Greg didn’t join us for the movie. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t because my thoughts were of Warrick, and he would know I wasn’t fully present with him. I miss Warrick. God, it hurts to even admit that. I’m not supposed to miss the man that betrayed our bond. I may be the first werewolf to ever be rejected after being marked. The thought brings an ache to my chest. Why wasn’t I worth fighting for? What did I do wrong? I quickly wipe away the traitor tears that escaped down my cheeks. I didn’t want to have to explain myself to Bren and Damien. I glance at the clock and realize where the time is and take a few deep breaths to compose myself before quietly leaving the media room. I step out the back door of the pack house and walk to the edge of the porch. Suddenly, I had the strongest urge to remove my shoes and feel the grass between my toes. With my shoes kicked off, I quickly bound down the steps and give a contented sigh when I feel the cool grass
My dad’s eyes glow a bright blue as my magic pulls the most significant events from his past and forms the intricate designs up his arm. By time it is done, his entire left arm is covered. The story ends over his heart and there the story of when he met my mom and the events that lead up to this very day unfolds. His entire story is intermingled with triumph and failures, love and loss, joy and grief, and friendship and betrayal. It is then that I realize a person’s story won’t always be perfect. There will be ugliness as well as beauty. “You have a beautiful story, dad,” I say and reach out to lightly touch his left chest. Both our eyes are filled with tears when we look at each other. He peers down at his chest and then holds him arm up so he can better see the artwork that now kissed his skin. I step forward and he wraps me in a warm hug. I hug him back and concentrate on the soul of the wolf that will join him
I hear a sliding glass door being pushed open and look up to the balcony on the 2nd floor. It’s awfully late for someone to be up, isn’t it? I look at my phone and realize it’s almost two in the morning. Wow, I flew for a long time. I can only see the silhouette of the person standing on their balcony and watch as a red, glowing ember rises to their face. Whoever they were, they were enjoying a late night or early morning smoke. A gust of wind pushes against my back, pushing the loose strands of my hair into my face. I continue watching the man as he brings his cigarette up for another drag, but then freezes inches from his face. He slowly lowers his hand to his side and drops the cigarette and grounds it out against the balcony floor. He places his hands on the railing and bows his head, standing perfectly still. When another gust of wind blows over me, a few seconds pass before he snaps
---Warrick--- I blink my eyes in the darkness and strain my ears to listen. Something woke me up, but I am not sure what it was. I look over at the alarm clock on my nightstand, the red numbers, glowing 1:55am. I try to go back to sleep but my mind is restless. Something is pulling me outside to the balcony attached to my apartment. I sigh and get up, pulling on the jeans I wore earlier today and slip through the sliding door. I pull a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of my pocket and light one. I took up smoking recently. It calms my nerves and is better than drowning my sorrows in alcohol. Both bad habits, but at least I have my wits about me when I smoke. I take a drag off the cigarette and pull the harsh smoke into my lungs and hold it in before tilt
I groan and roll on my back. “Ow!” I pull a stick out from under me. What the hell? I pause and take in my surroundings and squint my eyes from the harsh sunlight that dances through the canopy of the trees above me. Where am I? I think to myself and shriek when I hear someone clear their throat near me. “Sorry, baby girl. I didn’t mean to startle you.” My dad says with a sheepish grin on his face. He is sitting on a large rock near me with his pure white wings resting behind him. The tattoos of his right arm catch my eye and I follow them to his right pectoral muscles. I admire my handy work and decide it suits him. His eyes search mine with worry and his grin falls. “What happened to you?” He asks as I also ask, “How did you know where I was? I don’t even know where I am? His smile is soft, and he scoots over to me and reaches for my hand. “Ever since your angel side awakened and you started healing me, I have had the ability to track you because you are
I hug my parents goodbye later that evening. Uncle Zane pulled some strings and Greg, and I were going to be staying temporarily with the Timberwolf pack up north. Greg will help train their warriors and I am to work with the kids in the orphanage. Dance therapy. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I will figure it out. This pack takes in the orphans from surrounding packs when their parents are killed in rogue attacks or other battles, meaning they have all experienced some kind of trauma. We will finish our online classes and then apply for college and if we are lucky, start college classes in January. My eyes linger on my mom’s mark. It’s beautiful and reminds me of the one I gave to Warrick except the angel is a male. I tilt my head to the side and look up in shock at my mom. “Rima, you’ve been flying, haven’t you.” It’s not a question. I know the distinct smell of the wind when one is high enough to reach the clouds. “Dad gifted you with wings wh