My Hunky Mate Rejected Me

Chapter 15

"I’m sorry…I’m so sorry," he wept on the soft white pillow, dearly hugging it for his life, adamant about expressing his bona fide apology.

Where was once the so-called tough-hearted king? Not once did he imagine being so...weak and...helpless, brawling his feelings out for a mate, his precious, mate.

But cries weren't enough, nor did they help cover things.

He was feared, yes, yet now he's nothing but a sinful soul, a woeful king who cried behind closed doors. Regardless, even more ruthless with everyone's open eye.

He should have asked for an apology years ago. He should have stopped his foolishness and accepted her. He should have prevented this boundless forlornness that was cramming inside his heart.

He should have done so.

The blinding light pricked his eyes, now wide open. He was confused to see himself in her room, alone and in pain. He pressed his fist against his chest as the ache did not subside. The cause of the ache was the reality to which he had been succumbing.

It was just a dream.

His mood became sullen upon realizing it. He roared in frustration while throwing away the pillow beside him.

He wanted it to be real. No matter how dire the situation had been, she was found. There, right in front of him.

It should not be a dream because he almost had her, and he could make things right. Hugging her felt so real.

Never before had he dreamed of her being found—not until today. For the first time in years, he felt his beast stir in his mind; he was...restless.

He splattered water on his face while standing in front of her bathroom sink. The stress lay on his godly features as he looked back at the mirror. A few hours of sleep didn't do him justice.

The image of her bony figure flashed through his mind. Surely, forgiveness was far-fetched. No doubt, it wouldn't be that easy. He couldn't imagine how she managed to live under the same roof with him after what he had done.

He wouldn't forgive himself either.

He killed her not once, but multiple times. He did his best to enjoy his lust while she suffered from heat, abuse, and rejection.

HEAT. The most painful process that she-wolves must endure. He wondered how she had coped with it all these years. The last time he checked, she almost died. That thought alone made him cringe.

NO! SHE IS ALIVE! 

Inhaling deeply, her vanilla scent was vaguely noticeable; that much was becoming a problem.

His beast stirred again, feeling him come out of his shell.

~Hey~ he spoke lowly in his mind. He missed him. After all these years...

No answer.

Of course, why would he speak? An ounce of pity didn't come from him either.

It occurred to him that the reason for his beast's shocking presence was his recent dream. 

Or was it?

He gripped the edge of the sink tightly, enough to make it crack.

Now anxiety crept in. Why so? He'd like to figure that out too.

It is not unheard of that a werewolf would go wild after the loss of their mate. Their wolf will become detached from their human side and will likely snap at anyone. That's why death was the only option before things escalated for the worse.