His Ruined Angel [DISCONTINUED]

IV

🐺 Peter POV 🐺

I laid on my bed, listing to Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day. My mate kept popping up in my mind, never leaving. I smiled at the way her silky hair glowed and her silvery-bluish eyes moved like a moonlit river. Then tears appeared as I remember how she ran away from me and how pain was all she expressed. I wanted to help her so much, I wanted to keep her safe from whatever was troubling her.
I growled in frustration and threw my phone across the room, breaking it. "Well, there goes the ninth phone you broke this week." My wolf, Chase, grumbled. "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. I don't give a damn about how many phones I broke. What I give a damn about is my mate and what is troubling her, and you should too."

"Well I'm sorry. It's that wolves and angels, exspecialy that one, are not suppose to be mates."

'And why the fuck is that?'

'Lets just say that the angel race and the werewolf race never got along.' I sighed in defeat. When it comes to me and my stubborn wolf, Chase always wins.
I groaned and looked up at the ceiling. The song switched to Demons by Imagine Dragons. I sighed and got out of bed. I walked downstairs, hopefully thinking that a glass of water would help. I crept down the stairs, avoiding the ones that squeaked. I walked into the kitchen and looked through the cupboards for a glass.
"Peter, all the glasses are in the dishwasher." I turned around and saw my Russian grandmother, on my father's side. Her silver hair hung loosely on her shoulders and her blue eyes sparkled with wisdom.
I smiled. "Thanks." I opened the dishwasher and pulled out a clean glass. She sadly smiled. "Pебенок, what is wrong?" Her thick and heavy accent rolled of her tongue, filling me with warmth. I turned on the sink and made me a glass of water. "Nothing grandmother. Just thinking of important alpha stuff. Speaking of which, I need to strengthen the boarder. We had a group of rouges attack one our patrols."

'Peter, that's not what's wrong with you. Tell your бабушка what it is.' I sighed and sadly smiled. "I found her today." She stood there for a moment before gasping and hugging me tight. "Oh my! Tell me, when are you going to give me пра-прабабушка? It's about time they meet their Nana." I kissed her head. "I'll tell you in the morning. Goodnight." I walked out of her hug, no longer in need for a glass of water.
I walked back into my room and sat in my bed. I sighed and closed my eyes. Suddenly, I felt something slice across my arm. I hissed in pain and looked at my arm. Dark blood was gushing out, staining my carpet red. I raced to the bathroom and turned on the sink. I placed my arm underneath it and watched the water as it turned red.
After I bandaged my arm up, I went back to my bedroom and looked for what had cut my arm.

There was nothing.

Sat there thinking about how that happened and then it came to me. My mother was telling me, when I was little, about mates. After seeing each other, a bond is created. Now, mates can feel certain emotions and pain.
My heart broke a little bit more, knowing that my mate was into cutting. I laid back in my bed and closed my eyes. Sleep pulled my consciousness past dreams and into nightmares.