Werewolf Compilations

Chapter 78

"I'm going to hate myself for this," he murmurs, his hands dragging down my arms. "I don't deserve

you, not after what I've done."

His hands come to my face, brushing back my hair and caressing my cheeks, one drops and the other

hand runs down to my jaw. I grab his stray hand and hold it in between my own, covering it and

bringing it to the center of my chest. "I'll forgive you, I just need time. I need to see that you're willing to

open up to me. No more trying to push me away. No more trying to hurt me."

I feel different. I have never felt like this before. There is an anxious feeling growing inside of me,

making my chest hurt. Looking at James now, looking at some unknown version of him I didn't know

existed, I feel anxious—nervous in ways that I can't quite understand. He's hurt me, I know that. People

hurt others. I've hurt people in my life, maybe not as harshly as he's hurt me, but I believe in

forgiveness, I think.

I didn't see this coming—maybe that's what has me on edge, or maybe it's our closeness. Maybe it's

our closeness and the fact that he could be willing to try.

My eyes study his face, enjoying themselves. I have never been so close to him besides times when

he's tried to push me away, but I don't think he's pushing away anymore. It frightens me. I am in

unknown territory. I was used to the fact that I would be alone for my life, but I never prepared myself

for this.

He is capable of hurting me again, I can't forget that and I won't forget that. No matter how blind the

bond makes me, I will not let it weaken me, not anymore, not when I am giving him a chance. I have to

be alert for this. "What are you scared of?" I ask him, needing a break from my thoughts. "You make it

seem like you're taking a risk."

His hand falls from my jaw but I keep the other close to my heart. "I should have never taken you from

your home. I should have never trapped you here. I need to bring you home where you belong, where

you can be happy."

When he says it, it brings a sour taste to my mouth. When he says that he needs to bring me home, I

don't want to go home. "But you don't want to let me go," I tell him, wanting to remind him.

"After how I've treated you—"

"I just need to know that you're willing to try," I cut him off, not wanting to remind myself of the things

he's done. "Just please...don't hurt me again. Don't talk to her again, or take my things, or grab me," my

voice grows small, "or pretend like I don't exist. You—you took my shirt from my bedroom, I know you

did. I know it."

James steps back and turns away, placing his hands on the counter as if he needs to brace himself.

"You have to go home," he says, his voice low. "You deserve to be happy. You need to heal. You'll

leave in the morning. This is what's best for you. I am not good for you, Rae, and I am sorry for bringing

you here in the first place."

My lungs squeeze, or maybe it's my heart dropping, or my stomach rising. I feel the need to reach out

to him again, to show him how good my touch is, but I hold myself back and nod. I can't speak—if I

open my mouth I am afraid I'll cry, so all I do is nod. This is what I wanted, right? To leave? I've tried so

many times to, and now I am finally getting what I wanted, right? I wish there wasn't this hole inside of

me. It is a cavernous feeling that I know only he can fix. It hurts and I haven't even left yet. It burns.

He straightens up and brushes back my hair again, catching it behind my ear, taking one last sip before

the glass is empty. "There will be someone to take you home in the morning. I'll inform Gail and Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Theresa and they will help you prepare. I'll be gone before you wake up, so it will be much easier."

I want to latch onto him and never let go, stopping him from sending me away. I know I told him that I

hate him, and that I'm dying here, and that I want to go home, but now I regret every word. I can't help

but regret every word. The hole is growing bigger inside of me, eating away. "Are you going to reject

me?" I ask with my last bit of energy.

"I suppose that would be best," he says, looking back at me, making my heart ache.

"Not now," I say immediately, "I can't handle it now."

"Okay, then I won't, not now." There is a moment of silence between us then finally he speaks again.

"It's late. You need rest."