SPICER GRAY
It has been a month since I told her I was her mate. She is not going to accept me. She has trampled upon our unspoken bond, making my wolf sick. In return, it has turned me into one bitter wolf.
In my home, I feel like a stranger. With my pack, I feel like a rogue.
Everyone has gone on with their lives as if I never existed. It hurts. I didn’t expect them to start singing holy holy, thy me, but at least they should show some interest in me, right?
“I should leave.” It is the same thing I tell myself every night before I fall asleep.
But after waking up and catching a glimpse of her, and how she behaves around dear Timothy, ignoring my existence, my chest constricts in pain, and I tell myself, “wait, she will speak to you.”
I don’t know if it is because of the bond of her
