My Bully, My Mate | Complete

Chapter 12

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"What have I just done?" I choke.

My eyes wonder over his narrow jawline, his sharp long nose and underneath his slightly bushy eyebrows, lay narrow eyes. But now that I have stripped skin away from his face, and with blood blossoming to the surface you wouldn't know that he was once quite cute.

I fight back the tears that threaten to spill.

I beat this stranger; actually I beat him until he was nothing but a bloody mess. And even knowing that he once did the same to me, I couldn't help but hate the feeling of guilt that stabbed at my stomach.

Rather than feeling the sweet taste of victory, I felt the sickening, sour taste of guilt.

I was no better than he was. I had completely destroyed him!

What kind of a leader beats others for revenge? Apparently me.

Father always told me to think things through; to make sure that what you were about to do would impact you or your pack's life in a positive way, especially when driven by panic. But he had never mentioned guilty panic! And as I sat on top of him with by breath caught in my throat I whispered every single name I could think of.

And by name, I mean every curse word known to the human race.

He still didn't move. Not even a budge, or a flicker of his eyelid, not even his chest heaved, and as time passes my heart jumps from my chest.

He's not dead. I didn't hit him that hard. He can't possibly be dead. Surely he would put up a better fight to stay alive wouldn't he? Could he be dead? He is so totally dead. He's looking down at me right now as his lifeless body floats to the heavens, cursing me to death.

"Hey!" I shouted, slapping the side of his cheek desperately. Panic is overriding my senses. "Don't you dare float up to heaven or sink down to hell!" I shout, before I slap him again.

Nothing.

I cuss at him.

And once again, I am cursed with nothing.

Time passes; each agonizingly painful second I grow closer tears. Close to accepting defeat, I slowly drop my head to his chest; a headache pounding it's way into my thoughts.

"Please, don't go. You may be a fuck-head but I don't want you to die," I barely whisper, guilty finally pushing the tears to fall down my cheeks. The warm salty liquid stinging as it mixes with my scratches. And just like that, I feel his chest vibrate under me before it starts to rise and fall rapidly. I feel him breathing, but certainly don't hear the sound of air being sucked in and pushed out from his lungs.

No, instead, I hear laughing. That's right, I hear the crackling laughter that erupts from his smiling lips.

"Sorry girl, but damn...the faces you pull are bloody hilarious!"

I bolt up straight, my eyes are wide and although they see a bleeding stranger laughing hysterically in front of me, they couldn't quite believe it. His eyes fall back on me, and for some strange reason, he loses himself in laughter once again. His head tilts back as the sound escapes his lips, his eyes closed shut. With my arms crossed over my chest and eyebrows knitted, I wait for him to stop.

Soon enough, his chest stops rising and his gaze moves to me. He looks at me, then the position I was currently in, and slowly a smirk creeps to his lips. "I'm flattered Nicola, you barely know my name and look where we are," he teases through a smirk. My jaw drops and quicker than a hungry cheetah, I jump up. His grin turns to a small smile as he attempts to get up, his arms noticeably shaking as he puts his weight against them.