The Blood Moon [1]

Twenty-Three|| New Kids

"That sounds like gibberish!" West threw his hands up in the air, laughing.

West's smile was so contagious, and he gave the best hugs. (R.I.P Cameron Boyce)

"It does, in Spanish!" Camila argued.

"Sabes donde puedo encontrar un hotel?" I asked in rough spanish, and Camila applauded me.

"Yes!" I punched my fist in the air.

West repeated that and got it right, and grinned.

Camila taught us more basic Spanish and we were writing it down and practicing pronunciation.

I stood up to walk downstairs and suddenly felt a jolt of pain, falling to my knees.

"Ariel!" West dropped everything and rushed to my side, helping me sit up.

"What's wrong?" Camila asked me worriedly.

It's been too long. Enough. Find him. My wolf was whining.

"She's fighting me." I ground out, crying out as pain flashed up my side. "She wants him back."

"Go lay down." Sasha told me, walking up to me and placing her hand over my heart. "Get some sleep and rest." She'd turned her siren thing on, and West helped me to my room so I could lay down.

Find him. He's our mate. Find mate.

I closed my eyes and felt sleep take over me.

||Tristan's P.O.V||

I sat on my bed, my head buried in my hands, a glass of bourbon abandoned on the nightstand.

I heard the door open and Ariel's scent filled my nose.

I looked up to see her enter the room. She smelled and looked wrong.

"Luv?"

"You're an asshole," she said, and I realized she was drunk. "I hate this. I hate all of it."

I stood up, walking over to her. "What is it?" I asked her, concerned.

"Oh don't pretend like you give a damn," she scoffed, walking past me and grabbing the glass, knocking it back.

"Ariel-"

"Don't Ariel me." She snapped, her words slurring. "You-you-you're dominant, a-and possessive, and controlling, and you're a blind, stupid idiot and you're like half of the things I hate in a person and you make me want to strangle you."

She stumbled and I moved to catch her, but she pushed me off and walked over to the wall, sliding down onto the floor and burying her head in her hands.

I was hurting that my own mate felt this way about me. Felt tied to me. I loved her.

Did she not love me?

"But you're also passionate," she added. "And kind, and caring, and you're a protector and you make me feel like for once I don't have to always be the one to save the day. You're making this whole thing so much easier for me, and you don't ask for a thank you, and you were willing to set aside your pride and do what was right even though I trash talked your Dad."

She looked up at me, and I realized she was crying. "They beat me," her voice broke and my fists clenched, the desire to murder in my heart. "They beat me, they locked me up in a dog kennel, they fed me scraps and they whipped me like a dog. They experimented on me and encouraged me to kill myself, just to bring me back when I tried to."

I felt tears of anger and grief burn my vision and I looked down at the floor, trying to force them back.

"And I'm supposed to save the world?" She asked, crying. "How am I supposed to save the world when I can't even hold myself together? I'm broken!" She shouted, sobbing.