There's a reason she's not telling Greg that they're not mates.
'Say something I'm giving up on you'
"I hate how much I love you."
I didn't realize Greg was in my room until after I dropped my towel.
I just finished a nice hot shower and wanted nothing more then to change to my pajamas and go to bed.
Seeing him stand there, absorbing every inch of my body, I quickly grabbed the towel back off from the floor and attempted to cover my self.
"You have a beautiful body," He commented.
I probably look like a tomato right now.
How did he even get in here? My door was locked, as was my window.
Greg started taking slow yet daring steps towards me.
"What are you doing?" I ask cautiously.
"Enjoying what's mine. We are mates after all." He said the word 'mate' in such distaste that I felt like he knew.
I was too shocked by this realization that I didn't get a chance to stop Greg's grabby hands.
He had the towel pulled away from me in seconds, and pressed his body against mine.
It was then I realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. But I could have sworn he was wearing one a second ago.
His lips grazed mine.
"Shh," he whispered, making his lips vibrate against mine.
I could see the lust clear in his eyes.
One second he was staring into my eyes, like he could see my soul, and the next his lips were on mine, as if he was searching for it.
Part of me knew something was very off about Greg, but I ignored that part and gave in to the lust.
A moan escaped my lips when Greg lightly bites my bottom lip.
He suddenly stops and goes back to staring into my eyes. This time there was no lust, but rather an empty pit of nothing.
"Greg?" I croak out.
"Rose-" Suddenly his blank eyes was replaced by pain.
"Rose, I'm dying."
All of Greg's weight dropped on myself, my tiny hands struggling to keep him up.
Eventually his weight became too much and he fell back.
"Oh god, Greg."
Blood tainted the pure white t shirt he wore.
At the time, I didn't care to remember that Greg wasn't wearing a shirt to begin with.
No, I was far too disturbed by the bloody and twitching heart that lay beside Greg's body.
I dropped to my knees, reaching out and cupping Greg's face.
He stopped moving.
"Greg, wake up. Greg, don't do this!" His eyes were wide open, staring into mine.
Waving my hands in front of his face, I found it no use. It was too late.
YOU ARE READING
Mated To My DoomWerewolf
Mate. One little word. One big concept. A belief that someone, somewhere, is holding the key to your heart. They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but whose to say they're not the same. Killers, notes, blood, and mystery. L...