Chapter 55 Erasthai

• The soft sound of birdsong filling the room was the only thing that disturbed his otherwise peaceful slumber. He opened one bleary eye and blinked against the bright light streaming through the drawn curtains. As soon as he realized where he was, he leaped out of bed and scanned the room frantically. It was empty. He was alone. A slight frown marred his handsome features as he began to search for his clothes that had been discarded on the floor in a tangle from last night's activities. His heart raced, and his breathing labored. Conri had left and didn't even bother to wake him up. Was he really that repulsed by him that he couldn't stand the sight of him after he woke up? The Weretiger wondered as he picked up his discarded clothes from the floor by the sofa.
• His legs felt shaky from last night, and his body felt empty, he was hungry and tired beyond imagination. His clothes were in no better shape either, ripped into shreds, it looked like a pile of rags tossed into a corner. His chest ached with an emptiness that felt far worse than anything else ever could have. The thoughts of the Lycan leaving right after the beautiful night they had, ate at his very soul, turning it numb and hollow. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle his Rejection, not after last night. Even now, he could still taste his mouth, and his tongue, their kiss still lingered in his mind. He couldn't bear it. He wasn't strong enough for another wave of his hate. He would die a broken shell of his former self this time.
• The thought made bile rise in the back of his throat, and he ran a hand over his face. There was nothing left but regret and bitterness in his chest. He turned toward the mirror and stood in front of it, looking down at himself as if he was seeing himself for the first time. His eyes met those of his reflection and immediately his heart clenched painfully tight within his chest. How did he mess everything up so badly? Conri didn't bother to wake him up or speak to him. He knew the Lycan would be hating what they shared at that very moment. Tears gathered in his hazel-colored eyes and spilled from his lashes. They pooled on his pale cheeks and fell softly down to the floor, landing on the fabric of his torn white shirt. His eyes scanned his naked body spotting the many claw marks, and love bites the Lycan left all over his body as if his body were this perfect canvas and he had just taken his precious time, drawing every flaw, painting him, loving him, marking him like a piece of art.