POV: SAINT
I sat on my bed, my sobs echoing in the silence of my room as I buried my face in my hands. With my eyes tightly shut, tears streamed down uncontrollably.
There was no escaping the meaning behind his words. Jackson despised the fact that I was meant to be his mate. On top of that, my presence here only seemed to complicate things in the pack. I felt like nothing more than a burden to him.
But I never chose to be his mate. Why did the moon goddess make me his mate? I could only imagine how repulsed he must feel knowing that I'm a man. The tears continued to fall as those painful thoughts crashed over me.
If he weren't an alpha with responsibilities to his pack, would he have rejected me? I initially agreed to be his friend, believing he just needed time. But now, I seriously doubt he would ever come to accept me as his mate.
A sudden knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Could it be Jackson? I wasn't ready to face him. I—
The door creaked open, and Tom peeked in, just his head visible. "Hey," he said softly as he stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him.
I hurriedly wiped my cheeks, hoping he hadn't noticed my tears.
"What's wrong, Uncle Sainty?" he asked, moving closer to me.
"Huh?"
"I heard someone crying, so I came to check on you."
"Oh, um, that wasn't me," I responded, not ready to spill my emotions to his seven-year-old son. I could hear faint murmurs from downstairs; perhaps Chris came with Tom.
"You're lying," he said, gently touching my cheeks. "Your eyes are puffy too," he pointed out, his small fingers brushing against my eyelids.
"Oh, it's just something that got in my eyes," I explained.
He settled next to me, gazing up with concern. "Are you sad? Who made you sad?"
I sighed. Am I really about to tell him that his dad is the reason behind my feelings? But he's just a kid; it won't hurt, right?
"Someone said some mean things to me."
"Who was it? Should I go with you to tell them off?"
I let out a strained chuckle. "No, it's someone I care about."
"Is it the same person who did that to your neck?" he inquired, and I instinctively touched my neck and shook my head.
"Hmn, what should we do then?" he asked, tilting his head in thought.
I shrugged weakly, rubbing my temples as a headache began to form. "I have no idea."
"Whenever I feel sad, I talk to Daddy or play with my friends to help me forget. Do you want me to call my friends so we can play together?"
I was genuinely touched by his desire to cheer me up. "No, it's okay. I'll be fine. I just think I need some rest," I replied with a small smile.
His face lit up with a big grin. "Do you want me to give you a head massage? I sometimes give Daddy one!"
I smiled and nodded in response. He stood up and instructed me to lie down, which I gladly did. With gentle hands, he began to massage my temples.
Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.
When I finally stirred, darkness had settled outside, and Tom was nowhere to be found. I made my way to the mirror, where my swollen eyes served as a reminder of why I had needed rest in the first place. A fresh wave of sorrow swept over me as thoughts of Jackson filled my mind.
Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. Assuming it was Tom returning, I called out for him to come in. To my surprise, it was Jackson. He entered, carrying a tray of food, and placed it on my table.
"Eat," he said, avoiding eye contact as he turned to leave.
I couldn't help but think he had been forced into bringing me something to eat; he barely acknowledged me! My stomach grumbled as I eyed the food, which smelled quite good. I sat down to eat, convincing myself that my anger was directed at Jackson, not the food.
Midway through my food, Tom entered my room. Dressed in his pajamas and with tousled hair, he said, "Daddy came in, but you were already asleep. He was curious about why I was massaging your head, so I told him what you told me." A look of pride crossed his face.
I paused, "You told him?"
"Yeah, I mentioned that you said someone you care about said some hurtful things to you, but you didn't want to tell them off."
Jackson likely thinks I'm being ridiculous for mentioning it to his son. Just another reason for him to despise me for being his mate. I let out a weary sigh, feeling the weight of it all.
"You don't need to worry, Uncle Sainty. I made him promise not to hit anyone," Tom reassured me.
I could only manage a nod in response. As I enjoyed my meal, Tom and I chatted; he was genuinely entertaining, and he had the gift of yapping, much like Marcus.
Speaking of Marcus, I completely forgot that he was still in that cell. I felt like such a terrible friend. It would be a shock if he didn't feel resentment towards me.
After finishing my meal, I took my plates to the kitchen, with Tom following close behind. I cleaned up the dishes before making my way upstairs. "Tom, I need to speak with your dad, okay?" I said. He nodded and wished me goodnight before dashing off to his room. I knew I had to speak with Jackson about releasing Marcus; honestly, I didn't believe he had anything to do with what happened to me.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on his door. He opened it, already dressed in his pajamas, which were identical to Tom's. The top was buttoned but left undone, revealing his well-defined chest. I swallowed hard as I met his gaze.
"I need to talk to you," I said, trying to steady my nerves.
"I came by your room, but you weren't there. Come in," he replied, stepping aside to let me enter.
As I walked in, my heart raced uncontrollably, his scent enveloping me and sending a warm shiver down my spine.
Get a hold of yourself, Saint. Remember, you're angry with him, Alex reminded me.
"Speak for yourself; your tail has been wagging ever since he opened that damn door," I retorted. Alex hung his head, acknowledging my words.
"I want to talk to you too, but go first," Jackson said.
"It's about Marcus, can you let him go? I don't want him to—"
"He's been released," Jackson interjected.
"When did that happen?" I asked, surprised.
"Right after the….argument. After you walked out," he explained.
"Oh….okay, that's all I needed to know," I responded. A silence enveloped us for a few moments as I avoided his gaze, my eyes wandering anywhere but towards him. Eventually, I glanced his way, only to find him already looking at me. I quickly looked away. Didn't he say he wanted to discuss something with me?
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, causing me to snap my gaze back to him.
"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that earlier. I didn't mean it; none of this is your fault."
"I didn't mean to make you cry; I was just…" He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "worried. I was worried about you."
"Oh," was all I could muster. He was worried about me? So, he doesn't hate me? A wave of happiness washed over me, and a small smile crept onto my lips.
"Still, I don't think you should place your trust in Marcus or anyone else so easily."
I sighed, "Alright, I'll be cautious. I picked up some skills today, so I'll manage."
His gaze fell on the bandage around my neck. "I was caught off guard…" I muttered sheepishly.
He chuckled, stepping closer. "That should have healed by now," he remarked as he examined it.
He was incredibly close, his face just inches from mine. I glanced down at his sculpted chest, perfectly defined with six-pack abs that were simply stunning. I felt an urge to run my fingers across those chiseled contours.
As my gaze shifted back to his face, his striking grey eyes captivated me even more. I had never met anyone with such unique eye color before. My attention then drifted to his lips, which looked irresistibly soft. I found myself wondering what they might taste like.
Still dazed, my lips brushed against his in a gentle peck. I parted my lips slightly, playfully nibbling on his lower lip before pulling back. A smile crept onto my face as I savored the taste—
Suddenly, reality hit me, and my eyes widened. I looked up at him, only to find his gaze fixed on me with intensity. Feeling flustered, I quickly looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.
"I-I'm so sorry for that. I-I didn't mean to... It's just the m-mate bond. S-Sorry."
"Its—"
"U-Um, I'll head to my room now. Goodnight." I stammered, practically darting out of his room and into mine.
Once inside, I stood before the mirror, a flushed face reflecting back at me. What did I just do?