He was a mosaic, composed of broken pieces.
She was an unfinished art project.
********
The moon goddess ends the lives of Lycans she sees as a threat to the Lycan community. Instead of being ripped apart by her hounds, she gives a warrior the cha...
You have to be at your strongest When you feel your weakest.
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Pomelia felt her heart stop. Everything went into slow motion within the next few seconds. Her mate was walking back from their wrecked car, a smile on his face as he waved a bag of chips and Nick's phone in the air...then an explosion of fire.
The car had blown up. The car that they were just in, just sleeping soundly, and holding hands together...went up in flames. Her mate was so close that the blast that it knocked him off of his feet and he planted face first onto the road.
Her mate wasn't moving.
"War!" She screamed as she struggled to stand, almost falling to her knees as she did so. "Nick, please get my crutch," she pleaded at the boy who was focusing on his leg wound. "Nick, please!"
He glanced up to her, and his eyes followed the fat tear drops rolling down her cheeks. His head tilted to the side and he frowned, before stretching his long arms out to grab her crutch.
Instead of giving it to her while he was sitting, he struggled to stand on his own two feet before holding his hand out to her. Pom tried not to notice that one of the pants legs of his denim blue jeans was quickly being soaked with blood. She needed to get to War...
She took his hand and he wavered in his footing before he stabled himself and she was able to stand with the help of her crutch.
Pomelia was in pain. The jerk from the crash had her achy, the way she was sleeping in the car had her muscles stiff and not to mention her previous injuries were hurting too...but she pushed all that to the back burner and focused her energy on her sweet mate.
She called out his name until she was able to get to his body that was lying face down. Discarding her crutches and injuries, she fell to the ground in a mess of tears and snot. Pomelia never had to deal with things like this. It was just too much to handle.
Her vision was blurry from her tears as she tried to assess the damage that was done to her poor mate. His light grey shirt was stained with blood, little shards of the car window glass embedded into his back.
Not to mention the heat from the blast had tore at some of his clothing. She could see that he was only wearing one shoe. His left foot sported a torn sock that was soaked with his blood.
"Oh War," she sobbed out as she wondered what to do with him. She had to lay him on his back to check his chest for breathing...but then the fragments on his back would puncture his skin deeper! Pom was certified to deal with minor injuries...not this.
