16-Breached

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Pride is a sin.

...But then again, it feels like I've already been living in purgatory since the moment I met him. The threat of damnation holds no weight when you've already lost everything.

Comfort him..

No.

He hurt me!

If someday I happen to become weak against this spell and end up forgiving him for everything he's done to me, I still wouldn't forget. But so far, thankfully, resentment was filling my insides like venom, oozing from every cell.

It gave me determination. It gave me power. My control over myself so I didn't indulge this voice.

I pulled back coldly.

I still had a head on my shoulders. If he could plunge into his brother's unfortunate death to despise me, so could I.

He shot my sister like a dog while she was passed out. For no reason..

Yes, I had killed his brother but in my case, it will always be an accident. He was a cold hearted, brutal murderer.

He just saved me though...

I don't care. Probably so he could kill me himself.

I know I asked for him to get treatment earlier, perhaps I was blinded by gratitude; but from the bottom of my heart, I hate him.

I hate you, Killian!

He raised his head as if I had said those words out loud. His jaw on my waist. His gaze pierced into my livid one.

He grinned. My heart raced.

Fuck he's scary!

I turned around to get out of his grip but his hands clasped my waist behind me as he got up.

"Your body is too small to withhold so much hostility!" he said as he pushed me into the pillar near the couch. My leg hit a table next to it and a flower vase fell one the ground and shattered on the ground like a bomb.

"and guess what," he said and I swallowed at the calm tone of his voice, perhaps he was staying composed so his migraine wouldn't worsen,"Hating me won't bring back your sister." he spit out and my heart tightened, my chest heated and my stomach twisted.

For the first time in the history of him treating me like trash, I dared slam my fists on his chest to push him off.

I felt as if I had banged my hands on a concrete statue. Did I care?

No!

I slammed and hit and pounded on his chest with tiny fists. It was ridiculous of me to think I could inflict the slightest injury on him. I felt my own knuckles hurt and bruise every time I hit him, but I kept throwing my livid tantrum. I was so beyond tired and just plain angry.

My discomfort was adding to his own migraine which irritated him further more. He grabbed into my forearms and slammed me on the pillar, my hands on both sides of my face.

He jammed his thumb on my stomach and looked at me carefully.

"We mainly use guns on humans because Lycan claws are agonizing," I didn't realize what he was trying to tell me by saying that until I felt a sharp poke on my bellybutton, it was then I realized he shifted his thumb into werewolf and his claw was hooking into my shirt. He leaned into my ear, "It's adorable that you're trying to take on me!" he whispered whilst drawing a line on my belly, threatening to cut my skin and pull out my intestines. "This is not how I want to rip into you.." he said seriously, and I gritted my teeth in frustration. I put my free palm on his face to push him off. This monster. This inhuman beast. This feral animal. This slaughter device.

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