Crunch.

The sound of the earth molding around my feet while treading through the forest was calming. I enjoyed the small snap of the twigs and the constant sound of the river flowing through our pack lands.

There was a breeze in the air...the same breeze that blew through my old pack lands now filled the early March air.

I loved this time of the year. The time when the snow was melting and the grass was beginning to grow. It reminded me of how things die, but life still continues.

I found it...fascinating.

"What are you thinking about?" I jerked my head to the side, forgetting that Connor was right next to me.

I stared at him, his irresistible dimples and his big brown eyes sent more shivers through me than the winter air. Even after being around him for months already, he still managed to take my breath away. I glanced at his neck, which was still a little red from me marking him yesterday, and I smiled.

"The twigs." I say, watching his head fall back in a light-hearted laugh. What I said wasn't even that funny, but it was a wonderful sight to see Connor relaxed. "So where are we going?" I asked him, remembering that he said he had something to show me.

He looked at me with a sly grin, sending my insides into a frenzy. It was the same grin he gave me the day in the hospital–the day his fingers twirled around inside of me.

I fought back the urge to shudder, pushing away the familiar pull in my stomach that begged to be filled.

What had this boy done to me.

"You'll see," Connor whispered.

I brought my hand down to my stomach, wondering if I could feel my insides fluttering. Fortunately, I could not. But I could feel my heart pounding, and my palms becoming clammy.

I tried to discretely wipe them on my pants, but I knew that I failed when Connor's grin returned.

"Something wrong, Brooklynn?" The way he said my name made me want to tear my clothes off of the both of us and make him mine. I wanted him to strip me right here and slam me against the tree and-

I cut my thoughts off when I realized that he could hear what I was saying. Embarrassed, I looked away from him. I could feel the warmth rushing back to my cheeks, and it didn't take a genius to realize that I was blushing like a madman.

Instead of him saying anything, he turned back and looked straight. But I continued to stare at him, admiring the simplicity of his actions. I watched the way his jaw would clench and then unclench. That tiny little detail let me know that Connor was deep in thought.

And so was I.

I wanted to mate with him, more than I had ever wanted anything before. I wanted...No I craved to feel him inside of me. I wanted the thought of becoming his to become a reality.

I knew that he thought he same.

"We're here." Connor said, interrupting my thoughts to show me a house. I briefly took in the exterior of it, gawking at the stone exterior and the dozens of windows surrounding the small house.

I turned to face Connor, who walked past me and unlocked the house.

"Why'd you take me here?" I asked him, following him into the house. He reached around me to shut the door, before he stood in front of me.

I gulped as he looked me up and down–eyes darkening and a hungry growl coming from his throat. It was enough to cause my heart to beat rapidly, almost to the point that I thought my chest would burst.

I watched him bring his eyes back up to meet mine. It threw me off even more when I saw the desperate look in his eyes–He looked like he hadn't eaten in days and I was the buffet.

"I brought you here," He paused, "To show you where I grew up."

I had to take a second to process what had just come out of his mouth. This small house, was his house at one point. It still was.

I didn't say it out loud, but I'd expected him to grow up in a castle. I pictured him being the kid that had so many rooms in his house that he'd needed a map. I pictured him as the teenager who had expensive counters and mahogany floors throughout the house.

But I was wrong.

"Trust me, I know that it's not the most impressive house. I know that you're used to chandelier filled mansions with kitchens bigger than this entire house," He rambled on, "But this is where I was raised."

I stared at him, half-expecting him to spill his life story, half-expecting him not to.

"It's where my siblings and I grew up without a father figure in the home. All we had were ourselves and our mom, who worked day in and day out to provide for us." He looked down at his hands, picking at the skin around his fingers. "To this day I don't understand how she did it."

I watched as the crease above his eyebrows became more evident, and I could tell that his past was feeding off of him.

I knew the feeling.

"You know, I never expected myself to open up so much to someone," Connor said, "And I never expected it to be you."

I watched him rub the gap between his eyebrows, still at a loss for words.

I felt embarrassed that I didn't know what to say, he had just told me something that he doesn't normally tell people–And I was speechless.

I stared into his deep brown orbs, which stared back at me with an intense vulnerability. It was now that I finally saw the pain, the affliction in his eyes. All of the emotions that he had masked and buried beneath walls were resurfacing.

And I was a dumbass for not knowing how to respond.

I watched him walk into the kitchen, following him and leaning against the island.

He had his back turned, but even then it was like I could see his face. I could see the anger and the acrimony in his muscles as they tended up.

I wanted to ask him something, and he knew that. He seemed to know my question way before I did. But I asked it anyways.

"What happened to your...Your siblings?"

After painstakingly slow moments of silence and heavy breathing, Connor turned to look at me. His eyes felt like they were staring into my soul, making me feel weak under his stare.

"You don't have to tell me," I began. But I stopped once Connor shook his head.

"They died." He spoke, eyes trained on the ground.

I felt a lump forming in my throat, making it harder to swallow. My stomach churned with anxiety and guilt, and I was praying that it wasn't what I thought.

"H-how?" My voice sounded raw, even to my own ears I could hear the dole in my voice.

I didn't know why I was asking him how his siblings died, we both knew that I already knew–that I was already denying it. I didn't want to believe what I was about to hear, but I knew I had to.

"They were murdered," He croaked, "By your dad."

Neither of us spoke, but I could see the tears building up in Connor's eyes.

"Brooklynn, he ripped them apart while I hid. My two year old sister and my brothers, but I did nothing. And I will never forgive myself for not trying to save them," He paused, "Brook, I can still hear their screams. I can still smell the blood and I can still see the red stained carpets. It kills me."

My heart felt as if it had stopped, and was now being flooded with grief. Grief for Connor, grief for his siblings, and grief for my vulnerability.

I'm so stupid.

I couldn't bare to look Connor directly in the eyes, so I stared at the ground. The ground seemed easier to deal with; it wasn't living. It wasn't my mate. And it wasn't the truth.

The truth was, my own father killed Connor's family. He killed his siblings and he almost killed Connor.

"I...I don't know what to say," I paused, "Saying sorry won't bring them back, it won't take back all of those times that I was horrible to you and hated you. It won't take back the countless hours you spent being tortured by my own father. It won't-"

Connor cut me off mid-sentence.

"You didn't know, I would've hated me too."

His words cut deep, sliding through my heart as a blade did to skin. I was an asshole to him even when he tried to be nice to me.

I ran from him. I fought him. I disrespected him.

Maybe Connor wasn't the monster everyone feared he was.

Maybe it was me.