Pregnant I left him To His First Love by Collins Patrick

"Fuck-"

Before the rogue can say the words, his head rolls to Leila's feet, his bodiless eyes mirroring the shock Leila has in her own eyes as her heart leaps.

How did the mysterious man move so fast? How is he moving so fast without shifting, she cannot even see him, only the blur of his white attire as he tears through the remaining three.

She hears their screams being cut short before their bodies drop to the ground, headless and lifeless.

"Fuck, fucking bastards!" The mysterious man yells.

"Shit, I can't believe they got fucking blood on my sleeve, not on the fucking sleeves, you idiots," he kicks one of the men on the ground before suddenly turning to Leila as if just becoming aware of her presence.

"Oh...fuck, I'm doing it again aren't I? You see, I can't stand the blood, not on me," he says, sneering at the dead bodies.

"Who are you?" Leila asks in a cautious tone.

She should be running away from a man who just easily decapitated four men without shifting into his wolf and then complains about the blood staining him, those are the marks of a psychotic killer but rather her feet pull her towards him. "Who am I?"

The man replies, extending one of his claws to slice off the lower part of his sleeve where the blood stained and then repeats the movement on the second sleeve with such precision and accuracy that his shortened sleeves both look identical and like the work of a fashion designer.

He is strange indeed.

Alpha, are you not? I can tell from your aura," Leila says, pulling off his jacket and stretching it towards him. "Does our Alpha know you

jacket and her hand with it and stares deep into

in my dreams, I thought you were beautiful but goddess, seeing you now, I

brow furrows in confusion and she pulls her hand away. "What are you

reject your

thank you for saving me but I should get going," Leila replies, feeling uneasy and turning

mate," he says as Leila begins to walk away and

confusion clear in

ago, under a crescent moon like this, I lost my fated mate, her name was Micheala, she was everything to me, the stoke to my fire. So when I lost her, it shattered me and I cried to Selene that night, in true pain

as my

night and every other night since, you come to me in my dream, beautiful as a goddess, radiant as the sun and you

scoffs, a foreboding feeling growing in her chest. She should really get going.

to be rejected or one or both of them having dead mates before they can see each other

to

a calm and confident

as

"I can-"

you can walk, see it as my excuse to hold you in my arms as I've always dreamed of or as my reward for