49

Jeremy's POV

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet, too quiet. I could hear the soft sound of footsteps outside my door. A moment later, Loretta walked in, carrying a tray with my meal. My stomach grumbled, but I didn’t want to admit I was hungry.

As she entered, I felt a mix of relief and annoyance. I wanted to see her, but I didn’t want her to know that.

So, I crossed my arms and said, “Just drop the meal and leave.”

Loretta looked at me with those piercing green eyes. “You know I can’t do that,” she replied softly, setting the tray on the small table beside my bed. Then, she sat down beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her. I wished I could push her away, but part of me didn’t want her to go.

“I know you don’t want me to leave,” she said, her voice steady and calm. “You’re just scared of getting hurt again.” She smiled slightly, like she understood me better than I understood myself.

I looked away, trying to hide my emotions. “I’m fine, Loretta. Just eat your food and go.” But my heart wasn’t in it. I felt a strange mix of anger and longing. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I didn’t want to admit how much I missed her presence.

“Jeremy,” she said, her tone turning serious. “You can’t push me away. Remember, I’m a witch and your mate. I can read your mind if I want to.” Her words hung in the air, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I didn’t like the idea of her seeing into my thoughts. It felt too intimate, too raw.

“Why are you both a witch and a werewolf?” I finally asked, breaking the silence. It had been bothering me for a while. I wanted to understand her better, to know what made her so special.

Loretta smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “It’s a long story,” she began.

"I always feel a strange connection to the moon, but I can’t explain why. My life is complicated, filled with secrets that I don’t fully understand.

My name is Loretta. I was born to two parents who are both werewolves. I always thought that being part of their world would mean I’d become like them, but instead, I ended up a moon witch. The more I think about it, the more confused I get. How did this happen? Was it a curse? Did I inherit something from a long line of witches I never knew about?

My mother was beautiful and strong. She was protective, always ready to fight for me. But that strength cost her life. I remember the night she died. It was a day just like this, with a bright sun shining down. The Witches came for me, seeking to take me into their coven; they wanted to hurt me no matter what. So far, I left the wolves, but my mother stood between me and them. I can still hear her voice, firm and brave, telling me to run and hide in the bush until it was night before I returned. I did. I ran fast, but I could still hear the chaos behind me of her fighting so strongly just for my safety." She paused and sniffed back the tears streaming down her face.

"I looked back once, just once. I saw the Witches surround her, and then everything went dark. When I returned home, my mother was gone. I was left with a heart full of grief and a longing for her protection.

After that night, my father changed. He was once kind and loving, but he was scared. Scared of the Witches and scared for me. He pushed me away, saying it was for his safety. I remember the pain of his words, how they cut deeper than any knife.

“You have to leave, Loretta,” he said. “It’s not safe here anymore.”

I couldn’t understand. I was his daughter. I didn’t want to leave, but I also didn’t want to see him hurt. It was the only place I had grown to call home; it was the only place I had ever known, the only family I had. So I wondered why he wanted me out of the family as soon as Mother died. When I refused, he cut me with knives and gave me serious injuries; he took strong whips and mercilessly struck me. I was stubborn, so I stuck around the pack, watching out for him; I started clearing off his routes during the day and slept in the store room at the front house at night.

Days turned into weeks, and I learned to survive on my own. I discovered that I had powers. At first, I thought they were just tricks of the moon. I could feel its energy coursing through me, guiding me. I learned to harness that energy, to use it to protect myself. I could create small charms and potions just like the one I did that healed your bleeding finger, I created enough to keep me safe in the wild during the day and also at night.

But I still felt the emptiness inside. My parents were gone, and I had no one to guide me. I wished I could ask my mother why I wasn’t like her, why I had these strange abilities instead. I wished I could talk to my father, to tell him that I was okay, that I was learning to be strong.

As the nights passed, the moon became my companion. I would sit outside, letting its light wash over me, feeling its magic. Sometimes I would whisper my secrets to it, hoping that maybe, somehow, it would bring my parents back to me.

I remember the stories my mother told me about the moon and its power. She said it was a source of wisdom and strength. But now, it felt more like a reminder of what I had lost. I was no longer a werewolf, part of a pack. I was something different, something alone.

Sometimes I wonder if my father thinks about me. If he remembers the day he pushed me away.

Everything was going on smoothly until an incident occurred at night, and he came out of the house to find me sleeping in the store room; he thought he had sent me out of the house, all the whole time. He had no idea I was still around and spending the night in his house. He yelled at me and told me to leave. I did, I monitored him until he went back into the house before returning to the store room. I was not lucky to wake up early in the morning to leave before he saw me; he saw me first, took out his horsewhip, and hit me.

He told me to leave the house immediately, but I refused, resorting to pleading and reminding him of my mother's death in protecting me; he got flared up and whipped me harder. I didn't want to leave but when I saw he was hellbent on killing me, I ran into the street thinking I would apologize to Jim by nightfall and he would take pity on me and change his mind, but I was wrong, instead, he stroke me into the streets and whipped the hell out of me till I ran that day into the he mating ceremony for help." She paused and wiped the tears from her eyes. "That is the story of my life." She said bitterly.

I stood in the dim light of the room, looking at Loretta. Her eyes sparkled with defiance, and I could see the strength within her.

"I have been living all my life alone with anyone's love; since my mother died protecting me from the witch's claws, it has never been the same for me." She cried bitterly.

I watched Loretta as she sat beside me, and I could see the frustration building in her eyes. Her expression shifted, and suddenly she was crying. The sound of her sobs pierced through my heart. I didn’t know what to do at first, but instinctively, I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her.

As I held her, I felt her warmth against me, and my wolf stirred within. It wanted more than just a hug; it craved her. My mind raced, torn between wanting to comfort her and the intense desire to kiss her. I leaned in slowly, my heart pounding, but just as our lips were about to meet, she pulled back.

“Wait,” Loretta said, her voice shaky but firm. “Do you want to be with someone like me?”

Her question hit me hard. I paused, trying to find the right words, but doubt flooded my mind. Did I want to be with a witch and a werewolf? I thought about everything that had happened, the fear of being hurt again, and the weight of her powers. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it.

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion. I could see the anger rise in her eyes, and I hated that I had caused it.

Loretta’s expression darkened, and she pulled away from me. “You don’t know?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly.

I felt a knot form in my stomach. I wanted to say something, to make it right, but I was stuck. “It’s not that simple,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Loretta stood up, her body tense. “You’re not ready for this, are you?” she asked, her voice cold. “I can’t keep fighting for someone who won’t fight for me.”

I watched as she turned and walked toward the door, my chest tightening with every step she took away from me. “Loretta, please…” I started, but my voice faltered. I felt helpless, lost in my fears.