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AMAYA

A musement.

What an odd feeling.

I don't remember the last time I felt like laughing.

Loneliness, which was once an obvious pressure on my psyche, now grabs hold of both my hands and drags me to hell. I try to appreciate the foreign feeling that encourages happy bubbles in my belly, but it sours and roils in my gut instead. What is he laughing at?

Whatever my alpha is doing is making him somewhat happy. I should feel grateful that something lifted his mood, but all I can focus on is how low I feel compared to that one little whoosh of amusement.

Suddenly, it's gone. He's gone. Muted like I'm trying so hard to be. Without his overwhelming presence in my soul, I'm left with myself. Vincent's subtle tugs and pokes are welcome, but now I miss his happiness.

I did that. I sucked the happiness right out of my mate.

That thought is more painful than the fire burning my nostrils.

Sugar, vinegar, and the most toxic perfume I could every imagine pumps through the air vents of my usual torture chamber. I can't escape it.

I can't even conjure up the scents of my mates.

Please make it stop.