21

Harlow found herself in Gore's room, staring at him as he slept.

"Gore," she poked his arm, but he didn't stir.

"Gore," she said again, shaking him this time.

"What is it, Harlow?" Gore threw his hand over his eyes with a groan.

She didn't answer, instead she kicked off her boots, then crawled on the bed beside him.

"Harlow?" Gore turned to face her when he heard a sniffing sound.

Harlow let her tears flow freely, even though they stung her eyes and would look like blood stain in the morning.

"He's not my mate," Harlow sobbed.

It took Gore a minute to realize what she was talking about.

"Harlow, it's not the end of the world. Everything will be okay." He told her.

She curled into a ball to make herself more comfortable.

"It might as should be. Nothing will be alright, Gore. I'm never going to find my mate. I'm going to be lonely and sad forever. Casting spells on happy people just to make myself feel better."

Gore pulled her closer to him, resting his chin on her head. “You will find