The Heartwood I don't feel the rain or the sun

He doesn’t even flinch as she continues, adding point on point. She shouldn’t fuck with him anymore. She almost be stupid to, yet here she is already being much too kind to him — he doesn’t deserve it. Not one bit. 

He almost interrupts her he’s so quick to reply. “What can I do? I can give you the name of who hurt this Mal. There was only one other wolf that fit the description you gave me and that’s me, but I did not attack him. I’m sure even your friend would second that. The guys name is Renard and he mysteriously left my pack along with Praimfaya a bit ago.” He spills the information like his life depends on it. Look in his eyes not sparing any room for lies.

“As for doing bad shit, have you and your little pack allegiance thought of a possible ally with us?” He asks with a tilt of head and a sarcastic smile, almost toxic in appearance. “We are not unreasonable. Our loyalty can be persuaded and truly if you did it’d be a much smarter move.” 

He stands and shakes his head, padding away from her. A heavy sigh on his lips and a temporary closing of golden eyes. His gaze slowly meets her, dull yet soft with affection for her. “It’s a lot easier for me to be a horrible man. It’s what I’ve been taught and I’m addicted to it. It’s not like I think what I’m doing is right, I’m not blinded like that.” His voices raises then, almost violently so. “I KNOW what I’m doing and it makes it THAT much worse!” He stops, eyes wide as the silence of the forest takes over them. In this moment it seems he realizes he has screamed much to loud and his expression slowly softens and he looks away from her. “Just hate me then. It’s the bad guy way. ‘Cause that’s what I am — a bad guy.” A soft pause and his eyes meet hers once more. “And bad guys always die hated. It’s my destiny.” He says it as if he’s cursed, soft with a horrid realization. It is obviously apparent that he knows he is wrong, but it is also too blankly obvious that he can be good.