Tears fell down my cheeks and I quickly tried to wipe them away.

"A monster..." I whispered.

He stepped closer to me.

"I don't understand..." he said, keeping his tone low. "Explain it to me."

"Can't you see it with your eyes? On the night of the full moon, I become this... this monster!" I yelled. "I'm not normal and Shirly was right, I could never be the Luna that your pack needs. I'm a freak, Elliot. You are better off without me..."

I thought he would have walked away or yelled at me. But what I wasn't expecting was for Elliot to fall to his knees in front of me and look at me with such compassion that my heart nearly exploded in my chest.

"You are not a monster, Silver," he said, his tone firm and yet filled with sincerity. "You are different, but you are not a monster. You are my wife, and you are still the Luna of this pack. I don't care what Shirly said to you. Whatever this is, we will figure it out."

"How can you say that? Look at me, Elliot..."

His image became blurry as more tears filled my eyes.

my face in his hands and held it

beautiful, Silver," he

out the sobs I'd been holding, and my entire body was shaking as I cried. I felt Elliot's warm arms wrap around my body and pull me into him. His embrace was inviting and made me feel so safe. I let myself cry as

pieces of hair out of my face and peppering kisses along my forehead. He whispered soft things that made

a sense of security that I wasn't

others finding out and yet here Elliot was,

my face in his chest and breathed in his scent, allowing it to

draw something for me?" He whispered. "Or you could draw another portrait

he was using my drawing as a distraction, and I appreciated

up at him

once more before he stood and grabbed my paint supplies. As soon as I left the comfort of his arms, I felt the anxieties and fears returning to me. But it only lasted a

use you as a canvas?" I asked a

just needed an excuse to touch him and

lips as he unbuttoned his shirt. I watched with bated breath as he stripped off his shirt and placed it on the ground beside

my brush in the red paint, and I began to paint a rose on his chest. He watched me with dark eyes as I ran the brush across his

leaned against him and allowed him to hold

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