A Howl In The Night by Lorelei Sutton (life books to read .txt) 📕

perceived earlier dawning upon us all. I reach him, standing only a few inches away from the boy fated to death. Sorrow rips through my heart, and I reach out with one tender finger...

As I make contact with his chest, I am suddenly enveloped in voices. Strange sounds occupy my thoughts, my mind. There is one overwhelming boom resounding, so loud and cold that it makes me shiver. KILL, it demands repeatedly, like the beating of a drum. My senses are overloaded with this one command.

However, a small voice, rippling with fear, pain, and hurt, begs to become dominant. It screams for help, like a wail in the fleeting night. It is horrible, invoking my deepest compassion. The boy is still there, even though the Shifter has taken over. He is still fighting, still waging an internal war for his mind back. Hope floods through me, and with it, determination.

"Take him with us." I take my hand off him, realizing suddenly that I had dropped to the ground. My head pounds with the scalding fear, the overbearing order that blocks out most else.

"What?!" Ray asks furiously, "we can't!"

"What happened, Mona?" Xavier asks gently, coming by me. He rubs my back again, and this time it does nothing to ease the pain.

My breath comes in short gasps as I stare at the ground, at the water now dancing towards the drain, flooding past my feet. In one sudden movement, I force myself to meet their gaze, their questions.

"That boy is still alive," I murmur, looking at my hand. It still tingles from when I touched him, shock resounding throughout my body. "We can save him."

I know I can. If I am able to reach out a little bit more, I can purge him of the internal devil. Cleanse him, and most likely others.

Xavier grabs me in his arms as I slump, the blackness overcoming me like a blanket until all is lost.

The Trophy Men

"Get up!" I throw my pillow at the mop of blue hair that never ceases to irk me. If I could, I would hit his face, but he has that and the rest of his body buried under a mountain of covers.

A groan emerges from the lifeless bundle, then silence.

"Don't make me have to say it twice," I narrow my eyes, crossing over to his side. I stare at the glittering blue that always manages to distract me, blinking annoyingly when it almost blinds me with its light.

He turns slightly, and I can now see his forehead and abnormally long eyelashes. Jealousy sears through me as I gaze at the portion of his face revealed. Isn't the girl supposed to be the pretty one?

On a whim, I reach towards him and punch the bundle as hard as I can. There are wretched moans as the man emerges like a butterfly from a cocoon, holding his arm in indignation.

"You could have just used a pillow," he scoffs, though still spellbound under sleep. He leans his back against the headboard, watching me. I feel almost uncomfortable under his endless, measuring stare.

"Time to get up," I state, shooting him a frightful glare when he makes no move.

"And why, exactly, is it time to get up?" he probes. I suddenly feel doubtful.

"Are we not going to school today?" I ask shakily.

He laughs heartily, sparking elation in even my heart. "No, Mona," he corrects dreamily, "today is Saturday."

I melt into a puddle on the hardwood floor.

"Are you serious?" I squeak, backing away from his form. He reaches out quickly to grab my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"I'll forgive you," he says, his words slurred, "for a kiss." His strong hand forces me closer, elevating my heart rate until it’s about to burst.

"Xavier!" I exclaim. He still seems to be half-asleep, yet smiling all the while.

Fright mounts as he gives a final yank, my lips inches from his. I have to stop him, but how?

With no other alternative, I punch him in the chest as hard as I can, his grip temporarily loosening. Using that opening, I tug away, running into the hallway as fast as I can.

Touching my heart, I wish for it to slow down... so I can breathe.

It is all a mystery. Why is Xavier making my chest pound so hard? Even a glimpse or a simple touch is spiking my heart. But it isn't love, I'm sure.

It can't be.

I try to block these suspicious thoughts from my mind, taking off down the narrow hallway like a bullet. It seems to continue on endlessly, door after door appearing until my burst of speed sputters and dies. Now I am hot and sweaty for a different reason.

It must be that "fake" love that sparks between two mates. The savage desire coursing through my blood is rampant, affecting my thinking. I can't give in to it, for then I will find myself under Xavier's intoxicating spell. It is the first time in my life that I am actually afraid of... loving someone.

Well, these past few days have introduced many firsts, so I suppose I should get used to it.

I finally wind up in a dark room. I straggle along the walls, hoping to find a switch of some kind. After a little searching, I finally bump into a strange, inanimate object.

Light blinds me as it floods through the room, the lamp shining like the sun.

I take in the granite countertops, the stainless steel appliances, the gigantic refrigerator, and luxurious oven with awe. It is so big, almost as huge as their movie room, and spacious. I rush to a small door with anticipation, and fling it open to reveal a stockroom of every ingredient I could ever need or want. It is big also, with a cooled section dedicated especially to meat. I knew their kitchen would be magnificent, but this exceeds all expectations.

Wandering over to an open cookbook, I gaze onto the lists of delectable food choices. My stomach grumbles annoyingly, and I at once decide to indulge in this fantasy world and make breakfast.

 

***

 

"Hey Mona," Wes pops his head through the doorway, his golden hair shining in the light, "what are you doing?"

I pause at the refrigerator, turning my head at the sound of his voice. I smile a little, grabbing a few eggs and shutting the door afterwards. Wes weaves his way towards me, his movements fluid and smooth.

"Breakfast?" he asks in wonder, "you are actually making breakfast for us?"

"So what if I am?" I bend my head in embarrassment, knocking one egg against the bowl to crack it.

Wes ignores this remark, smiling at me brightly. He reminds me of Xavier in his puppy-like behavior, yet I have a feeling that Wes would treat anyone this way, while Xavier doesn't care about other girls. Is this difference caused by the mating?

"I'm making-" I start after guilty feelings enter at my cruelty, but he interrupts me eagerly.

"Don't tell me! I love both surprises and homemade breakfast," he smiles, his teeth glistening, "Xavier will especially love anything you make. By the way, when I passed his room all the way here, he was laughing hysterically. So I was wondering..."

Yolk explodes onto the bowl, shell dribbling in shards down the side.

"Mona?" Wes stares at my clenched fist in confusion.

My hand trembles as I turn away to the sink to wash off the slime now adorning my palm. The water burns as it slips down my fingers, some splashing upon my face. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot wash away the blush from my cheeks.

I turn back to Wes, smiling awkwardly. "I'm okay. It was an accident," I attempt to reassure him.

"Are you su-"

"Yes. I'm," I take the beater and punch the glob in the bowl, "Perfectly. Fine."

"No you aren't." His voice is firm and resolute.

Bitter words stay captive behind my lips, beating against its confinements. We both look at the crumbled shell mixed in with the yolk in silence, I desperately trying to hide the redness in my features.

"I'll just... come back later then," Wes bows slightly, and then exits the room, his footsteps pounding through the hallway.

I pick up the clear bowl, trumping over to the sink, and pour it down the drain, watching the egg disappear once and for all. Irritation grows within me, boiling inside my chest. Calming is impossible. He tricked me.

Xavier...

What am I going to do with you?

 

***

 

"Oh, you're back," I smile as Wes leads the way into the kitchen, followed by a slew of werewolves. Yi has the bed head, his ruffled black hair sticking straight up. His eyes are bloodshot, as if he just had a bad night's sleep.

"Are you better now?" Wes asks concernedly.

"Yes." I gesture to the dining room right next to the kitchen. "Just go sit in there and I will bring out the food soon."

"You're amazing, Mona," Wes laughs, coming close and wrapping an arm around my waist. I stiffen a little, amazed at the way it seems completely different when Xavier touches me. Xavier tends to send sparks of flame through my body, while Wes freezes me like an icicle. With another happy-go-lucky grin, he sneaks forward and kisses my cheek.

I smack him on the arm, slightly angered but still playful. "What are you thinking, trying to steal a kiss from me?" I ask in a teasing tone. But inwardly, I am wondering why, exactly, I feel nothing when Wes's truly delicious lips brush against my skin.

"It is like a greeting with Wes. He kisses everybody," Jake shrugs, "all his girls. I suggest you get used to it."

"And I suppose you do the same thing?" I raise one eyebrow.

"We all do," Ray says, and then turns to Jake. "You haven't told her about the club yet, have you?"

Jake shakes his head, "I thought we were going to have to quit because Xavier finally got mated. I was going to close it for this week."

"What club?" I ask, even more curious because Ray is talking.

"Um, well..." Jake starts, and then trails off.

"We'll tell you over breakfast," Wes finishes for him, "don't worry about it right now."

Yi just stares at his shoes, not talking. What's wrong with him? It is as if he is afraid to look at me.

Wes looks over his shoulder into the hallway, and his eyes widen. "Hurry guys, into the dining room," he pushes them out of the kitchen with great force. As he exits, he shoots me a wink.

I take the French toast I had prepared and laid two on each plate. After scattering powdered sugar on it, as well as adding a tiny bowl of syrup and butter, it soon looks professional. After a healthy dab of whipped cream and a small strawberry, they are meals fit for a king. My cooking skills really haven't deteriorated.

"That looks really good," a voice murmurs beside my ear. I smile slightly, not looking up, drunk in my own pleasurable thoughts.

"Thanks."

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"I used to help at the orphanage. The cook would always give me extra scraps if I washed the dishes, and eventually she let me cook most of the food for her while she was the one to get paid. But I didn't mind, because the cook was nice to me... and it was better than playing