??A Howl In The Night??
?(She’s mine)?
?From Novel r0m@n�
?Chapter 7?
?Meeting The Pack Of pla-yers?
The bell rings, signifying the conclusion of another tortuous day. My locker, unfortunately next to “Mr. Popular” himself, wi-nks at me as I walk out of the clas-sroom towards it. Xavier is overwhelmed by his fans, leaving me ample time to collect my baggage. I gr-ab my stuff, waiting for him to dissipate the crowd and make his way towards me. Which he does, with a big smile on his face. “Are you re-ady?” he questions.
I look away, trying to make my voice sound convincing. “Can I go to the bathroom first?”
He nods, staring at me with his electrifying green eyes. I feel, suddenly, as if he can stare straight throu-gh me, seeing what my true intentions are. Keeping my head down, I plow past him into the ferocious crowd.
I sl!pthrou-gh the halls, enduring shoving and pushing along the way, and pause by the bathroom. Consisting of only a tiny hall of stalls and two meager sinks, it is a sorry excuse for a bathroom, but it will suit my purposes just fine.
I walk to the end of the bathroom, right at the last stall. A small window, about the size of a half-piece of poster board, perches about four and a half feet above the floor. My escape route. It is at about chin level on me, clearly at a height I can’t climb to. Carefully, I reach forward and open it, the glas-s swinging outwards. Now I am re-ady.
Placing my backpack on the tile floor, the contents tumbling out of its confinements, I begin to stack my books and binders on t©p of each other. Then, I put the tower of school supplies in the backpack, the Zi-ppered t©p of it open. I grasp the handles on either side, stepping onto the tiny mountain like I had planned hours earlier.
The two foot tall pile sways and almost coll@pses un-derneath me, but I catch the window ledge before it gives way to gravity. Propelling myself upwards, my bu-tt hits the ledge, leaving my backpack swinging below me because of my hold on it. pu-lling the handles, I f0rç£ it to reach my current elevation. I turn, my feet now swinging over the edge, towards the outdoors as I pack the binders and books back in my bag.
The scene before me, a plain view that includes a blue sky and a bunch of dead gras-s, has never been so beautiful. For now, it symbolizes freedom. I feel elation pounding in my che-st, a burden disappearing from my shoulders. Nothing I have ever experienced amounts to this emotion, this feeling of liberty.
The feeling vanishes when I look towards the ground.
I mentally sma-ck myself in the head when I survey the thirty feet between me and the t©ps of the prickly bushes directly below. There is no way I am going to be able to get out from here. Well, unless I want to break an arm and a leg.
Laughing, I let my whisper escape into the cool breeze, “Looks like my perfect plan is a total failure.” I know I should have chos£n the back door route, but the bathroom idea was too crazy to resist at the time, and Xavier wouldn’t get too suspicious in the process. But how could I have known that this bathroom is actually thirty feet above the ground, and that a patch of thor-nybushes grovels below?
I hear some chattering behind me as some figures enter the bathroom. Shutting my eyes, I squee-ze my backpack ti-ghtly, hoping that they won’t notice my back in the window. Unfortunately, I can’t see anything from my position; facing outwards. Fear enters me, the thought that they might laugh at me chilling me to the bone. I shift slightly, thrû-sting my head into the afternoon air, leaving only my back and bu-tt in the window. From my position, the bushes might as well be a sea of sharks.
The noise suddenly ceases, the chattering halting so suddenly that the air freezes as well. My b©dy stiffens, and I suddenly find it ha-rd to breathe.
There are steps, ones that grow increasingly louder to my unwilling ears. I can tell they are heading my way, s-en-sing the foreboding hiding behind each small movement. Finally, they st©p as well, leaving only silence. Dangerous silence. Time seems to pause, even my breath suspended in anxiety.
Light and incredibly thin f!ngers, hundreds of them, brush across my back as the figure leans close to my ear. The person’s h0t breath, full of menace, dwindles upon the back of my n£¢k. There is another painful pause, the suspense eating me whole, and then a sound that makes my blood run cold.
“He is mine,” a malicious voice whispers. A pair of two soft but strangely strong hands collide with my back, the carefully manicured nails clawing into my skin. The f0rç£ pushes me forwards, and I start to fly.
Only for a second, though, before gravity takes its course.
The air rushes past me, my backpack serving as a weight to pu-ll me down even fas-ter. I re-lease it, hoping crazily that somehow it will slow me, but that doesn’t st©p my plummet. I am t©ppling face down, my view of the deathly bushes absolutely electrifying. Death looms before me once more, a familiar figure I have come to recognize in its previous two visits. I marvel at the fact that Death has come for me three times so far, when the average teenager doesn’t even know his face. The ground runs to meet me, and I shut my eyes ti-ghtly.
Muscled arms, strong and sinewy, wra-p around me right before the first prickly leaf mars my face. He, for surely these perfect arms must belong to a man, cradles me, embr@cing my suddenly fiery h0t skin. Electricity shocks me in every place that he t©uçhes me, a strange, arousing feeling searing throu-gh my veins.
I stare into the face of my savior, and grimace. Somehow, I know even before I look that the mysterious man is Xavier.
“Why would you do something stupid like fall out of the bathroom window?” he asks confusedly, his tone a little accusing. Setting me down, away from the thorns, he steps out as well. Streaks of red blood pulsate from his knee down, thorns sticking into his leg. He seems not to notice the demolition of his beautiful calves, continuing on with his “why are you so stupid” talk. “I had to run from the front of the school,” he complains, “to you in three seconds flat, and avoid a group of annoying girls along the way! Why were you in the window? I thought you were in the bathroom! And don’t they usually keep those windows shut? How could you fall out of a closed window-”
“I was trying to escape, wolfboy. Get it right,” I say, without energy or menace. A near-death experience takes a lot out of you.
Xavier looks at me, his eyes wi-de… and begins to laugh hysterically. I realize now that the fact that I was trying to escape makes me look even stupider than if I had just fallen out of the window. “Mona,” he speaks, his voice like melted bu-tter as it sli-ps throu-gh hisl-ips, “you can’t escape from me.”
Anger pumps throu-gh my veins, sparks flying. Who is HE to tell me I can’t escape? Even though he’s probably right…
“Oh and Mona,” he says suddenly, “take this.” He offers me a small ring, with an emerald on t©p. It sparkles in the light, as beautiful as Xavier’s eyes. I sl!pit on my f!nger, though dubious.
“Is this an engagement ring?” I ask suspiciously. He shakes his head.
“If it was, I would propose,” he says obviously, ma-king me feel stupid again. Anger courses throu-gh me as I think of the endless amount of days I was going to have to endure this werewolf; one that thinks he is all that…
However, all doom and gloom evaporates as I survey the blood running towards his foot. It is worse now, the thorns growing irritated in the skin. “Xavier,” I tell him, squ-atting down to examine the injury better, “we have to get you a bandage!” I have to admit, it was very nice and heroic of Xavier to save me, and I owe him at least this much concern.
Xavier shrugs, “I’ll get it fixed at the mansion. It can wait.” His careless attitude is completely opposite from what it should be, reminding me once again that he is not normal.
“No,” I say fiercely, “It can’t.” Opening my backpack, I take a small supply of napkins out of a pocket. Brushing it across the blood, I wipe most of it off so I can get a better view. The thorns protrude from his skin, big ones that would have me in tears. Using my f!ngers, I carefully pu-ll each one out, trying to ignore the de-sire pulsing throu-gh me. The vulnerability I am displa-ying to the over-affectionate werewolf.
Xavier shoots me a smile as I take out the last thorn, offering me a hand to help me stand. “Thanks, Mona,” he says softly, as if my tiny action means a lot to him. Knowing Xavier, it probably does.
“What about the blood?” I question, looking at his red stained ankles. He shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it. It will heal soon,” he as-sures me, his voice confident. I roll my eyes, and then look to the window. It is dark inside, so I can’t see the face, but I am sure the figure is still in there, watching us both. It seemed to be a girl, but I am not sure. All I know is that the person, whatever the gender, wants me dead. The chills are unceasing, b!tt!g at me with terrible f0rç£.
Xavier turns to the forest behind us, right beyond the meadow. “It’s this way,” he declares, his tone certain. He whirls back to face me, his arms spre-ad out wi-de. “Come here,” he demands. His eyes are fierce, ordering obe-dience. Not knowing quite why, I oblige him. He sweeps me into his arms once more, strangely comforting me with his warmth. There is a silence as Xavier grits his teeth, and then he begins to run. Blindingly fast, his legs zoom into the vast un-derbrush, destination unknown to me. However, at this moment, I don’t care. Xavier is the least of my troubles.
The voice still echoes in my head, stirring up fear in my heart. “He is mine.”
***
I watch the scene around me, a blur of green, blue, and brown, with awe. It is so strange, the way everything changes so quic-kly. It is a collage of the s-en-ses, everything mashed together, unable to observe. The only thing that’s constant is Xavier, and his hvge arms around my form.
Feeling like a baby in a cradle, I rock in his arms, marveling at the way I seem to fit in his embr@ce. For once, I am thankful for my small size. His hands offer constant heat as they radiate to my skin, warmth and de-sire blended together. It is an ordeal to him, I can tell, to just hold me like this, for the temptation is hvge. For us both.
I look to Xavier’s masculine features, at the way his azure hair sparkles in the breeze. When the sun hits it just right, it resembles the rainbow, all the colors shining in each strand. It is the most magnificent hair I have ever seen in my life.
His eyes, too, are incredible. They are also the only things about him that are truly abnormal. They are so amazingly bright, it is just ha-rd to believe that they belong to a human. And, of course, they don’t.
He casts a look at my face, rou-gh and ragged, covered by thick glas-ses and ban-gs. I feel discomfort in his measuring gaze, though it is full of unbelievable affection. I don’t un-derstand why he loves me so much, but I can’t help but admire his enthusiasm.
The violent air sl@pping at us both st©ps as Xavier comes to a gentle halt. Everything around me becomes clearer, focus regaining. “What is this place?!” I say with absolute awe, practically jumping out of his arms. It is amazing, a feat of nature standing before me.
A gigantic mansion stands before me, resembling a castle really, with turrets and a moat. It is in the center of the forest, trees surrounding the clearing where the mansion lies. It is ferocious and forbidding, reminding me of a haunted mansion. A door stands at the front, unnecessarily large, closed and most likely locked. A bunch of those prickly bushes are located around the mansion walls, most likely to prevent the same thing I tried to attempt today.
“Who are you werewolves defending yourselves from?” I ask in wonder, noting the turrets that most likely house a ton of arrows, guns, and grenades.
Xavier bows his head, his voice soft. “You just don’t worry about it, Mona. You don’t nee-d to get involved in this,” he as-sures me, though my temper is only sparked by a comment like that. However, after a few seconds of huffing and puffing, I quell my ferociousness.
We start walking to the moat, the bridge across it stable and wooden. “Why do you have a bridge and not a wall?” I query. All of the castles I have seen in books are similar in that aspect.
“Because we don’t nee-d one,” a mischievous voice answers for Xavier, alerting me to another man’s pres£nce.
This man is handsome also, with the same electrifying green eyes that scares yet always manages to s£dûç£me. However, unlike Xavier, he is Chinese, with black hair and a somewhat wi-der face. He is also taller, tanner, and skinnier. This man is almost like a stick, yet with good muscles for a man his size. He is wearing a r!pp£dt-shi-t, with rugged jeans that fit him almost as well as Xavier’s does. All in all, another devastatingly handsome man with a whole different type of appeal.
“You have to remember, we are werewolves,” he speaks again, his voice teasing, “so we can do stuff like this.” In one sudden movement, he takes the bridge and fli-ps it upwards, propelling us both high in the air. All I can see is blurriness again, fury ripping throu-gh my system. How dare he fl!pme into the air? Xavier is by my side, looking at the sm-irking man dubiously. I wra-p my arms around my knees, waiting for the inevitable thump.
I land in a pair of arms for the second time today, except this time they are different. Slender and altogether graceful, these hands are soft and almost like a girl’s. However, they are unbelievably strong, the fact that he fli-pped us both into the air with a hvge, wooden bridge awe-inspiring. His face, as he looks down on me, is amused and taunting, completely unlike Xavier’s affection.
However, that changes when he perks up his nose. “What is that delicious aroma?” he asks, his voice alluringly smooth and sweet. Xavier walks up behind him, unharmed by the stranger’s mischief.
“It’s her,” he says, pointing to me. I shrink when the man leans his head closer to mine. He breathes in, sighing de-eply.
“I haven’t had a morsel like this in ages!” he exclaims dreamily, “she smells absolutely delectable.” I start to shiver as I notice that he almost regards me as food, not an actual person.
Xavier rips me away from him, wra-pping his arms around my b©dy. “She is my mate, You Don’t t©uçh her,” he growls.
He surveys me, whistling loudly. “Xavier, this doesn’t exactly seem like your type of girl. I thought you were going to mate with someone maybe more model-like… and she is a human. Ray is going to be furious,” he almost sings that last p@rt; as if he is actually happy that Xavier is going to spike this person’s anger.
“bu-tt off,” he snaps, “I can choose whoever I want to be my mate.”
“Liar,” he laughs, “you probably got mated to her because of her smell. It is amazing… I haven’t experienced a smell like that in a long time. I don’t blame you, Xavier.” He leans in, his voice so soft that I almost can’t hear it. “Even though the ugly chick’s your mate, you could still eat her. I bet she would be delicious, and Ray wouldn’t care,” he whispers. I jump away from Xavier, punching him in the face. My movement is so fast that even he can’t react, my fist hitting home. He ru-bs his jaw, his face of laughter. “I’m just kidding,” he chokes, “mates don’t eat each other, and werewolves rarely eat humans in the first place. Nice punch, by the way.”
Xavier just stares at yi fire alight in his eyes. “Don’t joke about that sort of stuff, Yi. It’s scaring her,” he says. I step closer to them both, my temper twice the size of Xavier’s.
“Do not make as-sumptions,” I poke him in the che-st, and then I turn to Yi, “you are an idiot. Go bother someone else.” I pretend to act unaffected by his remark, but in truth I am furious. I know I am ugly… but I don’t like hearing a handsome werewolf say it. “Come on, Xavier, let’s go,” I take charge, pu-lling away the growling wolf.
I look back… to see Yi’s devilish smile. “You just got a whole lot more attrac-tive,” he sm-irks, invoking redness to my cheeks. I turn back to Xavier, embarras-sed.
His face is twisted with laughter now, his anger died down. “I was going to punch him for you,” he says in-between chuckles, “but you beat me to it. And you were fast, too! I mean, Yi is pretty weak, but he usually has better reflexes.” Weak? He smiles at me, his white teeth glistening. “Don’t listen to Yi,” he whispers, “you aren’t ugly at all.”
I laugh, though inwardly shaking. “Thank you, Xavier.” He reaches to gr-ab my hand, but I pu-ll it away. Even though I like Xavier more than Yi, this doesn’t change anything. I am still not in love with Xavier.
We enter the mansion, the doors opening as if prodded by an invisible hand. The inside is just as beautifully creepy as the exterior; with two hvge flights of stairs in the back of the lobby that is p@rted by a colossal sculpture of a wolf. The floor is tiled, the ceiling over fifty feet above us. The whole room is very spacious, probably doubling as a ballroom. “Where do those steps lead?” I ask, clutching his arm subconsciously, “they are so big!”
“To the other rooms,” he says plainly, “that is the only way to get to them.”
“Wow,” I gaze at the beautiful chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling, noticing the mural painted above me. It is of wolves in the forest, chasing a bunch of humans. But the strange thing about them is that the human’s eyes are red, bright like the werewolves’ green eyes but a different color. They are really scary and intimid@t!ng, s£nding recognition into my che-st. I… have seen those eyes before.
Pain flashes throu-gh me, realization searing. I yell, but that does not dissolve the hurt. The terror.
“Mona!” a voice rips throu-gh the air to my ears. I gr-ab the man’s hand, pressing it against my heart.
“Help me,” I m0@n , “my heart is hurting.” It is throbbing, pounding against my che-st.
“What’s wrong?!” a beautiful voice says anxiously, one I don’t recognize. I raise my hands to my ears, trying to block out the noise, but the screams don’t cease. The terrible screams…
All I see is darkness now, sli-pping into the endless void.
*