"Please stop!" I hear his relaxing, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to shake his command from my mind. He can't coerce me into continuing on with this joke any longer. Obviously he is just toying with me by pretending to be attracted, in order to get a good laugh out of his friends later. However, as I continue to walk, there is a blur, and then...
He is standing right in front of me, blocking the door.
How did he do that? He had been standing more than ten feet away from me before.
I become like a sheep that has been backed into a corner. "What are you? What do you want from me?" I beg, my eyes drilling through his, pleading earnestly.
His eyes flash at my comment, then, strangely, he wears a resigned expression. "Come, sit down while I explain."
He leads me back over to the divan, and I cautiously sit down upon it. I have to admit, no matter how creepy this feels, I am shamefully happy to spend a few more seconds gazing at his enticing face. However, I try not to show it, instead displaying a dubious frown.
He takes a deep breath, and then speaks. "My name is Nico, and I am what you would call a werewolf."
Shock and incredulity run through my mind, freezing me to the bone. Oh, what a pity, I think sadly, this incredibly hot guy, the only one that’s ever talked to me, is a weirdo. I can tell he believes his outlandish claims too. His eyes are trying to catch my gaze, a hopeful expression displayed in them.
"Werewolves don't exist," I tell him slowly, as if he is a kindergartener. I know he doesn’t deserve my disdain, but... really?
"Are you saying I don't exist?" he asks, irritated. I can’t help but notice how cute he is when he is vexed, and I wonder if I really want to wake up from this dream.
"No, although you might need to go talk to a counselor or something about some mental problems," I automatically snap, then immediately wish to take back my harsh words. For me, insults are default, almost encouraged by people’s equally disdaining response.
He seems frustrated now, a tiny pout on his plump lips, streaks of his blue hair falling into his eyes. The strange thing is, he doesn’t seem to be angry or even annoyed by me, but by himself. What kind of guy is he? He is proving almost everything that I thought was true about every guy wrong.
"I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he mutters quietly. His eyes fly shut, his lips pursed in concentration. He seems to be focusing on something, something I can’t possibly detect.
"There is no way you can prove to me that-"
I am interrupted by his sudden transfiguration, staring in shock and amazement as the handsome man suddenly melts, his head tumbling into his body. It is like a waterfall, the way his body just crumbles into itself. However, there is a shimmer of light before he becomes a puddle on the floor, his-body-liquid-I-don't-really-know making a shape. Another millisecond and he is that shape.
A colossal wolf with sharp white teeth and dark eyes that matches his pupils.
I jump back in horror. Nothing I had read or seen about werewolves had prepared me for this.
It barks once, a deep sound that reminds me roughly of his baritone laugh, his shaggy fur a creamy light brown color that matches his skin. He, like his human counterpart, is absolutely beautiful. My breath is taken away as I examine him and his huge, graceful form. What absolutely astonishes me, most of all, is his authoritative aura, demanding respect even from me.
Similar to the previous morphing, he suddenly crumbles, falling towards the ground speedily. There is a flash of light, and he becomes the incredibly hot man he was before.
Scared, I take a step back, not watching where I am going. Nico, no matter how beautiful, seems ethereal. Somehow, my brain refuses to believe that werewolves exist, and even though now I am given proof, it still is a lot to take in. It is almost too much for me to accept, no matter how true it is.
My feet slip out from under me as I collide with a hard, firm object. I feel the floor rush to meet me, my arms flaying about, trying to catch my balance.
A pair of strong, firm hands reach beneath me, propelling me back into my standing position. They feel warm, releasing shocks through my body. I am definitely aware of his presence.
"Please believe me," he takes his hands away from my back, coldness now flooding to the previously warm spot where his hand had been.
"I... I.." I mumbled softly, disconcerted by his close proximity, yet shivering from the absence of his big, toasty warm hands. He seems to sense that, leaning in and grabbing my right hand, heat spreading like wildfire throughout my body.
Nervousness takes me over and I yank my slender hand away. His eyes widen in surprise as I shove them in my pockets. "You don't want me to touch you?" he inquired curiously, "You don't trust me?"
Yes, I want you to touch me. Yes, I trust you. Although I have no idea why.
"I don’t know you. Why would I?" I carelessly throw at him. He blinks once, almost from surprise rather than irritation. Bafflement is etched into his features, as if he is actually confused at the thought that I don't.
I begin to get angry at myself. Why do I have to be so bitter?
"Okay, I'll wait then," he grins faintly. Other than his slightly diminished smile, he seems undeterred, though, continuing almost as energetic as before.
Is this guy for real?
"Well, you might as well give up now then or else you'll be waiting forever," I look away, letting the harsh words leave my lips.
"Don't worry; I am prepared to wait forever. I have all the time in the world," he says softly, his words startling me.
Of course. How can I forget? He isn’t even a human.
"I think you forget that I will die in about seventy five years. I don't have forever," I murmur, my voice picked up by his sensitive ears. Silence stretches between us as the seconds tick by. I feel uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but him.
He laughs again, a sound that starts to melt my heart. "I think you underestimate me, Ella."
Whoa. Wait a second.
"How do you know my name?" I furiously demand. He winks at me in response, waving my school ID before my eyes. Narrowing my eyes, I hold out my hand towards him. "Give it back."
"Should I?" He teases, sparking my anger. I launch myself at him, and he smiles wickedly. "Oh, well this is getting interesting."
It only takes a few seconds of violently grabbing at thin air before I realize I am not going to get my ID back by force. He is moving his arms so quickly that it’s impossible to even touch him. Rolling my eyes in resignation, I lean back and fall against the divan.
"Are you ever planning on giving it back?"
"Sure. Someday. I'm rather fond of this picture of you." He looks at it again, and my mind flashes back to the time when that picture was taken. It was about six months ago, and also the day when I lost my glasses yet again, leaving me half blind and unable to even tie my shoes, let alone comb my hair. I had even worn my shirt inside out. It was awful.
I now realize he truly has been making fun of me.
I say nothing, my eyes returning to him. I subconsciously focus on how the sunlight seems to catch on his azure hair and sparkle, making his whole head look like it is sprinkled with stardust. He doesn't wait for me to speak. "But anyway... I doubt it will take you long to fall in love with me."
"How come, wolfboy?" I look at him, astounded at his pompousness and how honest he looks while saying those words.
"My charm is so overwhelming." He flips his hair and flashes me a bright, astounding smile. I am almost blinded by its beauty. "How could you not?"
"How could I, you arrogant brat?!" I respond bitingly, "I prefer a trait in men that you don't possess—humility." And a brain, of course.
"I was joking," he defends himself, "come on Ella, you know that! I'm not like any boy you have met before. I would sacrifice anything, even my life, for you. I know that's a strange statement to make, but I genuinely feel that way. Every werewolf feels like this towards his or her mate. You can trust me-"
"What was that you just said?" I a
sk dangerously, interrupting his rant. I can't believe my ears, my eyes narrowing. He did not just say that...
"You're... my mate," he says hesitantly, pausing slightly before he continues, "If you weren't my mate, I would have killed you in the forest. I’m usually not very kind to trespassers that stumble our way." After a short span of shocked silence, he grabs my hands and squeezes them. "I'm all yours," he whispers, staring deeply in my eyes with an unfathomable intensity.
I laugh at the way he mentions it so lightly. He tells me that I'm his "mate", bound to him for life (or afterlife), and he expects me to just take it in? To immediately obey his request?
I can see the seriousness and fear in his beautiful green eyes, silently pleading with me to understand.
I'm amazed the most at the fact that he expects me to take him seriously. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wants the satisfaction of having me fall for his wily tricks. I have to say, he is a marvelous liar.
Anger overwhelms me, my heartbeat rising. Why don't I get a choice on whether to be his mate? Is he so superior that he can't give me the option to be free?
"Uh, well, um..." I inch towards the door, edging to the exit that will free me from this nightmare. My red hair falls into my face, my hands shaking. Nico smiles as the phone begins to ring, causing my stomach to unwillingly flip flop.
"Excuse me while I take this call," he says quickly, retreating from my sight. I hear the pounding of footsteps, then nothing. I sigh in relief. The coast is clear.
Oh wonderful phone, you are my savior.
I run towards to door, flinging it open and rushing out into the considerably lightened rainfall. The light mist sprinkles on my nose, dancing around my toes as I slosh through the muddy dirt, my bare feet dyed brown. My red hair is loose and wavy, flying as a blast of cold wind forces it far behind me. I carry my flats in my hands, sticking my tongue out carelessly to catch a drop of the water that falls from the sky.
Freedom is at hand.
***
BEEP! BEEP!
I slap the button on the alarm clock, trying to stop its irritating wails. I am lying in my bed, my fluffy stuffed animals surrounding my heavily buried form. I have many of them, a whole collection from my childhood, which I can't bear to get rid of. Gold tones flood through my small windows, illuminating my face as I sit up into the glaring sunlight. Just beyond the glass lays a beautiful milieu of crisp, green grass, crystal clear lake water, and tall trees. Puffy clouds hang in the blue sky, birds cruising across the horizon.
I wearily drag myself from the covers, my feet causing a thump as they collide with the floor. Stumbling over to my dresser, I carelessly grab a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, sliding it over my form. My spare pair of glasses, the other lost in the storm, squeak as I slide it onto my nose. I, by chance, catch a glance of my body in the mirror, and gasp.
A huge, black-and-blue bruise sprawls across my left shoulder, extreme redness surrounding it. Another one, though not quite so major, decorates my knee, bringing back painfully stark memories from the previous night. It isn't only a dream.
I really did meet a handsome crazy man last night who saved me from certain death.
I can still remember his perfect face, his startling green eyes, and his uniqueness I did not understand. Even thinking of him sends tingles through my body, alertness flooding through me. How can a brief memory affect me so much?
I shuffle to the door, looking out along the hallway. Rows of doors greet me, stuffiness overtaking my senses. A repugnant stench makes my nose wrinkle in disgust, but not surprise. It always smells like this. The other kids all got used to it, but I never did.
From the very beginning, my ninth birthday spanning until the present, I have felt like I didn't belong. Almost... like my parents were not fated to die, that I was meant to be by their side even now. It was just a feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that something was terribly wrong. The other kids, as I grew up, seemed to understand that also, gladly treating me like I didn't belong. At first, I was a pretty nice kid. I wanted more friends. I wanted to play in their games. I wanted Ms. Penn to treat me just like everyone else. And, most of all, I wanted desperately to laugh. To smile.
But I soon gave up on that fantasy.
I soon gave in to the other kids' coldness, turning into a hard shell that was sharp, bitter, and tough. I didn't need anybody. I didn't want anybody.
I was above them all.
I would stay in my room for hours and hours, studying and reading, making myself smarter and even more above the crowd. Now, to accompany my newfound pompousness, I had the smarts to encourage it.
And these long years, full of awful puberty and other struggles, did nothing to change that.
I check my old and slightly tattered watch, gasping as I realize that it is almost time for school. It begins at 8:00 AM, and it is 7:40. No wonder all the other orphans are gone, the only noise being the whistle of the wind. What the crap was wrong with my alarm clock to wake me up so late?
I am in so much trouble.
The wind floods through my hair as I race down the stairs. I blast past Ms. Penn, our supervisor. She raises her eyebrows as I quickly snatch my backpack. "Ella!" she calls after me, her voice shrill and commanding, "After school you will be punished!"
"I'm sorry!" I exclaim. I couldn't help that I went to bed at two o'clock the last night! I mutter angry retorts, too low for Ms. Penn to notice.
I stumble to the kitchen, grabbing a small pop tart, stuffing it in my mouth as quickly as I can. Ms. Penn glares at me as I hurriedly down a glass of water, my frenzied gulps echoing in the room. "Don't you think," she snaps in a dangerous whisper, "it MIGHT be too late for breakfast?"
The evil, fire breathing dragon is furious now. It might do me some good to leave.
I grab my shoes; white sandals that just happen to be the only pair of shoes I have. They are old and worn, flowers dancing along the sides, a size too small for comfort. I shove my feet into them, making the straps loosen as far as possible, my toes falling off the sole. They look horrendous on me, but that is to be expected. I am a poor, impoverished orphan girl with no family. I don't have a home to go to.
There is a sudden knock on the old, wooden door, the sound reverberating around the orphanage. I glance around quickly. Ms. Penn is nowhere to be found, probably in her office to write me up for another cleaning duty. I walk to the shaken door, where even one polite knock can hurt the worn wood immensely.
A mirror hangs precariously on a single nail, right by where I am standing. I examine myself once again, taking in my ratty red hair, matted and tangled, that I usually pull back into a frenzied ponytail. My nose, crooked as always, juts out slightly, an annoying feature I absolutely hate. My slightly curvy body hides under some of the only clothes I own, a baggy t-shirt and loose jeans, letting no one know I even have a figure. Even if I wear skin-tight clothing, I am so short that guys would have to stoop to see my shape. My lips and complexion? Nothing special.
My eyes are the only things I like about myself at all, and even they are not spectacular compared to that god-like man I saw last night. I am the least desirable girl at school, and for good reason. I don't even show what little I do have, hiding my eyes behind thick glasses and burying my kindness under arrogance.
I grasp the metal doorknob with my fingers, twisting it, and then pull it open quickly. My eyes widen in surprise, my form still, frozen with shock.
"Hey Ella," a deep, masculine voice whispers to the wind, weaving its way towards my ears.
Have You Ever Been Stalked by a Hot Psycho?
"What the crap are you doing here?" I demand, my voice sharp and shrill. Quickly, I remember that Mrs. Penn is just inside, and I shut the door behind me. Shifting my gaze back to the incredibly handsome man, I take in his beautiful eyes as they gaze at me, and me only.
"Walking with you to school," he grins, his expression absolutely breathtaking. His eyes are full of eagerness, reminding me of an energetic puppy when playing with
its master. Joy races through his features, undaunted by my lack of a smile. In fact, I can't even disguise a scowl.
I begin walking down the sidewalk, him eagerly trotting by my side. After a few more unbearable moments of complying with Nico's will, I turn to face him, my features indignant. "Go away," my voice bites at him, trying to chip away at his insufferable happiness. His grin, surprisingly, grows wider.
"Hey Ella... do you think I'm hot?"
I’m ashamed at the way an egotistical idiot can disarm me so effectively. For a few seconds, I resemble a goldfish, moving my lips without any sound coming out of them. My cheeks are beet red as I finally stammer out an unconvincing no.
He triumphantly grabs me, whirling me into a bear hug. "I knew it! Ella loves me!"
"NO!" I yell, trying to yank away from his death grip. Unsuccessful, I beat my hands against his muscled chest, trying to ignore the feel of his masculine arms around my waist. "I DON'T LOVE YOU! YOU’RE A STALKER! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME AND WHERE I LIVE?! WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME TO SCHOOL?!" I fire at him furiously, trying to keep my tomato-red cheeks under control.
"Well, first off, I'm not following you," he points out, "I'm walking with you." I shoot him a glare, hoping he will get the message, but he conveniently ignores it. "The reason why I know where you live and your name," he continues, "is because I happened to see you run home-"
"So you did follow me," I state dubiously.
"Well, then I did... but you said I was following you now..." he protests feebly, trailing off when he realizes that there is no point. I hide a teasing grin from bubbling to the surface. I don't want to encourage this man, no matter how attractive he might be. If I release one smile, one kind word, he will never leave me alone.
Coldly brushing past him, I walk faster, taking longer strides with my short legs. My medium length ruby red hair flows past my shoulders, pushed behind me by the roaring wind.
"Wow, you walk fast," he comments sweetly. His startling green eyes crinkle with enjoyment as he said, "I like walking fast too." He evenly matches my pace, completely defeating the purpose for speeding up in the first place.
Nightly Howls Page 2
