However, I have no time to wipe off my grin, for the biggest fish in the sea is swimming our way. In other words, Sidney Richards, two of her girls following behind her as backup. I don't even know their names, nor does most of the school's population. They are just known as Sidney's girls, only good for fake laughs and compliments. Just what Sidney needs.
She troops over to us from her royal throne, flipping her blonde hair back from her face every few seconds, confidently strutting in her five-inch tall golden pumps. With a skirt about five inches above the dress code requirements and a blouse with a bit too many buttons undone, she has successfully secured the stares of every boy in school.
Finally reaching our table, she cast Nico a smile not unlike the one she used a couple of hours ago. "Hey," she tries to make her voice smooth and sweet, "I'm Sidney, and these are two of my girls." I almost laugh when I notice that even Sidney doesn't say their names.
Nico takes another bite of his delicious steak, and then looks up into Sidney's most-likely-modified face. "You probably know my name," he says plainly, clearly uninterested.
Sidney looks surprised, but she quickly recovers, reaching to the end of her now mini-skirt and fingering it, trying to draw his attention to her bronzed thighs that are muscular, yet slender. He doesn't notice her efforts, looking to the ceiling, then back at his delectable steak. "Do you want to sit with us?" she offers quickly, "away from this reject?" I wince at the word reject, at the way she doesn't even look at me, as if I am worth nothing. Away in the background, I see three spots left open, one for Sidney and two for her girls.
"There's no spots," he tries to evade a direct answer, but that doesn't stop Sidney. With a snap of her fingers, an a-list jock is immediately dismissed, degraded to a b status. Now there is Ian, two other jocks, and one of her girls sitting at the table.
"For you," she tells him, a seductive expression gracing her features, "there is always a spot."
"I decline," he says abruptly, digging back into his meat. Sidney just stands, her mouth in a perfectly lip-glossed "o".
"B-but-t," she stutters, "no one ever declines!" Her words are forced, cheerfulness evaporating. I see a sliver of doubt enter her, a drop of low esteem slipping into her bloodstream.
"Well," he says after wiping his mouth with a napkin, "I am not no one. I can do whatever the crap I want. And right now, I don't want to sit at your table."
Her eyes widen, her voice strained. The whole lunchroom is staring at us, and I suddenly feel as if we are under a spotlight, unable to escape from it. "So you are just going to sit with this loser?" she finally casts a hate filled glare at my form. Abruptly, I start to shiver as I am turned to ice by her gaze. I can tell, at that moment, that she wants me completely and utterly dead.
Nico stares at her face, not once wavering. "Please, Cindy-"
"Sidney," she dryly corrects, most likely a first for her.
"Sorry," he apologizes, and then continues, "It’s just that Ella will be alone if I leave her to go with you, and I can't allow that." He speaks calmly and gentlemanly, respect now in his tone. I blush at his words, the redness blooming on my slightly pale cheeks.
Sidney glances at me, as if she was really looking at me for the first time. "Ella," she murmurs to herself, as if she was trying to remember my name. Then she perks up and smiles once more at Nico. "Okay then," she says, "maybe another time." With another snap of her fingers, all three of them turn and start strutting towards the royalty table. However, when Nico's head is turned, she looks back and shoots me a glance of pure loathing. The shivers begin again; creeping up and down my spines, chilling me to the bone.
I return my gaze to Nico finally, my fork lingering over the last bite of steak. "Are you not hungry?" he asks curiously. I barely shake my head, the coldness freezing me silent. I eat the last piece, chewing it robotically.
Suddenly, a warm hand encircles mine, bringing me everlasting warmth. Nico propels my hand towards his meat, stabbing a juicy piece with my fork. "Try this," he softly suggests. Drawing my hand and fork towards my face, he prompts me to eat it, awakening butterflies in my stomach. I am now a giant red tomato, with cheeks as red as a fire engine. "Is it good?" he asks, smiling, gently releasing my arm from his grip. Girls all across the lunchroom stare in envy and disgust at my form, Nico's fan club probably already planning an ambush.
"Yes," I murmur, distracted by the way his eyes sparkle in the light. His meat is a little different, yet just as good. Embarrassment flickers across my features as I realize that I am staring.
Nico chuckles, and then shoots me a wink. "I can't wait to introduce you to Wes," he laughs, "he will have you melting into a puddle on the floor."
"Wes?" I ask curiously.
"Only the biggest flirt in the whole world," he smiles, "you'll meet him at the mansion after school."
"Oh really…" I say, not quite grasping his words. Then, I suddenly understand.
"What mansion?! I never heard you talk about going to a mansion!"
"Um, Ella? I told you about it before we got to school," he clarifies, my lack of memory surprising him.
I scoff, my red hair waving slightly, "Oh yeah, I remember... but you weren't serious, were you?"
"Of course I was," he says seriously. I start to laugh, merry pearls of joy that reverberates around the lunchroom.
"There is no way you are taking me there," I reply. I am NOT going to a mansion alone with Nico. For all I know, he might kill me in the forest and eat me.
Well, I guess that would defeat the purpose of saving me from definite death, but still.
"You want to bet?" he asks dangerously, his eyes alight. I look at the floor, not wanting to say anything. If I do spit out a word, he might pick me up and carry me out of the lunchroom to the mansion right now, in front of the whole school.
Yep. Silence is best right now. And careful planning, of course.
I'll just escape from him...
The Pack of Players
The bell rings, signifying the conclusion of another tortuous day. My locker, unfortunately next to "Mr. Popular" himself, winks at me as I walk out of the classroom towards it. Nico is overwhelmed by his fans, leaving me ample time to collect my baggage. I grab 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 ready?" 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 through me, seeing what my true intentions are. Keeping my head down, I plow past him into the ferocious crowd.
I slip through 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 glass swinging outwards. Now I am ready.
Placing my backpack on the tile floor, the contents tumbling out of its confinements, I begin to stack my books and binders on top of each other. Then, I put the tower of school supplies in the backpack, the zippered top 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 collapses underneath me, but I catch the window ledge before it gives way to gravity. Propelling myself upwards, my butt hits the ledge, leaving my backpack swinging below me because of my hold on it. Pulling the handles, I force 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 grass, has never been so beautiful. For now, it symbolizes freedom. I feel elation pounding in my chest, 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 smack myself in the head when I survey the thirty feet between me and the tops 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 chosen the back door route, but the bathroom idea was too crazy to resist at the time, and Nico 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 thorny bushes grovels below?
I hear some chattering behind me as some figures enter the bathroom. Shutting my eyes, I squeeze my backpack tightly, 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 my form chilling me to the bone. I shift slightly, thrusting my head into the afternoon air, leaving only my back and butt 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 body stiffens, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe.
There are steps, ones that grow increasingly louder to my unwilling ears. I can tell they are heading my way, sensing the foreboding hiding behind each small movement. Finally, they stop as well, leaving only silence. Dangerous silence. Time seems to pause, even my breath suspended in anxiety.
Light and incredibly thin fingers, hundreds of them, brush across my back as the figure leans close to my ear. The person's hot breath, full of menace, dwindles upon the back of my neck. 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 force 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 pull me down even faster. I release it, hoping crazily that somehow it will slow me, but that doesn't stop my plummet. I am toppling 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 tightly.
Muscled arms, strong and sinewy, wrap around my form right before the first prickly leaf mars my face. He, for surely these perfect arms must belong to a man, cradles me, embracing my suddenly fiery hot skin. Electricity shocks me in every place that he touches me, a strange, arousing feeling searing through my veins.
I stare into the face of my savior, and grimace. Somehow, I know even before I look that the mysterious man is Nico.
"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.
Nico looks at me, his eyes wide... 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. "Ella," he speaks, his voice like melted butter as it slips through his lips, "you can't escape from me."
Anger pumps through my veins, sparks flying. Who is HE to tell me I can't escape? Even though he’s probably right…
“Oh and Ella,” he says suddenly, “take this.” He offers me a small ring, with an emerald on top. It sparkles in the light, as beautiful as Nico’s eyes. I slip it on my finger, though dubious.
“Is this an engagement ring?” I ask suspiciously. He shakes his head.
“If it was, I would propose,” he says obviously, making me feel stupid again. Anger courses through 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. "Nico," I tell him, squatting down to examine the injury better, "we have to get you a bandage!" I have to admit, it was very nice and heroic of Nico to save me, and I owe him at least this much concern.
Nico 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 fingers, I carefully pull each one out, trying to ignore the desire pulsing through me. The vulnerability I am displaying to the over-affectionate werewolf.
Nico shoots me a smile as I take out the last thorn, offering me a hand to help me stand. "Thanks, Ella," he says softly, as if my tiny action means a lot to him. Knowing Nico, 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 assures 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, biting at me with terrible force.
Nico 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 spread out wide. "Come here," he demands. His eyes are fierce, ordering obedience. 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 Nico grits his teeth, and then he begins to run. Blindingly fast, his legs zoom into the vast underbrush, destination unknown to me. However, at this moment, I don't care. Nico 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 quickly. It is a collage of the senses, everything mashed together, unable to observe. The only thing that's constant is Nico, and his huge 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 embrace. For once, I am thankful for my small size. His hands offer constant heat as they radiate to my skin, warmth and desire blended together. It is an ordeal to him, I can tell, to just hold me like this, for the temptation is huge. For us both.
I look to Nico'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 trul
y abnormal. They are so amazingly bright, it is just hard to believe that they belong to a human. And, of course, they don't.
He casts a look at my face, rough and ragged, covered by thick glasses and bangs. I feel discomfort in his measuring gaze, though it is full of unbelievable affection. I don't understand why he loves me so much, but I can't help but admire his enthusiasm.
The violent air slapping at us both stops as Nico 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.
Nico bows his head, his voice soft. "You just don't worry about it, Ella. You don't need to get involved in this," he assures 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 need one," a mischievous voice answers for Nico, alerting me to another man's presence.
This man is handsome also, with the same electrifying green eyes that scares yet always manages to seduce me. However, unlike Nico, he is Chinese, with black hair and a somewhat wider 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 ripped t-shirt, with rugged jeans that fit him almost as well as Nico's does. All in all, another devastatingly handsome man with a whole different type of appeal.
Nightly Howls Page 5
