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

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 to melt my heart. "I think you underestimate me, Mona."

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 its 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 Mona, 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 ask 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. Xavier 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. "Mona!" 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