A Howl In The Night by Lorelei Sutton (best novels for students TXT) 📖

would say, "I really love you." Then I would smile, and everything would be forgiven.

But she is nowhere to be found.

My eyes search the garden, puzzlement abounding. I smell her rich fragrance; it being so strong that it nearly knocks me over. She has to be here. Where is she hiding?

"Mona?" I ask loudly, only to notice a sudden shift in movement. Ray twists his body in the fountain to look at me. He is shirtless and soaking wet, his brown hair plastered to his forehead.

"What the crap are you doing?" I ask. It is probably around fifty degrees in that fountain.

"I'm keeping Mona warm," he shrugs, "she needs some body heat." He shifts a little more, and then I can see her, suspended in sleep. She is leaning against his bare skin, as wet as he is.

"What is this?!" I roar, temper completely lost, "how did you guys get in there?"

"She just came up to me and said she needed somebody," he says.

My face begins to grow red, fury in my eyes. Ray stands in the water, carrying Mona with him. He steps out of the fountain and lays her in the grass gently. "Looks like Mona doesn't need you," he says softly, "You need to treat her better, or she just might find someone else." He takes his dry shirt from a nearby tree, and drapes it over her. "I got to go," he walks to the door, "I'll give you some time alone with her. Maybe it’s time for you two to kiss and make up."

The door swings shut after him and with it swings my insanity.

I glare at her furiously, and then I take Ray's shirt from her body. With barely suppressed anger, I clench it in my fists. Subconsciously I shift into a wolf, tearing the shirt with my teeth.

I lift my nose to the sky, and let loose a howl.

 

Admirers Can Be More Frightening Than Your Worst Nightmare

~ Mona ~

 

The grass tickles my toes as I shift slightly, sleep releasing its strong hold on me. The sun's warm light washes over my bare skin, my hair as it is sprawled over the grass. I stagger to my feet, wondering why I am here in the garden.

My gaze shifts towards the fountain, and then everything comes back to me in a flash. I blush as I think of my time with Ray earlier, with the fountain and statue. Ray's hot embrace felt very comforting, for sure, but at the same time, it was terrifying. What if Xavier had seen us? What would he have thought?

I hate to admit it, but I miss him. I want him to laugh and joke with me like he used to. He has really grown on me, so much that I am almost longing for a touch, a brush of his fingers. However, he is really impatient. It hasn't even been a month yet, and I have shed my old skin, healed people of their sickness, and had guys actually flirting with me. Even now, my brain is about to go into overload. Why can't he understand?

Many times, though, it feels as if I am lying to myself. As if that feeling is already present inside of me, but shoved into the corner. As if I am denying the truth. My heart beats like a drum whenever he comes close, my senses awakened and aroused in his presence. The attraction is so strong between us... even I have a hard time. I can barely imagine what he has been feeling ever since he met me.

Possibly he is angry because I repress my emotions; especially the one he desires the most.

I walk to the garden door, resolute. This can't go on anymore. I have to fix this.

The door swings shut behind me as I pound through the halls, racing towards his door. The world spins as my vision almost becomes blurry, I quickly realizing that I can't really last long under his anger. For some strange reason... his feelings actually matter to me.

His room is so close, a step away. I can sense the anger, the pain boiling just beyond the wooden door. Sadness surges in my heart.

I raise my knuckles and tap the door, my heart's beats escalating as I sense him suddenly freeze in his movement. There is a moment of complete and utter silence, then footsteps as he shuffles towards the door.

A hand slowly turns the knob, and swings the door open to reveal himself. His tanned face and body is bedraggled with worry and fury, his hair limp and not shining like it normally does. He stares into my eyes, and I study him also. However, I soon find that there is nothing to examine. His emerald eyes are blank like the surface of a crystal pool.

"What do you want?" His words sound more like a statement than a question, short and abrupt. Chills enter me, racing through my entire being.

"I wanted to say..." I have a hard time choking out the word, for I have never truly said it before. But now that it means so much, I feel that I have to say it just right. That the word has to slip perfectly through my slightly chapped lips.

He surveys me coldly, and hardness enters his features. "Please go away," he groans, as if I am only an annoyance, "I don't feel like talking to you right now." He vanishes behind the door, closing it as quickly as he can.

I catch it with my foot, wincing in pain as his incredible strength works against me. "Stop, Xavier!" I yell, "You are going to break my foot! Please talk to me!"

"You don't need me," a fierce accusation breaks through my defenses, making me freeze. My foot is pushed away from the door, and it is roughly closed in front of me. "Go talk to... Ray or something! Who it is doesn't really matter to you, does it?" His anger is seeping through the doors, making me sink into a puddle on the floor.

Why would he say that? I am shocked into silence, edging away from the room now as if it is a ticking time bomb. I... wasn't even given the chance to say sorry.

Maybe I will follow his bitter advice.

I knock on the door that is a couple of feet farther along the hallway, leaning against it after the sound is made. My breaths come short and ragged, and saddled with each one is nearly suffocating disappointment. When it finally swings open, I lose my balance and fall towards the ground. A strong form stops me in my tumble, a laugh echoing through the air. "Clumsy Mona," he chuckles, "what's up?"

"Why is Xavier saying that I don't need him?" I ask angrily. A small smile appears at the corner of his features.

"Oh, Xavier is just being overdramatic," he waves his hand in the air, "He will cool off soon-"

"Cool off from what?!" My voice rises as I interrupt him, anger surging through my blood. Ray looks so calm and collected, though a little surprised at my burst of words.

"You can figure that out, Mona..." his seductive voice drops to a whisper, and I find myself leaning in closer. “You’re very smart."

I think over Xavier's previous words, feeling unsettled at the way Ray's eyes stare piercingly at me. Suddenly understanding comes to me... what if Xavier saw us and misunderstood?

I shake my head in annoyance, wondering why all this stuff has to happen to me. "He's too angry to talk to me right now," I sigh, "so I'll have to clear it up later. But Ray... did you say anything to him to make it seem even worse than it looked?"

"Of course." He shoots me one of those dizzying smiles.

I glare at him. "Thanks. I appreciate it." Leave it to Ray to willingly make the situation ten times harder for me to fix. "What did you say exactly?"

"Oh, just that we were having a great time splashing around in the pool! That's not a lie, right?" he smirks.

I punch him in the arm. "You always make a mess out of things, don't you?" I say half-jokingly. It seems okay to laugh now, when it becomes obvious that all actions will just be futile towards solving the problem.

"A hot mess," he winks, then steps away from the door. "You want to come in?" he invites, motioning for me to enter the room. Realizing that I have truly nothing else to do, I follow his movement.

It is not a luxurious room, with one queen-sized bed and limited walking space. However, a beautiful desk lines one wall, with numerous shelves full of thick books and various objects, like a crystal globe or a vase with flowers. Even more surprising, the opposite wall features a trophy case, full of huge statues, plaques and medals.

I walk over to the case, peering at the immortalized men, all in mid-run. They shine like gold itself, without a scratch upon them. "Are these track trophies?" I ask, watching them sparkle.

"Yes," he says plainly, staring at them also. "I used to be the star track runner on our team." He places a hand on the glass, the tiniest bit of a smile forcing its way onto his lips. I can see the wistfulness in his gaze, as if he wanted to be returned to that time of glory.

"What happened?" I ask softly.

His eyes suddenly flash, and he lifts his head from the glass. "I was changed into a werewolf by my brother. He told me it was exciting, that I would enjoy it. He told me we would be brothers forever," he looks to the ground, bitterly spitting out the words, "but all it has done is tear us apart."

I look at the bottom of the largest trophy, where words are engraved. It says 1st Place in 100 Meter Dash. However, right underneath these words is the word Ray, and his last name is scratched out.

"I had to disappear from the world I had known and loved," he said softly, "I had to sneak in the school and delete my name from their records. I couldn't participate in sports, because that would clearly be cheating. Everything I had was gone."

"And I would have been a track star!" he continues, his eyes lighting up, "I could have gone to the Olympics if I had worked hard enough. I would have been famous and loved by everyone. But instead, I had to disappear from society. A different life was now waiting for me... one with secrecy, deception, and no expiration date. I can't look forward to death, because there is no death. I am living a twisted lie of a life."

"But can't werewolves be killed?" I ask.

"Yes, but it takes incredible power, and there is nothing around us with that power. There is not a single werewolf for miles and miles."

"So you hate Xavier..." I trail off, still staring at the scratched off name. I can tell the feelings placed into those scratches… anguish and the regret of losing what mattered the most.

"It is more of a love-hate relationship," he laughs.

For once, I feel that I understand Ray's actions and feelings.

"You are a good guy," I pat him on the shoulder; "I hope