2: NIGEL VANDERWOLF

MIRANDA'S POV

One Year Later

The ice was melting in the mug I had in my hands loaded with strawberry Fanta. My mother would suffer a brain aneurysm if she knew I was consuming this sugary delight. But right then and there, I didn't care. All I wanted to know was if Hazel was going to find out if Zander was a werewolf.

I rested the perspiring cup on my nightstand, but not before I took another mouthful, trapping and crunching on an ice cube between my teeth. The bed creaked as I hopped on it, and I hastily settled under the sheets, relaxing while I propped my head on the pillow. My fingertips left streak marks over my phone when I opened up the Goodñovel app.

“Now where was I?” I quizzed myself, impatient to begin the next chapter. The last one left me on a massive cliffhanger. Before I could dive head-first into the world of the Alpha's Destiny, the blaring, loud hip-hop music came gushing into my room. Why did my parents have to move us here?

My mother accepted a job at Wolferton Academy as a biology teacher. But get this, we were promised five-star accommodation before our arrival. A place that would be secluded and private, merely to be told when we landed here that we would have to stay in Mr. Nolan Vanderwolf's guest home until our housing became available. It had been a year, and we were still stuck in Mr. Vanderwolf's guest apartment.

The place was beautiful, but the atmosphere was so strange. There were like a thousand people living in the main mansion and they weren't friendly at all. The girls were complete B-words, and the boys were all steroid junkies by the looks of their muscular frames. They didn't cut their hair, and they certainly had no manners or taste in music. I tried to read through the noise, but my brain just wouldn't let me.

“That's it,” I grunted, throwing my phone on my bed and storming to the window. With furious fingers I raised it open, sticking my head outside I yelled, trying to get the beefed-up, brainless, chiselled jock’s attention, “Hey!” But Nigel Vanderwolf continued gyrating himself in front of his mirror as he sang along to the gibberish. The guest house was only a stone's throw away from the Vanderwolf mansion. And I had the darnedest luck to have my bedroom parallel to that mannerless dog. “HEY!” I roared louder, and this time his grey-blue eyes fell on me. I gulped, stunned that he could even hear me through all that blasted noise.

“What?” He asked as he turned to face me. I wouldn't even know what he said if I couldn't read lips. He still had that damn tune ripping through the quiet night.

“Can you please turn that racket down?” I hollered. My throat would surely be hoarse to come the morning. “You're disturbing my peace with that God-awful noise.”

He rolled his eyes and paused the music. “This is the art of DMX,” he explained. I didn't know who that was, and he sensed my dilemma. “Of course, a prissy little thing like you wouldn't know what good music is,” he shrugged as he drove his upper half out his window as well.

“You call that music? Oh, please. Only horny, empty-headed steroid-driven teenagers would think that. But anyhow, I'd appreciate it if you held it down from now on.” Oh, God!! I didn't know why I said that. I normally never argued like that, but there was something so enigmatic and dangerous about him that kept pulling me in. Plus his eyes were so appealing and misty that I could see their glossiness from where I stood.

He seemed to have noticed me admiring him, so he tightened his jaw muscles like that was supposed to impress me. “What will I get?” He demanded with this killer-suspicious expression on his face.

“What do you mean, what will you get?” I countered. I wanted to know what game he thought he was playing.

“If I give you what you want by turning the music down, what will you give me in return?” He explained, keeping his sultry gaze on me.

“I'll keep you in my nightly prayers,” I smiled delicately and he smirked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I'm afraid that won't do. We don't worship the same God, anyway.” I found what he said strange. Could this be a cult? Maybe Mr. Vanderwolf and his family were devil worshippers. I wanted to quickly end this conversation and move back under the safety of my bed covers. Nigel seemed to have read my body language. He made a sound that resembled a laugh, but his mouth wasn't open. Before I could bid him a good night, he spoke again. “OK Prissy Pants, I will keep the music down from now on — but only if you show me your titts,” the brown-headed boy grinned.

I was appalled. How could he even speak to me like this? “You are such a pig, Nigel Vanderwolf.” I went off on him, tipping more of my body out the window. I was so focused on how hard I'd slap him if he was closer that I didn't feel myself falling out the window until it was too late. I screamed in terror, keeping my eyes closed as I waited for my demise. The wind whipped and bit me as I tumbled through the air. My skin shuddered when heated muscular hands caught me before I could splatter like overripe fruit.

“You should be more careful,” Nigel's husky voice was even warmer than the blood boiling in my veins. His scent was so intoxicating, a mixture of mandarin and lychee. “Open your eyes," he begged. I felt his feathery touch when he was moving the hair from my face. My eyelids slowly peeled open and soon I was captured by the swirling gold in his eyes. I must have bumped my head really hard, or maybe I read too many fantasy novels because this felt like the part where the werewolf or vampire would kiss the girl and claim her. Nigel watched me through squinted eyes now and a dashing smirk lit up his face. “I find you fascinating too,” he admitted like he could tell what I was thinking. I almost gave in but I just couldn't overlook the oddity of this scenario.

“How the heck did you get here so fast?” My palms circled his neck, pulling his face even closer to mine.

He chuckled before he answered. “Let's not get into technicalities. You tried to off yourself and I saved your life. A simple thanks would suffice.” My eyes almost watered because of the coolness of his minty breath.

How dare he!

“I did not try to kill myself,” I huffed. He was so conceited, it made my stomach churn. “You know what? Put me down,” I lamented.

“OK Prissy Pants, you don't have to growl,” he laughed while he placed me on my feet. I rocked on my heel like I was tipsy, but it must have been the fall. I hugged my body, thinking about what would happen if Nigel didn't catch me. “It's OK. You're OK,” he whispered softly, but it was the way he said it that caused a different kind of chill to caress my spine. I looked into his swirling orbs of honey again, and I knew I wasn't hallucinating. His eyes were naturally grey so how come I was seeing them glow like this? I know I didn't bump my head that hard, but before I could ask him about his eyes, he spoke again. “I guess I'd really have to keep it down from now on,” he grinned, and I shrugged, placing my hands at my sides.

“The next time, I'll call the police,” I warned.

“OK, Prissy Pants. You win,” he surrendered.

“I'm glad we're on the same page. Goodnight Nigel,” I told him as I turned on my heel to head inside. God knows what my mother would do if she saw me outside with a boy, especially at this hour of the night. She'd probably have a stroke and die. Good thing my parents' room was on the other side of the building.

“Good night, Miranda,” he purred. That must have been the first time I ever heard him call me by my name. A heated smile took over my lips, and I was happy my back was to him, so he couldn't see me blushing. “By the way, nice titts,” he thundered and once again a scowl was on my face. I paused and glanced down and sure enough, my peach-sized breasts were on full display. I peered up to my open window that was on the third floor and an embarrassing shiver went down my spine. There on the window sill, my torn pyjama top was mounted, flailing in the wind like a flag.

I cursed under my breath while I galloped inside, too ashamed to even turn around and spare that A-hole another glance. My stomach gurgled as I pictured the smug look on his face. It gurgled some more when I realized Nigel Vanderwolf saw my exposed breasts. My ass spent almost the entire night complaining to the toilet, if you know what I mean.

*******

“Good morning, Mother,” I greeted, kissing my mother on her cheek. She rushed me to the chair, but I stopped to kiss Father's cheek before I settled in my seat. Mother poured me some orange juice and placed a bowl of porridge in front of me. “Eat up, honey. You don't want to miss the bus.”

Oh God, kill me now. “Mother, why can't I drive myself to school? I'm 17.”

“I just don't like the idea of you driving yourself anywhere in this town. Just give us a couple more weeks. Your father and I are trying to get you a driver to take you to and from school,” she stuck her pinky out while she sipped on her coffee.

I continued eating without adding to the argument. My mother was so overprotective. A few minutes later, my father was going through the mail. "Hey cupcake, a letter from Columbia University is here for you."

I squealed. Going to Columbia to study literature had always been my dream. Last year I applied for a Summer Internship, and I hoped that this letter would be good news. God knows I needed some. I took the envelope from Father and stared at it.

“Honey, don't just stare at it. Go on, open it,” Mother instructed with a twinkle in her eye.

My fingers were shaky as I ripped it open. I screamed when I read what was written in it. “They are considering me for the internship.” My parents congratulated me. “They are coming to interview me in three months.”

“They would be fools not to consider you,” my mother praised and my father agreed.

I studied the time. Shoot, if I didn't leave out now I would miss the bus. I grabbed my book bag, kissed my parents, and ran out the door. I hurried to the bus stop, but I was too late. I saw the bus speeding up the road before it disappeared around the corner.

“Dammit!” I cursed. I checked my phone. No service. That was another thing about this town. You rarely got phone service, plus they only had regular taxi services. No Uber. No Lyft and my all-time worst nightmare, No DoorDash. I guess it was another one of those mornings when I would walk forty-five minutes to school.

I really needed my own car.