The Mate Agreement

The realization hits me like a fast train colliding with a building made of glass. Everything in me feels like it’s fracturing, shattering, rearranging itself into something; an undeniable fact entirely out of my expectation. Ben is not my mate. No, and that’s not even the worst of it.I want to run. I want to turn around and bolt far away from the dark woods; from William Ravenstone; from the truth, but I can’t will myself to move. My heartbeat thunders and disbelief along with something akin to grief twists my throat viciously. Finally, he turns to look at me, and I see the realization cloud his face just as it had done mine seconds ago. “You.” He lets out in a breath, thick eyebrows furrowed and sensual lips pulling down into a frown of disgust. The moonlight soaks his dark brown hair as he runs a hand through it, pulling at the strands. When he speaks again, his voice is ragged, almost tortured. “Isabella...” It’s the second time he has used my name and I feel a delicious shiv

I’ve heard the rumors.Of course I’ve heard the rumors. At Acadia academy, even the deaf hear the rumors, and there are a lot; most of them true, some of them downright outlandish. But right now, the rumors I’d heard about William Ravenstone begin to suspiciously make sense. Drugs and alcohol weren’t things that harmfully affected teen werewolves, unless one had a genetic disorder, but this fact didn’t make addicts in the community any less marginalized.I press a palm to my forehead, huffing out a breath and running a shaky hand through my hair. The vodka is really beginning to take over. I glare back at William. There are many things that annoy me in this world, but up there in my top ten are people who can’t own up to their shit. “A few broken bones, so what? I’d heal.” I reply, stumbling and peeping over the edge of the ledge, down to the darkness below.I shudder to think how things might’ve gone if he hadn’t pulled me back.I would heal, yes, but it’d be a hell of a painful expe

I’m standing in the woods, in front of William Ravenstone.The trees around us loom in like lingering shadows of the dead, but my focus is not on them. It’s a full moon; the sky clear and starless. Chilly wind whips through my hair, tugs at my shirt –the same one I’d gone to sleep in.Something has made William angry. He is breathing heavily, fists clenched tightly, shirtless and shaking.“Isabella?” He says through panted breaths.Despite that wild stare and the way his body throbs with aggression, when he speaks, none of it comes through. His cheeks are dark from exertion; mouth slightly parted as each heavy breath pumps from his lungs, struggling to maintain control. “You shouldn’t be here.”I manage to unglue my feet and start toward him. He seems to brace himself as I move closer, hands on hips, back and shoulder stiff. When I stop in front of him, he directs his eyes at the ground. “William?” He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Reaching out, I touch his arm. “Liam?”He jolts, muscle

There’s only a two year difference between my sister Wilhelmina and I, but we look nothing alike. She is a complete replica of mom, and I am almost a complete replica of dad. The only physical feature we share is our foxy hazel eyes. It stops there.Wilma has bone straight, waist length chocolate brown hair that reaches midway down her back like a glossy waterfall. Although I had a few considerable inches over her, the height difference isn’t that apparent and she’s curvier with –as she puts it; heavier bones.She sits in the waiting room of the principal’s office, wearing my stolen white beret, like how a part-time model might sit at a coffee shop, relaxing. The only thing out of place in her uniform is the blood-speckled blouse and the bloody handkerchief in her hands she’d used to clean what I hope, despite knowing for a fact, is not her blood. Just to make sure, I move to her, nodding at the handkerchief.She shakes her he

Acadia Academy’s cafeteria is about the size of a football field. It had been built large enough to contain all the students from year one to year three back when the rules were more rigid and students were strictly required to eat at the exact time food was served. Now, barely anyone eats in the cafeteria. Half the crowd that filled the rectangular mahogany tables are there for the passing of daily gossip or to catch up with the friends they didn’t have classes with.The food isn’t exactly horrible, but after about three years of eating at the same place, and rotating the same twenty or so meals, you get tired and sick of it all –even if they are five stars restaurant worthy dishes. I’m a terrible cook, and the student kitchens are literally another circle of hell. Of course we could order food, but that took forever to get here since Acadia Academy is so detached from civilization. On my best days, I join Bibah in the kitchens and help keep her company as she does all the work. On m