God, curse the person who created tall heels, push up bras, and tight fitting clothing. The outfit of choice Lana provided was a sleeveless sequined dress the color of blush. It's tight around my body, practically cutting off my circulation. My arms and legs may have been able to breathe, but it was the fact that the fabric circled around my neck. She had me standing tall in silver heels. “When you walk into a room, you must demand attention,” she says loudly as if she was speaking to a crowd of people. It was just me and a seamstress, poking pins here and there, trying her best not to knick me. When I first entered the room, the woman had my full attention. Out of all the people I had seen roaming the halls of this compound, she looked to be the most interesting. She had lengthy blue and black hair. Her skin was a perfect tone of caramel. She was my height, maybe even my age. She wore black bulky boots, baggy jeans and a white tank top. The wide bridge of her nose is pierced, as wel

My morning is a repeat of yesterday. I went running at 5am, expected to do twenty laps in an hour. I didn’t hit that time, but I was close. From there, Will and I wrestled. I got beat to a pulp again, and was forced to shift again. And to no surprise, I still provided myself with the pain to trigger my shift. At least today I had breakfast, but my table manners were tested under Lana’s watchful eyes.Which leads me to now. I am back in the same changing room, with the same people. There are no pins being used this time. The dress fits perfectly and Lana is pleased. “Thank you,” I said to Teyana, realizing Lana didn’t show her appreciation to the woman who put in all the man hours to get the size right. “Anything for you,” Teyana says. Something about her tone throws me off, and I can tell she is unhappy. I was sure it wasn't with me, but with Lana. The woman who barked orders and came across as ungrateful. “Teyana, will you have lunch with me?” I asked. She was taken back by my

ATHENA’S POV If Father Zyte had magic coursing through his veins it would stem from his anger. When he discovered Henry had run off, using the dark of night as his cover, his face turned a deep red. The anger and disappointment he felt seemed to rumble the stone walls of the Zyte family home. In between his cursing words came apologies towards my father and I. He explained that Henry always acted out, always thought of himself only, and refused to grow up. Father Zyte saw him as a child and as a pawn. The more he spoke, the more I realized Henry and I had a few things in common. Our fathers were engrossed with power, and though their wishes to have and keep peace between the magics and the non-magics was real, they were power hungry. They needed the control of the people. And sure, separately, they did well, but combining the families would ensure their permanent positions for years to come.This Union that they were trying to force was more than a way to protect the people, it was

WILLS POV When she demanded that I take her to the basement, I was under the impression she was talking about the wine cellar or hidden movie theater that existed, not the room in which she once referred to as a prison. The white lights brightened up the room. There was a soft stench of bleach filling the air. I remembered the last time we were here. Sincere had shifted, making a mess of burnt dead skin cells and slime. Lana was quick to have someone scrub the space from top to bottom, as if what Sincere did was something infectious. “What are we doing down here?” I asked. I had no problem following her wherever she wanted me to, but I was at a complete loss on what the plan was. She closed the door behind us, and for a moment I had an image of my blood plastering the clean walls, giving the room a splash of color. Though I’d never think that Sincere would hurt me, I may have crossed over a line bringing up Elias. “You are here for observation only,” She started, eyes scanning th

“OOF!” Will groans loudly. The thud sound of Will’s large, yet fragile body hitting the wall echoes through the empty space of the room. I stare at him, waiting for him to admit defeat. He was soaked in his own blood. His body was covered in deep scratches, holes were leaking a thick red fluid from where my claws dug in. I knew for a fact that I had blown his kneecap, broken a wrist, maybe even fractured a few ribs, yet he didn’t admit to his loss. Yesterday was such a shit show for me, that I had some negative energy that I needed my body to get rid of. This was the perfect way. He wanted me to be a fighter, wanted me to not show any concern for his well being… I was doing exactly that. He was not going to win. Not today. “Just give up Will,” I said. Normally I’d be the one broken. This morning, he barely got a chance to touch me. I was feeling empowered and pissed. A very dangerous, and unpredictable combination. I saunter over to him, grabbing ahold of him by the back of his ne