In an academy full of children of night, jackals, witches, vampires, and werewolves. Leslie, a student and the alpha of dawn pack felt the joy of meeting his beloved mate, Lucy. But was enraged when she was claimed by Edward, the well-known alpha of the moon pack. This is the tale of fighting for what is originally destined to happen in the name of love. Fangs to fangs, claws to claws, and clan vs. clan.View More
Lucy POV Here on the sofa, I watched Leslie’s tummy rising and falling rhythmically on my bed. My bedsheets was filled with the blood he poured out when Anna was treating him. Anna told me the Jackals poisoned Leslie’s body with their claws, and she promised he would get well because he spilled the damned dark as raven poisonous blood out. After Anna had gone out to buy drugs; after I sat here on the sofa for hours, I noticed a strange thing happening on my bed. It begins with his wounds; I suspect his wounds heal so fast. Looking at his closed eyes, I wondered who Leslie was and what he knew about me. Why on earth did Sheena save him even before I met him? Did he know my Sheena, too? I don’t know, but I want to know and hold the neck of the hidden truth behind this whole dark situation. Questions bubble in my mind like rain dropping inside buckets half-filled with water. I can&rsquo
Lucy POV Anna accompanied me to my room, and we had a great conversation until we heard the chirping of the night. I felt the nervousness beneath every sound, every word she spilled to my startled ears. And this night, she told me the professors had stopped tutoring and the college board had closed the school for a while because of bullying jackals. “So, the school board won’t open the school until the jackals stop the bullying?” I had asked her then. “It seemed so,” Anna had replied with a face filled with woebegone look. “What can we do to stop the jackals in their tracks?” “Many humans had lost their lives when trying to stop them.” Anna sighed, and whispered in my ear, “Only werewolves can
Leslie POV Call her a witch, call her a ghost. A strange being brushed against us amid the fight and I fell beside the girl. I rose and growled, but something stunned me, for the strange being was fighting against the Jackals. It seemed the being was a girl in red clothes, defending me. I thought she was the girl that helped me in her house until I looked at my side once more and saw her looking at me with a worried face. And then I looked towards the Jackals battling with this strange girl. But who was this another strange girl, who smelt of the witch, and why was she attacking the jackals on my behalf? I couldn’t tell, but I want to know. The two jackals jumped out of the window and dashed away, and the witch girl turned to me. She smiled; her smile was like a ripped orange juice. And then, like a ghost, a cloud of circles covered her, and she disappeared. I shifted back into human form and c
Leslie POV Maidstone, North America, 2000. What the hell is this scent? Swiftly the light went off, then darkness and stillness possessed the room. I dropped the Shakespeare’s Othello book on the stool and shifted the part of my head into the wolf’s head and let out a silent growled. The room was still nothing amiss. Michael was snoring on the bed, and I was glad he was, for I don’t want anybody to know about my identity as a wolf. Glancing about the room, I smelt the scent more. It smelt of blood, animal hair, and woods. The light switched on by itself as I hurried to the door. I shifted back into a human, opened the door, and look at Michael if he noticed nothing. Thank god, he was still snoring. Who knows, he might dream of girls because he loves college girls too much. He wasn’t like me, the shy boy of all time.
Lucy POV Georgetown, North America, 2000. Here, in my quiet room, I glanced through the window made of woods and watched the dried yellow leaves dropping like snow from the oak beside the quiet streets. A cool breeze darted inside as I opened the window wide and a dried leaf flew inside on the breeze’s wings. Looking at the leaf as it dropped on my new typewriter, I felt that the tree moans that she lost a child. And here, I picked the leaf and gazed at it for a while, hoping it feel my feelings, too. For now, I and the dried leaf were in the same category, feeling the same feeling of losing a mother. I remembered I was sobbing behind the closing door last night while my granny walked in with tiredness on her face. That night I observed she tired of consoling me, but I wished she understand I tired of her consoling me, too. She shoul
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