Fangs For The Memories Novels & Stories

Shaking his head to get his mind to focus, he walked back into the kitchen to finish preparing their meal alone. Her demon calmed and her body relaxed. The sound was gentle, beautiful, and eerie. She instinctively swayed to the low beat. No anger, no pain, it soothed her beast. All the fury which grew over the previous weeks relaxed. Good memories flooded her mind; Carolynn rubbing her hair through the bars when she was small, Christmas with a new dress and enough food to fill her belly, her mother's voice reading about the baby Jesus. They were her only good memories and they trailed like smoke through her mind. Tears ran down her cheeks.

My pulse quickened as my eyes moved from one to the next, my stomach tightening. And then I saw it. That gun. I stumbled back, the air rushing from my lungs as the memories slammed into me. The memories I always wanted to forget. --- FLASHBACK Memory from eighteen years ago… The crack of the shot was deafening. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I pressed myself tighter against the tree, my tiny hands gripping the bark so hard it splintered my skin, my tears rolling down my cheeks. My mother’s voice was gone, replaced by the heavy thud of her wolf form hitting the ground before she shifted.

The memory was too vivid that I moved involuntarily. Reminiscing the sweet painful memories we shared. His hazel brown eyes, his black hair, his pink soft lips on mine. I slapped the memory away. I'm not going to be some martyr begging for his love the second time. 'I will get that pig, Mandy Walker, for this. I will pluck out her black hair and squeeze her fatty body ugh.'

Neither does the voice that has reverted to tossing images in my mind like a game of fifty-two pick up. Fangs tearing muscle. Fists pummeling flesh. Heart wrenching cries. Male laughter. Sightless eyes, staring at nothing. A mouth twisted in a frozen scream. My hands shake in my lap. I curl them until the nails bite into the meat of my palm, and the pain doesn’t make it better at all, but it’s something else to think about besides the sharp-beaked birds of memory swooping and pecking at my brain. I would give anything to not be this way.

He closed his eyes and counted her heartbeat. He again brought up his memories of her. He slowly ran through each one, the first kiss memory held his attention for a while, he opened his eyes. He picked her body up again and looked at the same vein that taunted him before. He tried to bring himself to bite her without thinking of her as a piece of meat, but his fangs wouldn’t come. He thought about her as a piece of meat, the smell of her blood taunted his thirst. His fangs slowly drawn, he slowly moved down to her neck. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes as he got closer to her neck.

" I looked out into the yard. The sun is setting. It's not that I don't remember anything. I remember a pair of green eyes filled with frustration. I remember a soft touch that set my skin on fire, and the cold, icy scent that could belong only to a vampire. I remember my wolf howling within me, bursting through my skin, and the desire to protect an overwhelming need. And then there was that pleasure—that sharp, aching pleasure. Someone's mouth on my neck, gentle hands, and a greedy desire building within me.

Let go. The command replayed over and over, each time sinking deeper into me. My body remembered it. My blood remembered it. Something old and buried inside me remembered it far too well. I curled inward, pressing my forehead to the floor, breath coming in broken pulls. “What did you do to me,” I whispered to the empty kitchen. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. My fangs ached like they wanted to descend again, like my body was furious that I had been denied him. The craving twisted in on itself, sharp and punishing, no relief anywhere.

And said, “Then I’ll forget too. If you forget me… I’ll forget everything. We’ll meet again. Somewhere.” I grabbed her shoulders. “No. Don’t. You have to remember.” But she stepped forward. Wrapped her arms around me. And whispered, “Then find me.” The shadows howled. The wind screamed. And the Queen’s Fang pulsed as it awakened— Hungry for memory. Hungry for sacrifice. And as I stepped forward into the light with Alina by my side— The first crack of thunder split the sky. And we were consumed.

At our class reunion, my so-called best friend, Shannon Drew, pulled out a box stuffed with folded notes. A line was taped across the top— [Draw one of Mia Martinez's hopeless-romantic quotes.] The room burst out laughing. Someone pulled a love letter I'd written to Damien Byford senior year. "Damien smiled at me today. I want to give him all my tomorrows, too." Someone else grabbed one from college. "It's okay if he doesn't text back. He'll think of me when he's not busy." Damien had never replied to a single letter. I'd always figured he'd tossed them years ago. Then Shannon drew letter No. 99. Leaning against Damien, she laughed as she read, "If you ever decide you don't want m

Though it is. I believe I'm biting into a cherry just picked from the branch because I keep smelling sweet spring fruit in the air. My wolfsbane should have run out by now, and my rut should be done. However, the energy around the Rig may be deceiving me and bringing out my lycan traits when they should be latent until the next full moon. I'm having trouble falling asleep as it gets later because we have to leave early tomorrow. The sides of the rig are violently slapped by the roar of the water. In my head, desire is constantly shouting to be satisfied.