Romans & histoires Mutants At Table 9

During the holidays, my boyfriend, Felix Zimmerman, insists on bringing his female best friend, Cassidy Crowther, home for dinner. Everyone keeps fussing over Cassidy. Even Felix's mother, Helen Danes, takes Cassidy's hand and asks her about her life. Her eyes are already crinkling from how wide her smile has become. But when Helen notices me being ignored by everyone else, she's quick to frown at me. "Sienna, if you have nothing to do, you might as well help out in the kitchen." At the dining table, Felix keeps placing food on Cassidy's plate. When I mutter to Felix to help grab me a piece of crab due to how far the crabs are from me, he goes impatient immediately. Heck, he doesn't eve

If the power I’m sensing is as ancient and consuming as I think, a fully formed magic circle is about the only thing that has any hope of containing or channelling it. Today has been a much needed day of rest. The whole pack gathered for breakfast and dinner and it was just what we needed to remind us of what we are fighting for. The top table is getting more and more crowded. It’s actually more of a cluster of tables now. Liberty made the controversial decision to have visitors such as myself, dine with the pack leaders. There is now a table for the betas, off to the left of the main table. Hunter, Esme, Uriel, Gabriel, and now Lottie, all sit there. The table to the right is occupied by my

No way out but through. At the main table, the biggest wolf—a man with a scar zigzagging from brow to ear—leans over and whispers something to his neighbor. The neighbor laughs, mouth full of meat, and then turns to stare at me with open challenge. Two seats down, a woman in a vest cut to show off her shoulders catches my gaze and holds it, her pupils gone wolf-black. I don’t blink. She doesn’t either. The impasse stretches until a third wolf throws a crust of bread at her, breaking the spell and getting a snarl in response.

Seats rose in tiers like an amphitheater, each occupied by beings whose presence carried power older than nations: vampires with eyes like molten metal, coven leaders with hands delicately lined in runes, and pack elders with the smell of the wild still lingering in their suits. At the center, a massive conference table gleamed, untouched by time or mortal hand. They were waiting for them. ⸻ Lucien strode to the head of the table with Zaria at his side. The room fell into a near-silence, the kind that signals an assembly aware it’s witnessing history. “Lucien Wolfe,” intoned a tall, pallid man with silver hair and eyes like quicksilver. “You bring… this,” his gaze flitted to Zaria, “into our

Jay said the moment he opened his eyes. “I am so sorry, Jay. I must have accidentally said Room number 38 instead of Room number 83.” Ron said, trying to cover up his ruse. “I just had the scare of my life. What are they anyway?” “They are mutants…” “Mutants? How is that even possible, Ron? All the animals have become extinct from the earth, right. How can we make mutants when we don’t have animals to base our research on?

she asks, her expression concerned. I nod, making her smile back at me. “I ordered you a glass of sparkling wine,” she tells me. “Best Beta ever,” I smile, my gaze veering across the room. My smile fading when I catch a glimpse of an empty table, but it's not why I'm affected, it's the table next to it, it is filled with familiar faces. Ryan, Arielle, Alexander and Vanessa are sitting across the room. The table next to them is intended for the Golden Hunters, but it is empty, no one is present from their pack.

Madelyn fretted knocking off the vase positioned on top of the table beside her throne, making it shatter to pieces. Picking up a broken piece she covered it with her palm. “ I am the only Omega mutant left in the whole universe. I’ve been leaving for centuries and there’s no way I’m going to contest for headship with two random kids, no. I am and will remain the only strongest mutant left and if anyone tries competing with me I will rip them apart with my bare hands” Madelyn growled, vibrating in anger as she tightened her fist. The broken pieces she held turned to dust and opening her palm, she let it become blown away by air.

The brothers take their seats, and I settle in among them. I notice there are no humans at this table. Andrew is far away with the other human guests, completely oblivious to the werewolf politics unfolding here. The older folks start discussing pack matters, so I quietly focus on the food instead. At least everything looks delicious. I fill my plate with chocolate-covered strawberries—suddenly craving something sweet. “Here, you can take this one too,” Arthur says, noticing I can’t reach the plate of chunky hazelnuts. He nudges his plate closer to me.

The Moon Shadow werewolf pack's pack house was disorganized. The cabinet members were gathered around the long, wooden table, arguing loudly. Insults and harsh comments were exchanged, and the tension in the room was high. Landon Arlen, their Alpha, sat at the head of the table on his throne-like chair, his face deep in thought. Jasper James, his most recent appointee, sat next him in the beta's designated seat.

"You took your best fighters. You took your shooter. You took your witch. And you left the cripples and the children guarding the castle." "Grog is there!" Jack shouted. "The Rat King!" "Oh, the rats?" Cain panned the camera down. Grog lay on the floor. He wasn't dead, but he was broken. His limbs were twisted at impossible angles. The other mutants lay scattered around him like broken toys. "They fought well," Cain admitted. "For vermin. But they aren't Alphas." Cain stepped over Grog’s body. He walked toward the console where Haley sat frozen, her hands raised. He walked past Dr. Aris, who was shielding Jack’s parents with his own body.