Novelas y relatos de My Time At Sandrock Fang

"So, let me take you back to the days when Kyle and I were just troublemaking kids with big dreams and even bigger imaginations." Evelyn leaned in, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Oh, I can't wait to hear this. What kind of trouble did you two get into?" Sandro chuckled, a flood of memories washing over him. "Well, there was this one time we decided to be 'explorers' and ventured into the woods behind our neighborhood. We were convinced we'd discover hidden treasures or maybe even a secret passage to another world." Sophia and Evelyn burst into laughter, envisioning the young Sandro and Kyle embarking on their grand expedition. The laughter echoed against the canyon walls, creating a

Her black dress clung like silk to her shape, and her hair gleamed in a perfect knot at the back of her head. “How did you meet Morgan?” Bella asked softly, curiosity breaking through the storm of her thoughts. Sandra’s smile was faint, soft, nostalgic. “A market. 1880s. I was almost nineteen, and very alone.” Bella blinked. “Eighteen-eighty?” Sandra nodded. “Hybrids don’t burn through years the way mortals or wolves do. Time bends differently for us.” Her expression dimmed. “I hadn’t found my mate. I was on the verge of being sold off—forced to bind myself to a man old enough to be my father. Then Morgan appeared. He… intervened.”

For this action, Sandy needs the best reply. *****

Was someone going to check my room and find me missing? As I ran it through my mind, I confirmed that the only person that ever dropped by was Sandra and since she knew, that meant I would most likely maybe be in my human world already before anyone noticed. I had also taken extra precautions and told Luke that I was going to take two days break which he gladly gave me especially since I had given him my dress submission for the week. “Whew!” I sighed in relief as soon as the engine revved. It was hard to keep track of what was happening outside but Sandra had mentioned that it would take close to two hours for them to get out of the territory that their pack occupied.

Marcus had looked at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he’d said “Ground rule 23. Sandy gets the blue mug every time. Non negotiable.” Sandy had looked at him. “Obviously,” she’d said. Tuesday morning. October. 3 years and one week since she’d come home in Damon’s arms from a hospital 5 weeks earlier than planned. She was at the kitchen table drawing something. The drawing required significant concentration, her tongue between her teeth, the pen moving with the specific deliberateness of someone who had an image in her head and was committed to its accurate reproduction.

And this time, I wasn't running away. I was running toward something. Something even Bryan, with all his ambitions, had never seen coming. The monitors beeped steadily as I felt another presence in the room. Through half-closed eyes, I saw Sandra slip in, a syringe in her hand. Well. Looked like my hour just got a lot shorter. I smiled, letting my wolf rise to the surface. Time to show her what a desperate mother was really capable of.

“Why do you think that? Do you really see me as an idiot?” Sandy smiled coldly. “Heh. If you weren’t an idiot, you wouldn’t have stayed with Michael for three years or even gone to Mirvania with him to hunt for that Ganoderma nebula. “If you ask me, you shouldn’t even care so much about his nonsense!” This back-and-forth entanglement seemed endless. Ivanka understood Sandy’s good intentions all too well. She smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I won’t let this happen again. I got sidetracked by other stuff this time. It’ll probably take about ten days to two weeks to wrap it up.”

Sean “Ready, little girl?” Tossing the two beaded braids below her ear over her shoulder, Sandy flashes me a heart-stopping grin and tucks her backpack of clothes in a sheltered niche above the water level at high tide. Naked and flinching at both the cold air and the sharp stones on the shallow cave’s floor, she grabs the two waterproof equipment packs and heads for the cold, northern Pacific water. “Last one in’s a smelly wolf.” “You’ll regret that.” Hobbling to the same niche where my mate left her clothes, I stuff my pack in beside hers. “Hold up, Sandy. My phone’s ringing.”

The last time I saw him, he was a teenager, about thirteen or fourteen years old, hanging around my uncle's campsite. Now he appeared to be about six feet tall, muscular like all wolves, with sandy hair and blue eyes. Three thin scars crossed his eyebrow and ran down his cheek. I don't know why, but the scars made me anxious. Hypocrisy, I know. It has been seven years since I spent a week and a half with my uncle in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I haven't seen Randy in years. I remembered him as a strangely attentive child. I often caught him looking at me, but I didn't have the strength to worry. My mother has just died. I wandered lost in grief but tried to hide it from all these strangers. In

Sarah did not stir, which was expected. Twenty minutes had long passed, well that was according to me. I had already lost my sense of time. By the time I believed I was done, I was exhausted and sweating. It did not matter if it did not perform a miracle, all it had to do was buy us time. I sat down, something did not feel right. Was I dizzy because I was tired or because the venom had found some way into my bloodstream? They let me catch my breath. "Look!" Sandra exclaimed, pointing at something. "The road is clearing. They will be here soon."