Static Cling Tint Novels & Stories

Lucky Tatiana. "I like your hair. Are you a natural blonde?" Tatiana is still playing with Kristen's hair. "Yes, I'm natural blonde." She adds, blushing a little. "But to be honest I have always wanted to have pink highlights." "Pink highlights?" I blurt out. I should talk more because everytime I open my mouth she looks at me. "Yes, I have always wanted to have a bit of pink in my hair. In my head it looks so cool but my mom said no."

Crimson Fangs - Intact! Mystic Howl - Minus Main fighter. Wild Fang - Intact! Volatile Berserks - Minus 4 support, substitute fighter. Cruelcrest - Minus main fighter, 3 supports. Silent Inferno - Intact! Lunar stone- Minus 4 supports. Blazepaw - Minus main fighter, 2 supports, substitute fighter. Moon's Paladin - Intact! Real Fangs- Intact! Erion- Intact!

Celeste: “Tempting, but the quarry already has dibs on tonight for Atlantean 101. No room for a shoe funeral.” Seras leans between the seats. Seras: “New rule: the new pair has to be even louder than the old ones.” Kayo holds up her phone. Kayo: “I found a customizer online who’ll dye them any color and embroider whatever you want. My vote: black with tiny glowing tridents that only show up underwater.” I grin. Celeste: “Sold.” We spend an hour picking the exact shade (deep storm-cloud purple with a faint shimmer that shifts to ocean teal when the light hits it).

“Layla! Get dressed! We’re going to Italy!” “But…” Lucien, in the middle of his inner battle, raised his hand in my direction, sharp claws emerging, and his eyes, completely consumed by their iris color, opened. All that could be seen were the brown spheres, scaring and exciting me at the same time. “He’s perfect!” The white wolf’s voice echoed in my mind, making my core slicker. Dripping onto the sheet. “Do what your alpha says, or I won’t be able to save your species!” His voice merged with another, a deeply animalistic and dark voice.

I ignored the pain in my entire body as I rushed forward. In an instant, the strong wind from upstairs and the air from the air conditioning blew Mom's ashes away. All that was left was a few bone fragments, drifting across the floor with the wind. "Oh, I'm sorry, Maddie! I'm just worried about Harv's lungs. That's why I opened the window. I didn't realize that Mrs. Lundell would—" Nelly walked over, looking innocent as she stepped over Mom's bone fragments. Blinded by rage, I lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck. "I'll kill you!" I strangled her, wanting to die with her.

"I’m sure." The black-market healer tried to persuade me one last time. "But this is the Silver Moon Pack’s highest Alpha mark. Countless she-wolves dream of bearing this claim. If you wash it off, you’ll lose all your privileges within the territory. You’ll be treated as a packless Rogue." "I want to be a Rogue." I lay down on the cold operating table. "Please, just get on with it." "Very well. Once the procedure is done, I’ll inject you with a high-grade Alpha Scent Masker—it will completely cloak your natural scent for a week. The Alpha won’t suspect a thing."

I hear a little tap, and then a click, and as the car vibrates, I put together that he put on a CD. Chromatic's Touch Red plays. The familiar piece fills the car, the almost-haunting instrumentals bouncing off the windows and into my ears. "When you can't see, first, you listen." Alex leans over and whispers. I sit, lips parted, taking in the way the vibrations make the hair on my skin stand. "It was the day you pushed past the front doors, trekked up over twenty steps into my office," he spoke. The stereo still plays, and so I lean into his voice as best as I can.

"Master Sterling, it is a supreme honor for my claws to guard your shadow while your eyes browse the merchant banners! What high-tier clan marks are your targets today?" I turn my neck slowly, fixing the small assistant with a sharp, ice-cold silver glare. Under my intense look, the cheerful sound in his throat dies instantly, and his voice drops until he sounds like a frightened meadow mouse. He lets out an awkward cough, stepping back two paces. "My... my tongue will not interrupt your focus, Master Franklin," klinton stammers, his ears dropping. "My boots will simply march three paces behind your shadow to ensure no rogue pack cuts your path."

He felt relieved that he was about to turn the anger he felt for the shrine from the first time he saw it into a holy one. Illuminated by a glorious call, he marched inside the shrine. A tidal wave of harmonious angelic voices sang in his ears as he sanctified the shrine with his anointing oil. He poured every nook and cranny with the holy liquid he possessed. Battered with self-righteousness, he threw the empty bottle of anointing oil away and lunged himself towards the black pot. Eerily, he stopped.