Twilight Angela Weber Novels & Stories

he says to Aspen. “Yes, there is a lot of pain and I am happy to know that I am not on your menu,” Aspen answers. Jeb looks over at Angela. “Aww, you are one of us, and hmmm, well, look at you. You are a tribrid. You are a very very special girl. If you ever want to get in touch with your vampire side, come see me,” he hisses at Angela. He touches her chin and smiles at her. “Okay, thanks, I think,” Angela answers meekly.

Silas joked. My mate unwrapped herself from me, before bowing her head. “Prince Kieran.” “Hello Azuela! I see you’ve met your mate,” Kieran smiled. Even her name is beautiful. “Uh, what’s going on here?” I asked. “You must be Prince Angelo Del Gadio. My name is Angelina Wisteria, Silas’ mate. You know Kieran, and this is his mate Dahlia McCormick, a werewolf,” she hinted. She is exceptionally beautiful; not as beautiful as Azuela, but beautiful nonetheless.

Her scream and her hands bleeding. I swallowed hard. “You’re not taking her from me,” I said hoarsely. Alex picked up the folder and closed it. “No,” he said quietly. “You already did that.” He turned towards the door, then paused. “One more thing,” he added without looking back. “Angela is three. Not two. And she already knows who her mother is.” My heart stopped. “You touch Elena again,” he continued, “try to intimidate her, manipulate her, or use your power against her—”

I grab her sleeves and motion for her to eat her lunch. Angela is a petite beauty. She has red heart shaped lips and smooth high cheeks untouched by makeup. Her pink dress hangs loose and today, she has her long black hair tied in a ponytail. If she had been born to a family of Deltas or Gammas, she probably would have been the Queen Bee of Wulf High, and not Sara Carter. Unfortunately, like many other omegas, her lowly status in the pack has rendered her a loser in school. But I like Angela. She is one of the kindest girls I have ever met. And one of the most talkative.

I couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement about working with someone my age. Willow chuckled, glancing at her friends and rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, fantastic. Another pint-sized cherub joining the team," she said sarcastically. Her friends laughed along, seemingly finding the remark amusing. After their presentation, I took a deep breath and approached the group confidently. "Hey everyone, nice to meet you all!" I greeted with a smile. "I'm Little-angel, but you can just call me Angel for short." A few chuckles escaped from the group, including Willow, who couldn't contain her amusement.

Finally, the most beautiful specimen of werewolf I have ever seen jumps out of the helicopter. I'm not gay, but there was a werewolf capable of making heads of all genders spin. I know how to appreciate male beauty. We werewolves are very rarely ugly. Even rogues are attractive, either way, but in front of us was the most beautiful of them all. Dressed in light blue jeans ripped above the knee, a white T-shirt, white sneakers, and a jacket to match the pants, he was a tall creature with an athletic physique, slightly long blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes. That one was Angel; his face was almost a copy of his mother's. We can all say that we are seeing a true angel that just fell from the

Thankfully, she was rather displeased after her video went viral. Hence, I first made an excuse to visit her to grant myself an opportunity to seek the truth from her. Only when Yvette was drunk would she spill the beans. She clearly had feelings for me. Yet, she couldn't agree to date me because she was worried about many things. Thankfully, I was able to offer her the security she needed, and I always hoped to make her feel safe. Eventually, I married my angel. Despite our age difference—she was 30 and I was 22 when we got married—she was the one who seemed younger at heart in our relationship.

He had been observing the red-haired vampire as she spoke with the other female through the glass doors of the art gallery. “Mason!” Dylan phoned once more. Mason yelled out, "Coming," and started to move with the rest of the group. When Mason joined them, Dylan commented, "So, she was hot, you know, for a dead person." Dylan was a werewolf who was 37 years old and had stopped growing since he was in his late 20s. Like Mason, he was tall and slim, but when his dark hair wasn't tied back, it hung to his shoulders.

Which was good, because I wasn't much in the mood for murder right now. And even better for me, once we stepped outside, Quinton had walked ahead with another crew member. They were talking enthusiastically about video games, totally consumed in their own conversation as I walked beside Angel. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looked so pretty, especially in the moonlight. The soft yellow light almost made her hair glow. I wanted to run my fingers through it, I wanted to reach out and touch it. “You can go talk with them, if you want.” I actually jump a little when Angel suddenly says something. I look down at her, my breath catching when our eyes meet. Fuck, she’s so pretty.

Angela asked excitedly, her enthusiasm making Ashleigh smile shyly. “I’m Ashleigh Hartman. It’s nice to meet you too,” Ashleigh responded timidly. Angela moved closer, allowing Ashleigh to get a better look at her. Angela wore a cropped cotton sweater, a skirt, and flat shoes, with her maroon hair pulled back in a ponytail. An ID card hung around her neck, and a customized school pin adorned her sweater. “You don’t have to be afraid. Unlike Cassidy here, I don’t bite... unless you want me to,” Angela said with a wink, causing Ashleigh to gasp slightly. Angela’s playful remark elicited a laugh from her.