Waiting Under The Willow Novels & Stories

He had notice something growing on its trunk, a smooth bump that was a size of a person’s face, worrying that it was a parasite he had tried to gently claw it off, but deep green liquid had ooze out, he had gotten scared, afraid of hurting the tree and decided to let it be, That night he had slept on the roots of the willow. Restless he couldn’t shake the feeling of violence inside of him, his beast growling and twitching, he wanted blood, he glanced back from where he stood pressing his face on the tree as if telling her he would come back, he ran. He needed to release such anger. ...

he said and I burst out laughing. " Ok... CooL. " I said bye to her and she left. I came back and waited in front of her room. I wanted to knock but didn't do it. I came back to my room and waited for the next day... But something was wrong with the Earth... It was rotating very slowly on its axis today. ******* I went to Lake to meet Maurvi. I called her and saw her coming my way. We greeted each other and jogged for some time and then we sat on a bench to talk.

Time is the essence for we have more important matters in our hands. [As you know, just like you, we are also preparing for the Turning ceremony for the youngsters in our pack. One of our young wolves saw them.] He looked behind him, to a shadowy figure that was hiding near the rose bushes in the garden. [Edina, come here!] A small woman came forward. She was about sixteen. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail then braided. Her braided hair reached her small waist that was accented with the clinch of the yellow dress she was wearing.

I already felt like I was starring in a fucking soap opera. It hardly mattered who had messed up anymore. It happened and I needed to fix it. I would just give out two scholarships. It wasn't like it would cost me much of anything. Willow would be taken care of. I picked up her essay again, skimming over the lines. I had to know more about this girl because I didn't know if I could get her out of my head otherwise. I looked up and found Virgil watching me. "Miss Taylor—or Willow as she likes to be referred—got my phone number and called me last night." His eyebrows lifted but he remained silent.

He noticed the growing crowd behind them, his pack waiting anxiously for their hunt. Landon straightened his spine, pushing away thoughts of his vulnerable mate. He rose up, towering above all the other wolves, and released a long, painful howl. His pack immediately joined, adding their voices into the night air and giving their support and excitement. Landon was the last one to release his howl and turned his gaze towards the abandoned treeline, his golden eyes scanning for some game tonight. With the sight of slight movement in the distance, he took off, his pack following behind him into the night.

I'd sit on the steps beneath it, hugging my knees, waiting from dusk till dark—watching silhouettes come and go at the mouth of the alley, shadows stretching long and then shrinking short. The first two years, I told myself he was healing. Too hurt to show himself. The third year, I started wondering if the body claim was a setup—maybe he'd used a double, gone underground somewhere. The fourth year, I stopped making excuses. I just sat there out of habit. In the fifth year, June, a storm hit New York. The alley pooled with water, the streetlamp's reflection shattering across the surface. I sat on the steps in my jacket, rain dripping from the eaves onto my knees—cold enough that I pulled my

*Winter* I sat on the edge of the small cliff overlooking the river, the water glistening below like a thousand flickering stars embedded in a silken sheet. As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, the air grew cooler, and whispers from the stream intertwined with the breeze, wrapping around me like a familiar melody. They were no longer mere sounds; they were voices. "Winter," they seemed to call, "do not fear the shadows." If only I could believe them.

Rhys stirred within me, more keenly aware than he had been all day, drawn to the surface by the same primal force that had always called to us. I gripped the barrier, forcing myself to breathe. Beside me, Zeviar mirrored my stance, hands pressed flat against the cool stone, jaw tight, his gaze locked on the imposing iron doors at opposite ends of the arena. Doors that had stood sealed for three long hours, doors poised to swing open. "They found Willow," Darius's voice cut through the tension, coming from behind us. I turned. "Where?" "Still in the stands," he replied. "With Silas." A beat of silence. "She won't leave his side. His people tried to get her to the tent after round two, but she

and waited. The reason why Titanic put Willow up the consecrated pedestal of stakeouts is that because he’s so patient that he will literally just sit and stare at a screen for an entire day. A lot of people would say they can relate, but what Willow does is a more fulfilling form. He’d just waste an entire day watching, waiting and at the end of his seat anticipating to accomplish his task with the virtue of rascal patience.

But she had no idea that I didn’t want to reject her. The hot summer air in Louisiana was no joke, the entire wolf pack often finding itself in the river trying to cool off. Today was no different. But my mate, she didn’t stick around. Willow, what an unusual name. Soft and yielding but stronger than any other trees in our area.