روايات وقصص ضمن Young Adult Paranormal Romance

And she was persuasive—very, very persuasive—and not someone that took no for an answer. Lucy was always getting away with things—for example, dating. She was the only person my age that openly had a boyfriend. Our pack was very religious, and we were all taught from a young age to wait for our mate, a gift granted to us by the Moon Goddess, a person we’d innately be able to sense beginning at dusk on our eighteenth birthday. So long as our mate was also of age. Dating anyone other than your mate was looked down upon, but Lucy didn’t care. She was convinced that she and Luke were mates anyway. While Luke was nineteen and old enough to recognize his mate now, Lucy was still seventeen like me,

Including me. Werewolves began finding their mates at eighteen. At exactly that age I'd looked into Gerad Justin's eyes and was crushed to realize he wasn't my mate. He'd probably looked into mine and thought, 'f*ck. Another one of those weirdos', not aware of the emotional turmoil going on inside me.

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Age 18… I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. These words repeat in my head as I sit in the client room at The Sanctuary, staring at the checklist Dom Adam gave me. A week has passed since my eighteenth birthday, officially making me an adult in the human and paranormal worlds alike. My birthday gift to myself is a membership at The Sanctuary, a local werewolf BDSM club. Tonight is my first session with my dom, and I’m desperately trying to hold myself together.

It was fresh and invigorating, and it felt like the winds of change were blowing, as though bigger and better things were only a gust away. I was just another 18-year-old in twelfth grade. Unsurprisingly, that also meant I had teenage hormones that raged constantly, and I was always giving in to them. Aside from any pictures or videos I could have found on the internet, there were scores of pretty girls I found quite appealing at school. The combination of the two caused me to fabricate an endless array of fantasies in my head.

It doesn't matter how I feel about him or what happened in that dream. Maybe Alice and Gregory are right and Alec is someone who just needs to be avoided. I roll my head from shoulder to shoulder, trying to loosen up my stiff muscles. There's a bit of time before I meet Gregory, so I plan on heading to the library and researching Silver Hunters and supernaturals. Right as the bell rings, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Unknown number: Meet me at the bridge at 5:30. I frown and text back. Who is this?

But I only grinned at him, revelling in my victory. Suddenly, he attacked my neck from behind, pulling my head back by my hair. He unleashed his inner monster, biting my neck and sucking my blood with an insatiable hunger. I turned him around to face me and captured his lips with mine. He gripped my waist, pulling me closer, and we kissed passionately, our bodies igniting with desire. It wasn't a normal kiss—it was filled with both love and the taste of blood. He bit and sucked the blood from my lips. I was the happiest person alive, knowing that I was satisfying my vampire boyfriend's hunger.

The taller man in front of me with the gorgeous amber eyes, dark curly hair, and a tattoo of a half-moon on his neck, smiles and says, “I am Max, this is Damen, and the stealthy stud behind you is Sam, and you are our mate.” Did he say “mate?” I must have seriously hit my head or something and this cannot be happening. I have read so many paranormal and supernatural romance novels, and it is only in stories that I have heard someone say “mate” in the way he just did. “What do you mean by mate,” I say while looking at him like he grew a third arm or something.

I take off the remaining set of clothes I have on keeping only my boxers intact so as not to make both me and Seiko lose control and do what we are bound to regret. I step back into the room to carry the woman who looks like she has just survived the third world war. It’s still surprising how she had not yet thrown up all she ate when the wine is over a century old and she is merely a tiny individual who is neither a full werewolf nor human. She muffles incoherent words and laughs manically when I carry her from the bed and into the bathroom. Her rosy cheeks are coated in several tiny pick blush that make it harder for me and Seiko to continue to keep the last bit of control we had on our sa

I said. "Wow! That's strange!" He expressed it with a kind of facial gesture. Immediately I figured out something is actually wrong about it, but I couldn't press further, I just hope he will talk about it. "Listen carefully…" he said with a serious gaze. I know at this point that he wants to pass on vital information which I must be really ready to hear. Planting my ear to the ground, I stared into his eyes to listen. "What she did is fast werewolf heal, just like a spell but not a spell." He said.