My path ahead is foggy; the morning air is cold and harsh on my face. I should've carried a scarf, I realize too late. The street is covered with dried leaves, rising in the air with every swoosh of wind that strikes them, only to drop lifeless back on the wet ground beneath. On either side, the naked branches of wide trees look down upon me. The scenery isn't exactly encouraging. In fact, it does all it can to dampen my mood, but I, the beta werewolf, continue on, rubbing my palms together and huffing air. Niall lives in a cottage house. His mother loves plants—more than she loves her only son, I believe, and the front-yard garden does not shy away from the fact. Green floods my vision, brown, red, and yellow sprinkled here and there. Winter hasn't touched those potted plants yet. I tear a bunch of leaves from one of the pots on my way to the door—a habit I cannot get rid of—and ring the bell. As I wait for the door to open, I wonder what had come over me the previous night. Nial
Even with the strength of thirty young people, it takes us hours to make the Westside beach look clean. More of us spend our time talking and bonding than doing any actual work, but I cannot complain. After all, it's one of our aims: to get the two packs together. The sun is right above my head, sending trickles of sweat down the sides of my forehead. I fill the last of empty plastic bottles and such I can spot into a black trash bag. I wipe the beads of sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand and approach a group of girls standing close by. My legs have become stiff. I like the sand, but walking on it is another matter. "Thank you for being here, girls. It means a lot," I say with a genuine smile, wiping the sand from my hands on my jeans. "Oh, Nessa," a girl named Emily waves her hand. "I couldn't have thought of a better way to spend my Sunday morning." She wears a smile on her freckled face, but I'm not sure if it's as genuine as my own. They stride off, the exposed skin
It's alright, I try to assure myself. Pretend it never happened. But the scene replays in my mind clearly. I see Jordan's face—the scar over his left brow, his amber eyes almost a dark brown in the shade. And I feel the tingle on the back of my hand again, wrapped by Jordan's hand. I realize again just how tiny my hands are compared to his. “What are you going to wear for the dance?” Riley asks, sipping some fruit juice from a can. We're sitting on one of the wooden benches of the park. The one that's right below a huge tree whose name I do not know. On other days, it provides us shade from the scorching sun, but now it's naked with dry branches spreading out, and the sky above is filled with grey clouds. A crow sits perched on one swaying branch, cawing down at us, its eyes glued to the burger in Riley’s hands. “NESSA?” Riley shouts in my ears, startling me. My own can of juice falls to the ground, its content spilling in all directions. “Riley, do that again. I dare you.” Riley
I walk with strides larger than usual, impatient to get to my destination. My hands sway on either side of my body, the sun setting above casting its long shadows on the road behind. The air is cool on my face. Riley would have shuddered in my place. As a werewolf, I was born with more tolerance to harsh climates, and winter has only begun. Soon, I would be able to sense better. A week and a half, I think sullenly. When I first received Jordan's text, disappointment flooded my brain, mixed with confusion and mild grief. That night, after learning of the fight, I stopped by Niall's house. He complained of slight pain in his back where Jordan had kicked him, and for some reason, I never asked Niall how it had started. He was in a sour mood. I missed his wide smile, the way his eyes closed a little when he laughed, and even when I tried to make a joke, he had only passed me a smirk, clearly unimpressed. I had been afraid to even raise the matter of the next beach clean up. Everything wa
The person does not survive despite all of Jordan's efforts. By the time Jordan pulls the person out of the water, the sun has hidden behind the horizon, completely covering the beach in a sinister darkness. His grey sweatpants are drenched completely, and the person in his arms is dead, his limp arms swaying with each of Jordan's clumsy steps over the wet sand. I know it the moment I see the body, pale and unmoving, but the Alpha still clings onto the little hope he has. He can probably still hear his heartbeat. We rush without a moment's hesitation to Jordan's mom's clinic, which fortunately isn't far away from the Haunted Beach and is empty when we step in. The middle-aged woman panics when we enter but regains herself immediately and soon confirms my belief. Jordan slumps into a chair with a frown, hissing as he touches the exposed skin of the neck that is painted red with blood. Only when my eyes examine Jordan's red hoodie properly do I realize it is covered in blood too. Then
"What about your mom?" I ask, half-smiling, locking my arms around the alpha's neck. He leans into me, his nose nuzzling the crook of my neck. "What about her, Ness?" He says, breathily. When he exhales softly, it sends tiny tickles all over my neck and face. "You smell so good." I giggle. "What if she… comes in? If she hears us, you know… ?" I bite my bottom lip, feigning concern. He chuckles and draws away to cup my face and pull me closer. "I'm sure she's already left for a flower event or something like that and won't return for hours. No one will disturb us," He says, the last bit trailing off in a whisper. When he strokes my bottom lip with his thumb, I feel the air leaving my lungs all of a sudden. The intensity of his blue eyes on me is too much to bear, but I meet it with a smirk. "Hmm," I coo, pretending to consider his words, then nod slowly, reaching up to hold his chin. "Good, then." I stand on the tip of my toes and gently brush my lips on his—a small, teasing kiss. I
I tap my feet on the sand beneath me as my eyes gaze around, squinting in the bright sunlight. With every passing moment, my feet tap more vigorously against the sandy floor, the print of my sole becoming more prominent. Patience trickles out of me swiftly, and my two friends are nowhere to be seen. I pull out my cell phone and check whether Niall has responded yet, but there's nothing. I grow restless, until I decide there's no other way to go. I have to attend the class. At the classroom door, I clear my throat, grabbing my teacher's attention as she turns sharply towards me, startled. "May I come in?" I ask, as politely as I can under my current situation. For a moment, Mrs. Robinson stands frozen, her eyes wide with confusion. Then her lips curl into the most taunting of smiles, one reserved especially for me. "How kind of you to finally join us, Miss Martin. Please, do come in." I'm staggered when I see Riley isn't present in the class. She never misses any class. She's probab
The sun blazes above us, looking down through crooked tree branches as we venture deeper into the woods. Streams of sweat trickle down the sides of my forehead. "Who were you looking for in the class?" Jordan asks, and I sigh, remembering how I'd been betrayed. "Niall… and Riley. We planned to skip Biology and meet at the West-side beach. But those dummies ended up waiting at the East-side. I thought they'd been caught trying to escape or something, so I came back to the class. But—" "—they weren't there." "Yeah," I say, my voice taught with irritation. "I mean, we never meet at that beach. Goddess! I thought winter had begun. It's awfully hot today," I complain to Jordan, who is trekking behind me. Dead leaves crumple beneath my steps. "I like the heat. Winters are boring. Cold." He's glad he picked up that I don't want to talk about them anymore. For a moment, an image of me snuggled up in a blanket with him in the cold flashes through my mind. I shake it away, shocked at my ow