"LOOK AT ME!" At this point, Harlow didn't care if her mother or nan heard the commotion upstairs.
He moved his hands and took a few steps back; Harlow could see his back muscles tense as her demand left her lips. Their harshness seemed to strike a nerve within him, but she didn't care if it upset him; she wanted to know why he did this to her? Mates were supposed to protect one another, not the opposite.
"Michael." She called, but he wasn't responding to her. All Harlow could see was his hands tighten into a tight fist; the movement made her shiver slightly as the sudden realisation dawned on her that if she were to push him too harsh, the reductions would be severe.
Michael only movement or sound that he made was the threatening growl the escaped his lips every once in a while, it was apparent that he was trying to remain in control, but Harlow didn't understand why he was upset about something he had caused.
HER MIND HALTED AT THE SUDDEN AND INCOMPREHENSIVE OF MICHAEL.Harlow didn't have time to register his lips as they heated hers with want. She felt like she had fallen into dream mode again, and her need to kiss Michael was only a hallucination created by her brain to satisfy her. It wasn't until he gripped her hair tightly and pulled at it, making her grasp and giving him the access he needed, did reality crash down on her. It was the best feeling in the world. Immediately, her arms wounded themselves around his neck, and she pulled him closer- not that she needed to with the proximity between them. However, kissing Michael rarely happened, and she was planning on making the most of it. Her lips had never felt this bliss before, and she wanted more, so much more. Compared to what she imagined, this moment to go was not how she imagined it, this kiss was much rougher, but she liked
KICKING THE PEBBLES INSTINCTIVELY, it was that time of year again. It was December already, so it was natural that the shopping centre had transformed into a Christmas world of its own. Everywhere she stepped foot in, she was surrounded by faces of Santa Claus, Christma and bright lights. Christmas was just around the corner, and people were decorating their homes and neighbourhoods as they got ready for the festive season. Honestly, Christmas was her favourite time of the year as it was most people. People would give out presents so generously you would think they have a basement full of gifts. It was simply perfect...but this year was different. Harlow didn't have Michael last year. Then again, could she say she had him because, in reality, that wasn't the case? Months had passed since she had seen him; after their heated encounter, Michael had disappeared like a ghost from the face of the earth. Just like last time, but it wasn't his
"HARLOW, GET AWAY FROM HIM?" Her mother's voice was like a ringing of a warning in her ears, a direct instruction or else. "Move. Away. From. Him. NOW." "No." Her mother's tone indicated so much foreseeable threat; however, when Harlow's eyes shifted from her mother to the man who laid half-dead on her bedroom floor, she couldn't. It was simple. Her feet were rooted to the ground as Michael's blood-soaked her hands. Murderer or not, he was her Mate and just like he hadn't let her die in those woods, he had abandoned her; she couldn't either. "Mom, please," she begged with pleading eyes. "He needs our help." Harlow couldn't help but notice the harshness within her own mother's eyes. They were dark, and it was obvious how she felt about Michael; the hate radiated off her in thunderous waves crashing against the shore. "Harlow, he's a murderer." "He's my Mate." Micheal deserved everything he got in this mo
THERE WEREN'T MANY WORDS TO EXPLAIN THE SITUATION HARLOW WAS IN; she watched as her mother barely made an effort to stitch her Mates wounds together. Every so often, Michael's face scrunched up in pain, but he never made a sound. Aggressively, she dabbed with an alcoholic towel against his damaged skin. "Would it kill you to be a little gentle?" "Yes, it would." Her mother's eyes flickered towards him; anger burned inside them—a wave of irritationthat remained unknown to Harlow. It felt odd, the whole situation with Michael and her mother. Something inside of her told her that they weren't stranger, two people that only met by coincidence, by circumstance. No, it didn't feel like that; Harlow was more than confident they knew each other. "Hands off." Michael winked in pain, groaning each time her mother dabbed on the wound. "Then, in that case, I would r
"HARLOW, SWEETHEART, YOU HAVEN'T EATEN ANYTHING. Is something wrong?" Her Nan asked again for the second time. Harlow cautiously lifted her brown eyes to better glance at her Nan; the wrinkles upon her face had shifted as they manoeuvred her facial expression; worry and concern was the only thing left."I'm just not hungry anymore." Stretching a forceful smile, Harlow nodded. However, her eyes shifted to the only person within this table that sat next to her Nan, silently sipping on soup. She couldn't believe how unbothered her Mother was acting like she hadn't just been in the same room as Michael Collins. Suddenly, the hunger she felt wasn't for the food but the truth. "May I be excused?""Sit down and eat." Nan only nodded; however, the tension didn't go unnoticed. Harlow craved some time alone all of a sudden, but it seemed that it wasn't written in the cards. Her Mother's tone was cold and detached, a command.
THE MOON GRACED THE SKY AS IF SHE'D HAD SOME BRIGHT IDEA,something brilliant needed to shine upon the Earth. Harlow watched it through her window, her mind clogged with conflicting thoughts as she waited patiently for Michael. Indeed, he would come. He has to come; he has to. He made a promise and vowed to keep it. "He has to..." She sighed under her breath, but deep down, she knew that wasn't true because that night, he didn't come, even though she prayed he would. Michael didn't seem like the person who would keep a singular promise; he was Michael Collins. That much should have given away the person he was. To say she wasn't disappointed would be an understatement; it was another thing to add to her list of disappointment. "Asshole." That was the last word she said before Harlow had to have enough of waiting around, feeling like a Moping puppy. Abruptly she sat off her bed and began to prepare herself for sleep. If Michael
HER FOOTSTEPS WERE SLOW, painfully slow; she dragged them behind her as she made her way to the only place she dreaded, the headmistress office. Harlow's heart had stopped at just the mention of her name; once again, Fate put her in a position where she didn't quite know what to do. The hallway seemed empty; its dull colour was even more gloomy than usual; something felt odd. Strange even, and she couldn't get rid of the intuitive feeling that something terrible was going to strike her when she least expected it. The air around her chilled tremendously, and the lights flickered. Immediately her footsteps faltered; a rising suspicion began to cluster her.In the hallway sat ice.A significant, thick frost seemed to cover the walls, sprinkling its cold crystal gems proudly, and her gasp came out in hot huffs as a chill rushed through her; a striking fear engulfed her existence, inherently her head turned around, looking as if she detected s
SABIN, THE MANY WHO KNEW OF HIM, FEARED HIM. He sat on his chair, staring at the girl presumed to be his brother's Mate. It came as a shock for everyone, including Michael himself. He'd heard the rumour but brushed them off as simply just rumours, theories.He'd travelled from the human lands—New York to here, Crescent Pack territory with only one goal: Pandora's box and destroying it, it held the only thing all his brothers desired most. To break free from this curse. All right, two goals. So far, no luck. But he had found Michael and Kane, who had walked away from him thousands of years ago. Brothers he'd once fought beside. Brothers he'd once loved.Brothers who now hated him.He sighed. Since his arrival three days ago, he'd caught a glimpse of Michael here and there but hadn't made his presence known, unsure of the reception he'd receive. Would he be attacked on sight or embraced as the prodigal son?Damn, but he almost fea