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Chapter 52
Alice
"Quit being such a baby!" I exclaim, highly frustrated by the stubborn, cream-colored wolf taking up my entire bed.
William refuses to change back into a human, determined to make this a hundred times more complicated. His paws are dangling from the king-sized bed, and the poor mattress creaks underneath his monstrous weight, telling me I need to visit IKEA if I ever want to sleep comfortably again.
I growl in frustration. "You have to let me clean your wounds no matter how much it stings!"
Wiliam growls right back at me, causing me to sigh. I squeeze the saline solution in my hand, and the wolf observes me with vivid suspicion, showing me his white teeth.
"Actually, why am I even afraid of you?" I question and throw caution to the wind as I near the angry wolf. "You will not hurt me since you seem willing to throw yourself at monsters for my sake!"
William's expression turns grumpy, even for a wolf. A low growl starts in his thr
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Dear Enemy, You're My Mate Chapter 53
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PatriciaIt's when I'm walking home with Elijah, Wesley, William, and Finn that my nostrils flare, and my brain kicks into overdrive. Riley's blood is on my knuckles, and here is the weird part: Riley herself carries the smell of a Winterbite werewolf, but her blood has a scent similar to roses.I freeze, and when Elijah turns around, my lips part. "Elijah, can you answer a question for me?"His irises dilate with interest. "Shoot."I wet my lips. "Before Dior recruited you as part of the Winterbite pack, you were with the vampires, right?"He nods. "I left as soon as June killed the vampire king and took over our grounds with the help of the Summerburst pack."I nod. "And here is my last question: do you know if hybrids are born as vampires or werewolves?"Elijah looks too stunned to talk, but eventually, he answers the question with his jaw ticking. "They are born as werewolves, luna Patricia. While a hybrid can use compulsion from
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Patricia "Have you ever been so scared of the world that the only way to survive is to roar and pretend you're a tiger when, in reality, you're a fraud, a kitten hiding behind a wall?" Dior takes my hand as we stare up at the ceiling. His head is propped up on his palm, and I'm curled to his side. The morning light is dancing in through a crack in the blinds, and part of me doesn't want to get up and save the world. Not when I'm this bubbly and excited about what the future might hold in store for us. "You're not high, are you?" I playfully slap his chest. "Hey!" He chuckles. "Come on! It's too early for poetry, even for you! Like goddamn, what time is it? Eight in the morning, and you're already turning into the female version of Shakespeare?" I'm cracking up but trying hard not to, and while I try to sound strict, my voice comes out all giggly instead. "Shut up, Lavigne!" Dior breathes a laugh and pulls me to him. It's a mira
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