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Chapter 16
"Werewolves think they have their souls split in two," he began to explain slowly., “Arriving at a certain age, they feel where that other half is and they complement each other. They feel what the other feels, they can perceive if they are in danger and many other kitsch. The little creature and the dog are the smoothest couple on earth.”
“Little creature?" I felt a pinch on my chest, something like ... jealousy?
Was I jealous? Why? Yes, I thought he was calling me little creature as something personal. I never believed that there would be another girl with that nickname.
Or did he say that way to all women?
"Yes. It's Estelle," he answered without noticing my reaction. “She is a strange girl. You will like her.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Well, to what I was saying, each species has something similar to that. A fated match, to put it that way. We vampires can
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Julietʼs Fangs Chapter 19
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“You had no fucking rights! Who the hell do you think you are?” “I am your owner, Juliet.” He growled in a deep voice. His face became a mask of rage and fury. “I don’t belong to you,” I spat. “Go to hell, Donovan.” I started walking away, leaving it captured. I ran all the way home, locking all the entrances. I didn’t want to see it, not now. Even if his intentions were good, even if he wanted to help me. I knew I was being a bit irrational, but my feelings were running high. I felt on the brink, as if I was about to be defeated. I didn’t like feeling like this, I didn’t want to feel like this. “Damn,” I yelled in frustration. “Wow, what a very warn welcome,” I heard a voice behind me. My instincts screamed of danger. That voice was not known. Had someone broken into the house? I turned over my spot s
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“What should I bring?” I asked, defeated. “Only what is necessary. We’ll buy a few things on the way, ”he said. I got up from the couch, unwilling. Maybe I didn’t have too many belongings. I would just pack a few clothes and prized items. The rest would surely end up looted when they noticed that no one was home. I entered the room, looking at everything with love and nostalgia. We never had a lot of money, but we were happy. My father worked and my mother always stayed at home. When the children began to arrive, the place became too small for everyone. Mom always insisted on moving us to another place, a safer one. But my father always had a weakness for alcohol. The money was not enough. Go to other place? It sounded impossible. Our childhood, however, was happy. My mother loved to bake and was gleaning selling her breads and sweets. The laughs
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