The beast nding on the floor of the house, looking around, its feet crunching against the broken gss, a low growl emitting from its snout, saliva dripping from the sides. It crouched down and sniffed the air, looking around. Wasn’t this supposed to be Vincent’s house? It was from the st dream, which was strange. But while the house looked like it was Vincent’s, the inside wasn’t.

  The beast moved to a set of stairs, stalking up them slowly, silently. As it reached the top, it moved to all fours, gliding along the hallway to an ajar room, and pushing open. A body slept in a twin bed, and the werewolf leapt into action, cws forward, teeth open and ready, baring down, biting and sshing and ripping. A cry of pain as blood gushed from gashes, a snarling and tearing of teeth into flesh and –

  Vincent jolted awake in a heap of sweat, his heart thudding against his chest, breaths heavy from the dramatic dream. He needed to figure out what to do about it, and hoped that perhaps Mr. B could help him out because he had no clue about. Was that werewolf him? And why had the inside of the house change? And since it wasn’t his house, the body that had just been ravaged was not him, right? He shook his head with confusion, trying to figure out how much he needed to worry about this, and what would happen if it actually did find him in the dream? If it was looking for him, why had it broken into the wrong house? It was just a dream, so he couldn’t take it literally, right? He chuckled nervously at all the unknowns, wiping sweat from his brow, thinking what would happen when it found him? What would it lead to? He didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out. He shivered at the thought.

  He gnced at the clock, seeing it was 4:30 in the morning, and so he threw his sheets off, jumped out of bed, and slowly moved to the window, peeking outside to make sure the beast wasn’t out there, waiting for him. There was nothing there, so he let out a relieved sigh, then gnced down at his body, lifting his shirt up with his arm that… didn’t hurt anymore. There wasn’t a bruise, either. It didn’t throb, nor was it tender or hurt when he touched it. He blinked, thinking how cool that was. These powers were… amazing. It was just like the other night. After resting, he was back at full strength, all healed and ready to go as if he didn’t have any injuries at all. It made him gulp, though, because the supernatural world, not just this werewolf being he was, must be a deep, dark hole of knowledge he would come to know more about. That thought also scared him.

  He shook that off, though, because the revetion of how his body could heal was pretty cool. He stretched and yawned as he felt an invigorated rush. He nodded to himself, opening his dresser, and pulling out sweats and a hoodie as he felt like taking a random run, which would be nice to help ease all this building anxiety he was feeling from everything.

  Dressed up in his gear, he tiptoed downstairs, and sneaked out the front door. He moved down the sidewalk, the chilly morning air feeling good against his hot body which was odd as the chill didn’t really make him feel cold at all. He did shiver, though, thinking about that beast in the dream and how gnarly it was, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to come bursting from some random house, rushing around the corner or down the street and pounce on him, shredding him to bits.

  It was still dark, and silent, save the sounds of vehicles in the distance leaving for early morning work or coming home from a graveyard shift, and the slowly building chirping of birds, the surrounding mountains looming like dark sentinels in the waning darkness. He jumped in pce, moving his head around, and stretching his arms and torso, preparing himself for a run as he moved into the center of the street.

  He leaned forward like a sprinter preparing for a race, and burst from the spot, pumping his arms and legs, feeling the wind whip against his body. An eted smile crossed his face as he felt the freedom of bounding down the street. He covered the block in a matter of seconds, which surprised him. He touched the ground, then spun on his heel, without skipping a beat, and pushed back off, bursting back down the street. He did this over a dozen times, and when he came back to his house, he slid to a stop, short of breath, hands on hips, and walking in slow circles as he felt a knot in his side.

  Even so, he felt compelled to do it again, so he burst into a run, without giving himself much breathing room, sprinting back and forth, chuckling to himself, wondering what someone would think seeing him running up and down the street in a hoody, as if the individual was up to no good, or just pin crazy.

  As he sprinted back to his house, he felt an urge to try something new, something crazy. Instead of stopping, he pushed forward and leapt through the air in an attempt to clear his 6-foot fence, which surprisingly to him, looked like he was going to clear it. Except that his toes nicked the top, sending him tumbling forward. His instinct kicked in and he shoulder rolled into his fall, saving his nding.

  He crouched for a moment, his hand pced on the ground, breaths heavy, feeling the surrealness of his accomplishment as a triumphant smile crossed his face. The cool chill in the morning air felt good against his sweat drenched body. It was a weird feeling to be able to sprint for several minutes without stopping, and even weirder to be able to leap over the fence like that. Was this the Power of the Were pushing him to want to do this? It was a strange mixture of instinctual power plus a yearning to push for more. He liked it, but at the same time his anxiety lingered and built.

  While the exercising had eased his mind, now he just needed to get ready for school and make sure he had a hearty breakfast to keep him going for the day. He looked off into the distance for a moment, admiring the mountains and the forest, yearning to enter them, to run wild, and perhaps next time he would take his run farther, moving into the forest. But for now, it was time for a shower.

  Fresh out of the shower, hair combed, school uniform on and ready for his next day, he gnced at the clock and saw that it was 6:45 am, so he decided to go downstairs and cook himself some food, which his mom had conveniently made the night before. He heated up the sausages and cut up an avocado, chowed down, and then left a thank-you note before bursting out the door to jog to school again, because who needed to ride a bus when you felt this free?

  Once he arrived at the school, he felt out of breath but still invigorated for the day’s csses. He pulled out his phone to check the time – 7:45 am. Plenty of time to get to get to css before the bell rang at 8:00 am.

  As he moved forward, he yawned, not watching where he was going, again, and bumped into someone that had a simir reaction to when he had run into Acard. And, just like with Acard, this person shoved him back with incredible strength that made him fall on his butt.

  “Watch where you are going, mutt,” a girl with eyes like Isabel’s said as she gred down at him with a cold complexion.

  He gulped, realizing that this girl was a vampire like Isabel. Not just because of her eyes which was simir to Isabels, but because she gave a quick fsh of fang as she spoke. The other reason he gulped was that she smelled like strawberries and coconut. It was nice, and made him think things that he shouldn’t be thinking as he stared at her beautiful form.

  As she gred at him, his hairs stood on end for some reason because there was a dark and alluring nature about her. She looked fierce and angry, and well, sexy. Her raven hair, which had an inner yer of radiant-red highlights, flowed like the evening sky, and her pale skin was just lovely. Who was this girl? And why did she look at Vincent like she wanted to end him? It was a simple mistake that he had bumped into her without looking.

  “Sorry bout that,” he said, chuckling as he stood. “But there’s no need to insult me.” He had come to learn that the term mutt or any terms referring to a werewolf as a dog were derogatory, which he didn’t care too much for.

  “If you do not wish to be insulted,” she said, holding her icy eyes on him the whole time, standing in a way as if she was superior to her, arms folded, nose in the air, eyes unblinking and unwavering. “Do not do things that are insulting, like running into your betters.”

  And with that, she lifted her chin and made her way past him. As she walked away in angry strides, he noticed she moved her hips in quite an alluring manner, even if this girl’s personality was ice cold, there was something about her that was intriguing. Something about how she looked, how she moved, and that anger in her eyes made him shiver with excitement.

  “Morning to you, too,” he called out with a mocking salute. She didn’t turn, nor acknowledge him, but he had a feeling that she heard him, and that made him smile. “Who in the world was she?” he said under his breath, watching her disappear into the school. And why did he even care? Well, because she gave him a feeling of needing like he had to know more about her because she set off some sort alluring vibe inside him that he couldn’t quite expin but ever much wanted to answer. Was it because he had stared into her eyes and maybe used some sort of vampire ability on him like he had felt with Shay Grave and Isabel? No, it couldn’t be. This was something more.

  For some reason, like any smitten young man that knows nothing about flirting with girls, or how to come back after being insulted by a pretty one, he did something on instinct. Thinking about her raven hair swaying in the wind, just like her hips, and the sultry curves of her body, and how soft and warm her porcein skin… He couldn’t help but imagine spicy thoughts that made his body warm and face hot because he definitely wanted to engage with her more. But why, he wondered?

  “You better be careful messing with my sister like that,” came the voice of Isabel.

  “Whoa,” Vincent said, feeling himself jump for a moment as he was so distracted by the girl, and his naughty thoughts, that he didn’t even notice, nor hear, Isabel come up next to him.

  “Sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed at scaring him like that. She composed herself, looking in the same direction her sister had gone. “I’m serious, though. My sister is not to be trifled with. You will feel her wrath if you get in her way again.”

  Vincent swayed like a tree being pushed by a soft breeze, his voice a soft lulby as he spoke. “I’d love to feel her wrath.” He shook himself free of his daydream, realizing he probably sounded, and looked, like an idiot. Then he blinked, comprehending something.

  “T-that girl is your sister?”

  “Yeah,” Isabel said with a mixture of reverie and sadness, as if thinking on the past.

  “Does she have a name?”

  Isabel paused for a long moment, letting out a little sigh as if this was something she was used to. “Her name’s Alicia.”

  “Alicia, huh,” Vincent said, rubbing his chin inquisitively. ‘It’s a nice name.”

  “I suppose it is,” she said, observing him as a silly smile crossed his face, and their eyes met, and held, for a long moment.

  He felt it again. That same, pulling feeling. But it wasn’t like how it was with Alicia, nor with Shay Grave. This time, it was as if she was listening to him, pulling something from him, his mind, and thoughts given to her, speaking to her, revealing themselves to her, and so he blinked and turned away – at least he tried to. He found he couldn’t, but was instantly released from whatever was happening as she blinked and turned.

  “S-sorry,” she said, blushing and turning away. “I-I didn’t mean to.”

  “For what?”“I shouldn’t use my Connection on your like that, but I couldn’t help it.”

  “You’re what now?” Vincent asked.

  “My Connection,” she said, staring ahead. “It’s an ability born vampires like us have.”

  He put two and two together and jumped backward, filing his hands about. “No way, you can read my mind?”

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, her tone depressed as if she had gotten something from him, seen something, heard something he didn’t want to reveal. “The thoughts we pull, gain, or gather, are usually vague in nature. It takes a practiced mind to do it well, to see them clearer, to make sense of them, but still…” She looked down at her feet. “I think I see what you see. Even so, my Connection is pathetic, so don’t worry about me being able to read anything like that.”

  He had feeling from how she had reacted, and her voice tone, that she had to have read, or seen something, that she didn’t really like as her energy had dropped, probably because she either saw something or just knew that he had thoughts for her sister. Perhaps, though, she was thinking about something involving her and her sister, as Vincent had an inkling that they didn’t really get along from the way Isabel talked about her.

  She brightened, though, and giggled. “I’m not really that good with focusing my Connection. I can sorta feel what you’re feeling, sense what you’re sensing, sometimes get blurry images of what you see and think, but it’s very vague. I don’t really talk about my Connection like this, really, with others, but with you I feel like I can, cause, I don’t know, you seem nice, and trustable.” She had gotten enough, though, to know that Vincent saw her sister like many boys had seen her sister. Alicia was beautiful, and proud, and knew what she wanted, and boys always seemed to like that, or completely detest her. In this case, it was obviously the former. It made her sad, because she was realizing that she perhaps had feelings for this boy as well, and if things panned out as they usually did with werewolves, he wouldn’t see her in the same light. But he definitely saw Alicia like that.

  Vincent, realizing that Isabel looked quite sad, refocused the conversation. “She’s quite the cheerful girl.” he joked. “Is she always so friendly?”

  “Not to werewolves,” she said. Why had she told him about her Connection like that? Why was she always so trusting, open, and up front with what she was thinking? She didn’t even know Vincent all that well. But he was so nice, so charming, so innocent, so… handsome. Curses. She couldn’t like this boy, could she? That frustrated her, and the idea that he was into her sister so easily, with just one simple exchange, made her even more angry. Her raging emotions grabbed ahold of her as she felt her body tense and her anger rise.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll change that.”

  “Good luck,” she said, brushing past him.

  “Hey,” he said, walking after her. “What’d I say?”

  “Nothing,” she said, folding her arms and turning her face from him.

  He grabbed her shoulder. “Did I do something wrong?”

  She spun around and spped his hand away, rising anger in her voice, fiery passion in her eyes. “Just stay away from her, okay? She’s…” she went red for a second, looking away as if embarrassed to be angry, revealing her emotions to him like this. “She’s not your type.” Then she spun and stomped off, leaving Vincent confused.

  Oh no, Isabel thought to herself. I think I really do like him. Curses!

  “What’d I say?” Vincent said under his breath, blinking and rubbing a hand through his hair. He wondered why she was so agitated all the sudden? He just wanted to get to know that Alicia girl. He had to. And it wasn’t like he and Isabel were some kind of item, right? Unless she liked him or something, which made him feel a bit special in that moment, even if he didn’t really think about her that way. It was nice to be liked, if that was indeed why she was angry. He’d never really thought about any girls that way, besides being curious about the female mind and body and things that curious teenage boys were interested in as they hit puberty. But Alicia, she was something different, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  Before Isabel got too far away, he called out to her. “Hey, wait up.”

  She couldn’t help her feelings, even if she was angry that he seemed to like her sister and… not her. Still, she couldn’t stay totally angry at him, so she stopped and let him catch up, at least somewhat, as she still had hope that maybe this boy would actually like her with time. And that hope also frustrated her, because she knew what was the most likely outcome, and that always made her sad.

  .   .   .

  As Vincent walked down the hallway behind an angry Isabel, he noticed Alexander, as usual, chatting up two girls just a few doors down from cssroom 412.

  Alexander nodded to the girls as they scurried away with happy giggles, then made his way over. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “Uh,” Vincent said. “Nothing much.” Did this Alexander kid think of Vincent as a friend or something?

  “Ready for another glorious day?” Alexander asked.

  Vincent shrugged. “Sure?”

  Alexander noticed Isabel stomp off into css. “What’s with her?”

  “I think I made her angry,” Vincent said.

  “Ah,” Alexander said, patting Vincent on the shoulder. “The scorn of a woman is a beautiful thing. What’d you do to piss her off?”

  “I’m not really sure,” he said, genuinely confused. “I was talking about her sister and” –

  “Ah, say no more,” Alexander said, raising a hand to him as if he knew everything. “Sibling rivalry and jealousy can cause much discord, my friend. Best not to question it.” Noticing that Vincent looked a bit worried about Isabel’s mood, he continued. “I wouldn’t worry too much, though. She’ll come around. After all, women are a mystery waiting to be discovered.”

  Isabel, apparently listening in on their conversation, stepped out of the cssroom to face them with anger and red cheeks, fists clenched at sides. “Will you two shut up?” Then, she let out a frustrated huff, turned on her heel with her nose in the air, and stomped into css.

  Vincent blinked, wondering what had set her off so much.

  Alexander rubbed his hand through his hair. “Yikes, she is angry. Angry women are sexy. Granted, you’ll probably want to take it with a grain of salt as it’s probably her raging emotions driving her impulse to explode, but then again, maybe she’s just mad.”

  And with that, he sauntered in the room, leaving a bewildered Vincent outside, as he wondered what the heck raging emotions were. Was that something girls experienced liked other things girls went through that he didn’t want to think about?

  He followed Alexander in, wanting to ask him about it, but when confronted with Acard and his wet dog smell which seemed worse today, he forgot all about that and focused on getting to his desk and covering his nose as inconspicuously as he could.

  He really disliked that Acard was his cssmate, and not just because of the smell. Vincent noticed the punk watching him as he moved to his desk, which gave him the sinking feeling that more torment was about to come his way.

  “Yo, chump,” Acad said, leaning forward with a toothy grin. “It’s a bright new day. Sun’s shining, fresh air outside. How’s about we go another round today, eh?”

  He really was a punk, wasn’t he? Vincent thought.

  “I’m not a chump,” Vincent said under his breath.

  “Ohhh,” Acard said in a mocking baby-like tone. “Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

  “Back off,” Vincent said in a low growl as he wasn’t in the mood.

  “Or what?” Acard said with an eyebrow raised. “Whatcha gonna do, chump?”

  Vincent let out a sigh, rubbing thumb and forefinger against his forehead. While his focus was on Acard, he noticed Isabel staring at him, and when he turned to look her way, she wasn’t. Which made him blink, because he could have sworn she was staring in a wide, unblinking manner. She had to have been looking at him, but he couldn’t be sure. Her cheeks were rose red as she looked down at her feet.

  What was with her? One moment she was angry, the next she was bashful. Was it these raging emotions Alexander spoke off, some sort of vampire mood swing?

  Acard, noticing their little dynamic, jumped on the opportunity to include his stupid opinion. “You know, if you like him, bloodsucker, why don’t you just tell him, or are you too shy to reveal your tender feelings of bloodlust for him? I’m sure he’d let you suck his blood if you asked nicely, or perhaps he’d like you to suck on something else.” He snickered at this.

  “Acard!” Isabel said, her face running red with anger and annoyance.

  “Leave it alone,” Vincent said, becoming annoyed.

  “Yeah,” Mizuki said, chiming in. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Or just suck on your own thumb and shut up, will ya?”

  Acard looked her up and down, stopping at her chest, licking his lips. “Sure thing, honey. You are the size I prefer. And you’ve got plenty to suck on.”

  She frowned. “You couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

  “I’ll handle everything just right, baby,” he said, leaning back as if she was nothing.

  “You’ll handle a fist in your face,” she said, smirking. “But we all know when the pressure is on, you’re the type to run with your tail between your legs.”

  “You know,” he said, kicking his legs up on the desk. “You’re not very intimidating. Best stick to something you might be good at, like modeling.”

  “The only pose I’ll take,” she said, her eyes unwavering. “Will be standing over your body after I knock it into the dirt.”

  “I’m sure you like it dirty and rough,” he said, licking his lips again, his eyes moving up and down her body as if thinking things that were inappropriate.

  “You wish, wolf boy,” she said, leaning back and folding her arms, her chest bouncing with her movement. Vincent was trying his best to not have inappropriate thoughts as well, but wondered what it was like to have such big… He shifted nervously, turning away from Mizuki as the thoughts got out of hand.

  “The only wish I got, girlie,” Acard said, his eyes leveling on her chest. “Is wanting to know what you’d look like it in a swimsuit. What’s your size, anyway?” his eyes were wide and hungry.

  “None of your business, mutt,” she growled, gripping the side of desk, and blushing for the first time. It always happened this way, and while most of the time she liked to py, to tease, to see what boys would do, knowing all well that they liked to stare, to drool, to think naughty things they would like to do to her and with her, deep down she just wanted to be seen for her, not just for her chest. And it always got her in trouble, either being made fun of by other girls for developing too much or too fast or being seen as stupid, or being lusted after by boys, or just pin old difficult to find a bra or keep them in pce when getting physical. It was frustrating, to the say the least, and she normally could keep things under wraps, keep her emotions in check, but this freaking Acard kid was on her st nerve. She couldn’t let them see her true nature, her true yearning of wanting to be seen more than just some buxom girl, she wanted to be seen as true, fiery and strong being, not just sexy and some pything for the fantasy of imagination. That thought made her sad and furious all at once, but she sure wasn’t going to fold under Acard’s idiocy, so she held strong. She’d dealt with this crap all her life, and he certainly wasn’t going to make her crumble, right?

  Acard smiled broadly as he had achieved his victory of embarrassing her. “How can I not make it my business when you’re bouncing around all the time with those things?”

  “You’re just a disrespectful little punk,” she growled through clenched teeth.

  “I’ve been told,” he said, looking like he didn’t care.

  In that moment, Vincent thought of how Acard looked when Tania Eln had put him in his pce, feeling a small smile cross his face.

  “What are you smiling about, Chump?” Acard said, shifting his focus to Vincent.

  Luckily, Vincent was saved by a voice that boomed over the PA system.

  “Students from cssroom 412, please proceed to training room B in the gymnasium. I repeat, students of cssroom 412, please proceed to training room B in the gymnasium for your next css.”

  .   .   .