The wind swirls around a stick-thin girl, shoving the rain into her face so that it slaps at her cheeks. She is minuscule, short and skinny, her eyes a brilliant green that shines like emeralds. However, thick glasses hide their spectacular beauty, with lenses that dull her eyes' brightness and color. Her soft, wavy hair is a startling red, cutting off abruptly at the shoulders, giving her a childlike face to match her childlike body.

She is sitting, her thin dress sticking to her soaked skin as the rain pounds even more determinedly on her form, on the muddy ground. Thunder roars over her head, crackles of lightning striking the air. All she sees is darkness. For her, there is nothing but darkness.

She knows she is in danger of dying. The lightning is close, and if one tree catches on fire, the whole forest will burn. She has nowhere to hide if that happens, no one to call for help. Her cell phone lies beside her, dead from the constant downpour of water. However, it is easy for her to stay calm.

Life is not important to her anymore, though, so she does not care if she sizzles away.

A single tear evacuates her eye, swimming down her cheek, joining the rivers of water that rushes down her body. A living nightmare surrounds her, the terrible breeze slamming the rain into random destinations, the plants swaying. A tree is close to falling on her, leaning her way, precariously close to breaking away from its trunk.

She barely notices that she is crying heavily, her tears accompanying the storm's efforts to make her as miserable as possible. She feels dirty, the mud giving her a sick feeling in her stomach. On a whim, she wishes for a hot shower, with warm steam embracing her.

Movement is impossible for her.

She wants to end it here. Right now. It would be so easy... so sweet as the pains of life would fade away. She wonders why God had to give her the ugly face, the childlike form, and the snobby attitude that made so many people hate her.

Why does she have to be the unlucky one?

Now she cannot see, the rain blinding her. Her glasses slide off her nose, falling to the ground, the glass quickly sinking into the dirt. Unbelievably, the water starts to pour even harder from the hectic skies, temperature dropping by the second. Goosebumps appear on her arm. Her breaths become visible, clouds appearing in wisps directly in front of her.

The cold gets worse.

She looks to the ground, uncertainty in her features. Is she really ready to let herself die here? Is it time for her to leave this world?

A tiny sliver of fear enters her thoughts.

She realizes quickly that these may be her last breaths. She tries to savor each of them, reaching with a delicate hand to try to catch the clouds that lingered before her. The question pounds in her head, making her dizzy.

Is she truly ready to die?

The thunder looms closer, the clouds overhead parting a little. Through the crack in the clouds, she can spot a full moon. She stares at it, awe searing through her at its beauty. It truly is a wonderful sight, the perfect circle illuminated by pure white light, the only incandescence currently in her world. It is symbolic of hope to her, hope that she will go on. Hope that everything will be okay.

Suddenly a hard rock pounds against her shoulder. She gasps in pain, her shoulder throbbing from the impact.

The moon vanishes as the dark clouds steal it away from her.

Another object lands on her knee, the same pain recurring. The girl remains in her position, pain etched in her face. She grabs the strange rock, holding it close to her eyes so she can see it. Her eyes widen.

"Hail," she whispers as another rock comes hurtling towards her. It is big, about the size of a nickel, falling at an incredible speed. It is aimed for her head.

She sees it coming, an amazing ball of energy, ready to deal the death blow. She is frozen. Death is finally here to take her away. This is what she wants, right? She should be happy. Deliverance from the pain, the endless suffering, is here.

The fear is the thing that is taking away her happiness.

There is a split silence, and then there is a howl in the night as the terrible ice rock clamors to meet its destination.

***

He can hear it. Its accelerated breathing pounds in his ears, signaling its close proximity.

He ventures closer to the presence, the thing that dares to be in his territory at this time. It is terrible timing for the intruder, whatever it is, for tonight he is at his strongest.

Tonight is the night of the wolf.

He is alone, but that is just perfect. He works better when alone.

It sure is a horrible storm, the rain beating on his back, nearly causing him to collapse. He wonders why it is trying to trespass in this awful weather. The wind rips leaves from their perches on trees and throws them violently into the air, lightning flashing over his head. There is almost a constant roar, almost ruining his concentration. He shakes his head, trying to wave away the storm’s efforts to distract him. His paws crunch the grass beneath him as he treks deeper into the forest. Trees loom before him, casting their dark shadows over his furry form. Danger is in every direction. But he does not hesitate.

He is fearless.

The presence is growing stronger, the wind sending the scent to his nose. It is a sweet fragrance, one he has never smelt before; a curious mix of strawberries, bananas, some flavor he cannot distinguish, and a tiny splash of mint. It is a delight, an intoxicating smell that he will remember forever, even when this "it" is long dead. He has never experienced this aroma around a werewolf before.

This smell is so sweet, he wonders if a human could have actually wandered into their midst. Humans generally have nice smells, although none as delightful as this one.

He feels like something is... bonding him to this smell. A longing suddenly starts to fill him, a desire to edge closer to the source. This pull is unrelenting, and he feels himself falling even harder into the realm of lust. He begins to crave this curious smell, and his paws start to move by themselves. He does not need to track it, for something about the scent is guiding him straight towards it. He begins to think that this creature might be a difficult thing to kill.

In fact, killing it might not even be an option, for he fears that if he does, he will lose his sanity.

It already entices him, begs him to come closer. The smell invigorates him even more as he gets closer to his target, weaving a web around him until he will never be able to escape. He is the fly, and it is the spider. A miserable feeling gathers in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that he is helpless.

What sort of trick is this wily creature playing?

The scent is unbelievably strong now, nearly overwhelming him with its beauty. To werewolves, scent is everything, and he experiences pretty aromas every day. Nothing, though, amounts to this lovely emanation that makes his head spin with dizzy delight. He feels like he is getting close.

Suddenly, the scent turns bittersweet, a sharp note corrupting the melody. Fear and terror enters the scent, making the sugary quality go away and polluting the smell he needs so badly. Now, a sinister stench fills the air, and the terror the creature is feeling fills him also.

Somehow, he can tell the emotions it is experiencing through its smell. However, the bad part is that he begins to feel the same emotions it does. The smell now is still intoxicating, but filled with need. It needs him.

Want quickly enters his body. He wants to experience that smell once again, but not the one it was currently emitting. He wants to make it happy, so the taste of fear will disappear from the aroma. He desires that special sweetness with an intensity he never knew he possessed.

His paws start to blur as they zoom through the forest so fast that even he can barely see them move. The longing is coursing through him, intensely corrupting his mind until all he can think of is the scent. He has to have it.

He reaches a small clearing, next to a thin creek that spills into Lake Ray a couple miles away. It is a beautiful little area, with lovely flowers and green bushes, the trees graceful and tall. The aroma is overpowering here. The creature must be in this vicinity.

His eyes search for it, looking for the evil thing that manages to produce such an attractive smell. At first, it is nowhere to be seen. But after he adjusts his eyes a little, he spots a figure in the dirt. It is a tiny thing, a small form covered in the thick mud, only a slender back seen from his angle.

He suspiciously circles the creature, trying to make out its features. It is hard to distinguish, the mud camouflaging it in the dirt. When he travels right in front of it, though, his heart stops beating.

Though not an overly pretty creature, it is still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It is a human girl, with bright green eyes that has a mesmerizing quality to them, pulling at him, never releasing his gaze. Her hair is a ruby red, tumbling to her shoulders, the rain making it wet and shiny. Her body is small, but shapely, the rain melding her tattered dress to her form.

A sudden stab of pain encircles his heart as he realizes what is happening, the beats growing faster. He begins to grow panicked. Is this really happening? Why now? Why, with a human like her?

But nature refuses to listen to his pleas, binding him even closer to the young woman. This could not be true.

A burst of white light comes forth, surrounding his being, then racing to meet the girl. It delves into her skin, soaking her with the white light. She doesn't notice, her eyes clogged with tears, looking at her toes.

He is affected, however. The realization that he has just done something terribly, horribly wrong shocks him, making his whole body flinch.

Shock, as well as anger and annoyance, races through his body. Nothing good can come of this. Nothing at all.

However, the reluctance fades as he watches her. As it begins to take effect, he feels himself falling into a bottomless pit of endless love. There is no going back. He is ensnared in the tempting spider's web forever.

Suddenly, another taste of horror explodes in the scent. Hail is beginning to fall, and he can tell that she has been hit. Her eyes, as she looks up, are listless. She stares past him, as if she doesn't notice he is even there. Painful tears evacuate her, pouring down her form. A small gash on her leg emits dark droplets of blood. He suddenly feels the need to protect her, to guard her. What is he doing, just standing here? He needs to move!

A tiny scream escapes her, ripping into the night as a huge piece of hail comes hurtling towards her. Her eyes snap shut, fear overtaking her. The scent is consumed by terror, terror he has to eliminate if he wants to experience that sweetness again. He jumps immediately, trying as fast as he can to land over her form. To protect her.

He releases a guttural howl as he soars to be her shield.

~ Mona ~

I wake, my eyes fluttering as they focus to the brightness surrounding me. All I can see is a single blob hovering above me, a blur of colors flipping and weaving, twisting and turning.

"Are you awake?" a beautiful, musical voice rips through the void I am suspended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly shifts into focus, the blurred edges sharpening into easily distinguished images.

Am I dreaming?

A spectacularly handsome man stares at me, his startling green eyes disconcerting me with their brightness. I feel myself get lost in them, examining their wondrous beauty, trapped in their spectacular gaze.

His skin is tan and muscled, his arms bulging, his hands strong and firm. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dressed casually, yet he has an elegance that can't be explained.

Straight and long, his hair cuts off around his jawbone, framing his face with pride. Layers are all over the place, short wisps accompanied by long strands, carelessly tousled. The bangs make me subconsciously want to push them aside so I can gaze evermore into his eyes with no distractions.

The strangest thing about his hair, though, is that it is blue. A royal blue, even, that shines in the sunlight. But the hair suits him, complimenting his lightly tanned skin and emerald eyes.

"Hello?" he asks again, his voice soothing to my ears. I blink once, trying to adjust to the incredible handsomeness before me. A man this beautiful has never been within five feet of me before.

Finally examining myself, I notice that my leg is not bleeding anymore, covered with a thick bandage. My shoulder is covered likewise.

I am laying on a soft, plushy divan. The floor is of pure marble, a deep black with hints of white trying to squeeze its way into the tile. A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metal limbs, hangs delicately on a thin, gray wire in the center of the chamber. There is an impressive array of books, a gigantic bookcase stretching from wall to wall.

But, of course, all my attention focuses on the man.

He chuckles as I scan his face yet again, taking in his perfection, looking at masculine features that, at my school, I used to only be able to observe from afar.

I cough once, attempting to croak some words out of my mouth. "Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." His hand feels so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face.

As he travels over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that’s almost impossible to describe.

That is only one of the strange things I notice about him.

Another thing that perks my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn’t noticed the reflection of the light upon his pupils.

Now, as I more carefully observe, I realize there is no reflection. The light doesn’t bounce off his eye, but rather, sinks into it. It is barely noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference. The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.

He brings a cool glass of crystal clear water to my lips, gently pouring it into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he probed.

"Yes," I barely whisper.

"Okay, good," he smiles brightly.

I suddenly find it hard to speak. "T-thanks for s-saving me," I stutter. He lets loose a musical laugh, the most beautiful one I've ever heard.

"It was a pleasure."

I feel self-conscious; suddenly disconcerted by the way he is scanning my face, my body. I start to feel nervousness when I meet his gaze, even one glance at his beautiful, appraising eyes causing butterflies in my stomach. The need arises to avoid this strange, alien behavior towards me, to return to the orphanage and work on that science project I didn't do earlier because I thought I would die today.

I quickly sit up, my back reposed on the fluffy pillows, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the side. Before I succeed in depositing my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and deposits them back on the divan, the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. I feel a tingle of a delight as he touches them, his fingers lingering a little before pulling away. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, rather laughingly.

"Leaving." I decide to tell him the truth. “Thanks again for the help.”

His eyes widen, "But you can't just leave! We have to find out more about each other! I don't even know your name."

He is so different from any guy I’ve met. He actually seems like he wants to know more about me. His gaze tugs at mine, his expression of disappointment. If I didn’t know better... I’d say that he likes me, or at least my appearance.

But, the thing is, I know better. Being liked is a privilege reserved for prettier people than me.

I shoot up so quickly my movement is almost a blur, ignoring the pain that my motions are invoking within my injuries. The joke is over. "Well, sorry. I'm leaving," I say sharply. Why does my rudeness have to flare up at a time like this? I really need to work on my social skills. He did save my life, after all.

I guess his behavior is scaring me. The way he is earnestly looking at me, with so much devotion, is rather unsettling and strange. It is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and, honestly, I have never been so afraid in my life.

I start walking to the door, my slightly damp red hair waving in the light breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a matter of minutes I will wake up to find that the man is only a figment of my imagination.

"Please stop!" I hear his relaxing, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to shake his command from my mind. He can't coerce me into continuing on with this joke any longer. Obviously he is just toying with me by pretending to be attracted, in order to get a good laugh out of his friends later. However, as I continue to walk, there is a blur, and then...

He is standing right in front of me, blocking the door.

How did he do that? He had been standing more than ten feet away from me before.

I become like a sheep that has been backed into a corner. "What are you? What do you want from me?" I beg, my eyes drilling through his, pleading earnestly.

His eyes flash at my comment, then, strangely, he wears a resigned expression. "Come, sit down while I explain."

He leads me back over to the divan, and I cautiously sit down upon it. I have to admit, no matter how creepy this feels, I am shamefully happy to spend a few more seconds gazing at his enticing face. However, I try not to show it, instead displaying a dubious frown.

He takes a deep breath, and then speaks. "My name is Xavier, and I am what you would call a werewolf."

Shock and incredulity run through my mind, freezing me to the bone. Oh, what a pity, I think sadly, this incredibly hot guy, the only one that’s ever talked to me, is a weirdo. I can tell he believes his outlandish claims too. His eyes are trying to catch my gaze, a hopeful expression displayed in them.

"Werewolves don't exist," I tell him slowly, as if he is a kindergartner. I know he doesn’t deserve my disdain, but... really?

"Are you saying I don't exist?" he asks, irritated. I can’t help but notice how cute he is when he is vexed, and I wonder if I really want to wake up from this dream.

"No, although you might need to go talk to a counselor or something about some mental problems," I automatically snap, then immediately wish to take back my harsh words. For me, insults are default, almost encouraged by people’s equally disdaining response.

He seems frustrated now, a tiny pout on his plump lips, streaks of his blue hair falling into his eyes. The strange thing is, he doesn’t seem to be angry or even annoyed by me, but by himself. What kind of guy is he? He is proving almost everything that I thought was true about every guy wrong.

"I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he mutters quietly. His eyes fly shut, his lips pursed in concentration. He seems to be focusing on something, something I can’t possibly detect.

"There is no way you can prove to me that-"

I am interrupted by his sudden transfiguration, staring in shock and amazement as the handsome man suddenly melts, his head tumbling into his body. It is like a waterfall, the way his body just crumbles into itself. However, there is a shimmer of light before he becomes a puddle on the floor, his-body-liquid-I-don't-really-know making a shape. Another millisecond and he is that shape.

A colossal wolf with sharp white teeth and dark eyes that matches his pupils.

I jump back in horror. Nothing I had read or seen about werewolves had prepared me for this.

It barks once, a deep sound that reminds me roughly of his baritone laugh, his shaggy fur a creamy light brown color that matches his skin. He, like his human counterpart, is absolutely beautiful. My breath is taken away as I examine him and his huge, graceful form. What absolutely astonishes me, most of all, is his authoritative aura, demanding respect even from me.

Similar to the previous morphing, he suddenly crumbles, falling towards the ground speedily. There is a flash of light, and he becomes the incredibly hot man he was before.

Scared, I take a step back, not watching where I am going. Xavier, no matter how beautiful, seems ethereal. Somehow, my brain refuses to believe that werewolves exist, and even though now I am given proof, it still is a lot to take in. It is almost too much for me to accept, no matter how true it is.

My feet slip out from under me as I collide with a hard, firm object. I feel the floor rush to meet me, my arms flaying about, trying to catch my balance.

A pair of strong, firm hands reach beneath me, propelling me back into my standing position. They feel warm, releasing shocks through my body. I am definitely aware of his presence.

"Please believe me," he takes his hands away from my back, coldness now flooding to the previously warm spot where his hand had been.

"I... I.." I mumbled softly, disconcerted by his close proximity, yet shivering from the absence of his big, toasty warm hands. He seems to sense that, leaning in and grabbing my right hand, heat spreading like wildfire throughout my body.

Nervousness takes me over and I yank my slender hand away. His eyes widen in surprise as I shove them in my pockets. "You don't want me to touch you?" he inquired curiously, "You don't trust me?"

Yes, I want you to touch me. Yes, I trust you. Although I have no idea why.

"I don’t know you. Why would I?" I carelessly throw at him. He blinks once, almost from surprise rather than irritation. Bafflement is etched into his features, as if he is actually confused at the thought that I don't.

I begin to get angry at myself. Why do I have to be so bitter?

"Okay, I'll wait then," he grins faintly. Other than his slightly diminished smile, he seems undeterred, though, continuing almost as energetic as before.

Is this guy for real?

"Well, you might as well give up now then or else you'll be waiting forever," I look away, letting the harsh words leave my lips.

"Don't worry; I am prepared to wait forever. I have all the time in the world," he says softly, his words startling me.

Of course. How can I forget? He isn’t even a human.

"I think you forget that I will die in about seventy five years. I don't have forever," I murmur, my voice picked up by his sensitive ears. Silence stretches between us as the seconds tick by. I feel uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but him.

He laughs again, a sound that starts to to melt my heart. "I think you underestimate me, Mona."

Whoa. Wait a second.

"How do you know my name?" I furiously demand. He winks at me in response, waving my school ID before my eyes. Narrowing my eyes, I hold out my hand towards him. "Give it back."

"Should I?" He teases, sparking my anger. I launch myself at him, and he smiles wickedly. "Oh, well this is getting interesting."

It only takes a few seconds of violently grabbing at thin air before I realize I am not going to get my ID back by force. He is moving his arms so quickly that its impossible to even touch him. Rolling my eyes in resignation, I lean back and fall against the divan.

"Are you ever planning on giving it back?"

"Sure. Someday. I'm rather fond of this picture of you." He looks at it again, and my mind flashes back to the time when that picture was taken. It was about six months ago, and also the day when I lost my glasses yet again, leaving me half blind and unable to even tie my shoes, let alone comb my hair. I had even worn my shirt inside out. It was awful.

I now realize he truly has been making fun of me.

I say nothing, my eyes returning to him. I subconsciously focus on how the sunlight seems to catch on his azure hair and sparkle, making his whole head look like it is sprinkled with stardust. He doesn't wait for me to speak. "But anyway... I doubt it will take you long to fall in love with me."

"How come, wolfboy?" I look at him, astounded at his pompousness and how honest he looks while saying those words.

"My charm is so overwhelming." He flips his hair and flashes me a bright, astounding smile. I am almost blinded by its beauty. "How could you not?"

"How could I, you arrogant brat?!" I respond bitingly, "I prefer a trait in men that you don't possess—humility." And a brain, of course.

"I was joking," he defends himself, "come on Mona, you know that! I'm not like any boy you have met before. I would sacrifice anything, even my life, for you. I know that's a strange statement to make, but I genuinely feel that way. Every werewolf feels like this towards his or her mate. You can trust me-"

"What was that you just said?" I ask dangerously, interrupting his rant. I can't believe my ears, my eyes narrowing. He did not just say that...

"You're... my mate," he says hesitantly, pausing slightly before he continues, "If you weren't my mate, I would have killed you in the forest. I’m usually not very kind to trespassers that stumble our way." After a short span of shocked silence, he grabs my hands and squeezes them. "I'm all yours," he whispers, staring deeply in my eyes with an unfathomable intensity.

I laugh at the way he mentions it so lightly. He tells me that I'm his "mate", bound to him for life (or afterlife), and he expects me to just take it in? To immediately obey his request?

I can see the seriousness and fear in his beautiful green eyes, silently pleading with me to understand.

I'm amazed the most at the fact that he expects me to take him seriously. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wants the satisfaction of having me fall for his wily tricks. I have to say, he is a marvelous liar.

Anger overwhelms me, my heartbeat rising. Why don't I get a choice on whether to be his mate? Is he so superior that he can't give me the option to be free?

"Uh, well, um..." I inch towards the door, edging to the exit that will free me from this nightmare. My red hair falls into my face, my hands shaking. Xavier smiles as the phone begins to ring, causing my stomach to unwillingly flip flop.

"Excuse me while I take this call," he says quickly, retreating from my sight. I hear the pounding of footsteps, then nothing. I sigh in relief. The coast is clear.

Oh wonderful phone, you are my savior.

I run towards to door, flinging it open and rushing out into the considerably lightened rainfall. The light mist sprinkles on my nose, dancing around my toes as I slosh through the muddy dirt, my bare feet dyed brown. My red hair is loose and wavy, flying as a blast of cold wind forces it far behind me. I carry my flats in my hands, sticking my tongue out carelessly to catch a drop of the water that falls from the sky.

Freedom is at hand.

***

BEEP! BEEP!

I slap the button on the alarm clock, trying to stop its irritating wails. I am lying in my bed, my fluffy stuffed animals surrounding my heavily buried form. I have many of them, a whole collection from my childhood, which I can't bear to get rid of. Gold tones flood through my small windows, illuminating my face as I sit up into the glaring sunlight. Just beyond the glass lays a beautiful milieu of crisp, green grass, crystal clear lake water, and tall trees. Puffy clouds hang in the blue sky, birds cruising across the horizon.

I wearily drag myself from  the covers, my feet causing a thump as they collide with the floor. Stumbling over to my dresser, I carelessly grab a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, sliding it over my form. My spare pair of glasses, the other lost in the storm, squeak as I slide it onto my nose. I, by chance, catch a glance of my body in the mirror, and gasp.

A huge, black-and-blue bruise sprawls across my left shoulder, extreme redness surrounding it. Another one, though not quite so major, decorates my knee, bringing back painfully stark memories from the previous night. It isn't only a dream.

I really did meet a handsome crazy man last night who saved me from certain death.

I can still remember his perfect face, his startling green eyes, and his uniqueness I did not understand. Even thinking of him sends tingles through my body, alertness flooding through me. How can a brief memory affect me so much?

I shuffle to the door, looking out along the hallway. Rows of doors greet me, stuffiness overtaking my senses. A repugnant stench makes my nose wrinkle in disgust, but not surprise. It always smells like this. The other kids all got used to it, but I never did.

From the very beginning, my ninth birthday spanning until the present, I have felt like I didn't belong. Almost... like my parents were not fated to die, that I was meant to be by their side even now. It was just a feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that something was terribly wrong. The other kids, as I grew up, seemed to understand that also, gladly treating me like I didn't belong. At first, I was a pretty nice kid. I wanted more friends. I wanted to play in their games. I wanted Ms. Penn to treat me just like everyone else. And, most of all, I wanted desperately to laugh. To smile.

But I soon gave up on that fantasy.

I soon gave in to the other kids' coldness, turning into a hard shell that was sharp, bitter, and tough. I didn't need anybody. I didn't want anybody.

I was above them all.

I would stay in my room for hours and hours, studying and reading, making myself smarter and even more above the crowd. Now, to accompany my newfound pompousness, I had the smarts to encourage it.

And these long years, full of awful puberty and other struggles, did nothing to change that.

I check my old and slightly tattered watch, gasping as I realize that it is almost time for school. It begins at 8:00 AM, and it is 7:40. No wonder all the other orphans are gone, the only noise being the whistle of the wind. What the crap was wrong with my alarm clock to wake me up so late?

I am in so much trouble.

The wind floods through my hair as I race down the stairs. I blast past Ms. Penn, our supervisor. She raises her eyebrows as I quickly snatch my backpack. "Mona!" she calls after me, her voice shrill and commanding, "After school you will be punished!"

"I'm sorry!" I exclaim. I couldn't help that I went to bed at two o'clock the last night! I mutter angry retorts, too low for Ms. Penn to notice.

I stumble to the kitchen, grabbing a small pop tart, stuffing it in my mouth as quickly as I can. Ms. Penn glares at me as I hurriedly down a glass of water, my frenzied gulps echoing in the room. "Don't you think," she snaps in a dangerous whisper, "it MIGHT be too late for breakfast?"

The evil, fire breathing dragon is furious now. It might do me some good to leave.

I grab my shoes; white sandals that just happen to be the only pair of shoes I have. They are old and worn, flowers dancing along the sides, a size too small for comfort. I shove my feet into them, making the straps loosen as far as possible, my toes falling off the sole. They look horrendous on me, but that is to be expected. I am a poor, impoverished orphan girl with no family. I don't have a home to go to.

There is a sudden knock on the old, wooden door, the sound reverberating around the orphanage. I glance around quickly. Ms. Penn is nowhere to be found, probably in her office to write me up for another cleaning duty. I walk to the shaken door, where even one polite knock can hurt the worn wood immensely.

A mirror hangs precariously on a single nail, right by where I am standing. I examine myself once again, taking in my ratty red hair, matted and tangled, that I usually pull back into a frenzied ponytail. My nose, crooked as always, juts out slightly, an annoying feature I absolutely hate. My slightly curvy body hides under some of the only clothes I own, a baggy t-shirt and loose jeans, letting no one know I even have a figure. Even if I wear skin-tight clothing, I am so short that guys would have to stoop to see my shape. My lips and complexion? Nothing special.

My eyes are the only things I like about myself at all, and even they are not spectacular compared to that god-like man I saw last night. I am the least desirable girl at school, and for good reason. I don't even show what little I do have, hiding my eyes behind thick glasses and burying my kindness under arrogance.

I grasp the metal doorknob with my fingers, twisting it, and then pull it open quickly. My eyes widen in surprise, my form still, frozen with shock.

"Hey Mona," a deep, masculine voice whispers to the wind, weaving its way towards my ears.

"What the crap are you doing here?" I demand, my voice sharp and shrill. Quickly, I remember that Mrs. Penn is just inside, and I shut the door behind me. Shifting my gaze back to the incredibly handsome man, I take in his beautiful eyes as they gaze at me, and me only.

"Walking with you to school," he grins, his expression absolutely breathtaking. His eyes are full of eagerness, reminding me of an energetic puppy when playing with its master. Joy races through his features, undaunted by my lack of a smile. In fact, I can't even disguise a scowl.

I begin walking down the sidewalk, him eagerly trotting by my side. After a few more unbearable moments of complying with Xavier's will, I turn to face him, my features indignant. "Go away," my voice bites at him, trying to chip away at his insufferable happiness. His grin, surprisingly, grows wider.

"Hey Mona... do you think I'm hot?"

I’m ashamed at the way an egotistical idiot can disarm me so effectively. For a few seconds, I resemble a goldfish, moving my lips without any sound coming out of them. My cheeks are beet red as I finally stammer out an unconvincing no.

He triumphantly grabs me, whirling me into a bear hug. "I knew it! Mona loves me!"

"NO!" I yell, trying to yank away from his death grip. Unsuccessful, I beat my hands against his muscled chest, trying to ignore the feel of his masculine arms around my waist. "I DON'T LOVE YOU! YOU’RE A STALKER! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME AND WHERE I LIVE?! WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME TO SCHOOL?!" I fire at him furiously, trying to keep my tomato-red cheeks under control.

"Well, first off, I'm not following you," he points out, "I'm walking with you." I shoot him a glare, hoping he will get the message, but he conveniently ignores it. "The reason why I know where you live and your name," he continues, "is because I happened to see you run home-"

"So you did follow me," I state dubiously.

"Well, then I did... but you said I was following you now..." he protests feebly, trailing off when he realizes that there is no point. I hide a teasing grin from bubbling to the surface. I don't want to encourage this man, no matter how attractive he might be. If I release one smile, one kind word, he will never leave me alone.

Coldly brushing past him, I walk faster, taking longer strides with my short legs. My medium length ruby red hair flows past my shoulders, pushed behind me by the roaring wind.

"Wow, you walk fast," he comments sweetly. His startling green eyes crinkle with enjoyment as he said, "I like walking fast too." He evenly matches my pace, completely defeating the purpose for speeding up in the first place.

This naive man really is insufferable.

But I have to admit once more, as I stare into his perfect face, that he is beautiful. His azure hair waves in the breeze, the sun catching random strands and making it sparkle. His plump, desirable lips give in to a flawless palette, a face that God must have specially crafted. A set of two intoxicating, amazingly green eyes rest below thin eyebrows and a wall of long, enviable eyelashes.

I can’t understand why he makes my heart beat so fast.

"Mona, I love you," he spurts, perking up after a long stretch of silence. Chills race up and down my arm. Is there no way out of this nightmare?

There is a whoosh, and a familiar pair of bronzed arms sweeps me up into a tender embrace. "You sure are clumsy," musical, manly chuckles escape Xavier as he stands me back up. I look up into his green eyes, so incredibly beautiful, feeling myself slipping.

No, I scold myself inwardly; don't let even a slip of vulnerability show. If you do, you will never be alone.

My face hardens as I speak, discontentment still in my tone. "You don't say that if you don't mean it," I whisper, knowing that he would hear me.

He just looks at me, confusion etching his face. "Of course I mean it, Mona," he says matter-of-factly, "you are my mate. Of course I love you."

"Can you shut up?!" I roar, my voice searing, "I hate you!" Once the words escape my mouth, I quickly look away so he will not see the blush. The real emotions boiling beneath the facade.

Time seems to be suspended between us, his hand still latching upon my arm, his face reeling in shock. However, this moment quickly ceases, and Xavier does what is considered impossible to do in this type of situation.

He smiles, his eagerness unrelenting. "This is something new. I have never heard of a mate not being in love with their destined one," he says softly.

"You know, Mona, hate is the first step to love.” His eyes grow fierce, determined. He steps closer to me, capturing me with his beautiful eyes.

“I will make you fall in love with me.” He takes my hand, and I am unable to resist him. I am frozen by his stare, his words. After holding my hand for a few seconds, he presses his lips to it and then releases me.

My hand burns from where his lips had brushed it.

He then smiles, as if he is actually looking forward to the time when I will finally accept him. Which, by the way, is never coming.

I glance his way, though refusing to meet his gaze. I am truly curious as to why he felt so determined to make me love him. It can't possibly be because he is attracted to me, for I am too ugly for that. It can't be because of my personality, for it is the worst I've observed so far in my lifetime.

I listen keenly as he begins to speak again. "You seem to believe that I'm a werewolf, not asking any questions about it after seeing me morph," he says softly, "it is usually hard to accept."

"Who says I believe it?" I scoff, turning away once more so he can't see my fiery cheeks. I mean, it is hard for me to not believe it, I saw him morph into one of those sharp-toothed, furry beasts. But I don’t want to accept it. I don't want to acknowledge that my life is suddenly spiraling out of control.

"Yes you do," he smiles, making my heart jump out of my chest, "I can see it in your eyes."

"Shut up," I demand, tilting my nose up slightly, though inwardly shaking with embarrassment. I have never talked to a boy, let alone a beautiful one, for this long. And on the very first long conversation I have with a guy, he professes to be in love with me?

This is seriously messed up.

Xavier peers at me, at my face hidden behind my thick bangs. "Did you have glasses in the forest where I rescued you?" he asked.

I nod in reply, "yes, but don't worry about trying to find it. I have this one," I finger my thick lenses. He seems unsatisfied, his facial expression of sadness.

"Like this," he comments sadly, "I can't see your cute eyes that well. Is there any way you could go without them?"

I shake my head, my cheeks flushing once more. He stops completely, bending down so he can be at my level. Quietly, halting me with a gentle touch, he observes me, examining my face. He frowns, his sparkling eyes creasing a little in disappointment. "Mona," he says, "you look very different from when I first met you."

Yeah, I think inwardly, probably you didn't realize how ugly I am until now. "Disappointed?" I ask scornfully.

"No," he smiles, "you are just as beautiful as you were yesterday."

I choke on my own breath, shock coursing through me. No one, let alone a shockingly handsome man, has ever called me beautiful, or even pretty.

"It's just," he complains, "that your bangs cover half of your face, and your glasses cover your eyes. It’s almost as if you’re hiding from me," His facial expressions bend in a frown.

I glare at him, my face now almost permanently red. This conversation really is introducing a lot of firsts for me, and a ton of embarrassment. "Oh really?" I ask, trying to make my voice indifferent, uninterested.

"Yeah," he says, deep in thought. We both are silent, walking together calmly, neither of us knowing exactly what to say next.

"Hey Xavier?" I finally speak, surprising Xavier a little. He glances at me, his face of bafflement at the fact that I am starting the conversation this time around.

"Yes?" he replies, "ask me anything." His face perks up a little.

There are so many questions I wish to ask him. For one, why is he insisting on calling me beautiful? What sort of lunatic man would think I am beautiful in the first place? Why the crap do werewolves actually exist?

But instead, this question just has to escape my lips. "Why don’t you just leave me alone?" I ask bitingly, mentally slapping myself in the face for wasting an opportunity to ask a better question.

However, Xavier doesn't seem to be as disappointed as I am. "You really want to know?" he warns, "even I don't truly know why, and what I do know might upset you."

I reel back in confusion. "Um, sure," I nod slowly. That was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but if he has an answer, I want to hear it.

"Okay," he says, "well, let me start off by saying that werewolves are very similar to wolves in that they have a very keen sense of smell."

"No duh," I murmur under my breath, earning a brief scowl from him.

"Work with me, okay?" he asks. I just nod again, dubious.

"A werewolf, in fact, has an even better nose in many ways. They are able to associate an individual person with their "signature" scent, an underlying smell every creature in the world has. They are all a little different, and never changes from the moment the creature is born," he explains slowly, his voice melodious and smooth.

"What does that have to do with-" I say, only to feel a single hand cover my moving lips. He looks at me, stunning me with his seriousness, tugging me to stay silent.

"Generally," he continues, "all humans have sweet smells. However, yours is extra attractive.

I have no idea why, but your aroma is very appealing to me."

"Is that because I am your mate?" I ask curiously. He shakes his head.

"It is not just a mating thing," he says, looking away. “This was even before I mated with you.” At my angle, I can see his beautifully blue hair, sparkling in the bright sun. As he ponders, his eyebrows narrow a little in deep concentration. Finally, he turns to me, his expression hard. "I don't know why, but I... can't stay away from you," he confesses, though with a straight face. His sparkling eyes look ashamedly at the floor, knowing that his words are not the ones I want to hear.

The world crumbles around me, hope obliterated.

"Are you saying that I am stuck with you for the rest of my life?" I ask miserably.

"I really don't know. That is why, after school, I am going to take you back to the mansion so we can find out."

"WHAT?!" I exclaim, my interjection scaring even the birds away. He looks at me, his emerald eyes creasing in sorrow.

"I knew you wouldn't be happy," he comments, his face reflecting my own, "but we both have to work through this. Maybe, in some way, my friends can help." He grabs me once more for a spine-crushing hug, sending electricity through my body. "Why can't you be more accepting of me?" he complains, his voice teasing, "am I not lovable enough?" His face perks up immediately, his tone changing slightly.

Not knowing quite what I am doing, I raise my hand as if to slap him. I bring my hand rushing forward to meet his arrogant cheek, only to be stopped by a blur of movement.  "You have to do better than that," Xavier grins, "if you want to slap a werewolf." He pulls me closer, his hot breath dawdling on my cheek. "Here is your punishment," he places one muscled hand on my chin, tilting my head up slightly. My heart beats faster as he brushes his plump lips across my blushing cheeks.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I yowl, jumping away from his smirking form. Quickly I race away from him, my voice high and screeching. He just smiles at the obvious discontentment hiding underneath my anger. Without a word, he meanders ahead of me, never looking back.

For he knows I will follow.

***

Matherson Public School creeps upon us until we can see its brick walls and rather drab surroundings. It looms above its students, standing two full stories tall, casting a shadow upon their forms. Weeds sprout in little bursts all over the premises, grass untamed and wild. All in all, it is the rehashed image of a normal high school that stands to be many students' second home.

Xavier pauses so I can finally catch up to him, assuming that my anger would have cooled down by this point. As I unwillingly head to his side, forced by my probable tardiness, I spy his excited face. "Why are you so happy, wolfboy?" I snap, my voice harsh and abrasive. My bangs droop in front of my eye as I slump slightly, shifting into my regular position when I'm around people at school.

He peers at me strangely. "Why are you slumping? I thought you had perfect posture," he inquires quietly. I frown, my eyes narrowing.

"None of your business," I curtly say, looking away from him, "answer my question instead of asking your own."

Xavier seems unaffected even though I've treated him so rudely, an action, or rather, lack of action I have come to predict from him. "Well, you sure did taste good," he smiles brightly, winking at my form. I boil, my eyes now in a

squint. Once again, Xavier just looks on, oblivious to my anger and embarrassment. I wonder how he so conveniently shuts out my reluctance, innocently disregarding it.

Suddenly, all conniption evaporates as I survey the huge clock situated on the front of the monotonous school. "Crap!" I yell, watching the second hand tick towards the 12, prompting the minute hand to gravitate towards its next number. I grab Xavier's hand, dragging him along with surprising force. As I run, I spurt out, "Xavier, if not for you I would have gotten to school on time! I can't be late... I can't..."

The doors snap shut as I slide to meet it, barring my way.

I hang my head in utter defeat, my eyes staring towards the floor in shame. I am late. Ms. Penn is going to kill me. I should have just died yesterday.

I forget that I'm even holding Xavier's hand until he grips it tightly; sending electric sparks throughout my body. I hate the fact that I am so aware of him, the smallest touch alerting me and making butterflies flutter in my stomach. Why can't I just avoid him? Why can't I hate him with all of my energy instead of harboring this little feeling of admiration for his beauty and perseverance?

A portly lady with a stomach the size of a beach ball walks up to the glass, staring at our forms. Her practically nonexistent eyebrows–obviously they have been plucked too much–rise as she surveys Xavier's glistening blue hair and sparkling green eyes. Wordlessly she swings the door open, not lifting her gaze from his magnificence.

"Who are you?" she queries, her mouth almost dropping to her knees. He cracks a million dollar smile, melting the woman into slush on the cold floor.

"My name is Xavier, and this is Mona, my ma-" he begins, only to wince as I squeeze his hand in a deathly grip.

"Well, hello Xavier," she grins, her dull, coal black eyes glistening as she absorbs his masculine features. "I haven't seen you before. Are you new?" she inquires, completely ignoring me.

"Yes ma'am," he confirms, "Mona came with me to show me around the school." The fat lady finally turns her laser like gaze upon my form, her eyes narrowing as she takes me in.

"You aren't new, correct?" she asks coldly. I nod in response, not opening my mouth for this witch. "You will be counted tardy," she informs me, my eyes widening in alarm at her words. I yank my hand away from Xavier, feeling a sudden burst of anger.

"Please, miss," Xavier says pleadingly, "she was just telling me about the school, and we lost track of the time... it is my fault." His touch is now comforting, filling me with warmness even I can barely comprehend.

The woman now is flustered, I can tell, torn between her disgust with me and her obvious liking of the beautiful man beside me. Finally, she replies, "okay, if that is all. Please don't do this again. Consider this to be a warning."

Xavier flashes another heart-melting grin, stunning us both, although I desperately try to fight it. "Thank you," he bows, taking her hand and brushing his lips across it.

I can't explain the anger flooding through me at that moment. I hate him. I want him to disappear.

He elegantly stands straight as the woman embarrassedly orders us to follow. Her face is flushed as she wobbles down the hallway, obviously affected by his alluring gentlemanliness.

Xavier chuckles a little, grabbing my hand once again as we follow her. I jerk my hand away again, anger rushing through me. "Don't touch me!" I demand. Now there is full-out laughter. I shake with irascibility, my emotions running hot through my veins.

"Mona, you are jealous, aren't you?" he asks. I try desperately to contain the blushes, but it still spreads all over my cheeks. I don’t understand why I am behaving this way. "Don't worry," he whispers, leaning in, his breath dancing across my ear, "I will only kiss you from now on." His intimacy distracts me, destroying my defenses. Briefly, I enjoy his sugar sweet words, his flattering promise.

Then I remember that I hate him.

"As if I'd let you," I snap at him, carefully veiling my guilty pleasure. He seems to sense it, though, a smile stretching across his features.

"I didn't know that you would come to love me so quickly!" he says happily, only to receive a jab in the stomach.

"No you idiot!" I protest angrily. However, my feeble comebacks are useless against his unrelenting grin and assurance that I am in love with him.

The lady leads us both to a tiny, narrow door. "This is where you will get your information," she directs Xavier, a hint of redness still dusting her plump cheeks. With a flirty smile, she says, "I am the school nurse, Mrs. Teal. Please come to me if you ever need anything." Walking away, she deliberately sways her hips, hoping that the enticing man will watch her.

I am ashamedly happy to say he doesn't.

Xavier grins at me, and then swings the door open so that we both can enter. The most cluttered, disorganized place I have seen in my entire life lies before me, shocking me still. "Wow," I whisper as I survey the mess: the collage of papers, staples, pens, and sticky notes that buries everything else.

Reclining right behind the disastrous disorder is a stick-thin, rather short lady with a beehive hairdo that climbs about seven inches into the air. It is a masterpiece, reminding me slightly of those wigs in the medieval times, and rather typical of an elderly woman like her.

Her voice is nothing short of hysterical. "Hello children," she squeaks like a mouse, her words almost indistinguishable, "how may I help you?"

Xavier once again takes the lead, leaving me cowering in his shadow. "I am new here," he informs her, flashing a smile at the minuscule, shriveled up plant that just happens to have a voice and a towering hairdo.

Her facial expressions unchanging, she reaches down to the floor to pick up some forlorn papers. "Ah, the new student. I have your schedule in this stack... somewhere..." she comments as she places the pile in her lap. A truly monstrous pack of papers… I wonder how she can possibly sort through all that junk.

However, in a record time of three seconds flat, she whips out a thin sheet of paper, distributing it to Xavier as we look at her in complete and total surprise. The lady glances at our faces, unblinkingly. "You need some passes, correct?" she inquires quickly, shuffling through the papers like lightning. After another blindingly fast search, she pulls out five or six passes and hands it to him.

"Thank you, Mrs...." Xavier searches the lady's clothing for a name tag, "Miss Lori." There is a slight, almost undetectable crease in her forehead as she turns to her computer, annoyance flickering in her features. We stand for a minute, and then Xavier pulls on my hand. "Come on, let's go," he urges, dragging me out of the doorway.

When we finally escape the messy room, I burst into laughter. Xavier tries to compose himself, but soon he is chuckling with me. "Her voice..." I nearly moan, drowning in a fit of giggles, "her hairdo..." When the crap did I start to laugh with him? What is wrong with me?

"Now Mona," Xavier gently chastises, "let's not make fun of others..."

"Look at you," I tease, "striving to be the perfect gentleman." I get swept into laughter, temporarily forgetting myself.

"Shut up." In one swoop, he swings me into his arms, cradling me in his firm embrace. His arms surround me, squeezing me tightly. "I'm your gentleman," he laughs, "and I won't let you go until you admit it."

Alarm, awareness, and pure electricity shoots through my body all at once as I realize how close he is to me. His grin is inches from mine, his breath dancing on my cheek.

If I tilt my head towards his even slightly, I could taste his warm, fresh lips.

Quickly I hold myself back before I give into temptation, resistance regaining. I remind myself once again that I hate him. I am not supposed to get along with this crazy, beautiful man. I stiffen, rebuilding the walls around my heart as quickly as they had fallen.

I also notice that we are in the middle of the school hallway.

He seems to suddenly notice my hesitation, and asks quietly, "what's wrong, Mona?"

I look away from him as I emit these next few words, each one harsh and bitter. "Let me go," I demand, my voice firm.

I am afraid to look into his eyes, lest they betray the truth to him.

He releases me, and I step away from him, my head still bowed. "What happened?" he persists, "you were just fine a few seconds ago-"

"Let's just get you to class," I mutter, not wanting to listen to his dissection of our previous conversation, trying to seed out the offensive words he must have said. Swiftly I snatch the paper out of his reedy hands, observing it closely. Xavier stares at me with a forlorn expression as I avoid his gaze.

"You," my eyes widen, "idiot!" I whirl on him, anger pulsating through my veins. I grip the paper tightly in my hands, until it nearly crumples in my fingertips. "Why do you have the EXACT same schedule as me?" I ask furiously. My face crinkles in annoyance at his stalker-like attitude.

"Well, I might have asked..." he trails off, whistling as he looks away.

Why can't he leave me alone?

I mean, he is my "mate", but seriously... I need some privacy, some time away from this madness. My blood starts to boil, but I quickly calm down.

"Okay then," I reply with a robotic voice, emotionless, "come right this way." I turn, starting the trek through the maze of hallways and rooms towards our first class. As I pass him, I let the schedule drop from my grasp, allowing it to hit the ground with a thud.

Xavier stops to pick it up, a smile on his face.

There is the pounding of feet as he scrambles to meet me, but I just brush him off, ignoring his energetic words. "Mona," he says ecstatically, "let's go on a date tonight. You want to?"

Ha. As if.

"What about never?" I scoff.

A muscled hand snatches my wrist, whirling me around to face him. "Mona," he firmly states, "you will fall in love with me. No matter how hard you try to make me go away, I will not give up." Each word he speaks is full of authority, of pure determination. His eyes grow dark as they narrow, the full implications of his words hitting me hard. My life is changing... has changed... forever. I will never be alone again.

I stand back in shock as I survey him, taking in his beauty. He looks completely different now, more dangerously handsome than cutely naive.

This was just like before, when he said the same thing on the way to school.

Right now, he looks like the wolf.

Suddenly, his intensity drops, and he once again beams a wonderful smile. "So how about a date, Mona?" he asks once more. I look at him finally, taking in his masculine perfection, the social climbs I might make if I am by his side.

"No," I shake my head, though the corner of my mouth tips up, the hint of a grin occurring.

"Please, Mona?" he begs, his lips in a tempting pout. I just look straight ahead, firm in my decision. He smiles even brighter, pestering me even more. Irritation and a strange, unfamiliar emotion shoot through me. Is it... excitement?

Life surely is going to be interesting with this blue-haired man around.