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Ava had enough, as she slowly seek to die but something happens that change her life!
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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.

The Wolf wouldn't Let Me Go!

"Sure. Why not?" he replies, drawing humor from the fact that I actually want his food. The corner of his mouth turns up as he shoves his whole tray towards me, my eyes lighting up as I realize that I just might have enough to eat today. I start in on this new bit of food, focusing on the warmth it will give in my stomach, not the nasty taste it offers.


I feel despicable. I even had to ask the wolfboy for food.


"Thank you," I tilt my head slightly, knowing that I seem like a starving animal. The pull for food, however, is more powerful than any other force, and that is the one driving me right now.


"Does that... orphanage not give you any food?" he probes, a little angrily. I just stare at him, unwilling to tell him the answer. A furious light is in his eyes, anger in his tone. "Ava," he says firmly, "don't eat that." He grabs both trays, standing up and putting them in the disposal. As he troops back over to me, dozens of hungry eyes follow him, annoying me immensely for some strange reason.


I can feel tons of stares on my own back as well. Many whispers erupt around me, probably along the lines of "the loser shouldn't be sitting by that hot guy," or "let's bet to see how long it will be before he ditches her." Subconsciously, I slump a little, hoping their gazes will eventually leave me. But they linger, stirring up my discomfort and their jeers.


Lucas passes me and disappears through the doors, leaving me stranded on our island for two. I suddenly realize that I now feel terribly lonely, more than I could have anticipated. Is this how I usually feel when I'm eating in the lunchroom alone? Two days ago, before all this stuff happened, feels almost like a distant memory.


After a couple of agonizing minutes, Lucas enters the lunchroom again carrying two trays of steaming hot steak. He walks to my side, placing one tray in front of me and one in front of his seat. My mouth hits my knees as I examine the food. Steak is my favorite type of food—a delicacy that I developed a taste for in childhood—and this one looks especially delicious.


"Thank you so much," I say gushingly, breaking out into a smile. I take the silver knife beside the steak and dig in, wondering just how he managed to get this yummy food.


He just stares at me as I gobble down the delicious meat, a tiny smile on his face. "Don't thank me," he says quietly, "just be happy."


"Oh, I am," I reassure him as I delve my fork deeper into the delicious entree.


"Obviously the way to your heart is through food," Lucas laughingly comments. In a moment of vulnerability, I laugh with him, my voice carrying across the room.


Then I remember that I am not supposed to even smile in Lucas's presence.


However, I have no time to wipe off my grin, for the biggest fish in the sea is swimming our way. In other words, Sidney Richards, two of her girls following behind her as backup. I don't even know their names, nor does most of the school's population. They are just known as Sidney's girls, only good for fake laughs and compliments. Just what Sidney needs.


She troops over to us from her royal throne, flipping her blonde hair back from her face every few seconds, confidently strutting in her five-inch tall golden pumps. With a skirt about five inches above the dress code requirements and a blouse with a bit too many buttons undone, she has successfully secured the stares of every boy in school.


Chapter 12