Bite Me

Chapter 3

I stormed all the way home. I'd left my car at school because I rode with Cella to her house, and I didn't feel like going back to the school to get it. Plus, I needed a good walk to calm my nerves, because I wasn't quite sure how I was feeling. Obviously, I was angry—that came with any interaction with Mason. But I was also so, so confused. Ever since I'd first seen him, something in my body repulsed me, as if we were two magnets with their north poles facing each other.

But when he'd been so close, it was as if one of the magnets flipped to reveal its south pole. I was horribly drawn to him in a way I couldn't explain. Or, well, to his blood at least. I'd never felt such a strong desire to bite.

I was so lost in thought, I nearly walked past my house. That was hard to do, given that it was absolutely massive.

It wasn't really my house. I lived there, I called it home, but it belonged to too many people for me to call it mine.

The mansion was more or less in the middle of nowhere. It was basically in the center of a forest; there weren't any other houses or buildings for at least a mile. The house itself was shrouded by a veil of trees so tall and thick, it was always dark when I looked out the window.

     When I entered, the living room was surprisingly vacant. Usually there was some sort of commotion going on—a house with fifty inhabitants was rarely empty. Now, though, the common room was strangely silent.

     It didn't take long to realize why. The room wasn't completely silent after all. Farther off, nearer to the kitchen, I could hear the bickering voices of my father and my brother. Nobody ever wanted to be around when those two went at it.

     I crossed the huge living room until their voices were coming from just around the corner and pressed my back against the wall so as to not get caught.

    "We need to attack! Don't you see? We can't be living so near to them and expect peace! If we don't make a move, they will," I heard my brother say.

     "So far, the only one who seems to have war on their mind is you," my father argued. His voice had always intimidated me, but it never seemed to faze Cedric.

     "You're being blind!"

    "You're being foolish!"

     "How can you just sit there knowing that, a few miles away, a pack of lycanthropes could be plotting against us? They're werewolves, father! They're devious and malicious and—"

     "Enough!" I heard my father bellow. "I'm not sure where your obsession with the wolves comes from, but it ends now! They are our enemies, but as long as they stay put, we will not interfere with them. Do you understand?"

      I knew that even Cedric wasn't daring enough to say more at that point, but I also knew that he wasn't about to give up so easily. He would drop it for now, but it would come up again.

     Cedric's hatred for lycanthropes was no secret. Anytime he could, he expressed his despise. True, we all hated them—it was part of our being—but none of us were as extreme as he. If he could, he'd wipe out the entire race.

     I hadn't known that a pack moved into the city. The idea of wolves roaming around nearby wasn't one that settled well with me, but I could only imagine how enraged Cedric must've been feeling.

    I jumped from the wall when Cedric appeared around the corner, fuming. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he noticed me. "Were you listening?" He hissed.

    I picked my words carefully; an angry Cedric was not one to be messed with. "No, not really, I just got here. I heard you mention werewolves, though. What's that about?" I asked, pretending not to know.