The Moonlight Mates: A Tale Of Unseen Bound

almost of its own accord. The world outside was silent, or at least what I had thought, but inside my headphones, the vibrant beat

ne, transporting me back to when I was nine years old, when I went camping with Father in the Green Woodbery forest, Silver Spri

that. I don't know why I don't remember

when he passed away from cancer when I was twelve ye

ld, and we have nothing in common except that we're sisters. She is overly manipulative and a white liar. She never mis

efore. They were vivid and intense, a shade of blue so deep it was almost surreal. I had never seen e

my hand moving with a mind of its own. The eyes on the paper stared back at me, their gaze as piercing as the one in

his blue eyes, a blue, his eyes were. Like the center of a flame, as though some internal fu

nd came out from behind me and snatched the sketc

lief when I saw Connell, standing holding my sketchbook. My heart skipped a beat. My body froze like a sta

him with respect and kindness, understanding each person. But in reality, I hate him to the core of my heart. He is a pathological liar. Narcissistic to the max and beyond. Can’t speak

best, the greatest, the “very, very” of everything attainable by a human being, almost to the point of asserting that he’s a god. He has a

erous, luscious way, and he had them on me as if he coveted me more than anything or anyone else in this world. I sensed his gaze falling upon me time and time again. My heart pounded more than it s

is hand reached out for my headphones which I was still wearing, and he gently removed them and put them o

ly voice. While looking at my sketchbook, 'Curly Bell', he gave me this nickname the first time he led his filthy eyes on me because of my

in anger while trying to snatch it from his hand, but he was so clever he raised h

voice at him and his eyes turned red, and

learn from your previous mistakes, but it seems you're as obstinate as a mole. However, being a good frien

as unpredictable as a tempest at sea. I was aware that he was attempting to frighten me, to use my fears against me. He's an expert at psychological manipulation. One moment, he's as sweet as candy. The next, he's cons

d and attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm, preventing me

ed, attempting to wriggle my wrist free from his grasp. He pulled me against him and I m

in my ear. Terror had me all for a moment, and it ravaged me, and when it was finished, shock had its way through me, and left them cold

tched at my throat like some terrible beast, and suddenly I was finding it difficult to breathe. But

cceptance letter from her. How would I justify this to my mother? She would never accept my explanation. This time, she wo

r him to intercept him before it was too late. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum as I dashed downstairs, my feet b