#College romance #Fated Mates #Enemies to Lovers
Wereball.
Where werewolf packs battle head-to-head in the ultimate show of pride and honour. The crowds are manic, the wolves are rough, and rivalries run deep, but perhaps none deeper than between C...
Walking or running over the endless sea of roofs, a forest of chimneys of different sizes and heights, has always been a liberating activity for me. As a werewolf, I enjoyed darting through verdant forests with real trees all around, in the middle of pristine nature with fresh air whipping my fur. As a medical student, I often didn't have the time for it.
Death never rested, so neither did I.
Because of my busy schedule, I had replaced the typical run in the woods with a more urban version while creating something familiar to hold on to. A forest of chimneys and pipes that stretched for 'hectares' on the roofs of the endless university buildings.
AN / I was inspired by the scene of Mary Poppins, when the chimneysweep danced and sang on the rooftops of London!)
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As I darted through the maze of bricks, soot and concrete, jumping to avoid protruding pieces of iron, I meditated on recent events. Better yet, recent discoveries.
Could a were-being like me experience extremely contrasting emotions all at once?
Could a single heart be happy, moody, hyperactive and nervous all at the same time?
At that point, I didn't even know if I had a stomach left as the ravenous butterflies had probably devoured it all given how nervous I had been since that same afternoon. Since crossing paths with my own mate.
Logan, known by most as 'The Terminator' and future Alpha of Dark Diamond, was my mate. The other piece of my heart. Funny how the person most hated by my pack was also the one who supposedly had to love me. He was probably the best Were-ball player out there, renowned as a cheater, a player and the guy who always won, no matter what it took. He was also a terribly angry and an occasionally violent mate, evident by what I'd witnessed today at the Were-ball Event.
For a microsecond, my mind contemplated why people called him 'Thor'. Sure, he was blond, gigantic and had some resemblance to the superhero with the hammer. Surely, the hole he had left in the wall could be comparable to what Thor's hammer would have done...
I ran out of adjectives to describe his levels of beauty.
But Thor was a good hero; compassionate, tolerant, with strong moral codes and who fought against evil and injustice.
Instead, my mate looked more like a fallen angel, or rather an angel who had been cast out of the celestial worlds. It was thought he'd been sent to Earth to pierce hearts and bring poor mortals to their knees either through punching them in the face or his inhuman beauty.
'Thor' was probably a Were-ball nickname invented by the members of his pack. Like 'Alpha Mel' for my twin.
Speaking of twins, that was another werewolf with a certain temper!
