Author's Note
Updates will be sparse on Wattpad for this book, and not just because I am posting on Radish. My life sorta got really busy all of a sudden. I'm taking a step back and sorta just enjoying my senior year 'fore I leave for college in August. Plus I have no idea what I'm going to be as an adult.
Thank you for your patience. Please, please read on Radish. Chapter six is available now. :-)
The bedroom suffocates Dove. From where she sits on the edge of the mattress, far enough to escape the body heat of a half-naked Eli stretched out and ready to sleep, she taps impatiently at her phone, writing text after text to Sonya, attempting to explain how everything about the manor-in-the-middle-of-nowhere inexplicably drove her stir crazy.
Greaaat so ur staying in a house full of wolves. BTW, what do I tell ur mom when ur gutted body is found tomorrow morning?
Dove holds her breath, reading over the dramatic text as she stands up. Eli doesn't even notice, instead, his focus remains on the smartphone inches from his face. With a quick once-over of the room, Dove realizes the two bright screens in each teenager's hand has become the only source of light in the room.
not funny. wolves aren't even that bad. God you sound like one of those speciesist old men from town.
The phone buzzes as Sonya replies almost instantaneously.
Wolf is not bad. Wolf is alone, wolf is not aggressive or territorial or jarred on by other murder machines. WOLVeS aRE LiTERALLY PACKS OF KiLLERS, DoVE.
The teenager rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the bedroom door, her hand wrapped around the original brass knobs that creaked at her touch. Sonya double-texts before Dove has a chance to reply.
GOD, ITS LIKE IM THE ONLY ONE WHO PAYS ATTENTION IN LYCANTHROPE I.
She manages a smile, because her friend is simply being dramatic for the sake of a laugh-- she thinks.
"Where you goin'?" Somewhere behind her, Eli's voice only asks out of boredom and not curiosity, watching her over the screen of his phone with blue eyes framed with dark circles. Maybe it's the hour of night. Maybe it's from recounting lies and fitting them almost-seamlessly together. Maybe she doesn't care-- so she doesn't answer, and instead, takes a step out of the room without offering anything to the other teenager.
Not fair, Lycan I was literally just added this year.
She hovers in the hallway, silent aside for the tapping of her thumbs on the screen, and sends another message before she crosses to the other side of the empty corridor.
plus he's cute. I'm doing this mainly cause he's sex on legs. if you were in my position, you'd be doing the same thing.
She doesn't even have the chance to take in the bathroom door in front of her before Sonya blows her phone up with an instant reply.
if i were in ur position i'd be praying to our lord and savior, Jesus Christ. Here, do you need some links to his word? The Bible is an app now, download it and throw ur phone at his perfect face-- see if he burns.
That manages to pull an air-light chuckle out of Dove's mouth; she shoves the phone in the hem of her underwear-- which is the only piece of fabric that covers her freckled, sorta-hairy-because-why-the-hell-not legs. She'll reply after she washes off the makeup on her face-- which, by now, seems like it's been glued on for three hours too long.
The bathroom feels freezing, which isn't surprising; as far as Dove can tell, modern air and heating is a concept that hasn't been introduced to the century-old manor. Her hands pat around the wall blindly before she finds the switch, and as she turns it on, she learns it's only a weak, flickering light hanging hazardously from the tiled ceiling on a thin wire.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Lungs
Werewolf"No, you have it wrong," she whispers in a voice light enough to mistake for empty wind; her hands frame either side of his clenching jaw, tightening until they stop trembling. "I am the wolf." * Seventeen year-old Dove Ramsay is doomed, or at least...
