Blindly His [DISCONTINUED]

~ Twelve ~

I'm trying to make longer chapters so here you go! (Should I put word counts at the top of the chapter? Let me know in the comments!) 

Btw this is the longest chapter I have ever written so please remember to vote, comment, and share! <3

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Chapter Twelve: 

Forgetting about my ribs, I sat upright quickly, the stinging sensation causing me to almost scream. "Who is it?" Cayden asked calmly, almost...too calm. I bit my lip stiffly, hearing my heart beat out of my chest. The air smelled of ash, which confused me. Who would be having a fire at this moment? 

"Vampires, Sir. And rogues. They demand we give Luna Sky to them." The man replied panicked, I imagined him as a tiny man, with sharper features, bony, and with chestnut colored hair, although that was all based off of how he sounded. 

Cayden let out an animalistic growl, before standing abruptly. "Do you know why they want her?" He asked quietly, anger evident in his voice. 

All notion of sleep was abandoned from my mind when I heard a gun shot followed by a loud scream echo through the house. Hisses were followed by another scream of pain and terror. With a sharp intake of breath I stood up from the bed, my legs shaking slightly. "So what do we do?" I asked ever-so-calmy, although I'm sure everyone in the room could hear my heart pounding against my ribcage like a drum. I was in a room with werewolves, heck...they'd probably know my blood type...wait no...that's vampires. Shit. 

"We have no time to get you out of here. Sky, you're going to stay directly behind me and if I don't feel you touching my back, my wolf is going to go crazy. So. Stay. Behind. Me." Cayden said  forecfully, before grasping my hand and shoving it to where his back was.  I nodded slowly, biting my chapped lips and stepped foreward keeping my hand placed on his back. I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by "his wolf". 

He led us towards a bright light, like a beacon in the darkness. The outside. It's ray's shone in my face and made me feel warm and tingly, as if I hadn't seen the sun in months. It was a euphoric thing, something you rarely felt, like taking a shower after working in the mud.

"Sky dear, don't get too dirty or else you're going to have to take a shower." My mother called after me, her eyes watching warily as I threw the mud into the air and giggled running into it. "Yes mommy." I replied, rubbing the mud on my skin. It was grainy, wet, brown, and reminded me of poop, which made me giggle more. 

It had always been like that during the hot summer days, when the sun cascaded upon my most likely sunburnt back. My friends would gather with me in my parents backyard and spray the hose everywhere making it the cleaner reality of a literal pigsty. My mother would sit upon her lawn chair of a thrown and reign over us with her watchful gaze, before of course, going back down to read To Kill A Mockingbird for the fiftieth time. She loved that book like she loved me,  turning the pages softly, rereading the page over and over before continuing to the next as if she hadn't been ogling Harper Lee's handiwork.  I had agreed, even if I couldn't read very well, that it was a masterpiece that deserved my mothers tender care. It's worn pages were stained yellow, the front cover non-existent and the smell of old books encircled it. 

The hot summer sun was like a dream, a dream all of us children had, to play in the sun all day sleep and repeat. That was our only dream at that point, and we basked in it. 

Water shot up in the air, giggles erupting from our mouths as we were splashed and covered with the mud that we played with. It was a beautiful memory, one I was never to forget. Our giggles echoing in the air, my mothers hair shimmering under the smelting sun, her sunhat flopping placed upon her head, and the fun we had each summer since we could all walk.