Every half century in a small little town hidden in the woods, a beast comes out from the forest to claim his bride on the night of an eclipse. The people of call this phenomenon "the taking". This beast is said to be very dangerous. It roams door to door searching for the woman whose being calls to his animal instincts. He will kill, mutilate and destroy everything in his path until he finds his bride. In the past, the townsmen have tried to hunt the creature and kill him before they can steal one of their marriageable daughters, but the beast does not hunt alone. He has followers among the shadows to make sure his goal is accomplished. Once he finds his bride, he carries her back to the forest where she is never seen or heard from again. Celeste believes this so-called "legend" is just some scary fairytale her grandmother made up to scare her. But was she ever wrong when a pair of moonlit eyes stared straight at her through her bedroom window and entered her room. Next thing she knew, she was being carried out the house and into the woods by a half-naked man who called her his. Who would have thought? Grandma wasn't crazy after all. Young Adult novel. Paranormal/Comedy-Romance @2014

"Close your eyes." he croaked, I did as I was told without any disobedience. "Have you any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?" I shook my head in reply. "Badly, so fucking badly." he whispered as his harsh breath fanned across my cheek. Dark haired and tattooed, Xavier looked like the ultimate bad boy...but weren't bad boys meant to have that boyish charm? The thing is, Xavier was extremely guarded, hot headed and quite frankly, scary. In fact, Xavier was many things but romantic and loving wasn't two of them. He was a building half built, a puzzle with half of the pieces missing... Until he met me. Warning: Bad language (lots of). A possessive delinquent that is guaranteed to make you smile (or cry.)

I was the 6th-grade "slut." And I kept a diary. So I decided to create The UnSlut Project in the hopes that my own diary entries could provide some perspective to girls who currently feel trapped and ashamed. I am publishing these entries one at a time, without changing a single word except for the names of the people involved. My limited commentary, which is confined to brackets in each entry, is meant to provide the relief of my current perspective, fifteen years later. The UnSlut Project: Working to undo the dangerous slut shaming in our schools, communities, media, and culture by sharing knowledge and experiences.

❝She kills without second thought.❞ • Micajah's PoV: "Ah!" I shout out in pain, unable to hold it in any longer. I clutch my hand to my injured leg and cry out desperately when another blow is landed to my other leg. Tears of pain gather in the corners of my eyes, and I curl into a ball of humiliation, trying to shield myself from the bullies. "You worthless piece of shit," He says menacingly, his muddy brown eyes set in a hard glare aimed at me. I flinch when I see Chance pulling back his fist, raising my arms in defense. But to my utter surprise, the blow never comes. Instead, a sickening 'crunch' resonates through the hallway, surprising me. I tentatively open my eyes once again, cautiously peeking from behind raised arms. What- or more correctly who I see takes my breath away, every fiber of my being stirring at the incandescent sight. There, standing there like an avenging angel over the groaning body of Chance in the floor is a girl. But 'girl' would be too simple of a word to describe her. Her red hair flows down in luscious curls, framing her heart-shaped face, which is set in a furious scowl. Her feline eyes are a stormy grey, the electricity in them, static. Her sharp, straight nose accenting her full pink lips that are shaped like a cupid's bow with such a perfection, giving her an ethereal look. No, the person before me is not a girl. She's a Goddess. The jocks bow their heads in submission, murmurs of "Alpha," passing around the group. My Wolf gets agitated and keeps on saying something but I ignore his persistent calls, as my fogged brain is unable to register anything except the exotic beauty standing before me. Her steel grey eyes roam around the circle in one swift movement before they settle on me, darkening, yet instantly softening at the same time. Finally, her pink lips part to let one word escape them, the one word that changes my life. "Mine," • Completed ✔️ MICAJAH IS A GUY's NAME #5 in WEREWOLF #1 in TEEN FICTION