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Mooncallers - Werewolf romance

Derek Hale inspired werewolf romance. Complete but posting few chapters each day... To escape her abusive past, Ava Clarke abandons her career as a scientist to help out at her grandma's hardware store in the small town of Pagosa Springs. Kade Kole is drawn to the new arrival, but he doesn't need the enticing distraction, not from a human, not if he's to keep his respected position in his pack. But it becomes clear Ava isn't quite what she seems, and they're forced to work together, combining their unique abilities to fight the threat of rivals packs. Can they resist the dangerous attraction growing between them? When other werewolves learn of Ava's dormant powers and threaten her life, will Kade finally have something else to fight for? Some steamy parts, not explicit for here.

Mizzy_Kay · Urban
Not enough ratings
9 Chs

Chapter 4

Ava

I opened my closet and was about to grab my pajamas, but decided I wanted to feel feminine and sexy tonight. Not for anyone else; just for me. I was back to dressing how I wanted, not how Trent dictated. I could have my hair up in a messy bun if I wanted to. I could leave the house without makeup and not feel naked. Trent used to tell me I looked like death warmed up when I didn't wear lipstick

I slid the lilac silk-and-lace chemise off the hanger, stripped off and stepped into it. The fabric was gentle on my thighs and stomach. It was soothing. I knew I was going to have a good night's sleep because of it.

The fabric just covered my butt. I turned and admired it in the mirror - all that yoga had paid off. The front was loosely fitted but hugged my breasts, giving me an admirable cleavage. I let my hair down and finger combed it from my face. As I looked in the mirror, though, I remebered Trent's reaction to me leaving him, his tight clench around my wrist. The bruise mark was still there, like a souvenir. I felt so lost, I wasn't sure what I was really doing here.

When I was done feeling sorry for myself, I went to the washroom to splash cold water on my face, then brushed my teeth and applied some lip balm on my cracked lips.

"You can do this," I said to my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. "You're still young enough to start again." I smiled at myself like my therapist had taught me to. As usual, it felt contrived and out of place.

The man from the store came to mind. I imagined him wondering if I was the same person he'd seen earlier. He would think I was her twin, but washed-out and ready for the reject bin. I wasn't going down without a fight, I reminded myself. Tomorrow I would make myself up again, dress well, and hide how miserable I was on the inside.

I slipped into bed and set the alarm clock for six a.m. It definetly beat my 4 a.m. shifts at the lab.

Another perk.

I switched off the lamp and laid down, trying not to think of the man from the store, but he kept slipping through my restraint—his steel-gray eyes, his taut lips, his sensual mouth telling me to stay away from him as I drifted off to a world of nothing.