Next Chap!

:P

"My girl (my girl, my girl)

Talkin' 'bout My Girl (my girl)"

~My Girl by The Temptations

Chloe's face shimmers in candlelight, the only source of light in the black void around us, her face intensified in beauty by the golden flames. Her strawberry blonde hair is braided to the side, strings of it too short to be contained, flies around her angelic face. She smiles secretly at me, her eyes shining brilliantly and glowing in their aquamarine color.

I smile back at her, in what Chloe calls my crooked smile. She gives off a tinkling laugh and grabs my hand, pulling both of ours up to her face. I look down at our hands, encircled together tightly. My huge, tanned, werewolf hand engulfed her small, cream colored, boney, Necromancer one. Two total different hands, two total different worlds and species. And yet, they look like they match together like puzzle pieces.

My chest tightens, and I look back up to her face as she studies me intensely, searching my face for something. And then, I guess, finding it because she smiles again, her eyes twinkling brighter.

She reaches for my face with her free hand and cups my cheek, and with swift movement, she pulls me down to her level, roughly crashing her lips to mine. Instinctly, since I am part wolf after all, I grab her waist with my free hand and pull her closer to my chest. She kisses me hard, her lips tasting like vanilla and honeysuckle, so lively and sweat, such a shocking difference from what her powers entitles.

I kiss her back as roughly as she is kissing me, until I have to brake and pull her up to my level, my body no longer able to take the strain of bending so lowly. Her hand wraps around my neck as she opens her eyes to me, mouth smirking. Well I guess she was smirking; I kissed her again too quickly to tell.

. She shudders as our different body temperatures combine even more; mine hot and hers cold, putting even more emphasis on our differences. Just like how you begin a storm with the differences in temps, sparks seem to fly all around us, my low growling acting as thunder.

Her scent surrounds me, incapacitating me. I breathe hard, having to break again, and rest my head on her forehead, trying to catch some air.

Crashing noise goes off in the distance. I ignore it though, keeping my attention fully on Chloe; on this moment.

Chloe lifts her head, smiling again. She kisses me one time on the lips, quick but lovingly, the softness of her lips leaving a lingering longing sensation on mine.

The crashing noise gets louder, someone yelling now. I push away the noise.

Chloe opens her mouth to say something and-

"No!"

I jump out of bed, eyes flashing open, covers falling off of me, as my mind tries to comprehend what just happened.

Why did Chloe- dream Chloe- scream no? What went wrong? What did I do?

CRASH!

The loud noise echoes and vibrates through my head and sensitive ears. I jump out of bed, breaking into to a fighting stance.

"Leave."

I pause in place, listening to that voice; Chloe's voice and her cold tone.

Something is wrong. Why is there always something wrong?

A growl imitates loud in my chest in frustration. I reach for my pair of jeans on the ground and a black sweater that Chloe picked out for me (which is way too snug for my liking, but Chloe seems to like it) and fling them on. I don't even bother with shoes, not enough time.

Have to find Chloe. Nothing else matters, have to find Chloe.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but get over it. We're not going anywhere."

Who is she talking to? Is it someone that lives here?

I reach the door, pulling the handle as hard as I can, though it barely budges. That is one super lock.

"And you are-." Her voice gets cut off as finally get the door to crack, and then I rip it open, not even bothering with the lock. I'll fix that later.

I find the staircase and fly down them, running as fast as I can.

I hear a thump as something hits the ground.

"Chloe!" A famine voice screams.

I don't know what I expected. A small temper-minted fight Chloe seems to always have, probably; But defiantly not what I found. That was last on my mind, the only reason I was down here; just in case. I never wanted to be just in case.

The room was covered in shattered junk, Just one huge mess; a gigantic Shredded curtain, porcelain and glass shards, broken picture frames, a dagger in the wall, splintered steps on the twin staircase: the works.

That wasn't the upsetting thing though. It was Chloe curled up on the ground that made me seeing red.

She lies in a puddle of her own blood, no visible movement, gaping wounds on her arm and leg. A boy in a gray and black shirt kneels over her, his hands touching her neck.

Him. Wolf hissed. He did this.

I think there are two other people in the room; but I don't pay them any attention.

I growl at the boy loudly, the noise ricocheting all over the room. He jerks his head in my direction, eyes wide. His mistake.

I cross the room in one step, the other step I use to lunge at the guy. He tries to move out of the way but I already grab him by the shoulders and pin him to the ground before he could even blink. He kicks and tries to wiggle his way out from my grip, which makes it worst for the punk as I tighten my hold.

"What did you do to her?" I growl at him, bearing my teeth.

"I didn't do anything!" He yells back at me, still trying to break free and grunts in pain.

"Bull sh-!"

I'm thrown to the wall, pinned like I had the other guy. I bare my teeth and snarl at the person who tackled me. It's a guy, blonde, stormy animal dark brown eyes; everything about him makes my instincts cry "Werewolf! Attack! Protect mate!".

"Get hell off of me!"

"Not until ya calm down!" He growls back, digging his palm into the crook of the joint where my shoulder and chest connect. I notice the pain but don't voice it.

He turns his head and yells at the other guy, "Go get Krell and Mr. Reddens!"

The other guy nods back, running away. Getting away.

I snarl at the werewolf, not knowing another word for what I did. I'm not thinking very well. Instincts are the only things controlling me. I'm viewing this through the human half of my mind, Wolf taking over.

So when I start to unfurl my fist and grab the other werewolf under the armpits, half of me is thinking "don't do anything you will regret", while Wolf is thinking, "If I punch him hard enough in the jaw, will that kill him?".

I jerk the werewolf to the ground, landing on top of him, not holding up my own weight, and straddle him by the hips, swinging my right arm to sock him in the mouth. He looks up at me in surprise.

Yeah. I probably shouldn't be this strong, right? I think to say, but don't.

I glare down at him, inches away from-

Two sturdy hands grab my arm right before I connect my fist to the guy's jaw. The curved tanned fingers clutch my arm like a vise grip, long trimmed nails cutting into my skin.

The hands are cold. Not like Chloe cold. But ice cold.

I've never been this cold. Never thought I would ever be; I rarely get cold. Werewolf thing.

My body breaks out in violent shivers, every hair on my body standing on end. My muscles start clamping on my bones, making it hard to move. My teeth even start to shatter.

I snap my head painfully to where the person who doing this to me is. She was a pretty, tall girl with wavy brown hair and gray eyes. Her features are set with such determination that she doesn't even look that scared. Given that she's trying to break up a werewolf fight.

The werewolf, being fully thoughtful, takes this moment of my unmovbilaty to punch me in the gut, using his knuckles to shove upward in my rib cage. I cough up some blood I think, and fall to the ground, shaking.

As soon as I was hit in the gut, the girl lets go of me, and flings herself down to the guy, trying to see if he is okay.

As I'm lying on the ground, shaking horribly, I see Chloe. She's still the same as she was, curled up, blood soaked. Not moving.

I grit my teeth looking at her.

No. God, no.

I pull myself up painfully to my hands and knees and start to crawl toward her. She was only about ten feet away, but it's still painful.

I never thought I would have to look at her like that.

Yeah sure, when we ran into Ramon and Liam that one time, the image crossed my mind. It was also that image that helped me force through the end of my change quicker. Not to mention the even worse thoughts when she got captured by the Edison Group. Or that time in the alley.

But to see her like this, for real, and not just a made up picture in my head; it's enough for me want to kill.

I reach her finally, her petite face covered in strains of her- curled hair? She's ghostly pale and barely has color, and she's bleeding too much around the wounds.

She shouldn't look like this. She's my Chloe. My girl.

But now that I'm this close to her, I realize that she is breathing- barely- but still. I reach for her small frame and pull her up into my lap, curving one hand around her waist, the other propping up her head.

What do I do?

I feel so helpless.

I hear the other werewolf get to his feet and move cautiously toward me, one step at a time. My low growl makes him stop and pull the girl behind him as they stand watching me. I don't care as long as the stay far away from me and Chloe.

I look down and see the red curtain on the floor. The image brings me back to memory of our escape of the group home when Chloe cut herself from the window, and it gives me an idea.

I release my hold on her waist and shred a long piece of the red curtain and tie it around her leg, tucking it over and over again, as tight as I could get it without permanently hurting Chloe, to put pressure on the wound. Then use another long piece to rap around her arm.

God, why can't she be bulletproof? Make this so much more bearable.

"That won't hold her forever you know?" A crinkly voice says gently behind me, tone kind but careful. "She's going to need stitches and a blood transfusion."

I turn toward the voice, Chloe wrapped up poorly in my arms. Mr. Reddens sits in his chrome wheelchair behind me in a gray long sleeve shirt and dark pants, a plaid blanket lying over his legs. He smiles sadly at me, his long white beard tugging at the edges. A guy maybe about in twenty or so with dark red hair, barely noticeable freckles, and dark blue eyes, stands beside him. He rushes beside me, bending down and looking quizzically at Chloe, studying her wounds and condition closely, like a doctor.

I hold back my growl as best as I could, try to reason with Wolf that Mr. Reddens is good. But Wolf just answers back by throwing me pictures of Dr. Davidoff and Andrew. And it just makes it harder.

The guy, from earlier, stands on Mr. Reddens opposite side.

"The infirmary is this way," The red haired guy says, standing.

I look up at him, trying to know if I can trust him with Chloe.

The only thing that got me up and running was Chloe jumping in her unconscious state and giving a muffled scream.

So yah hoped ya'll liked it!

so now ya'll got to reveiw!

...please...

:)