Chapter nine! Don't own anything, never have never will. Please enjoy :)
"Stan was looking for you, he said 'Get Reylanera and tell her to hurry it up'," I informed her. She nodded, fleeing to the training room. We had been avoiding eachother the best we could after last night, partially from the akwardness of it all. Once word she had said to Bianca was repeating in my mind, 'Whoriness' because I had laughed slightly when she had said that (A/N AMBullard, this is for you!).
"Mister Ozera," said Alberta calmly, passing by me and nodding her head slightly.
I just wandered around the school, (A/N partially because I have no clue what his scedual is... ^^') not wanting to go to class. I did pretty good at eluding the mentors.
Lunch came around three hours later. Amaya looked pissed when I saw her, but I didn't know why.
"Damn Strigoi..." Amaya grumbled as she passed by me.
"So you're the one they're after," mused Adrian, looking down at Amaya. "Little dhampoi. That doesn't sound as smooth as dhampir though."
"Back off, Ivashkov," I told him, stepping next to Amaya. He got an amused smirk on his face, which would have made me feel great if I could punch, or even better, burn, it off.
"Getting territorial are we?" He asked.
Amaya's POV
I sighed, some people are hopeless. Walking away to the feeding room, I sat next to a dopey girl with red hair. She was new, she didn't have nearly a dazed look as the rest of them.
I leaned down, my fangs pentatrating the skin in her neck. Removing my teeth, I began to suck her human blood out of her, but feeling guilty about taking a human's life source. When I was done, I got up and walked out. I was only there for a minute, because the message was making my appetite smaller and smaller...
"I said back off!" Christian shouted at Adrian. Adrian gave a lazy smile, glancing towards me.
"What if I don't feel like it?" Adrian snapped, smile vanishing as quickly as it had come.
"Will you to give it a rest?" I asked, getting between then and pushing them apart. "God, you two act like first graders arguing over a box of crayons."
"Yep, and you're the box of the sixty-four pack, with the sharpener," laughed Adrian. I gave him a cold glare.
"Shut up Ivashkov," I spat, walking away.
"Don't think you've won, Ozera," muttered Adrian before I heard him walking away.
For some reason, I think this is too damn short. Oh well. As I said from an earlyer chapter... DAMN YOU WRITER'S BLOCK! I feel better. Don't own anything... 'xcept for the essentials. Any questions, requests, and/or other things will be warmly accepted, except for flames.
