Zoey Wilden. 22. Werewolf.
Full moon nudity
Attracts no other lover
Like the lycanthrope.
Screw everything.
“What are you, blind as well as stupid?” Zoey growled at the body of people that stood between her and the exit. They stared back at her like a ghost was addressing her. It had to be the eyes, they always glinted yellow when she was angry. That was the wolf coming out of her. “Move.”
It took a moment, but eventually they did, most of them jumping out of the way as they scattered. Almost as if they were worried that she would run them over if they lingered any longer. And maybe she would have. It was too late to tell as she stormed back them and tore the door open. Her heels — god damn things — clicked against the concrete steps as she made her way downstairs and back onto the fourth floor where the classmates of Dumort were staying. On one side of the corridor, there was her hotel room, full of her things and everything that smelled like her.
But down the other end was where she wanted to be. She’d always been at home with the boys.
Straightening up, Zoey made her way down the hallway and stopped outside Room 419. Her heart beat in her chest, full of wrath and wolfish pride. If she wasn’t stubborn, she’d have turned around right there on the spot, but there wasn’t room for ifs. Not when she brought her hand up to the door and let it knock against the wood.
Please, let him be inside.