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Let’s Read The Word

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Hybrid

Hybrid

Author:Jeanette Rico

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Werewolf

Introduction
Nevaeh Rivera is just a regular girl trying to get through her last year of high school. On the outside it looks like she has everything. Unfortunately, her home life is not so glamorous. Her parents have abandoned her, her boyfriend is a cheater, and her best friend is too busy to make time for her. The only bright spot in her life is her dream angel. Too bad that he's only a dream. Or is he?Mikhail Cross is an angel/ demon hybrid. Unfortunately, he's the only one of his kind. The supernatural council will only let him live if he can assimilate with humans. When the council decides to test him by sending him to High School, Mikhail doesn't expect to find his mate.The day that Nevaeh and Mikhail meet, is not quite a meet-cute. There is no love at first sight. However, there's a thin line beeen love and hate. What will happen when fate takes over?
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Chapter

Nevaeh

His beautiful muscular body is straining. However, my eyes are focused on the magnificent wings standing proudly behind his back. “They’re beautiful, can I touch them?” I whisper softly. Even though I can’t see his face, I know that he is beautiful. He smiles, running his hand caressingly over my arm and whispers sensuously. “Nevaeh, you are my Sodales semper, my love, always.” He says in a deep, gravelly voice. I move forward, my hand extended. I want to touch him so badly that my body is shaking with excitement. As he moves closer, I can feel his breath on my face. His wings move as if seeking my hand. My hand strokes the feathers. They are soft and warm to the touch. I run my hand caressingly down his wing, enjoying the soft downy feel of his feathers. His wing flutters, and his breathing quickens with desire. Biting my lip, I shyly gaze at him through the curtain of my dark hair. His hand moves down my shoulder as I move mine over his wings. Eyes focused on his mouth, lick my lips, and prepare to kiss him. We are so close we are practically breathing the same air. His mouth moves towards mine slowly. It’s almost hypnotic. Closing my eyes, I lean close to kiss him.

Bang, bang into the room…” My body jolts at the sound of my cell phone going off. I open my eyes. I’m back in my room. He’s gone. Feeling a sense of loss, I sit upon my bed and listen for any sounds within the house. I can hear the honk of Travis’ car horn in the distance. Then my cell begins to ring. “Bang, bang into the room…” The sound of my Adriana Grande ringtone continues interrupting my usual morning routine. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I reach for my phone and hit the answer button. It’s my boyfriend, Travis. I guess he got tired of honking the horn.

“What the hell, babe, where are you? I’ve been sitting out here for ten minutes?” I shake my head, clearing my mind, and grasp the covers as I roll out of bed. “Sorry, Trav, my alarm didn’t go off. Just go ahead without me. I’ll take my car, okay?”

I listen as he takes an impatient breath before he replies. “Fine, but you have to get a new alarm. It sucks to wait here every time your alarm messes up.”

I look at the clock on my phone again and run my fingers through the tangled mess that is my hair, then reply. “Yeah, sure. Bye,” I hang up quickly.

To be honest, I’m getting tired of Travis’s demands. We’ve been together for nearly a year, and I’m just not feeling the attraction any longer. At this point, every demand from him is annoying, and every moment we spend together feels like an obligation.

After I’ve brushed my teeth and thick hair, I put on my cheerleading uniform and head down the stairs. First, let me introduce myself. My name is Nevaeh Rivera, I’m a senior at Arcata High. I am the captain of the cheerleading team, dance, choir, president of the student council, and Social Committee. Let’s just say that I’m a very busy girl. I live in a small town called Arcata, located in California. My dream is to be a writer, so I’m super smart. My greatest assets are my long brown hair and deep golden eyes. I’ve been told that my hair has a natural wave to it that girls go to the salon for. You know, the soft romantic curl? I’m told that I look like my mom, but I really don’t see it. I’m slim, about five feet five, with a toned body. Being a cheerleader has helped keep me in tip—top shape. My friend Jezelle says that my olive skin and dark coloring make me look exotic.

Leaning close to a nearby mirror, I roll my lip gloss over my full cherry lips and line my eyes. My last boyfriend, Shane, used to say that I didn’t need to line my eyes because they were large and soulful. He was so sweet. Unfortunately, he moved to Florida, and a long—distance relationship was not in our plans.

As I make my way down the stairs, I hear my mom’s car drive away from the house. I roll my eyes at her hasty retreat. God forbid she say goodbye. The kitchen is empty, and there’s no breakfast ready.

“At least there’s no one fighting,” I mumble to myself. My parents have never been the warmest parents, but lately, it’s been a constant deluge of arguing back and forth. My mom harping on something, and my dad screaming back. It’s been a nightmare for me because I know what the next step is. I have plenty of friends with divorced parents. It just saddens me that my parents have no regard for my feelings.

My phone rings again. “Bang, bang into the room…” Ugh, I need to change my ringtone. Jez and I used the ringtone as a joke, but it’s getting old already. Hitching up my bag, I take an apple from the kitchen table and make my way out the door. My messenger bag rests heavily against my side.

I scowl when my phone rings again. Seriously, I’m almost out the door. People can be so impatient. As I make my way out the door, I grab my car keys and reach for my phone. It’s Jezelle. She’s probably waiting impatiently by the school’s front door. “Hey, Jezelle─”

Her voice breaks through my speech. “Don’t hey Jezelle me! Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting…” She continues to rant as I get into my jeep and turn it on. “Sorry, Jez, give me a few minutes. I’m on my way.” I hang up quickly, not letting her finish her rant. Sometimes that’s the way to deal with her. The girl will run through her data, berating me for being late.

Settling my arm on the steering wheel of my Jeep Wrangler, I hit the road and make my way to school. I love my jeep. It used to belong to my Uncle Mannie. He was a war photographer. He died last year while he was on assignment in Africa. He was in a hot zone and caught a bullet in the heart. It was a very sad moment for us. Uncle Mannie knew I loved the old jeep, so he left it for me in his will. I was his favorite niece. I always shared my writing with him. He loved everything I wrote. I remember he told me that he was proud of me and that I would be a great writer one day. I miss him so much.

It doesn’t take long for me to pull the jeep into the school’s parking lot. The lot is quiet and still at this time of day. School doesn’t start for at least another hour, so most kids are still home. However, I’m late for cheerleading practice, and by the look on Jezelle’s face, it isn’t good.

Right now, she’s standing near the entrance doorway, looking annoyed. Jezelle is pretty with brown and blond highlights. She has beautiful, crystal blue eyes and lush lips. Her five—foot frame vibrates with energy as she paces in place. Not wasting another moment, I grab my things and rush over to her. Her face breaks into a smile as she pulls me close and gives me an air kiss. “You’re late, Nev. Are you ready?”

I nod my head, giving her a sardonic smile. “Sorry about that. But I’m here now, so let’s go.”

As we walk toward the gym, our cheer skirts make swishing sounds with every shift of our bodies. We usually wear workout clothes for practices, but we have school pictures today. Jez pushes the doors open and walks ahead. The rest of the squad is doing stretches, practicing a few moves, or talking.

Settling my bag down, I clap my hands loudly and gain their attention. “Okay, ladies, today is class picture day, and tomorrow is a home game, so we need to be ready. Remember that regionals are coming up. And I don’t know about you guys, but I want to win.”

I move forward and stand next to Jez. Leigh Andrews steps up, an ugly smirk on her face and cattily mutters. “Wow, Nevaeh, are you going to make it a ritual to be late? I mean, you’re the captain of the squad. If you can’t handle the pressure, let us know so we can get a new captain.” I roll my eyes at her comment. “No pressure Leigh, just a bad alarm. So, you can halt your search. Now, are we going to talk or practice?” I reply calmly as I place my hands on my waist, give Leigh a measuring look, and point to the floor. Without another word, Leigh rolls her eyes and falls back in line.

Leigh is the kind of girl that can be envious of every girl in the room. It makes no sense because she’s pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes. Too bad that she’s evil to the core. Most of the girls in the squad have complained about Leigh being catty and vicious. The problem is that Leigh’s a good dancer, and we don’t have the time to find a replacement for her. I’ve known Jez, Leigh, and a few of the other girls from the squad since middle school. Believe it or not, Leigh was a sweet, shy girl. Then, in our sophomore year, she came to school with a short skirt and a bitchy attitude. She’s very well known as the boyfriend stealer, so the girls are leery of her.

Cheer practice was as good as usual. I had to keep a few girls from ripping Leigh’s hair out, but we were ready. Jezelle and I head towards our lockers, ready to start the school day. “Girl, something has got to be done about Leigh. I swear Brit was about to choke her when she made a comment about Brit’s ass looking like cottage cheese.”

Jez unlocks her locker and laughs as my locker opens with a hard thud. Her locker has been next to mine since freshman year. Inside our locker doors, there are pictures of the team, Jez and I, and a few cheer posters. I take a deep breath collecting my literature and history book from the locker with a snicker. “What am I supposed to do, Jez? Regionals are in a few weeks, and we don’t have the time to get someone new. I’ll talk to her about her attitude.”

Jez looks at me, puckers her lips, and takes a deep breath. “All right, Nev, you’re the captain. But I have to tell you if Leigh says one more thing, I’m going to let the girls take care of her. Capice?” Jez lifts her hand fingers up, deepening her voice. I laugh incredulously at Jez’ imitation of an Italian Don.

Before I can respond, the hallway goes quiet. It’s like when you hear animals in the forest, and they sense a predator, and everything grows eerily silent. Well, that’s how the hallway felt at that moment. There are usually kids running around, screaming, yelling, and laughing, but now, you can hear a pin drop. Suddenly, the murmuring of excited whispers reaches my ear. I hear words like “Juvenile… Boys Home…Killed someone.”

Jez and I look around. Suddenly the crowd parts. Kids cower and whisper as a group of boys ascend from the end of the hallway. There are four boys. I can see the girls gaping in shock. The boys are beautiful. All tall with a variety of hair colors. The first boy has scruffy brown hair with golden highlights, face stubble, and golden eyes. He snickers cockily at the crowd as he makes his way down the hallway. The second one has brown hair and blue eyes. His hair is military cut, and his face is clear of stubble. He smiles arrogantly and winks at a few girls. You can hear their sighs as he bestows his smile upon them. The third one has wavy blond hair and brown eyes. He seems shy and quiet, keeping his eyes on the ground, only looking up to follow a path.

The one that instantly holds my attention is the last boy. He’s wearing a black Henley with black jeans and steel—toed boots. His hair is pitch black with a fauxhawk, and his eyes are just as black. Unlike the rest of the boys, he is vacantly staring ahead of the path, never meeting anyone’s eyes. I can see a tick of annoyance working in his jaw. The boys continue walking down the hallway until they disappear into the office.

As if nothing had happened, everyone continues to talk and prepare for the day. I raise my eyebrow at Jez questioningly. “What the hell was that about?”

Jez looks at me as if I’m a complete idiot and quirks a brow. Her mouth flattens into an incredulous line as she waves her hand in the direction the boys disappeared into. “Seriously?”

I slap my right hand over my hip nodding my head in questions. “Yeah, I’m serious. WTF Jez. What’s going on? Why are you looking at me as if I’m buying retail? What the hell is this about?”

Jez gives me a sideways smile and shakes her head. “Girl… how in the hell have you not heard of the Cross brothers? The whole school has been talking about them.”

I shrug my shoulders in puzzlement. “Jez, you know how busy I am with Travis, cheerleading, student council, and everything else. The school year has just started, and I barely have time to breathe, let alone listen to gossip. Now dish.” Shaking her head, Jez steers me toward our history class. Mr. Andrews is sitting in his desk, his voice sounding harsh as he points his fingers in emphasis towards Patrick, the class clown. I wonder what he did this time.

Jez continues to whisper softly. “I have to say it’s funny that you don’t have a clue about this considering that the topic at hand is really close to your home. Anyway, you know that abandoned house across the street from your house?”

I nod my head thinking about the creepy house across the street. “Yeah, the old Killington house. What about it?” Jez and I take a seat in our chairs. At the beginning of the year, we both decided to sit near the door. It makes it easier to sneak in or out of class if we need to. I sit in front of Jez, Keely Michaels used to sit next to me, but she moved a few months ago, so the desk remains empty until we can find an adequate replacement.

Jez lays her books on the table and reaches into her purse to check her cell phone. She texts a few things ignoring my impatient glare. I wave my hand impatiently. “Well, according to Pam, whose mom works in the Department of Children Service, the city council approved the proposal for the Killington house to become a home for boys─ Juvenile boys. Pam mentioned that some of the boys were there because they did some really bad things. Truthfully, I don’t think they did the things she says they did. I mean, who would put hardened criminals in a home? I would imagine they’d be in Jail instead.”

I nod my head feeling a shiver creep down my back. “Well, whatever they did. I have no interest in getting involved with criminals. Frankly, I don’t know why they let them into the school…”

My words die out as Jez’s eyes widen. Her eyes are not on me, though. Instead, they focus on a point behind my shoulder. Sensing a presence behind me, I turn slowly and see the dark boy from earlier standing near the door, which happens to be next to my desk. His eyes lock on mine, and his nostrils flare with anger. Shit! Me and my big mouth.

His eyes travel down my body with contempt. Almost like he’s measuring me up for a coffin. Not wanting him to see me sweat, I take a breath, cross my legs, and give him a sly smile. He scowls as he shifts in place. I can tell that he wants to blast me for my comment, and I deserve it. But I’m not the kind of girl who is easily cowed.

Keeping my eyes steadily on him, I run my hand through my hair and raise my eyebrow in question. “Can I help you with something?” I ask as I cattily twirl my pen through my fingers.

His gorgeous face hardens further, and his lips move as if he’s about to respond. But before he does, Mr. Andrews interrupts. “You must be Mikhail Cross?” Mr. Andrews pats him strongly on the back, causing him to stumble slightly forward. It looks funny considering that Mikhail is over six feet and maybe 190 pounds. However, Mr. Andrews was a linebacker for some professional football team, which means he outweighs Mikhail by at least a hundred pounds.

Unlike Mikhail, though, Mr. Andrews is rounder and looks like Santa. Mikhail, on the other hand, looks like a fallen angel. Mikhail, what an odd name. I guess that if anyone can move the gorgeous criminal, it would be Mr. Andrews. Turning to Ms. Andrews, Mikhail takes a deep breath and stiffens. Mr. Andrews smiles kindly and holds his hand out in greeting.

One thing about Mr. Andrews is that he may be a giant, but he’s a gentle one. Mikhail ignores the hand looking around the room. “Where can I sit, sir?”

Mr. Andrews's eyes land on the desk next to me. Dread rushes through me at the thought of what he is going to suggest. In my head, I’m screaming, Nooooo! In slow motion. However, Mr. Andrews ignores my panicked look when he points to the desk beside me. Giving the desk a sour glare, Mikhail gives me a heated look and rests his bag on the chair.

My mouth opens in astonishment. Without a thought, I raise my hand to stop Mr. Andrews. “MR. ANDREWS YOU CAN’T SIT HIM THERE!” I exclaim vehemently.

Mr. Andrews turns towards me and quirks an astonished brow. I cringe back when he places his hand on his hip, and calmly asks. “And why shouldn’t he sit here, Ms. Rivera?”

I open my mouth, but I have no response. “I…Uh…well…” I mumble incoherently.

Mr. Andrews smirks as he waits patiently for my reply. I lick my lips, looking at Mikhail and give him a sour look before I slump back in resignation. “No reason, Mr. Andrews.” I grit through my teeth.

Giving me a knowing smirk, Mikhail scrapes the chair loudly from the table, takes a seat, and gazes off into the distance. I turn towards Jez, who has her mouth gaping open like a fish as she looks back and forth between Mikhail and me.

Seeing no further conflict, Mr. Andrews moves to the front of the class and begins talking. Annoyed, I face forward and pretend that Mikhail is not sitting next to me. It was the longest lecture that I’ve ever attended. Mr. Andrews talked on and on about King Leonidas and the 300. Normally, I would be interested, except for the dark specter sitting to my left. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. Unable to help myself, I shift in my seat uncomfortably and continue looking at the clock. It doesn’t help that my cheerleading outfit is snug and stifling. The top sticks to my body like a second skin and my skirt chafe my thighs.