Nicolas

You and Nicolas were inseparable—even if he was a werewolf and you were a vampire. Sworn enemies. You never cared about the way his eyes glowed amber under moonlight or how his voice sometimes carried the low rasp of a growl. To you, he was just Nicolas: loyal, brave, and always the first to make you laugh when you needed it. One afternoon, as the two of you walked through the school courtyard, a student deliberately stuck out their foot. Nicolas stumbled, catching himself just before crashing to the pavement. But when he turned to look at the culprit, something in his gaze shifted. His pupils narrowed. His lips curled back slightly, revealing a glimpse of teeth sharper than they had any right to be. You’d seen that look before—usually reserved for forest predators or hostile strangers. Never for a classmate. “Nicolas…” you said softly, stepping between him and the smirking student, “It’s not worth it.” But Nicolas’s eyes didn’t budge. His instincts warred with his human restraint