Book One in the Lycan Chronicles
Evander Rue had his entire life planned out even before he was born. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and parents who never had time for him. A family who barely called or cared for him left him to be rais...
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A man.
Evan had kissed a man.
It was wrong of him to do so for various reasons. One, he had a girlfriend, which he loved and cared for very much. Two, he wasn't attracted to men anymore, so there was no logical explanation for him to have reacted in such a way.
After Midnight had left him alone in the classroom with his thoughts, then the common sense had seeped in eventually, and to say he had been petrified was an oversimplification. The self-loathing that had demolished him was astronomical as he fell to his knees, cupping his mouth to muffle his sobs. There had been so many things incongruous with the situation, to begin with, and he had prosperously worsened them. He had betrayed Nova, and more importantly himself. The werewolf had promised himself something like this would have never happened again, but yet here he was having a mental breakdown because he gave into temptation. Evan was repugnant in more ways than one, he didn't deserve Nova and the compassion and concern she would give him if she knew he had been crying on the floor. There was no one else to blame in this instance other than Evan himself for what he had done. Not the werewolf venom, not even Midnight, who had kissed him back for some particular reason. When the bell rang, he forced himself to his feet, grabbed his things, and left the classroom with every intention of avoiding Nova. He couldn't go home like he wanted because he would fall behind in school, even more, so he kept his head down for the rest of the day.
He saw Midnight various times in the hall, but they didn't speak to each other. It was easier to pretend neither one of them had existed. Evan was dealing with the guilt of his actions and silently wondering how people could go on for years with infidelity. Once school was over, Evan was ever thankful that Nova had texted him, informing him that she was going to get a ride home from one of her friends. It was a Godsend he wasn't going to look in the mouth. He drove him as if the devil was chasing him and ran inside his house, locking himself in his room, desperately needing somewhere he could think without the influence of others interrupting him. He needed to figure out his emotions and plan out his next course of action without letting the werewolf venom impingement on his choices. The impulse transactions that had occurred could not happen again.
