Crescent Wolves
Supernatural Shifter Academy Series
G. Bailey Regan Rosewood
Crescent Wolves © 2020 G. Bailey/ Regan Rosewood
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and formed by this author’s imagination. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by Mirela Barbu.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
About G. Bailey
About Regan Rosewood
Description
Secret societies. Magical boarding schools. Supernatural beings…What could go wrong?
I’m Millie Brix and apparently, I’m a supernatural shifter. Funny eighteenth birthday present, right?
Chosen for Supernatural Shifter Academy, I have to learn which Shifter Clan I belong to and how to use my powers that are slowly growing out of control.
Supernatural Shifter Academy only has five hundred places, and if I’m not strong enough to survive, I won’t get to walk away.
The Sirens lure you in, the Wolves bite first and ask questions later, the Dragons only care for themselves, the Vampires plan to own the world and the Witches will do whatever it takes to win.
I’m not going to let the academy beat me, that’s for sure.
With a Prince of the Vampires seducing me, a secretive Siren dead set on making me his, a gorgeous wolf shifter who wants to claim my heart, and an alpha dragon who sees me as a prize he wants to keep… the academy is far more dangerous than it looks.
In this academy, secrets are the only thing you can trade with and I’m right in the middle of the biggest secret the academy has.
And when the truth comes out…the academy will fall.
17+
Chapter 1
Sometimes when I look into the light of the sun, I can only see the shadows around the edges, waiting for their chance to smother what brightness is holding them back.
But looking up at the sky, as I make my way down the sloping drive, I can only see big black thunderstorms forming on the horizon. I’m only just past the top of the hill on Bowery Street, and considering how quickly the weather is going sour, the odds of getting home before it starts to rain are slim to none.
“Damn,” I mutter, pulling my backpack up higher on my shoulders and shaking my head. It’s times like these when I really wish Central High’s bus route included my neighborhood. Well, our neighborhood. Their neighborhood. Whoever’s neighborhood it is, it’s too far outside the city center for the school bus to reach, and since I don’t have a car, I’m what some might call shit out of luck. Normally I don’t mind the long walk home—in fact, I usually enjoy it. It’s a chance to listen to some music, stretch my legs after eight hours of sitting at a desk, and, most importantly, it means less time spent around Mark. When the weather’s bad, though…
Kicking myself for not thinking to bring an umbrella, I continue down the road, hoping I’ll get lucky and not end up soaked by the time I reach the house. Doubtful. All I can reasonably do at this point is try not to get water all over the front entryway and pray that Mark won’t be in one of his moods when I get in. I can practically hear him snapping at me already, slurring his words as he gestures at me with an empty beer bottle: Damn it, Millie! You couldn’t even dry off before getting mud all over the front porch? What’s wrong with you, huh?
I shake my head, feeling the first raindrop plop down on my shoulder like a warning. Yeah, I know, I think. It feels like I’m on my way to the gallows.
Okay, maybe that’s a little overdramatic. But not by much. I’ve been living with my most recent foster parents, Mark and Tonya Stone, for going on a year now, and things haven’t been peachy. It’s not like I’m not used to bad foster family situations--in fact, that’s basically all I’ve ever known, with a few exceptions. It’s like the start of every fantasy story I’ve ever read: a baby girl, abandoned at the hospital when she was born by parents she never knew, drifting from one abominable living situation to another and wondering why she was put on this planet. Except if this was really a fantasy story, a fairy godmother would have appeared at my bedroom window a long time ago to whisk me away on some whimsical adventure.
Instead, the only things that have ever appeared at my bedroom window are the eggs thrown by neighborhood pranksters and the occasional crow.
It hasn’t been all bad, though; I think as the ground levels out beneath my feet. The raindrops are coming more frequently now, and I see the horizon light up briefly with the flash of lightning. Mollie, the foster mother I lived with from when I was nine to when I was eleven, was easily my favorite of the bunch. Mollie, I remember her saying when she first introduced herself. It’s only one letter away from your name, Millie. It’s like it was meant to be.
And for a while, I almost believed it. With Mollie, I actually felt like I had a home, not just a place to stay. She showed me how to cook, let me watch her TV programs with her, and actually seemed interested in me as a person, not just a source of government-provided income. She even gave me a necklace—a little sterling silver pendant
