Chapter 57
Soren
I get myself comfortable and ready for the night. Bree, however, is buzzing with nervous energy.
“Bree, please just lay down,” I finally say, unable to bear the tense energy any longer. “Your anxiousness is making me anxious.”
She pauses, turning to look at me with wide, nervous eyes. “I can’t help it,” she says, wringing her hands.
“What are you so nervous about? I will sleep on the couch; that’s fine. Hell, I’ll sleep on the floor if needed.”
She grabs a book and places it on the nightstand. Then a glass of water setting it next to the bed. “Well?” I ask her, and she chews her lip. A cute blush paints her cheeks. I raise an eyebrow at her, wondering what has come over her.
“I’m a werewolf,” she says like that is all the answer I need to make sense of nervousness.
“So?” I ask her.
“You’re a Lycan!” My brows scrunch together, trying to understand what she is getting at.
“I’m well aware of species differences,” I tell her. I try to rack my brain to figure out why that is an issue, but it’s not a full moon, so it’s not like she will attack me. I nearly laugh at the thought. Is she afraid of hurting me? Or maybe werewolves
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do something strange when they are asleep. I’ve never slept
next to one, so…
“What then, do you sleep howl instead of snore?” I ask, trying to figure out what she is getting at.
“What?” she looks at me quizzically.
“Chase Rabbits in your dreams? You’re not gonna sniff butt in my sleep, are you?” I laugh, and her face burns brighter, but so does her anger at that as she scoops up a pillow and lobs it
at me.
“I’m not a dog!”
“That can kinda be debatable since you walk on four legs in that state, you also have a tail, but only slightly larger than a typical wolf, but you all look the same.” She folds her arms across her chest, which shoves her boobs higher, and my eyes dart to them. I force my gaze away. “Maybe I should get you a collar, I can take you for walkies,” I laugh.
“One more word and I will make you sleep on the floor!” she snaps at me. I snicker, and she rolls her eyes.
“Then what are you worried about?” she rubs her temples, looking frustrated.
“You’re male!” Wow, she is making this more awkward now.
“Last I checked, I was. Do you need proof?” I ask, and if looks could kill, I’d be dust.
“I’m a she–wolf, I… I might scent you,” she admits.
“So, you do want to sniff my butt?” I tease.
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“You know what, I hope I do bite your sorry ass. And I hope it hurts! It might teach you some manners.” she spits at me.
I snicker, and she wanders off, continuing to get ready for bed as she snatches up her pajamas and heads in for a shower. I shake my head, turning my attention back to my book.
The silence is even more awkward when she is out, the only sound being the soft rustle of the sheets as Bree goes about her evening routine. She’s showered, dressed and puts some strange lotion on her face, almost as if she forgets she is a werewolf and doesn’t need to; she may not be immortal like me, but werewolves still age slower than humans, so she certainly doesn’t need to apply anti–wrinkle cream to nonexistent wrinkles.
I watch, trying not to seem too curious. As she meticulously gets ready for bed, she sets up her space on the bed. The methodical way she arranges her things–sets everything close to the edge on the nightstand and then fluffs her pillow, testing it, then sniffs it? Why is she sniffing her pillow? I never realized what strange creatures werewolves are.
She narrows her eyes before eyeing mine behind my head. My brows crease as she stares at mine. I glance away as she keeps staring, well glaring, at my pillow like it wronged her in some way. Wondering what she wants. “Ah, is everything okay?” I ask her, and she rolls her eyes, snatching my pillow viciously, making me smack my head on the headboard of the bed.
“You stole my pillow!” she scowls.
“Ah, no, you just stole my pillow!” I remind her, rubbing the back of my head.
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“No, that smells like Freesias. I know the scent of my pillow. The cleaner uses something on mine. She inhales my pillow deeply and sighs.
“Whatever this delicious scent is?” she pauses, trying to describe the scent. “It’s…”
