The Taint of Wolves

Remnants.

Chapter 31: Remnants.

Our morning routine was nearly the same as every other day.

Except for a few fundamental bits.

I woke first, my head heavy and skin sensitive. Alarm burst through me, like a punch to the chest when I blinked up at the strange ceiling. I tracked the constellation of stars, my racing heart calming.

The Alpha didn't make a sound in his sleep, that broad chest rising and falling rhythmically. One arm was curled around me, but he had eclipsed the bed, sprawled out without a care in the world. Fondness warmed me, chasing away the dregs of tiredness. We had been wrapped together at some point, but his body had become blistering hot and I had scooted to the edge, desperate for a whisper of cold air.

He did not move when I slipped from the bed, my skin marked with his reverence. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds, cutting across the bed. It illuminated his tanned skin and the mark of silvery scars that had torn into his flesh. He did not move as I crept out of the room, slipping his dressing gown over me though I heard no movement in the house.

In the mirror of my room, my hair was wild. My eyes were bright. The uneasy smile that rose made me balk, so I dressed and went downstairs for my first bitter coffee like I did every morning. I walked in the quietness of the house, hair unbound and the straps of my sundress chafing my shoulders. Sunlight danced on the floor where it could, the day warm and breezy. Muffin had already found her sunspot. She watched me lazily as I walked around, her tail lulling lazily.

Contentment settled in my bones and I opened the front door, tipping my face up to the azure sky. The estate was quiet still, but I could hear a child crying far in the distance. Keys jangled in the pocket of a man as he rushed from the house, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to lock the door behind him. A great dog bounded in the front garden down the road, snuffling at the flowers. He never barked, but was lethal for the flowerbeds.

When the coffee pot dinged, I tipped my face up to the sun. "Hello."

The sun never said hello back, and I imagined someone spotting me talking to the great ball of fire. Would I be embarrassed? Probably not. I had forgotten how blue the sky could be, how golden the sun. In quiet moments like this, with the sky so beautiful and vast, it was easy to forget how small the white ceiling of my cell was.

I closed the front door with a smile. The coffee was brewed and as I hugged my first mug close to my chest, the stairs creaked. Nervousness flared in my chest and I found myself uncertain, shy even as Easton walked into the kitchen.

Tiredness rumpled him. The marks of the pillow could still be seen on his face and he had misbuttoned his shirt. He stopped in the doorway and blinked at me for a minute. Then, a small smile rose as his cheeks burned red.

Shy.

I motioned to the mug waiting beside me. "I made you a cup of coffee."

"Oh, thank you." He took the mug, humming under his breath after he took a sip. "Just right."

"Enough sugar to block your veins."

"You always attack my coffee preferences." He tutted. "Have you tried it?"

"I like my teeth where they are."

He cast a look to the ceiling with a sigh, but his smile was warm and easy. It was easy, too easy to slip back into normalcy as Easton pottered around the kitchen to make breakfast. His morning paper was ready as always and his attention drifted as he read it, his answers becoming stretched. Still, he seemed to be aware of me, stilling as I neared. And because I could, I ran my hands over him; his hair, his arm, his back whenever I could. It always startled him, as if my hands were live-wires.