When the Sun meets the Moon

7.

With shaky fingers I try to button his shirt upon my skin, but it feels like an impossible task at the moment. The stupid thing smells like him, his wooded, delicious scent and I want to rip it apart. Just. Like. His. Head. He's hanging around the room, uncomfortable, pretending to check out some weapons, the state of the mats, the stupid lamps...

"Stupid-brainless-fatuous-dumb-crazy alpha." I grumble while working on the second button.

I hear him shift awkwardly and I know his attention is on me even though he pretends otherwise.

"Rotten-narrow-minded-weak-feeble-dull puppy." I go on as the entire situation is suddenly getting on my nerves.

'Don't forget short.' My wolf snorts as aggravated as I am for once.

"Impotent wolf."' I spat next.

I hear the deafening sound of hard wood breaking and heavy objects falling resounding in the silence of the room. However he doesn't say anything. I turn around slowly to see a cabinet broken in two on the left side of the training room, its contents displayed on the floor.

Someone's got issues.

I smirk. I hit a nerve. Anything to make him pissed. That'll definitely making me feel less depressed. My fingers seem to be working better and I do three buttons up at once.

"Stinking-ugly-twat--nut-ass codger."

He closes the door behind him as he flees the place before I finish my sentence.

"Coward."

Too bad, I was just getting started.

I'm finally alone and decide to take some time to think about everything. I stand up and whiff at the fabric of the shirt, shuddering involuntarily. I roll my eyes at myself. This is pathetic. The guy just humiliated me. Me. And not two seconds later his scent makes me weak in the knees, waiting for my next fix. I need to get a grip.

I walk to the weapons scattered on the floor and start throwing them, one by one, without a definite target. I actually take my time aiming for every white-new-clean wall. Putting as many dents on them as I can. I don't forget to grab my knife and pocket it discreetly before pulling axes up and starting my stretching exercises again. I am particularly happy to throw an anvil to the far right corner of the room.

Alright, so this might not be my best idea so far, seeing as the wall outright crumbled in its path leaving a hole behind it and a very shaky young man on the other side, sitting behind a marble desk and no more windows beside him, his glasses completely ajar on his nose.

"Oops." I smile. "Well, look at it that way, at least now you have as much fresh air as you want." I try to joke but I can see him getting paler by the second.

'One roasted chicken that he's gonna faint.' My wolf bets.

Two that he won't. I over bid.

My wolf and I started betting food a few decades ago. I know it's silly since we are the same person but sometimes it's not about logic. In fact we both have our own accounts, so that we can both spend money on what we want. After all she's the one that ransacked and ravaged villages, that money is hers, not mine. Plus food is the most important thing in the word. And it's still better than the time we'd bet kills. I won the biggest one, with two thousand kills when I guessed the number of fish in the pond in 1235 but we decided to change the wager. To much hassle. I had to kill them all in one afternoon as the bets are not refundable and can't be delayed. So now it's about chicken.

The man in front of me starts to tremble, his eyes still on me, thunderstruck, mouth open, his hair a mess. I can even smell and see a little bit of blood on his hear.