Octavius (WATTYS 2016)

six | oh snap

Brace yourself for this chapter guys, some serious heat here. 

The sun shining through my window wakes me up, and I peek my eyes open to meet the morning. The bed I am laying in feels amazing and so unbelievably comfortable. The sheets around me feel softer than silk and I want to wrap myself in them like a caterpillar in its cocoon.\

My silken day dreams are broken by the sound of footsteps outside the door and the knob rattling. 

I lift the covers over my head, not nearly ready to face him today. Or ever. 

"Oh don't worry Miss, he's out of the wing." 

I sit up quickly and see a surprisingly-pretty older woman shuffling into my room, a cart with breakfast in tow. My eyes follow her as she stops next to the bed, lifting a wooden tray piled with toast and juice and fruit. It look absolutely perfect.

Her silver hair is wrapped high in a bun, and the wrinkles on her face are slight and smooth. She was no doubt beautiful as a young woman. 

"Thank you." I smile at the lady, who gives me a soft smile back. Am I dreaming? This woman is far too nice to be in the Blood Moon pack.

"What's your name?" I ask, sipping on the delicious orange juice she gives me.

"I'm Phoebe, dear. And you, of course, are Alessandra. Octavius was telling me a bit about his beautiful mate." She winks at me and giggles to herself. I perk up at his name, but at the same time, the pit in my stomach grows.

"A bit of advice, dear." Phoebe coos. "Don't be too quick to judge Octavius. He's more soft than he seems."

"Thank you, Phoebe." I give her another smile, which she returns. 

"Oh, Miss," She turns and pulls out a garment bag from the cart. "This was left for you. You are to meet Octavius in the west wing after you've finished getting ready." And with another small smile, she shuffles away once again.

I finish the beautiful breakfast and reach for the garment bag, which contains a pair of simple jeans and a long sleeved white blouse. I am relieved when I see a bra and underwear as well, and I pray that Octavius wasn't the one who picked them out.

Yawning, I drag myself out of the bed, and immediately have to pull at the boxers around my waist. God he has broad hips. I stumble over to the bathroom, the garment bag in tow. I lug it onto the counter, and brace myself on the cold tile.

Oh crap. 

My long brown hair is frizzed to the root, the result of me forgetting to braid it the night before. I have frizzy hair like my mother, but she taught me at a young age, that if I braid it after I shower, the next morning my hair would be smooth and wavy. But this morning, it looks like a cloud of horse hair. I huff, strands of fuzz billowing out in front of me.

I decide to just throw my hair up into a bun, happy that Phoebe had placed a bin of hair ties in the drawer. Once the tendrils are out of my face, I zip open the garment bag once again and throw on the clothes, finding they fit perfectly, especially the undergarments. Now I really hope that Octavius wasn't the one to choose them.

I give myself one last look, and walk out my door, met with the silence of the wing.

Thank god, Octavius is already at work. I walk out the front door of the wing, realizing I have no idea where I am going.

I begin to wander down the halls, making random turns, finding each new hall empty save for a few guards chatting in the corners. I eventually come to a large pair of important looking double doors, the scent of cinnamon wafting around it.