The Reaping [malexmale]

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

I woke up with Stanton sprawled on top of me.

Don't get me wrong; I loved the guy more than life itself, but holy crap, he weighed over two hundred pounds. It was like having a giant dog laying on top of you. Worse still, because he'd gotten drunk the night before, he not only reeked of booze, but he was snoring right in my ear. In response, I grunted and squirmed beneath him, but that only caused him to wrap his arms around me like a pair of boa constrictors on steroids. I groaned.

"Stanton, I have to pee. Get off me." I grumbled, trying to elbow him, but there just wasn't enough space between him and I. He only choked on a snore, cleared his throat, smacked his lips, then buried his face in my hair. I rolled my eyes, again trying to get away from him when I realized he was kissing me on the neck. I scowled.

"You're awake." I accused. I felt him smile against my skin, but his grip on me didn't loosen for a second. He continued to trail kisses along the back of my neck as I bit my lip to keep from moaning. He really did not deserve morning play time for suffocating me in my sleep.

"I don't want to." I muttered. Stanton made a noise of irritation.

"You always say that." He snapped impatiently. I hesitated. I hadn't said anything of the sort since I woke up without my memory, three days ago. I had let him do whatever he wanted, and then some. This was the first time I'd told him I didn't want to have sex. Was he referring to who I had been before I lost my memory? Would the old me have said that often? I felt a little guilty, but I was so sore and tired. We had already messed around enough last night as it was. And it was only eight in the morning! I'd barely gotten two hours of sleep, because it took me so long to sleep in the first place.

"I'm really tired." I offered, but Stanton was done. He rolled away from me and flopped on the other side of the bed. I was fed up with him being a big baby, so I threw the covers back and got out of bed. I wasn't going to deal with this. I left the bed, then stopped when I realized I had no clothes to change into. I gritted my teeth, turning to Stanton, who had wrenched the blankets over himself to hide himself from view, save for the side of his head that poked out the top. I glared in his direction.

"I need clothes." I stated.

"Get your own." Was his muffled response. I seethed. That was totally insensitive!

"I. Can't." I pronounced each word with venomous emphasis. Stanton didn't respond. Judging from the light snoring, he'd gone back to sleep. I made a noise of frustration. I wanted to go over there, rip the blankets off him, and beat him until he gave me some clothes, but I wasn't sure I wanted to risk it. I had a feeling provoking Death would be a bad idea. So I went and showered anyway, using a towel from yesterday before I crept out of the room and into the hallway. I inched down until I came to the entrance of the kitchen where Blaine and Hannibal were cooking. Blaine was just putting rolls in the oven and Hannibal was stirring a pan of eggs. I swallowed hard, heat creeping into my face.

Now or never, because someone was bound to come down the hallway and I'd die if it was Cerberus.

"Psst!" I whispered. Hannibal instantly saw me and Blaine scowled.

"I can't tell who that is."

"Alaric," I said in distress, "It's Alaric. I need clothes." Blaine arched a brow, then looked toward Hannibal, who was frowning at me with what I hoped was concern in his mismatched eyes, but I really couldn't tell. The guy had as many facial expressions as a wall.

"What happened to your boyfriend? Wasn't he supposed to teach you?" Blaine asked dryly. I blushed further, anger pulsing hot through my veins as I tried not to grip the towel so tightly it tore. It was the only thing preventing Hannibal from looking at me naked.