46. The Morning Sun...

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I stirred, moaning from the warmth warming my insides. Blinding sunlight was peeking through the crack of the half drawn curtains when I tossed to my side. Groaning, I reach for the other pillow usual kept next to mine to hurl at the window, to find it vanished.

I rotated to my opposite side, taking the pillow from under on my roll over to cover my head. There was a headache exploding in my head, and my feet strangely ached. All my body's joints screamed in protest.

My body was smelled as if I were dunked in a human size cauldron of cleaning alcohol and then left in the same room as my brother when they hold their wrestling match and then left out to blow dry in the frying sun.

Suddenly the sheets felt too constricting at my waist. I tug myself out, feeling the sun baked bedsheet scorch my skin at first touch. Feeling even worse than before, I trying rolling back into the shadow even further away from the sun when I went flying down bed.

No sound came out as I hit the floor. Sprawled on the cold ground, I outstretch my hands as if I were to being making an imaginary snow angel. When the heat was transferred from my flesh to the cool floor, I rose warily, struggling to straighten my back even when holding the bed.

In the dresser's mirror, I gasp at my horrid reflection. My hair looked like a bird's nest, my velvety lipstick smeared -not badly but enough to give any girl a heart attack, lips cracked and bloody. Were those dark circled under my eyes I saw?

My eyes darted to the sleeping Damon on the sofa with an arm rested over his head. There was a coat swung over the coffee table's glass, that I vaguely remembered having thrown over my shoulders, strong pair of arms carrying and guiding me in through a car's door.

His shirt was badly wrinkled, his top buttons popped from the seams entirely.

Now's the chance to we've been dying for. He's heavily drunk and seriously, how hard can it be to mutilate his gentiles with a vegetable peeler?

JUNE!

Okay fine! Sorry, she apologized, not sounding one bit remorseful. First the grenade rocket and then the peeling.

You're hopeless, I frown. We arent even going to touch him! Let the wickedly Alpha King rest.

Going soft already?

Never, I cringe, biting my lip. But..let him be, okay? Best to ignore the ignorant old cocker before it comes pecking at your throat.

Heading for the shower, I gather my towel and clothes -jeans, red tank, a loosely knit coffee cardigan and some undergarments. Slipping a final glance to the exhausted Damon on the sofa, I slam the door to the bathroom, shaking my head.

I strip, going for the hot rinse and rose scented body wash and shampoo. I had just started to lather it on my skin and through my hair when a million baby bubbles began to appear. I took my time in playing with it. Soon after I brushing my teeth and drying my hair, water was dripping from the ends onto the bathroom floor when I unlatched the door lock.

"OH." A hand went to the frame while the other rested on my chest. "God damnit. What the hell are you trying to accomplish, trying to get me killed by scaring me to death Monsieur Alpha?"

Damon's eyes lustrous black flickered with traces of gold. It was like a a flick of a light bulb, here and gone in a flash. He held a hands to both sides of the door's frame, entrapping me in. The sleeves rolled to his elbow making the blue veins in his forearms and the veins in his undone collar bulged with the gulp of his adam's apple.

He was the predator, closing on his prey and I was this predator's savior? What was Aria on when thinking of such an absurd thought. I'd never give him the satisfaction of preying me. Not ever after all he's done. I'd put a hell of a fight.

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