Connecting to Him (Bondmates Spin Off)

Pic Of Chris (FREAKING YUMMMMMMY!!!! RAWR =)

~FOUR~

I woke the next morning to a bright room. My body was heavy and lazy with sleep and I just wanted to lay there forever in the soft crisp sheets that smelled of lilac and felt like heaven against my body. I lounged for a long while, listening to the shuffle of feet down stairs along with the soft murmured voices. I heard a mans voice, strong and deep and then the hushed tone of Gail’s. I stood from the bed and stretched out my arms, pushing my palms upwards to the sky as I arched my back. I rummaged through my bag and pulled on a pair jeans and a white v-neck. I kept my mark covered up incase the company wasn’t a shifter. I looked over myself in the mirror and gave my hair a quick comb, deciding I looked decent and trotted my way down stairs.

“Yeah. Totally smart having a stranger, a rogue at that, in our home.” The man said sounding irritated.

I stopped on the last step and leaned against the cool railing. Watching them. The guy was tall, taller than me with broad shoulders hugging a tight black t-shirt and muscled arms. His skin smooth and evenly tanned, and his hair was black and in a messy yet fashionably sexy in a casual shag on top of his head. I moved my eyes lower and found a nice ass hugged by his jeans.

I looked back up and found the conversation ended. His head snapped back to look at me and I was captured by a set of brown eyes that seemed to stop the world. His face smooth and sculpted to perfection, with a long jaw and a set voluptuous sexy lips. His brows knitted together in a glower and I returned the look, my heart breaking slightly at the sight of his clear rejection. Well that’s a first…

“Damn, she is alive.” His deep manly voice said lowly.

My eyes narrowed and shot daggers at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” he said dismissively and stormed out of the living room that the stairs led to. The front door at twelve o’clock. The swinging door screeched back and forth before a long screech ended its movement.

“Was I supposed to be dead?” I asked, looking down at Gail.

She smiled softly and looked at the door. She was seated on a small loveseat with her hands knotted together, looking calm as ever. “No. Chris is just a little shy.”

I frowned. "Shy?"

“He’s not a great people person.” She explained.

I nodded in understanding. “Obviously,” I muttered.

“When he said you were alive it’s because you’ve been asleep for a whole day and four hours.”

I gaped. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “I don’t blame you, it was a long run.”

I nodded.

She hopped up and made her way to the swinging door Chris had disappeared through. “Lets get you something to eat shall we?”

I followed behind her, my stomach cheering in eagerness and I blushed lightly. I let the door swing shut behind me and I didn’t even look at the lump slouched at the dinner table with the paper covering his face.

“Chris would you like some breakfast as well? Gail asked.

“No thanks,” he said tossing the paper to the table and standing. “I’m gonna get going. I’ll see you tonight.” He said and headed for the backdoor.

“Have a nice day,” I called.

He looked back at me and glared. Slamming the door with all his might behind him, causing a large crack to sprout in the window.

“Oh heavens sake!” Gail roared.

I chuckled and seated at the table.

She let out a small puff and shook her head. “That’ll just add on to his chore list.”

I frowned. “He lives here?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes he does. He’s my God Son.”

“God son?”

“His mother and father passed away just around his seventh birthday. He’s been attached to my hip ever since.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty four.”

I nodded and dropped the conversation. Not wanting to hear anymore about him.

The smell of bacon enveloped the air and I let out a breath as it started to sizzle on the pan. I watched as she cracked eggs and popped some bread into the toaster. In a matter of minutes she laid out a large plate in front of me, I smiled at her grateful before I picked up my fork and dug in.

She sat at the other end of the table and sipped at her coffee. “So what is your story usti waya?”

I smiled lightly at the name. Little Wolf, in Cherokee. I shook my head. “It’s long.”