Fear

Chapter Three

Don't freak out.

Just don't bloody freak out Harlow.

Harlow had been chanting to herself for well over ten minutes, her eyes squeezing shut involuntary every now and again.

Her small fists clenching as to not scream.

The man in front of her, Louden. Because he had a name now.

The gigantic beast sprawled out on the couch was growling. Deep timbers shook through his body, rumbling up into the lungs swirling around both bronchi, moving it's way up into his trachea, vibrating against his vocal cords, and finally expelling out of his throat.

Torturously slow, the process was repeating itself

Echoing throughout the house, bouncing against every exposed beam in the living room, and then making it's way into her ear, causing a horrified flinch every time the operation began once more.

As long as she's been alive, she's never seen such a sight, every breath he took in his sleeping form, was a growl, not a snore, but a fucking growl.

Alarm spikes in Harlow every time his chest rose, and fell. The adrenaline pumping, allowing the instinct in her screaming for a quick bolt, or a fight. His face was peaceful, not angelic, but peaceful. Giving her a quick time to study him.

The arm thrown over his face, covered his eyes, but she was able to skim his features, reasonably. He had a slight stubble grazing his cheeks, from what she could tell he had a strong jaw, and a nose with a minor shift to left, suggested that it had been broken more than once. Primal cheek bones jutted out from his face, and lips, thin on the top, and plump on the bottom, pouted feebly in the dreary dilemma of sleep.

Sleep is for the weak. Harlow reminded herself, the perilous fear of falling into the same oblivion of the man next to her, giving him a wild opportunity to murder her.

The snow outside hadn't stopped for a minute, and it was already dawn, the warm peachy sun kissing the horizon, and still snow clouds clogged up the surrounding area, eventually overcasting the sun's rays. Large flakes began to fog up her window, leaving a cloudy image, and no certain insight to the outside world. In a terrifying delirious way, the snow offered some bliss, and relief to Harlow's eyes, but it mostly caused a stress to fall over her shoulders, a longing for something more. To touch, to feel the cold slipperiness of the ice on her hands, the fluffy texture soaking into her skin, is pure euphoria.

And a luxury you can't take Harlow, she quickly, and effectively reminded herself of the dangers lying in the snow.

The growls coming from the couch ceased and Harlow held her breath fearfully, awaiting the awakening of the beast. He had seemed completely normal, until she realized there was something...off about him, the way he could barely speak English, and the way his hands twitched nervously, as if the skin was going to burst through, ripping to shreds, his eyes seemed to shifty as if he wasn't comfortable around household objects, he was unstable.

It made Harlow wary of the things an unstable person can do. She knew first hand, of the disasters that could occur, while one was unstable.

After all, Harlow was the most unstable of anyone.

This is why she knew, never to trust anyone.

Let alone someone without a direction.

His face physically hurt, waiting to transition into a snout, his hands ached, waiting for fur to sprout, paws to flatten out and talons to stretch, from thin human nails. He was waiting for instinct to kick in, and burst through his skin.