The Hidden Luna

Chapter 33: The Day

I groan as I roll over in the small bed, my back and legs screaming at me to lay still; Thomas had been right, my second shift hurt like a bitch, even after a good night's rest. I rub my tired eyes and yawn as the bright sunlight welcomed my gaze through the window across the room. I had managed to shift last night without Thomas, but I know he hated the idea of his mate getting help from someone else for something so incredibly painful. My wolf hated to miss a chance at playing with her mate, but I know she understood why things had to go slowly. The wolf in me knows she's safe here with a pack and mate, but the human side of me knows things aren't always so simple.

I rise from the bed, the sheets sliding down my body like silk on marble, and I grab a change of clothes before heading into the adjoining bathroom. I flick on the light and look at my ghoulish reflection: my hair was still slightly damp from the shower I'd taken when I got back home last night and tangles hung down my shoulders, dark purple bags hung from my eyes, the large baggy shirt I'd found in the pile of clothes I had yet to sort through hangs just above my mid-thigh, exposing the bruises I'd gotten in training the day before. Overall, I look like a hot mess. I groan slightly as I pull down my panties and sit onto the toilet against the same wall as the sink. After doing my business I wash my hands and change into my fresh clothes, my jeans covering the bruises and the tight long-sleeve shirt accentuating my cleavage.

I head downstairs and find Thomas on the phone while a waffle iron steams in front of him on the countertop. I smirk a little to myself, excitement rising in my chest, and I rub my empty stomach. I quietly tip-toe over to the wall at the end of the stairs separating them from the room to better listen to my mate's conversation and his low voice created a warmth in my chest as my wolf encouraged me to take in the view. His black t-shirt clung to his sculpted body nicely and his grey basket-ball shorts accentuated his ass making me bite my lip slightly. It seemed obvious to me, after I found out that Thomas is a lycan, that he has some kind of advanced genes to be as attractive as I find him.

Thomas opens the waffle iron, releasing the pent up steam created by the waffles, and angrily says, "nothing? You can't find anything linking them?"

My brows furrow in confusion as I try to listen to the other person's response, only to hear murmurs from a low, male voice on the other end. Thomas grabs a fork and flips the waffle onto a white plate that sits next to the iron, and the sweet smell of the food wafts over to me. I try to silence an oncoming growl from my hungry stomach, my hands clutching my abdomen tightly. The man murmured for a while to Thomas as he stood quietly in the kitchen.

"There has to be something. Have you found anything on her mother? She clearly knew about our kind, perhaps she's human," my mate murmured lowly as he poured another cup of batter onto the iron.

I hold back as gasp as I try to focus harder on the man's reply. Clearly Thomas is talking to someone about me, who else would he be trying to find information about? If he wanted to know more about me and my mother why didn't he simply ask me? Why wouldn't he tell me he was trying to find information about my mother, I would have gladly told him everything about her. As much as I found myself upset and disappointed with my mother for poisoning me, I still love her and I hope she is happy. Maybe he wants to find her for me so I won't want to leave anymore.

The man murmurs a reply across the phone as steam fumes out of the waffle iron, "she's gone? Did you find any personal effects in the house?"

My heart races in my chest as I slowly walk out of my hiding place and into the kitchen, disbelief clearly written across my face. I stare at Thomas's back as he continues to listen to the man's reply, my hands shaking at my sides while I wait for his reply. Thomas flips open the waffle iron once more, steam climbing up into his face as he flicks the waffle into the plate with the other.