Werewolf and Vampire Mate [Book 1 Complete]

chapter twelve.

April

The rest of the night is a haze to me. I sleep fitfully in Reed's car for what feels like a long time. At some point, we must go through a drive-thru because I wake up to the smell of cheeseburgers and I eat one quickly before falling back asleep. Then, the car is stopped and Reed's arms are around me again, carrying me. The murmur of voices, some familiar like North's and some unfamiliar.

The press of a bed, thin sheets wrapping around my legs.

Reed's lips against my temple. His body over mine. My hands reaching for him, even though I'm hardly conscious.

Then, nothing.

Sunlight wakes me. There's no curtains on the window of the small room I lie in. The bed is simple and pushed in the corner, letting me take in the basic, white walls and bedside table. There's a built-in cupboard and a pile of clothes in front of it.

I sit up, the sheets a bit sticky on my skin. It's warm. The window is cracked open slightly and I can hear the sounds of people chatting and laughing.

With a well-rested stretch, I step out of bed and walk over to the cupboard. I slide the door open and study the myriad of shirts and jeans that greet me. They must be Reed's clothes—I don't think he would let me sleep in anyone else's bed, though I don't recall him joining me last night. The shirts are in various earthy tones of greens and browns. I shed the shirt that I'm wearing and pull another out, this time in a deep walnut hue. I dig through his cupboard until I find a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring. They're far too long, but I can roll up the bottom of them and the drawstring tightens enough for them to stay up around my hips.

I would feel guilty for borrowing his clothes without asking, except he brought me here without asking, so fair is fair.

Part of me thinks the door might be locked, trapping me in this small room, but it isn't. A hallway, with many identical closed doors, stretches in both directions. I go right and walk until it opens to a living room and foyer.

Exposed wooden beams line the ceiling, a stone fireplace set beneath a flat screen TV. A comfy, cream couch and wooden coffee table are nestled in the center of the living room. There are framed photos everywhere of dozens of different people. It is homely and warm.

A teenage boy, mindlessly tossing a football up and down, freezes as I come to a stop, his eyes wide.

"Psst, she's awake." He kicks the man sitting beside him, who I quickly realize is North, though his head is buried in his phone.

North's eyes sling up to me, a little cautious or possibly suspicious. Brown curls fall down into his eyes and he shakes his head to get rid of them, though they stubbornly fall back into place.

"Finally. It's nearly midday," he grumbles. "And I'm the one that's had to sit around and wait for you."

I nearly apologize, but then I think no, after everything I've been through, I deserve a sleep in. 

"Where's Reed?" I ask instead.

"Outside. Come on." North jumps to his feet, rustles the hair of the teenage boy—who protests vocally—and then leads me through the foyer and out onto a wrap-around porch.

A porch swing sits vacant to our left.

As North and I walk down the front steps, I take in my surroundings. It's strange; like a farmhouse has been plonked in the middle of the forest, in a large clearing. There are people—werewolves, I suppose—everywhere. Kids play soccer and chase after each other, a bunch of teenage girls lie in the grass taking pictures of one another. From the treeline, four men emerge shirtless, just buttoning up their jeans. It looks scandalous and homoerotic, except that I know they were probably just in their werewolf forms. Or not...what the hell do I know about how these people live?