Lone Werewolf

Anger

I couldn't remember the exact point at which I woke up but suddenly it was dark and I was clammy, sweat rolling down the back of my neck uncomfortably. My muscles ached miserably, my head raging its own personal war and my legs felt like clay, even as they rested against the bed.

I groaned, slipping from the bed disoriented as my head spun and my vision darkened. I stumbled, knocking my knee painfully on a chair I could not see. I had to keep going blindly until I could feel the cool wall against my hand and I fumbled for the bathroom door – hands seeking the handle but never coming into contact with it.

I was growing frustrated, almost letting out a stray growl before it was under my fingers and I pushed through the door, flicking on the lightbulb clumsily as I went.

The harsh light stung my sensitive eyes and I had to squint them before reaching over to the sink – feeling the cool marble surface ground me beneath my hands. I observed myself in the mirror, yawning before starting as I noticed the veins on my wrist had darkened at the roots, as if there was ink flowing through my veins.

My heart thumped as I stared at it, pace picking up in my worry and confusion. I took note of the pyjamas I was dressed in which I had not chosen myself and panicked further in worry about my mate dressing me.

Anxiety came crashing over me and suddenly my stomach was roiling and I was hastily throwing myself in front of the toilet before the nausea gripped my stomach and I wretched. The suffocating feeling was not pleasant and my head throbbed.

I waited anxiously for my stomach to settle, dreading the thought of being sick again.

It seemed to have passed over and I sighed, deflating against the cold stone floor before heaving myself up to clutch the sink, flushing away the evidence as I went. I felt weaker than normal, but it was as if there was something stronger pushing back at me.

I huffed and splashed my face with water and cleaned out my mouth to refresh myself, still feeling shaken.

"Are you alright in there?" Cesare asked, making me jump and turn to the door in a flash, comforted when it remained closed.

"Y-yeah," I replied, "I-I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, you can go back to sleep."

"If you're sure..." he answered, sounding reluctant and so I knew I had to exit the bathroom to appease him.

"You look pale," he commented as soon as he saw me, visible now as the side lamp had been turned on, "Are you feeling unwell?"

I shrugged, "I am fine."

He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at me in concern but I shuffled past him and clambered back into the bed trying to prove my point and get him off my back.

I didn't want him thinking I was weak.

He sighed and switched off the light, plunging us into darkness once more.

**

I hadn't slept anymore, couldn't, I could only lie on my side and watch the dark silhouette representing Cesare as it rose and fell with his breathing. By this point my eyes were well adjusted and could see the outline of the room with astounding clarity.

I also felt the strong urge to be near Cesare, even if I couldn't bring myself to go over to him, then at least to watch him. I was conflicted between the newfound desire for the safety of his arms and the safety of logic and the bed.

I glanced over to the clock which read 5:00am and growled softly in frustration, feeling it well up inside my chest before I pushed it down. It seemed far too easy to become frustrated by the simplest of things. I was frustrated by my weakness, frustrated by my alertness, frustrated by the time. I kicked off the sheets, feeling restless and stood up, pacing quietly along the room to calm my nerves and get rid of the excess energy that appeared to be building up.