Nixon

••• Twenty-Three •••

As the storm passes and soon the sun rises, I find myself waking up in his arms on the couch from where we started. My body aches as I move, signs of the night everywhere as I do not feel afraid, but wanting more nights like the one just finished. Looking to the doorway to the hall, silk ropes hang from the frame, winkled as my wrists still feel the silk against them, the sensations that coursed through my body as I told him I was his over and over, screaming his name, spelling it out as I wanted more. Like I once said, we hate vanilla, we enjoy the passion and anger we put into those acts, allowing us to balance the demons that lay within us, wanting to lash out and claim our every action.

Looking to Nixon, my stomach twists and turns into knots, how I am still on him, rested as he still sleeps. My eyes glance away, to the kitchen table, the table moved three feet from its original position as I did not think it possible for such a sturdy piece of furniture. As for the rooms upstairs, the bookshelves no longer hold books, his office floor is trashed around the desk, his laptop on the floor, papers scattered everywhere, and chair on the other side of the desk. Maybe tonight was too much? No. It was not enough. I still need to get things out of my system, to release all of that stress and anxiety. I've become intoxicated just like he said would happen when we first met.

Paintings once hung from the walls perfectly are either crooked or upon the wooden floor, no sign of mercy as I lean back on the couch and grab my robe still located in the same place. Our plane will leave in two hours, meaning I had better awaken the Alpha.

As Nixon is soon helping me pack up, he says a maid will tend to the house, leaving a massive tip for her on the coffee table of the living room, the only innocent location we could think of. As I slide into the shower and get ready for the flight back, Nixon only joins, explains that the next week will include shopping for a new house in the city. We will be creating a new home soon, one away from the troubles as we are free.

"Ready?" Nixon asks me as I finish changing and dry my hair. Nodding, I finish up, heading out of the room and down the stairs to find his car parked outside and all loaded up. Taking my hand, we head for the car, Nixon helping me in as my pace has become slower due to the soreness present. As I slide into the seat, Nixon runs around to the drivers side, hopping in as he starts the car. Driving off, I watch as the cute little town fades away and we soon pull up beside his jet. The pilot greets us, bowing his head respect as a flight attendant greets us, having us follow her as she asks for drink orders. Nixon gets some whisky and I stick to water, wanting to sleep for the long flight ahead. As we get our drinks, the flight attend leaves us alone to the massive space, my body sliding down into the couch as I shut my eyes.

What has become of the life I once dreamt of? Colorado for college, a degree in physics, and no distractions. How did all of this happen? Sure, family life has never been the best, but how did this year make everything I once held dear just vanish out of thin air. How did I chose Nixon? Am I addicted to him, to a male who is older than me and may get a little too rough? Why does he want me, a girl who is young. What did he even see in me besides us being mates? How did all of this happen? How did he enter my life and take over it?

Opening my eyes, I watch as Nixon pulls out a spare laptop, typing away as I see charts of profits from his job. Emily once told me he was bad news. I ignored her, pushing her away as I have done to many. Emily told me Nixon was not to be trusted, that nothing good could come of this. This, this relationship of sorts between a werewolf and human, an older man and a younger girl, and one where we are either fighting or like this, silent as we enjoy the quiet company. Did I make the right decision? What if I would have walked to my family? Taylor and I would be at each others necks by now, mother ignoring me, and father at arms length. With Nixon I am given the attention needed to even feel like I am wanted in the same room. Did I make the right choice? I believe so, but he put me against my family. He told me it was either him or them, and I picked him...I picked Nixon Maxwell.