I just want to thank all of you guys for reading my story. Your comments and votes mean a lot to me, and seeing other people enjoy STAWP inspires me to write.
I didn't plan to post a chapter today, but I saw that my story got ranged #49 in werewolf!!! That's like, in the top 50. Which anyone who's taken math, ever, would know. *sigh*
Anyway, I'm so excited that I just spent the last hour editing this here chapter for y'all. I'm not sure why I just wrote that in a southern accent -- maybe I should have gone with French? Or Italian? Or Spanish?
Anyway, chapter below! Enjoy!
Logan grabs my hand and pulls me inside the house. I want to ask him what's going on, but as if reading my mind, he turns around and gestures for me to be quiet.
His footsteps are light, almost silent as he leads me across the marble floor. I follow, staying as quiet as I can, which is pretty easy to do barefoot. If I was still in my flats, I'd probably give us away in seconds.
Logan leads me to the half-open door that leads into the dining room and peeks inside, making sure the coast is clear. Once he slips into the room, I silently follow.
It's got a good vantage point of the foyer, so it's a good place to lie in wait if our plan is to attack. I stop next to Logan, tensing as I listen to the slightest sound. Logan seems to be doing the same, his shoulders tense, his head cocked as he listens. His brows furrow, reminding me of our linking lessons from earlier, and then his head tilts slightly toward the kitchen. I listen too, but aside from our breathing, the house is silent. I'm pretty sure the entire floor is empty and I start to speak, but Logan shakes his head.
I nod once to show I understand and Logan carefully closes the dining room door. I wince at the soft click, but I don't hear any shouts, and Logan doesn't look worried. He leads me into the kitchen, the same one where I cooked breakfast only a few hours earlier, and peeks inside. Then he heads inside, and I follow.
"The coast is clear," Logan declares dramatically, his too-loud voice echoing through the otherwise silent kitchen.
"What's going on?" I whisper, eyeing the empty kitchen.
"Isn't in obvious?" Logan grins and heads for the fridge.
I feel a surge of relief, followed closely by a wave of anger. We're not going to face an army of Rogue wolves and fight them to the death. We'll actually live to see another day. We're actually going to be okay. I can't explain how relieved I feel, but I also can't believe Logan just put me through all that. I mean, seriously? I thought there were murderers in the house and he had us enter Ninja-style just so we could get a snack?
"Should we be in here?" I ask. "Maybe we could just go out for pizza?" If we had to go to all this trouble of sneaking in, maybe we're not allowed in here between meals. If that's true, I can't be seen here. POW catches me breaking one rule, and my entire escape plan is ruined. He'll probably lock me in the dungeon to keep me away from his son and throw away the key.
"It's fine." Logan rolls his eyes and opens the fridge. "If you get hungry between meals, you can always grab something from here," he adds, perusing the contents. "There's also cereal and chips and stuff," he gestures at a few cupboards, "but I don't think that'll keep us going 'till dinner."
"Then why did we sneak in?" I ask suspiciously. If we're allowed in the kitchen between meals, Logan could have marched through the front door. He didn't have to freak me out and make me think we were under attack.
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Sold to a Wolf PackRomance
"My dad sold me to a pack of werewolves to settle his gambling debt." ❀ "I'm going to count to three," Logan growls. He doesn't have to say the rest. If I haven't come to him by then, he'll come to me... and I'll regret it. I know this game, and I...