Creatures

FIVE

When Chrissy stepped out of the shower, she couldn't even say she was surprised when she found that her clothes were gone. It would just be so like him. She ripped both the towels off the rack, and pointedly made one soaking wet from her long, thick, black hair. She wrapped the other around her body and was also not surprised to find him casually lying on his bed, reading a book.

She threw the soaking wet towel at him. "Hey, asshole. Where the fuck are my clothes?" She demanded.

He pointedly ignored her, took the towel off himself and tossed it casually on the floor. "They were dirty. I put them in the wash for you."

She laughed harshly, "I told you, I'm leaving."

He turned a page in the book. "Feel free. Though I wouldn't mind if you held off and slept over."

Chrissy was seething. It came innate, she found the first object she could wrap her hand around and threw it at him. It happened to be a brush off the counter. It hit him in the side of the face.

"Hey, what the-" he looked at her, and his mouth hung open.

Chrissy stood there, nothing but a towel, dripping wet. Her hair was already beginning to curl over her shoulders, and her face was dewy. Dear goddess, what a figure. She must try to hide it under all that frumpy men's clothing. But there was no hiding now. Round hips, a tiny waist, and absolutely huge-

She flushed a bright pink, reached for something else, "you'll catch flies, Soileau!"

He quickly rolled out of bed and stood, grabbing her wrist before she could hurtle a water glass at him. He took it from her hand and placed it carefully back on the nightstand. "You would seriously rather go back to your father than stay here? It's quite late, and you would be hard pressed to get any of your brothers to take you home to him."

Her anger seemed to lessen somewhat, he let go of her wrist. "I'll give you that." She said, with enough confidence to actually surprise him.

He rose an eyebrow.

She frowned. "Truth is truth, no matter if you want to hear it or not."

What an interesting creature.

"Truth: my name is Tristan. Not asshole, bastard, or Soileau." He told her.

She laughed. "Oh, I'll call you whatever I damn please, Soileau."

He smiled, "you won't if you want your little knife back."

Chris' expression grew grim. "Where is it?"

He patted her on the head. "Nowhere you'll be able to reach."

She narrowed her eyes. "That was a gift."

He smirked, "And?"

He gestured to him. "And you're a bitch. Glad we have that settled."

He huffed a laugh. "I'm just biding my time."

Humor was lost from her face. "For... What?"

Tristan's green eyes glinted nefariously. He boxed her in against the chest of drawers, she held on tightly to the towel, suddenly afraid it was going to fall loose. He is not sexy! Nope! Completely non-attractive. No sex appeal whatsoever. She chanted to herself, lying. He tucked a curl behind her ear, dangerously close to her face. She couldn't swat at him, she was trying too hard to clutch onto her last barrier between them. "Because, Christine," he murmured, "I've seem to forgotten a very important thing that happens to mates once they find each other. Why it's all so powerful and sudden, why no one can ever deny it."