Things that Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 40: Illusions and Determinations

“You want anything to eat?” the Monster suddenly asked. I glanced back over at him to find that he was still not looking at me, his eyes trained mechanically on the television set even though the news had gone to commercial.

“No.” I mumbled. I was surprised that he had even asked the question. Quite frankly I didn’t want him making food for me ever.

“Let me rephrase…you will eat. Pick something while I am still in a good enough mood to give you a choice in the matter.” He growled at me. He still wasn’t looking at me but his expression was hard and his eyes were the black emotionless color of the Beast.

“Toast…I’d eat toast.” I managed to mumble.

The Monster didn’t say anything as he ducked out of the doorframe and went back toward the kitchen without a second glance.

A few minutes after he left I heard the sound of a smaller set of feet coming down the hallway. Cheyenne? I looked over my shoulder to see her walk into the living room. She didn’t say anything as she came over to the armchair I was sitting in and sat beside me, squeezing in the space next to me like she used to do as a small child. The action stunned me so much that for a moment I couldn’t even think of what to do.

“You ok?” I asked, finally deciding to relax and let her body sink in next to mine. She nodded and closed her eyes silently. She looked so calm…so tired.

What I wouldn’t give to keep her away from all of this.To keep her away from the monsters and the lies that I had weaved for her.

I didn't want what had happened to me to happen to her.

And I espically didn't want it to happen with that sadistic Alpha.

He made Sean look like a plush doll.

The Monster came back into the room then, walking toward me and practically shoving a plate of buttered toast with jam into my hands before plopping down on the couch in silence.

“Where’s my toast?” Cheyenne suddenly asked, looking over at the werewolf expectantly. He just took a sip of his coffee, not taking his eyes off the television.

“Make your own. I’m not your maid.”

“Are you Juniper’s maid then because you made her toast?” She argued, sounding just like her normal snotty self. It was oddly comforting that at least she could still function on normal cylinders even if I though complaining to the monster was not such a good idea. The Monster’s gaze flickered toward her an annoyed leer crossing his face as he leaned forward.

“Why yes I am. I even wear a little uniform for her complete with fishnets and lace garters.” He told her, keeping eye contact with her long enough that her whole face to turn beat red. “Wanta see?” he asked.

“I-I’ll make my own toast.” She stammered as her poor prudish sensibilities made her lurch out of the armchair and speed walk into the kitchen. The Monster leaned his head back against the back of the couch. If I didn’t hate him so much I might have actually considered his antics funny. All I could do now was stare at him blankly like he was a cat defying gravity…not that anything defying gravity would be just as strange.

“I’m sorry…that was out of line.” He apologized to me, apparently feeling my blatant stare on the side of his face.

“Chey can be a brat.” I found myself mumbling for some strange and absurd reason.

“Liked it better when she was more afraid of me.” The monster mumbled to himself. “Kept that hole in her face shut.”

I sighed and stared down at the toast, in thought. The butter was running off of the sides and the red jam preserves that were spread across it smelled like raspberries. I picked it up and took a bite out of it.