A/N: As a byproduct of avoiding what I should be doing I wrote another chapter. Enjoy! And remember that comments and votes make my day :)
Chapter 11:
I sat in the maroon dining room by myself as the monster went to get our plates from the kitchen. I felt awkward in the room. Even before my family had been moved out of the middle district we never really ate dinner in a formal dining room setting, getting us all to eat together in the kitchen was a feat in and of itself. To eat in a room designated just for eating while uncomfortably looking at each other was unfamiliar and rusty to me.
The last time that I had eaten in this kind of setting was at my grandmother's house before the werewolves took over.
Seven years or so?
And even that had been different. When I ate at grandmother's house I was surrounded by people that I loved and trusted...now I was just in the company of a creepy ass werewolf. The discomfort that I felt was making me see exactly why my father felt like Little Red Riding hood was a frightening tale that he refused to read to me.
I heard the monster's footsteps coming into the room and sucked in a breath as he entered, sitting up straighter.
He set a plate in front of me, kissing the top of my head as he leaned to set it down. It was good that he couldn't see my face because I was sure it was contorted in anguish. How long would I have to be his play thing? How long would I have to endure his touch and kisses? I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the unspoken message Kyrie had sent me. If I ever want to get out of here and away from the monster I would have to play nice...gain his trust.
I looked down at my plate and froze in shock.
So much.
So much...pretty food.
It looked unreal, like someone had taken a picture out of a magazine and taped it to the table in front of me. Even the light seemed to hit it just right making the colors stand out and my mouth water. He sat down across from me, carrying his own plate of identical volume and quality.
I didn't remember the last time I ate a steak. I didn't remember the last time I had eaten half the food on the plate.
"What's wrong?" he asked, taking in my blank stare at the glorious looking food. "Do you not like steak? I can make you something else. Chicken? Pork? Fish? You can have anything you want."
Anything I want?
My mouth and stomach were yearning for this food like more than anything I had ever wanted. I was so hungry...I had been so hungry.
Still not understanding my shock the monster got up and made a move to take the plate away. In a dreamlike state of panic, I stopped him.
"I like steak." I whispered, not looking at him but I could tell that he smiled as he sat back down.
I picked up the fork and knife and touched the food with them. The knife sank in easily and I cut the steak slowly, carefully revealing the pink center of the chop.
My mouth watered even more if that were possible.
I felt that soon I would be drooling like a starving dog looking at kibble.
Steak.
I stabbed my fork into the tender meat and then raised it to my lips, inhaling deeply before taking a bite.
Damn cows tasted good.
I hadn't eaten meat, real meat not bony fish or half-starved rabbit, in years. I had forgotten how good it tasted, how right it felt in your mouth. I took another bite, holding back a sigh before scarfing more down. I hadn't eaten like this since the werewolves had put the ration restriction on humans.
I paused mid chew.
No ration restriction.
Yet another way I was being absorbed into the monster's society.
I looked back down at the plate and the disgust that I felt was almost tangible. They ate like this every day while my people were starving. The monsters were treated like kings while the humans begged for scraps...in some cases nearly starved to death.
I had never been put off steak in my entire life...but now it revolted me.
I put down the fork and the knife.
"I'm going to bed." I blurted, rising from the chair. He looked up at me in confusion and concern.
"You hardly touched your plate." He said looking at my food quizzically. "You said that you liked steak." He commented, worry in his voice. I heaved a sigh.
"I do, it's just...I'm not hungry." I lied. Truthfully I was starving. All of my people, human people were practically starving. I felt eating what he put in front of me was like betraying my people somehow.
It felt wrong.
Sickening.
His eyes darkened and he let out a low growl.
"Don't lie to me darling." He grumbled, looking at me with eyes that made me feel frightened again. I could hear the beast speaking behind the human's concern and it terrified me. I looked back down at the food and felt my fist clench.
No.
I couldn't eat it. Not even if I wanted to.
"I feel sick."
The monster in his eyes receded in a flash and his expression went back to the most genuine concern I had ever seen on his face, it was border line panic. He got up.
"What kind of sick? Does your stomach hurt? Are you going to throw up? " He rambled, moving around the table and placing his hand on my forehead before I could even flinch away from him. His brow furrowed with worry and he put his other hand on his own head as a reference.
"You're not warmer than me. Do you have a head ache? Is it just your stomach?" he continued to prattle.
Jesus. He was worse than Cheyenne's mother and her borderline hysterical behavior whenever Chey would do as much as sneeze.
"I'm just not used to rich food." I admitted, hoping the half-truth would cover the real reason that I felt like projectile vomiting on him.
His expression turned angry and then sad and then guilty.
"I'm sorry, I didn't even think about..." he began but didn't finish. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Come, I'll run you a bath and then you can go to bed." He finally said, practically dragging me back toward the bedroom and into the master bath.
I hadn't been in here.
The walls were a royal purple and there was both a stand in shower and a claw foot bath tub. He let go of my hand and turned on the water, checking the temperature and getting me out a towel like he was prepping a tub for a five year old.
He walked out of the room suddenly and came back a second later with the dorkiest looking flannel pajamas I had ever seen. They had flowers and shit all over them.
"I know they're a little silly looking but they looked really comfortable." He confessed setting them down on the closed toilet seat.
He walked over to me and hugged me to him, kissing the top of my head again and inhaling deeply in my hair.
"I'm going to go get you something to settle your stomach. I'll be back in a few minutes ok?" he asked.
His body was pressed against mine and I felt like screaming.
I wanted him to go away.
"Ok." I whispered. He nodded and let go of me, looking at me worriedly before walking out of the room and shutting the door firmly behind him.
I just stood there.
I stood there and listened to the sound of his footsteps rushing around the bed room, then moving down the hall and I finally let out my breath when I heard the door slam shut as he rushed out.
I practically ran to the toilet, knocking the ridiculous pajamas to the tile before upchucking into the pot.
Wrenching up more stomach acid up than actual food.
I had let him touch me.
I had eaten the food that was withheld from my kin.
Tears sprung to my eyes and I shoved myself away from the toilet disgusted with myself.
There was vomit in my hair and on my shirt.
The evidence of my deal with Satan sticking to me.
Almost in a panic I stripped my shirt off and then my pants before getting into the tub, picking up the soap and scrubbing myself as if I could wash away my betrayal physically.
I betrayed my people.
I shook my head.
"I betrayed them to save them." I mumbled, my hands stilling in their attack at my own flesh. I took a deep breath and sunk myself further into the warm water.
"I saved them. I saved them. I had to." I continued to mumble, trying to convince myself that I could do this. That I could still be strong. That doing this, not fighting back, in this instance was being strong.
"I don't know if I can do this." I admitted. "I don't know what to do other than this."
My mind throught back to the monster who said he would be back in just a few minutes.
I needed to get out of the tub.
I needed to have clothes on before he got back to the apartment.
I got out of the tub a numbly dried myself off before picking up the stupid girly pajamas from the floor and mechanically putting them on.
I didn't look in the mirror.
What was the point?
I heard the front door open and about three seconds later the monster walked into the bathroom. Not bothering to knock or anything. Just barges on in. Who does shit like that?
Why do I even ask anymore?
I'm just thankful that the less pitiful side of me decided to put clothes on.
"I got you some Pepcid and Ginger Ale to settle your stomach." He began to ramble digging things out of the bags that he carried and putting them onto the countertop. He hadn't even looked up at me yet.
Guess if wouldn't have mattered if I was naked as a blue jay.
Still...it was the principle of the thing.
"And I got you some mild food too, it's in the kitchen. Yogurt and pudding and such. I also got you some Pedialyte." He continued, taking a deep breath. "And I smell stomach acid."
He looked up finally his eyes latching onto me with worry and tenderness.
I looked down at my feet.
I didn't want to see the monster look at me that way.
I didn't want him to love me.
No matter how much I feared the monster, the beast was easier for me to mentally deal with. I could deal with an evil monster that could rip your beating heart out with his teeth. I didn't know what to do with a monster that wanted to feed me pudding and doddle my name on his binders. If he had binders. Why was I thinking about if he had binders?
Jesus, I was going insane.
Really going freaking mental.
"You threw up. I wasn't here. I'm so sorry baby." He apologized.
Why the hell would it have helped if he were here? Why the hell would he want to be around someone who was vomiting?
Answer: because he's freaking psycho. That's why.
"Here drink this, it will settle your stomach." He said pouring ginger ale into a glass that was sitting on the vanity and handing it to me.
I looked at it for a moment.
Oh what the hell.
I drank it.
He took the glass back from me.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.
Yes ass hole, ginger ale has suddenly become a miracle cure for gastric upset caused by being frightened shitless.
"A little." I mumbled.
He smiled without showing his teeth and took my hand in his.
"Let's get you to bed." He said softly.
I let him lead me back into the bedroom and to the side of the bed. He pulled back the sheets for me and practically tucked me in like I was a toddler.
"I'll be back in just a second." He assured me, kissing my forehead.
For God's sake...take your time.
He walked out of the room and I could hear him moving things around in what I was guessing was the kitchen. He came back into the room all too soon, carrying a metal pot that he put on the floor next to the side of the bed I was on.
"Just in case you get sick in the night and can't make it to the bathroom." He explained. I knew what it was for. My father always gave me a pot when I was sick so I wouldn't have to make a mad dash to the toilet. It seemed weird that a werewolf would know of this practice. I had heard that the monsters rarely got sick.
The image of the big bad wolf sick in his bed, holding a vomit pot amused me.
He walked over to the dresser, pulling his shirt off as he went. I rolled over.
No one wants to see that and by no one I mean me.
Sooner than I wanted I felt the bed dip and arms go around me, pulling me back into a bare chest.
"Goodnight mate." He whispered, kissing the back of my neck.
I was going to need that pot.