Wolf Bound

Chapter 16: Company

Someone was in the kitchen. Growling, heavy breathing, scratching, moans of distress—I'd heard it all until it grew unbearable to listen to—without my unsettled paranoia working its way through me under the blankets. Seconds ticked on. Those seconds soon turned into minutes until I had enough of the noises.

I tore the blankets off of my body and settled onto the floor with my feet. Vincent's room was a few doors down. His office was in the corner at the end of the hall, a few doors further down from both of our rooms. However, he wasn't inside either rooms when I'd checked. Well actually, both doors were locked, so I assumed he wasn't hiding out inside either room.

It wasn't unusual for Vincent to stay up late for most of the night. For humans, that would have most likely been considered insomnia. For wolves though, I knew wolves to be nocturnal animals. Therefore, it could've been either reasoning when it came to Vincent. Either way I knew I'd have heard him shifting around if he was inside either of those rooms.

I kept quiet, crouching down the steps. My shoulder brushed against the brown paint as my hands slid down the rail. I couldn't stop the muscles in my body from clenching due to what sounded like metal clashing against the floor. Pots, pans, all kinds of dishes. The noises made my ears wiggle around. When I stepped onto the ground floor, the noises stopped.

I rounded the corner near the kitchen entrance. My hand slipped into my pajama pants pocket for my phone. When I'd grabbed a hold of it, I turned on the flashlight setting, and peeked into the kitchen with caution.

"F-fuck, I hate when that happens." Someone coughed. The first thing I spotted was the spine shifting back into place under someone's skin. Their bones popped with a low crackling noise.

His body stumbled forward then back on the tip-toes of his feet. A hand clutched onto the edge of the kitchen counter, its long, thin fingers scratching to hold onto the surface in a firm grip. His back was facing me and his black curls were a sweaty mess, sticking to the side of his head. But I could still make out his silhouette.

"Vincent?" My eyebrows shot up. "What the hell are you doing?"

I wasn't sure what possessed me to move closer but I wasted no time in rushing forward. My bare feet slapped against the floor of the kitchen, numbing my soles with its cool touch. I was now close enough to see every tiny detail on the back of his neck. I turned the flashlight setting off and placed my phone back into the pocket of my pajama pants.

"I-I could ask you . . . the same thing," he panted without looking at me, "I smelled you as you were walking down the stairs."

Whatever fur was left on him from his wolf cleared from his skin until it had regressed back into his pores. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the counter. His bare body was crouched into a fetal position. However, his butt wasn't touching the floor. He's naked again, he's naked again, he's naked again, I forced my intrusive thoughts aside and focused.

"Me? Well, I was just coming down here to make sure no one was trying to break in. I thought an intruder entered your house! You were so noisy, it scared me out of my sleep." I let out a quiet sigh, dragging my hands over my bonnet to pull it off. As soon as it slid down my face, I yanked on my curls, playing with the ends of them.

"An intruder on the estate without permission? Not unless they have a death wish." I heard a low, deep, almost inaudible chuckle echo from his chest. "I came in through the tunnels."

"Oh. Well, I mean, Lady Teresa walked in here not too long ago and scared the crap out of me. . . So, better safe than sorry, right?" I shrugged and crossed my arms.

"With permission," he added.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, you're right. With permission," I said, waving his words off.