Who? | The Dhampir (Book Two)

VII

George

"Clarkson? Are you still awake?" I ask while looking at the wooded ceiling.

"Yes," he whispers.

"I really wanted you to be comfortable in your sleep–"

"It's okay, George," he whispers again.

"Sorry if I let you sleep on the floor," I whisper and bite my lower lip. "Tuna doesn't want you on the bed, I guess."

I shift my weight and look at the cat beside me, who's sleeping peacefully.

"Yes, it's alright," he clears his throat. "He almost bit me and scratched my arms a while ago."

"Yeah," I chuckle. "He's too protective of me."

"I won't harm you, tho. I'll just sleep here. How would sleeping be so dangerous? Is it dangerous?" Clarkson asks.

"It...is. Sometimes," I mutter.

"What!?" he gets up. "How?" he looks at me with his angry innocent eyes.

"Shh...shut up!" I mutter through my gritted teeth. My hand grabs a pillow and throws it to him. He catches the pillow with one hand.

"Sleep," I command with glaring eyes.

He dramatically opens his mouth in disbelief.

"I'll be the one who'll sleep on the floor tomorrow. Fair enough?"

"No, the cat should sleep on the floor tomorrow," he says, lying down with his back facing me.

I laugh. "He's just a loyal cat, Clarkson," I say while brushing my fingers on Mr. Tuna's gray fur.

Silence.

"Clarkson?" I ask while watching the cat sleep.

"Hmmm..."

"When will I become a full werewolf?" I shift my weight and face the ceiling.

"Soon, when you're ready," he whispers in a sleepy voice.

"When I'm ready," I whisper. "I won't transform then."

Silence follows.

"Georgina..."

I hear a feminine voice. Turning my head at the window, I see a group of fireflies in the form of a lady.