Slaves of the Night

Chapter 7 - Anyone But You

Slaves of the Night

Chapter 7: Anyone But You

 

  I couldn't sleep well that night, and I wish I could say it was because the excitement of learning to fight. No, I woke at three in the morning in a cold sweat and my heartbeat going frantic. My breath hitched with a half sob that had me wishing Tristan was there to cling to. But I was alone in an cold bed with the blankets scattered everywhere.

  There was no reason for Ian to haunt my dreams, I was safe from him--he was off hiding somewhere far away. But when everyone else was so on edge about him that I knew he was a man of his word when he had said he wouldn't stop until I was his. In the nightmare's he had his hands clasped gently around my neck from behind my back, fingers searing a rough imprint of them deep into my skin. His lips had been millimeters away from my ear whispering warm breaths of something I couldn't comprehend. All I knew was that he was out there, and he hadn't forgotten about me.

  So I lay there in the bed, turned onto my side and trying to concentrate on the night sky, the moon slowly waning and dimming the light drifting in through the curtains. Tristan was one hard-headed fool if he thought going on a wild goose chase was a better way to protect the pack rather than actually protecting us here against an attack. Now was a perfect time if any vengeful pack wanted to take its aggression out on us; half the fighters were gone! A small part of me that was determined to be unafraid actually wanted Ian to come back so I could end this all myself. Instead everyone else insisted on doing my dirty work because I was too innocent. I'm sure innocent people had strong instincts to sink their teeth into other people's throats and proceed in tearing them out.

  With a growl I turned back around roughly beating my pillow a bit to make myself more comfortable but nothing was working. Eventually after enough tossing and turning to give a washing machine a run for its money I decided the attempts on going back to sleep were useless. Swinging my feet over the edge I sat up and straightened my tank top because it had nearly wound itself all the way around my torso. My bare feet padded across the floor as I quietly left into the hallway, the house seemed totally induced in deep slumber.

  Television sounded like a useless waste of time; I had nearly memorized the TV schedule after a week of only being in front of the stupid contraption. Like that would give me any answers to the questions that were berating my thoughts. Was I just a mutant that had murderous tendencies because I was created wrong? What if it wasn't the wolf in me, but me in particular?

  As I passed the living room, I looked further down to where the office was. No light escaped the closed door so I could only imagine that Rayne was asleep like everyone else. Just as long as he wasn't slumped over his desk I could probably spend the remainder of the night in there. My hand closed around the cool metal of the handle and twisted, the door swinging lightly inward without a single creak. It was dark, but the illumination from the window helped me confirm that it was empty. Silently I released a held breath, thankful that he was up in bed, because if he was still down here I wouldn't get another chance to sneak into the office.

  Books lined all the walls in cases that were nearly ceiling high, making the medium sized room more of a cozy smaller room. I had no idea how they were organized, so I just gazed at all the titles searching for something in nature of werewolves. Surprisingly there were a lot of books that I knew were based on lore instead of truth in the Everdeen collection. I just snatched random books and settled into the chair in front of the desk, flicking the lamp on while splaying the books out, cracking open the first.

  And thus began my nights of no sleep.

  "What do you mean you aren't going to train me?" I asked the next morning, a yawn caught in my throat, making my anger seem softened. Rayne held up a finger for me to be quiet as he was on the phone. I knew he was talking to Tristan again, and if I strained my ears hard enough I could hear the faint timber of his voice through the phone pressed tightly to Rayne's ear. Neither of them sounded particularly happy with whatever they were talking about but I wasn't getting an inkling on the topic.