Grey's Tribute

Chained

Meela's POV

Feeling feral

Uncontrolled rage is pulsing hotly in my blood. It's a madness that's threatening to take me over the edge again. I try to control my breathing, to relax my body. The overwhelming feeling of hopelessness caresses me like a long lost lover, not wanting to let go.

Sitting up on this Northerner's bed has the smell of him overpowering me, saturating into my skin.

Soon I'll smell like them, like him. The thought sickens me, turns my stomach sour.

Getting off the bed, walking around the room, my nakedness making me feel uncomfortable...vulnerable.

Looking into his drawer, I find a shirt which fits me more like a short dress. I let the softness of it sooth me slightly.

Walking towards the window, the darkening sky is giving way to night. I can tell the house is built into the side of a hill, giving it a fortress feel instead of a homey one. Looking out over the forest, I see the leaves are just beginning to change colors, the promise of winter just around the corner. I wonder how the winters are up here if the snow gets deeper than your waist. How my wolf would love to play in it.

Looking around the room, noticing the old-style furniture. Against a wall is a chaise-lounge and two high winged armchairs, all upholstered in a rich, velvety dark green, matching the long drapes in the room. There's a small table in between the chairs with papers scattered across the top.

Running my finger over the reddish brown mahogany writing desk that's positioned to the side of the window.

The thick carved oak four-poster bed stands hard and proud in the center of the room. Pillows on top of pillows line the head of the bed, the duvet soft and thick in a color of rich burgundy and deep green...masculine.

The splendor of the room has me transported to a different era. This is something I have never been exposed to, this grandeur.

Time ticks by slowly as I wait for him to come back. My head nods slowly down only for me to jerk it up quickly, trying to keep myself awake.

The door creaks slowly open. He comes in balancing two plates in one hand and a collar in the other.

The aroma of the food hits me hard, and my stomach clenches in anticipation. I feel the saliva working inside my mouth, and I have to swallow it down.

He makes his way to the chairs and places the plates down on the small table. The collar makes a dull thud as it lands.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I bring my shirt down over my bare feet. I watch him and then eye the collar suspiciously.

His eyes look tired and bloodshot. There's so much sadness coming off of him that it takes a lot not to go and comfort him. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, rolling his neck from side to side. He crosses both feet in front of him and gives an exhausted sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

A compulsion so profound to go to him, to comfort him, has my muscles knotted up tight in my resistance to move. It's almost like having an itch too bad all you can think about is scratching it. That's what this bond is doing to me, wanting me to wrap myself around him and comfort him. I just hug my knees closer to my body, resisting the urge.

Opening his eyes, he takes the plate in his hand and gestures for me to sit beside him. "Please, just come and sit. You need to eat. I don't want to fight you."

Hesitantly, I get out of the bed, pulling the edges of my shirt down, making sure I'm covered completely.

He remains silent for a moment...thoughtful.