Menagerie

Chapter 4 - Charlotte

Serena and I were led to the room we would be sharing that night. It had a king-sized bed, so I thought I stood a good chance of getting through the night without bruises from Serena's kicking. The room's desk was against a window and had enough space for my duffel bag, so I set it down there and looked around.

This room was Elaine and Bradley's son's room. He was working on a master's degree and was only home on weekends, even during breaks. Word was, he was on a research team that kept him going back.

It worked out well enough for us. He wouldn't be home until tomorrow, and we would be gone by then. I would have liked to stay in the werecoyote community for longer. It was fascinating to me, to have so many of our kind living together like this. But between today's luncheon and dinner party and tomorrow's brunch, we would have met everyone here that we needed to.

Serena had changed into her pajamas, scrubbed her teeth, and burrowed into the bed. In fact, she was already asleep. The nightstand had a dimmable table light on it, so I turned the light on low and pulled my beat-up copy of "The Hobbit" out of my duffel bag. I'd read it so many times that it was falling apart. The binding and first few pages were held on by several layers of scotch tape and the shiny coating on the title letters was mostly rubbed off. If I opened the book and set it down on its spine, it would immediately fall open to the part where Bilbo starts taunting the giant spiders with silly songs. It was my favorite part, something that both amused and inspired me.

I didn't read that passage tonight. Instead I went back to the beginning. I had memorized it so thoroughly that it was the perfect thing to ease me into a comfortable sleep.

I woke up abruptly with burning, tingling skin and an uncomfortable heat between my legs. My head had been pillowed by my book. I considered reading to distract myself- no way could I sleep feeling this way- but I knew it would be futile. I was undeniably in heat and there was someone nearby who was drawing me in. The compulsion was so strong that all I could do was grit my teeth, curl in on myself, and endure it.

I would not get out of this bed.

I could make it until morning and then we would leave here.

I burrowed under the covers and focused on a calming breathing pattern. It didn't help. In fact, it seemed like the more I focused on keeping control over myself, the harder I had to fight for that control.

I couldn't just stay here.

Hating my heritage for putting me in this situation and hating myself for not being able to fight it, I emerged from the blankets and tentatively placed my feet on the floor. There was a rug there and it tickled my sensitive feet. I knew I had broken out in sweat but there was nothing to be done for it. Oddly, now that I was standing, I wasn't feeling pulled in any particular direction. I kept burning and longing, but the need that yanked me out of sleep and out of bed was curiously vague, though strong.

I held my breath, though I would have to breathe in again before the scent dissipated enough for me to regain my clarity. It was enough for me to come up with a plan.

Staying here would do me no good. Though it took all the mental strength I had, I was able to get my feet moving toward the bedroom door. Crossing the threshold was difficult not only because my body didn't seem to want to obey that particular command, but because of the knowledge that somewhere in this house was somebody who might not let me go if they caught up with me. The pull was intense enough for that.

That begged the question: who was it I was being so forcibly pulled toward? This strong a potential bond would be just as impossible to conquer for the other person. Surely there would have been some indication from somebody that he felt this way.