8. Pretty Little Liar

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Lewis

John let us into her room. It was extremely neat, the bed hadn't been slept in and her suitcase was still largely unpacked. Her scent was powerful and delicious. I groaned. My wolf and I needed her beside us, if her room smelt this incredible then I could only imagine inhaling the scent of her hair with her body against mine. My chest ached - where had she slept last night? 


Shayne picked up her pillow and pressed it to his face - inhaling deeply. Her phone buzzed angrily on the desk, caller read 'Oliver'. That was the name of the man who had phoned at the diner... She'd looked really shaken after speaking with him. I accepted the call.

"Lauren's phone."

"Who's this? Where's Lauren?" His tone was offensive. I am the Alpha and must have respect.

"Watch your tone," I snapped. "Who is this?"

"I need to speak to Lauren." The brute persisted.


"She's not available," I growled. She would never be available for him.

"Give her a message from me." I was about to argue. "I'm coming for her and I'm going to take her home with me." 

My rage foundered in a moment as panic gripped my heart. Lauren and I would be separated.

"She's not going anywhere."

"Just tell her to pack her bags." 

I looked over at her already packed suitcase.


She won't leave us.

"Lauren isn't going anywhere. Don't call this number again, if you come here you will regret it." This was a threat I intended to keep.

"Fuck you." He hung up. He actually hung up on me. My wolf was riled up and ready to pummel someone. Shayne pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You do realise she's going to know a guy was in her bedroom now." His voice was strained as if he was fighting to stay calm. I'd been too curious about this Olivier guy that I hadn't given the consequences a moment's thought.

"Shit."


Lauren

I woke up stiff. I was laying on an unmade bed - a towel underneath me preventing my damp clothes from touching the sheets. The room smelt funny and was a complete tip. Books were piled high to the ceiling, posters covered the walls and a giant stereo dominated. Some fresh clothes were hanging on the back of a chair. 


I showered quickly in the ensuite, eager to get the dirt from my hair and under my fingernails. I couldn't put my wet clothes back on, not even my underwear. Tom had left me a fresh pair of boxers but I had to put a large top and hoodie on without a bra, it was uncomfortable but fortunately, I'm not that ample in the chest department so it could have been worse.


I checked out my injuries. The scab on my knee had opened up, my head had a large cut, my ribs and back (pretty much everywhere) was bruised. Tiny cuts littered my face and arms. My palms were grazed. My wrist really hurt and my ankle twinged a bit. But at least I was alive. I shuddered remembering the wolves fight on the valley floor. 

So...Lewis was a werewolf. Did he know that I knew? Was he the wolf that had attacked me? My stomach growled loudly. Bloody hell I was starving.


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