Predator in disguise

Nightmare

I strolled down the hallway, feeling refreshed after a long, hot shower. The penthouse was quiet as I made my way towards the living room, rubbing at my dripping hair with a towel. Two feet were visible dangling over the armrest of the sofa. When I looked around, I found no one else present in the room. I stepped closer to the sofa and bent over the back. Alec, lounging on his back and fiddling with his lighter, peered up at me.

He smirked. "What's up, McSteamy?"

"Where is everybody?" I asked.

"Magnus is out with a client and JC is probably holed up in a dark room with a girl somewhere."

I blinked, unsure if Alec was joking or not. "It's his night off, huh?"

"All he told me was that he was going out."

"Does he do that often?"

Alec gave the lighter a flick. "Sow his wild oats?"

"No. Just leave on a whim like that."

"What do I look like? A chaperone? He's a big boy. He can come and go as he pleases."

I swiped at my hair with the towel again. "It's pretty stupid for him to be wandering around alone. He might get murdered, and we'd have no idea."

"Aww. Look at you." Alec smirked and flipped the lighter shut. "Mother of the year."

I held up my index finger. "I didn't say I'd be upset if he got murdered. I just said we wouldn't know about it."

Alec sat up. "You really don't like him, huh?"

"I wouldn't actually push him in front of a moving bus, but I have thought about it."

Grinning, Alec said, "If that ain't love, I don't know what love is."

I looked pointedly at Alec's wrist. "How are you feeling?"

The Shadowhunter inspected the pale scars on his skin, then patted his stomach. "I feel great. A little hungry, but I look fantastic."

I whacked him on the head with the towel. "Bulimia is not beautiful. Curves are."

Alec reclined back against the sofa and clasped his hands behind his head. "If you say so. I prefer hard lines and solid muscle."

I straightened. "I'm going to raid your fridge. You want something?"

"Nah. I think I'll nab a quick catnap before Magnus gets back."

I gave a grunt in response and wandered into the kitchen, draping the towel across my shoulders. Tentatively I reached out and pulled open the fridge door. My worry for leaving fingerprints on the polished stainless steel surface was blown away by a gust of cool air. My eyes widened at the selection of food inside. It was like looking through the refrigerated aisle in a grocery store. Every food imaginable was stored in there. Everything looked expensive, exclusively brand name.

Even though Alec had given me permission, I still felt like I was stealing. Careful not to bump anything out of place, I grabbed a can of soda and a premade sandwich. The big screen TV was tempting, but, not wanting to disturb Alec's rest, I opted for sitting at the counter. I hopped up on one of the barstools and discarded my wet towel on the floor. The New York Times was folded up within arm's reach, so I grabbed it and scanned the front page as I unwrapped my sandwich. Using the plastic wrap as a makeshift plate, I chewed quietly on my food as I read. From the living room I could hear Alec's soft snoring.

I finished the last sip of my soda just as I flipped to the middle section. I was halfway down the page when a soft noise interrupted me. My ears strained against the silence as I glanced up. No one had entered the penthouse and nothing looked out of the ordinary. I waited a moment longer, wondering if maybe I had imagined it. Just as I gazed down at the newspaper again, I heard it again. My head automatically flicked over towards the living room. Alec's feet were no longer dangling over the edge of the sofa.