Bound

Chapter 19 - Breakfast

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Skylar

I jerk awake. Oh my god, what time is it? I look over at the clock. It's just after four in the morning. My stomach is grumbling. Last night comes flooding back to me as I sit up.

My eyes find Dmitri on the couch next to mine, sleeping. He is upright, and his head has rolled to the side, legs slightly apart, hands clasped together on his stomach. Briefly, I wonder if he has left an indent on my couch with his massive frame. I don't know what the load limit is for these couches, I mentally joke to myself.

My jovial inner mood suddenly vanishes when the memories from last night push through again. It's my fault he is dead. Dmitri stayed. He looked after me. He is a werewolf. All these thoughts run through my mind. Jumbled and incoherent.

"I can hear you thinking, Skylar." I jump, clutching my heart which is now beating out of my chest.

"Geez, you gave me a fright Dmitri," I say, chuckling, as he opens his eyes and straightens up from his relaxed position.

My stomach grumbles again. Loudly. We both smile as his stomach joins in, creating a non-melodic duet.

"Would it be terrible if we ate pizza at this time of the morning?" I'm hoping he is not one of those sticklers who thinks breakfast should only be eaten in the morning and pizza only during the day. Sometimes I have breakfast for dinner.

"It would be terrible if we didn't." He throws me a dazzling smile to accompany that spectacular answer. It is the first big genuine smile I have seen from him. He is really handsome. When he smiles like he is now, he is even more breathtaking, if that is even remotely possible.

"I need to freshen up quickly. There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet under the basin in the first bathroom and some toothpaste. Help yourself." I get up, tossing the blanket on the couch before I head down the passage straight to my bathroom.

What a fucking disaster. I look at the state of myself in the mirror. My eyes are slightly puffy from crying, and there are sleep and tears crusted on the side of my eyes. My hair, which was on the top of my head when I went to sleep, is now a delightful half-up half-down bird's nest. My face feels dry and tired. I take my hairband out and run my hands through the crazy curls on top before throwing everything forward and once again tying it up in a messy bun on the top of my head. Much better.

I feel half decent again with a quick face wash and moisturizer, followed by a thorough brushing of my teeth, except for the tiredness which lingers at the back of my psyche. Manageable, but I would definitely feel it this afternoon.

I head back down the passage. Walking past the first bathroom, I notice the used toothbrush in a cup on the basin. What can I say? I like a man with good oral hygiene.

Dmitri is already in the kitchen, warming the pizzas in the oven. He has made himself at home. The kettle is on the gas hob, nearly boiling from the look of the steam coming out the top. He has two mugs ready and waiting.

"It smells so good," I say, leaning against the counter next to him.

He peers down at me, scanning my features.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, the question alluding to more than just my physical well-being.

"Better than I should. Just for this very moment, I want to forget about everything. We can bring it back to the surface after I've eaten and had a coffee. What do you say?" I smile back at him, and he nods in response.

We take our pizza and coffee to the dining room. The benches are actually a perfect fit for Dmitri. They are super sturdy, and his bulky frame sits comfortably, better than conventional dining seating would. It's like it was made for him.

We eat in silence. Dmitri digs into some sort of meat pizza while I tuck into my vegetarian one. He eats the whole pizza. I manage half before calling it quits. It must be just after five as I hear the birds chirping outside.

I clear up our plates and make both of us another coffee before sitting back down at the table.

"You're a werewolf," I state, part of me hoping yesterday's conversation was just a bad nightmare.

"Not exactly. Similar but also not similar. I am something a bit on the rare side, more unusual."

"I don't know what that means, Dmitri. What are you then if not a werewolf?"

"A Lycan. My wolf form is bigger than a werewolf. More powerful. I can also walk upright as opposed to werewolves, who are bigger versions of the wolves you are accustomed to."

"You can fully control it?" My information was based on fictional books I read as a teenager. In those, the werewolves would sometimes let their wolves take over or were forced by their wolves to surrender control for some time.

"I can. The last incident I had where I lost control completely was well over fifty decades ago, and it was provoked." He holds up his hand.

The question of how old Dmitri is vanishes as I look at his hand transform in front of my eyes.

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