Unconditionally, Inevitably, Forever Yours.

Dance 'Til You're Dead.

—Chapter 41—

 

April's POV.

 

April didn't know how many days had passed. As a rough estimate; she'd guess two, maybe. She hadn't kept track and, in all honestly, despite how slow-paced the events in those two days had been, everything had just blurred together. Strange, really, considering how April's observational skills should've improved since transitioning- or whatever it was that Grayson had told her. She hadn't really paid attention to whatever it was he told her though. All of the added information made her head ache.

Most of the time though, April remained confined within the walls of her temporary bedroom, only ever really leaving the room when the security made her feel claustrophobic- which happened quite often. And when she did leave, she'd usually run into Grayson who patrolled the hallway outside her room with his hand on his chin and a thoughtful expression gracing his features.

It wasn't like she'd completely exiled herself from him. April had intentionally left the door unlocked for the purpose of allowing Grayson to enter if he pleased. And if Grayson wasn't guarding her door from invisible ghouls and monsters, then he was collapsed on the opposite side of the bed as they both watched re-runs of The Walking Dead on AMC, exchanging few words, and the occasional side-ways glance.

It wasn't necessarily different from before, only now, Grayson handled her like a fragile object. He skirted around the vital topics that, at some point, needed to be discussed. Whether it be the Alpha issue, her Uncle, or the fact that the wounds April had so graciously supplied Grayson with still had yet to heal. Not only had it taken half the night, bringing the two fatigued wolves into morning, just to dress his wounds and attempt any means to stop the blood gushing out from the bites and the shallow tears aligning his stomach. All the while whilst doing this, April couldn't take her eyes off of the torment she'd caused him. This wasn't like the time he'd prevented the transitioning by persuading her wolf or whatever (April was pretty much out of it for the entire experience anyway). Unlike that instance, April had intentionally grazed her talons through Grayson's skin- she'd torn away at the tissue of his own hand because she'd lost control.

And even now, April knew full-well that she was yet to regain that control completely.

As of now, April had become too incarcerated within the comfort of the mountain of pillows on her bed and, amazingly, she no longer found entertainment in devouring microwavable pizza and watching dysfunctional families throw punches at each other on Dr. Phil. Something about it made her miss her own. And, had Grayson been watching it with her like he had the past couple days, then he'd likely make some remarks of how, compared to his own 'messed up family', it made the people on the TV's look like a 'group of Mormons with hormonal children issues'. His words; not hers.

She'd long since abandoned her room, and almost immediately bumped into Grayson as soon as she'd left the room. Coincidence, much? No, April had noticed over the past few days how he wouldn't stray more than several meters of her. Wherever she went, Grayson wouldn't be too far behind. The only exception really being going to the bathroom, changing clothes or taking a shower- because whether Grayson wanted to or not, April wasn't too keen on losing her dignity any time soon. At least, not because a certain someone had attachment issues that, unfortunately for her, had only developed a stronger bond between them since the transitioning. Which, honestly, April found somewhat strange, given that she'd nearly killed the guy, you would've thought he'd be mildly pissed and would want some time to recuperate alone or whatever.