Handcuffed

Part 1: Sinclaire

        

The lights are dancing in front of my eyes, all blurry and swimming around like dust in the light of a projector. There's a pinching at my left wrist, and I reach forward to knock whatever is clinging to my skin off only to feel my fingers brush cold metal. Sitting bolt upright, I rub my free hand across my eyes, blinking a few times to shake off the sleepiness that still hovers over me. Someone, or something else shifts beside me. I screech.

            "Oi, Sinclaire, what the hell? A little quieter in the morning, how about it?" A thick-with-sleep voice mutters from the general area of the shifting mass. I'd recognize that lofty voice anywhere, though I wish I wouldn't.     

            "Everett?"

            "The one and only." I can practically hear him grinning.

            "Quit smiling you perv."

            "I'm not smiling, love. It's too early for that. No matter how necessary."

            "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" I ask as slowly as I can, as if talking to a child. Which fits the maturity level of Everett.

            "I'd like to ask you the same question, now wouldn't I? This is my bed you're sitting in, and I don't remember inviting you here."

            "What are you talking about? This is my bed, I fell asleep in it last night. Without you, I feel the need to add." I growled. "See, lo-" As I'm running my hand across the sheets, my hand bumps into the same cold metal it touched before, something I'd forgotten about in light of the werewolf creep in my room... in my bed. "Everett."

            "Yes, love."

            "One, don't call me love, creep. Two, why are we handcuffed? I mean, I know you have issues, but these, seriously?" I shake my wrist, making the handcuffs clank together. "And three, this isn't my bed, I don't think it's yours either, so where are we?"

            Everett sits up, rubs his eyes, and glances around the room in surprise. "No idea." He shrugs, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing up in one sudden movement, jerking me to face-plant on the mattress with my handcuffed arm extended beyond my head.

            "Gee, what a gentleman." I mutter, sliding my legs underneath me to kneel on the bed, thanking the stars I had worn jeans to bed the day before, being too tired to take them off. I usually slept in just underwear, which makes me violently gag at the thought that if I hadn't made that decision to just collapse in bed without changing... I shudder and push the thought from my head.

            "Well you know, I suppose you could call me that." Everett smirks, jerking me forward again with a flick of his wrist so I tumble to the floor. "But by no means are you a lady."

            Disregarding his comment, I glare at him, kicking his shin as hard as I can after pulling myself to my feet. I can't jerk the handcuffs or he'll be pulled closer to me, which is the worst possible thing for me to do. So instead, I simply dust off my pants from being on the dirty, wooden floor, and turn the other way. "Come on, let's just see where this door goes. I need to hurt whoever put me in this mess."

            Everett comes along of his own accord, which I count my lucky stars for. "As you wish, darling." He laughs, strolling past me at a pace that I have to utilize every inch of my long legs for.

            "I'm not your darling either." I hiss through clenched teeth, following him into the hallway.